Hand-in-hand, Ben and Dorothy turned and walked stately back down the aisle beneath arched sabers, which a contingent of Confederate Fleet Marines held aloft... resplendent in their full-dress, peacock-blue uniforms with full medals. As they continued toward the reception area, Planet-Master Mraz approached Admiral Kalis with a couple of questions he had about the odd human ceremony he’d just witnessed. First was a question about the purpose and significance of Dorothy throwing flowers over her shoulder into the crowd. The second was in regard to some confusion arising from Eileen Thorn’s mode of dress. Mraz appeared somewhat startled when it was revealed to him that the tall, small-busted, older admiral was in fact, female.
* * * *
Chapter-3
You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep, because reality is finally better than your dreams. -- Dr. Seuss
The Alliance Planet Massa, City of Bostin
October 10th, 3865
While Noreen was at work in her office at BioCom, Diet spent a lot of his time visiting with Hal’s doppelganger at the Thurgood Rehabilitation Hospital. He assisted the physical therapists as they helped support “Halbert” on short walks down the hallway, outside his private luxury suite. He talked to him, and witnessed for himself the obvious frustration on Halbert’s face, when he found himself unable to articulate enough words to form an intelligible sentence. So Diet made statements that required no comeback, or he asked simple questions that Halbert could answer with a one-word response. It felt damned odd, to be holding a conversation with an exact duplicate of one’s own self. The staff, having been told that they were brothers, assumed them to be identical twins.
Halbert could apparently hear and see just fine, so he spent a great deal of time watching holovision and enjoying the new experiences in sight and sound it afforded him. Halbert also seemed to revel in the sense of touch that he’d never experienced before, as the physical therapy technicians worked the muscles of his legs and arms and provided him with full body massages that were intended to help tone his muscles. Bathing provided Halbert with yet another source of sensation, as warm water and washcloths being applied to every inch of his skin was a new and unique experience… especially when applied to his genitals.
The elderly black male nurse who normally bathed him had taken a day off for personal reasons. He’d been replaced by a pretty, young nurse’s aide of Scandinavian descent and, without doubt, of the female persuasion. Halbert encountered yet another totally human, yet unexpected physical response — Hal experienced his first erection. Fortunately Diet had been there and able to intervene when he recognized what was about to happen as the pretty, young nurse drew her hand back with the full intention to slap Halbert’s stiffened member... an unfortunate and antiquated procedure still taught to some nursing students, as a proper response for female nurses to perform on male patients experiencing an erection during bathing.
“NO!” Diet yelled, startling the nurse and preventing the impending slap. “Don’t you dare slap my brother down there. If you feel you can’t continue to bathe him while he’s experiencing an erection, then go get someone else in here who can.”
My God… getting his very first erection slapped by a pretty girl would have traumatized the poor bastard.
The hospital had Halbert on solid foods now, so meals were another thing that he really seemed to enjoy, as swallowing was purely reflexive and tasting required no reflex at all. Halbert seemed to enjoy the taste of most everything, with the possible exceptions of lima beans and calf’s liver. Uh! Halbert actually gave him a big smile when Diet told him that hospital food was generally considered rather tasteless and he could look forward to much better-tasting foods, after he was finally released from the hospital.
Give him some incentive to get better. Maybe I should bring him some lobster and drawn butter with lemon, or a good crab & shrimp gumbo from The Beacon. Yea, that ought to motivate him!
* * * *
The Planet Kitty Litter
October 10th, 3865
After arriving at the reception area, Dorothy slipped away just long enough to change out of her long wedding dress with its six-foot train into a dazzling black, low-cut, strapless evening gown that revealed a good four inches of cleavage. The sumptuous swells of her breasts bedazzled, and yet disappointed, all of the males present. For all that it actually revealed, it still merely hinted at the luxuriant treasures that remained hidden beneath that prodigious bodice. Ben found himself searching for his eyes on the floor, as he was sure they had fallen out again. After a short-lived touch of jealousy that other men’s eyes were feasting on his new bride’s breathtaking bosom, Ben chided himself when he realized that he was now the most envied man on the planet, and the luckiest bastard in the known galaxy.
Champagne flowed and toasts were raised. Congratulations were offered and presents given. When Ben finally led his bride out onto the dance floor, the cumulative sighs of the ladies were audible, as they cooed and whispered about how incredibly romantic it all was. As they danced, Ben’s thoughts drifted away from the magic of the evening just long enough to think of the practical advantages to having a gay best man:
Lance DeSalle wasn’t interested in kissing the bride.
Besides, Lance was much too busy clutching a bedraggled wad of white and black roses to even consider it. Unfortunately for all the ladies who had scrambled after it, after a brief struggle, Lance DeSalle was the “girl” who’d actually ended up with Dorothy’s thrown bouquet.
* * * *
The Alliance Planet Massa, City of Bostin
October 10th, 3865
While alone together in the evenings, Diet and Noreen routinely spent a lot of time just talking and getting to know one another better… well, as “alone” as they could be, with Hal having a direct feed tied into the spaceplane’s master suite. They occasionally spent the night at Noreen’s apartment when they wanted total privacy, or her plants really did need watering, but her early fears of Hal’s potential for eavesdropping on their more exuberant lovemaking gradually faded, as she got to know Hal better.
Besides, if that’s how he gets his jollies, Hal is probably as backward with women as Diet was, and could really use the education.
Thus, they spent most nights aboard the plane, and Noreen was beginning to really enjoy Hal’s contributions, when he occasionally slipped thoughts of his own into their conversations... often interjecting uproarious humor with his sharp and timely wit. She’d been delighted to discover that Diet also possessed a wicked sense of humor of his own, which revealed itself more and more frequently as he gained personal confidence, as their relationship matured and solidified. Granted, the vast majority of the time it was directed at Hal, but she found herself constantly looking forward to being treated to yet another entertaining bout of their consistent verbal jousting and endless bantering back and forth.
Some people would pay good money to listen to these two go at each other… it’s hilarious!
Noreen was really looking forward to finally meeting Hal in the flesh, as he and Diet seemed like two peas in a pod. When he and Hal weren’t clowning around, Noreen had actually been quite amazed to discover how well-versed Diet really was on an amazing number of topics. Long gone were her early, shallow misconceptions when she’d dismissed him as little more than mere eye candy, a brainless hunk of man-meat, or an imbecilic boy-toy that a successful, educated woman might substitute for her faithful vibrator on occasion. Diet was brilliant, and she was finding his conversation both stimulating and mentally challenging.
* * * *
The Planet Kitty Litter
October 10th, 3865
Alone at last, thank God! The marine guard who normally stood watch right outside the admiral’s stateroom hatch was no longer there. Watches had been repositioned to give the newlyweds complete privacy on their wedding night. When the assembled masses finally allowed the newlyweds to retire to the admiral’s stateroom aboard Defiant, they been subjected not only to the tradit
ional thrown rice, but some smartass also had the forethought to resurrect the ancient practice of shivaree — a discordant mock serenade made with pans, kettles, horns, and other noisemakers, given for a newly married couple on the hypothesis that such a noisy procession would cause the bride to have a headache on her wedding night, spoiling their consummation of the marriage. Ben found himself praying that all that God-awful racket hadn’t done just that.
While Dorothy was in the head changing, Ben lit the candles, dimmed the lights, turned down the bed and poured them both yet another flute of champagne, setting them on the nightstand. Ben had been so tremendously excited by his close-up view down the bodice of that low-cut dress all evening, he fervently prayed that he didn’t totally ruin their very first night together by prematurely blowing his cookies, like a pimply-faced 13-year old boinking his best friend’s mother.
When Dorothy finally came out of the head, Ben’s lungs suddenly ceased functioning… she was a vision of loveliness that he could never have pictured in his wildest imagination. With a knowing smile, she slipped out of her sheer robe to reveal an even more transparent negligee, as she agilely slid into bed beside him and he took her into his arms and kissed her, oh so tenderly. Their hands tentatively explored each other with sweet caresses, while their lips nipped delicately at tender places, unhurried in their gentle foreplay. When the moment of triumphant culmination finally arrived, Dorothy whispered urgently, “Ben… oh God… I want you, but I’m a little scared — I’ve never done this before.”
Thus it was that Ben received adequate warning to be especially gentle, when he finally mounted his angelic new wife for the first time... the infamous “Boobs” Fletcher, the 37-year-old goddess of the entire Confederate Fleet was surprisingly, a virgin.
* * * *
Chapter-4
Confidence is preparation. Everything else is beyond your control. -- Richard Kline
The Rak Planet Fadrel
November, 3865
The entire Raknii race was undergoing a revolutionary transition on a scale undreamed of just a few cycles earlier. Dozens of new, larger and more heavily armed and armored warships, based on new designs formulated after Tzal’s raid on the human’s planet Minnos were being completed every sub-cycle. Dozens of the new fighters were being completed every turn, with the cream of Raknii junior masters beginning training on usage of these new fast-moving weapons platforms. Most tactics and operational procedures for these new fighters were still in the experimental stages of course, as all of this was new to the Rak. But because of their uniqueness, already these new fighter wings were being perceived as elite units, and competition for pilot slots was intense, as they appeared to provide the fastest path towards promotion and glory. Few appeared concerned over the fact that they also appeared to be the fastest path towards an early, fiery death, as well.
Hundreds of thousands of Raknii warships of all regions were undergoing transfer to the imperial fleet for use against the human aliens. Millions of Raknii transports were called into imperial service, to provide the supplies necessary for supporting all those warships. Rak shipping and logistics were stretched to the breaking point, as billions of civilian Raknii were relocating to the 60+ new planets in Regions 5, 6 and 7, to begin new prides and new lives as colonists, in the midst of the largest military build-up in history.
With his business completed with his sire, Supreme-Master Xior, Drix detoured for a personal visit with his foster-sire, Region-Master Glan, on his way back to Golgathal. Not only was it politically expedient that the new region-master to establish ties with the older, more established regions, Drik had personal reasons for wishing to visit with Glan, as he’d literally grown up in Glan’s household.
Glan’s pride came as close to family as Drix had ever known. He’d been a newly elevated squadron-master when he’d left Fadrel to join the imperial fleet and begin his hunt for Trakaan, just over eight cycles ago. A surprising and heady rank for one so young. No one could have possibly dreamed that he’d be returning as a region-master in his own right, in so short a time. Drix wondered if his sire had shared the secret of his identity with his foster-sire, Glan. Perhaps so, as Glan had been Xior’s closest cubhood friend, but also perhaps not, as details of the war with the human aliens clamored for the Supreme-Master’s attention constantly.
Drix’ new personal spaceliner landed at the newly built spaceport in Fadrel’s capital city of Hlaron — a phenomenon occurring on almost every major planet in the empire, as spaceports designed to handle all the new spaceliners were popping up like mushrooms. Yet another sign of major changes to Rak society, initiated by their brief exposure to the alien humans. His arrival had been expected and he was been greeted by Jlat, Planet-Master of Fadrel, where Glan made his home.
Naturally, Jlat hadn’t recognized him, which was only to be expected, as Drix had never interacted with the planet-master very often as a cub. But apparently neither had Fylt, who had accompanied Jlat to welcome this new Region-Master on Glan’s behalf. Fylt was the youngest brother of Glan’s grand-sire and master over the operation of Glan’s household. Drix remembered the fussy old Rak fondly, even if he had occasionally run afoul of the old Rak’s rules and paid the inevitable price for his folly, as a cub.
Conversation within Jlat’s luxury ground vehicle taking him to Glan’s opulent house and grounds had been light, with Jlat pointing out questionable points of interest within the city as they passed — all of which Drix remembered very well. Drix feigned interest and continued playing the role of a newly arrived stranger, as he studied Fylt. The elderly Rak’s pelt was almost entirely gray with age now, but he remained surprisingly spry for a Rak of such advanced age. Good genes. Within a sub-turn, they had passed beyond the city and a half sub-turn later they finally entered the palatial grounds of Region-Master Glan’s home, where he’d grown up.
It occurred to Drix to wonder how long it would take before he had time to think about building a marvelous home such as this, or even on what planet he might build it? Golgathal was a beautiful planet, and would be an ideal place to put his regional capital, but Golgathal was dangerously close to human space. For that matter, virtually every planet within his new Region-7 was dangerously close to human space, so it was a rather moot point.
All of Region-7 was a potential combat zone. If these humans were even half as formidable as Varq’s prophesy foretold or Tzal’s raid indicated, Drix doubted those formidable aliens would grant him the luxury of building a home, establishing his own pride and settling down to building the infrastructure of a normal Raknii region in peace.
Varq and Tzal were both with him on this trip, of course, with Tzal sitting beside him and Varq riding invisibly in the back of a Raknaa troop transport, acting as security for Jlat’s little convoy. Drix caught Jlat studying the unique rank-stone Tzal now wore, a diamond outlined sunburst filled with rubies with a large fire opal in its center — the newly designed rank-stone of an Ultimate-Fleetmaster, the military equivalent of a Sector-Master.
When they arrived at Glan’s front door, Jlat took his leave and Fylt escorted them to their palatial guest rooms, where they could bathe, change clothes and relax a bit before their formal audience with Glan himself later. Exotic snacks and drink offerings had already been laid out in their guest rooms by the staff and as their luggage was being brought in, staff members assigned to see to the needs of their two High-Rak guests hovered close by, in case he or Tzal required the slightest thing.
Drix noticed that among the food and drink offerings were a few rather infamous ones… those laced with chemical and/or herbal concoctions known to enhance sexual performance in Raknii males. That implied that some of the household females had already been prepared ahead of their arrival — given drugs to produce an artificially-induced heat cycle, which caused them to dilate and allowed them to mate without pregnancy, yet still secrete the pheromones that would arouse males like the real thing.
Interesting, it appears that Region-Masters are off
ered pleasures of the house, which mere Squadron-Masters have to go into the city and pay good money, in sleazy establishments, to enjoy.
“Would you like me to prepare your bath, Region-Master, or would prefer to mount a female first?” asked the staff member assigned to his rooms.
“A bath sounds delightful,” responded Drik. He didn’t really need, or even particularly want a bath at that moment, but it would be expected and he had some time to kill before his audience with Glan. He certainly didn’t want to satiate himself rutting with a lowborn female before his meeting with Glan.
“Always observe the forms of societal norms,” Varq had once told him as a cub. “Act as expected in public, yet retain the independence and discipline of your mind, within.”
Besides, immaculate grooming certainly won’t hurt, when I meet with Glan in a few sub-turns.
* * * *
Kitty Litter System
November, 3865
The allied combined fleet was dispersed back into its component parts with normal fleet configurations restored and battle plans for attacking other Raknii planets already drawn up for each, including the two newly arrived fleets from the Alliance and the Confederacy. The Alliance 3rd Fleet had recently arrived under the command of Vice Admiral Darlene Conners, after having been reconstituted from units finally repaired after sustaining battle-damage during the Confederate War of Independence.
Two more Alliance fleets were expected to arrive soon after, which were both currently undergoing final training and space trials. When notified that completion of the new Confederate 5th Fleet had finally been accomplished, Kalis had ordered Admiral Marilyn Chambers’ Confederate 4th Fleet forward to Kitty Litter, to expand the scope of their forthcoming offensive against the cats.
Supply depots were established within sterile systems adjacent to the targets and Confederate Intelligence, in the form of information provided by the still top-secret Ghost class intelligence vessels, reported that several Raknii worlds appeared vulnerable to single fleet operations. This development would allow for the allies to strike the cats in many places, almost simultaneously. Sufficient Fleet Marine units arrived to make securing those planets possible, with sufficient fire-support from the cruisers in orbit, after the Raknii warships had been disposed of.
Wrath of an Angry God: A Military Space Opera (The Sentience Trilogy Book 3) Page 3