Carbon Life_A Lesbian Sci-Fi Epic

by HR Ringer

  Entering their compartment together, Sam gasped in astonishment. Placing each of their lunar-base quarters together would only equal about half the space in this area! There was a living/lounge area directly beyond the airlock passageway, with a compact kitchen and eating area set diagonally a step up in back. A pair of good-sized desks sat back to back between the living and dining area, each with a terminal and ample storage for numerous data pads. A large, comfortable looking couch with matching chair and low table completed the room.

  Their bedroom was outfitted with a 155 by 210 cm bed (large by Alliance standards) to the left of the pocket door; a full bathroom with a sink and compact shower was accessible through a door just inside to the right at the foot of the bed. There was a small table with storage compartments topped with a lamp on either side at the head of the bed; a mirrored dresser on one side and a double chest on the other completed the furnishings.

  “Xiùlán,” Sam asked in amazement. “Have we been assigned the wrong quarters? Should we wait to unpack, just in case someone realizes their mistake and wants us out?”

  “Don’t think it’s a mistake, Sēn měi.” Xiùlán had moved to the terminals on the adjoining desks. Picking up a data pad, she recited the name at the top of the display. “‘Assigned to Serviceman First Class Yuán Xiùlán, S/N 8257-PVG-09186, 2179/11/01’ – I don’t think anyone made a mistake, my love.”

  Xiùlán keyed the device on and read the message displayed. “Aah! Here’s a message from General Park.”

  Xiùlán played the recording for Traynor: ‘Serviceman Yuán: I very much enjoyed our dinner and visit with you, SC1 Traynor and SC1 Gonzales. I called in a couple of favors so the three of you would have nice accommodations during your stay on Mars. I am convinced dark days are on the horizon… for humanity… and for the galaxy. Learn everything you possibly can during your stay – the knowledge just may make a difference in your ability to survive the trials I believe will test us all. Best regards. RaeLee Park, General, Alliance Naval Command.’

  “So, this place is really ours for the next six months?” Traynor asked in a tone suggesting she didn’t quite believe their good fortune. “They don’t assign luxury quarters like this to people like us, Xiùlán. This looks a lot like the general’s quarters on Luna Base. I don’t…”

  The chime of the door lock interrupted Sam’s thoughts. Xiùlán unlocked the door; neither of them was surprised to see Heather Gonzales standing just outside. “Xiùlán! Samantha! I don’t know what to do! The room I’m in, it’s… it’s…,” she went silent, eyes wide in astonishment as she stepped inside and looked around Sam’s and Xiùlán’s quarters. Both women remained silent as Heather looked around in the kitchen, living area and their bedroom.

  Stopping in the doorway coming out of the bedroom, her only words were, “Maldita Sea! ¿Qué hemos hecho para merecer este tratamiento? [Damn! What have we done to deserve this treatment?] I mean, what the hell!? My quarters are smaller, but every bit as nice. I don’t know what to do! Do I unpack? Maybe we should go see someone in base housing. I just…,” Heather was at a loss until Xiùlán showed her the data pad.

  “We’re right where we’re meant to be, Heather,” Xiùlán smiled. “Perhaps having the vaginas to stand up to Joesiar and his minions was all we needed.”

  Sam thought she’d misheard her friend. “I’m sorry, what was that? ‘…having the vaginas’? Don’t you mean ‘balls’ ?” she asked with a smirk.

  “You heard me,” Xiùlán snarked right back. “Having ‘balls’, ‘gāowán’[睾丸 - testis], a ‘krogan quad’, a… a… what do you call them in your native tongue, Heather?”

  “Cojones?”

  “Right, ‘Cojones’. ‘Bollocks’ in old English, Sammy. Any of those… most fragile part of any male. Why in hell would we want them, hanging down, always getting in the way, ruining our thinking with all that testosterone. A good swift kick and… I mean, look what happened to Hobe. All thoughts of handling Traynor’s boobs disappeared soon as her leg mashed them into pulp, right? We don’t need balls!… we have vaginas,” Xiùlán said, stating the patently obvious, “and a vagina can really take a pounding. I don’t think I can incapacitate you by kicking either of you in your crotch, not like I can by kicking a man. So, vaginas, not balls!”

  Heather and Sam were doubled over laughing uncontrollably at Xiùlán’s unassailable logic.

  When Heather finally regained enough control to speak, she said, “I gotta pee… at least I had to when I came in here. Not so sure now… gotta go.” Still giggling, she hurriedly ran back to own quarters.

  “Come on, Sēn měi… let’s get our stuff put away,” Xiùlán said. “We need to do a bit of shopping… get some groceries so we don’t always have to eat in the cafeteria.”

  “Maybe we ought to go have brunch first, then go grocery shopping. Easier to stick with the basics if we’re not hungry, and I bet prices here are not for the weak of heart!”

  “Okay, sounds like a wise plan. Let’s invite Heather along… it’ll be fun.” Xiùlán grabbed Traynor’s bag and tossed it to her before picking up her own and heading for their bedroom.

  * * *

  * 2179/11/01 • evening *

  On this first night in their new quarters on Mars, Traynor and Yuán spent the late evening making love in their ridiculously (to them, at least) oversize bed. Xiùlán had discovered Samantha was not content to simply roll over and go to sleep after experiencing only one climax – she seemed insatiable tonight, only succumbing to Xiùlán’s pleas for sleep after they’d driven each other over the summit a number of times.

  Sam returned to their bed after a quick trip to the toilet; still nude, she rejoined her lover by crawling on her hands and knees up from the foot of the bed, like some predator returning to reclaim her prize. She eased herself up past Xiùlán’s legs, pausing to plant leisurely kisses on her mons, her navel and both breasts before cuddling up beside her, left leg over her partner’s; Xiùlán had raised her left arm, allowing Sam to place her warm body against her side and lay her head on her shoulder, left nipple being tickled by her breathing. Xiùlán ran her fingers lightly through the short hair on the back of Sam’s head, stirring the scents of jasmine and lime as their afterglow slowly faded to drowsiness.

  As sleep started to take them both, Sam tilted her head up a bit and whispered, “Still awake, Ai?” [愛 - Love? (Sam’s meaning is ‘luv?’)]

  “Barely,” came the whispered reply. “Nǐ bù kěnéng xūyào gèng duō?” [你不可能需要更多？ - you can not need more?]

  Ignoring the protest whispered in Mandarin, Sam asked, “Our first night together?… I’m curious. For a virgin, you seemed to know exactly what you were doing when you made love to me. I have never… it was like… my… damn, luv!… you totally set me on fire. That was the most extreme orgasm I’ve ever had… thought I’d explode from the intensity!… don’t think I’ll ever peak that high again. So, were you performing orally for the first time ever? Not that I’m complaining, mind you… it was… surprising… and so completely wonderful.” Sam’s voice trailed away into silence at the delicious memory. “Just seems odd you would go down on me like that for a first time outing.”

  Xiùlán turned her head and studied her partner through narrowed eyelids before answering with a sensual purr, “I love you, Sam! I was merely kissing you. Performing tiǎn yīn [舔陰 - cunnilingus] is revered in Chinese Taoism as a spiritually-fulfilling practice, believed to enhance longevity.” Xiùlán’s lips brushed Sam’s nose. “You don’t mind if I perform tiǎn yīn on you, do you? It was… is… every bit as pleasurable for me as it apparently is for you.”

  “Not… at… all,” came the whispered reply. “It was pure bliss! I love you, Xiùlán, forever.”

  Xiùlán carefully rolled towards Samantha so they were facing each other. Holding Sam in her arms, their legs entangled together, she whispered, “Wǒ ài nǐ sà màn shā · tè léi nà…”

  * * *

  * 2179/11
/01 through 11/15 *

  Their entire first week on Mars had been spent downloading coursework and learning the layout of the facility by day, beginning study of some of the more esoteric subjects they needed to learn during early evenings after dinner (they took turns preparing their own evening meals, sharing the cleanup duties afterwards), then going to sleep nude in each other’s arms, either facing, or with Xiùlán spooning Sam with an arm protectively over her.

  * 0740 hours *

  This morning, as she had done each morning since their arrival, Xiùlán had gently awakened Sammy by whispering ‘Zǎoshang hǎo, wǒ de ài’ close in her ear, followed by a tender kiss on her cheek. Sam had stirred just a bit, enjoying the feel of Xiùlán’s body tightly pressed against her back, incredibly gentle hands caressing her bare skin. Sam replied, “I love you, Xiùlán. I’ll never again be content to sleep by myself. Having your body snuggled up to mine, being wrapped in your arms? I’m truly in heaven.”

  As Sam was eating breakfast later, she studied Xiùlán’s face while pondering her incredibly good fortune in finding such a perfect woman with which to share her life. Xiùlán glanced up from the data pad she was studying between bites of Jian Bing, caught Sam watching her, smiled and asked, “What?”

  “Oh, nothing… just thinking how unbelievably important you’ve become to me.” Sam looked down for a moment, embarrassment tinting her cheeks pink; looking up again, she met Xiùlán’s cool gaze and said, “I am so unbelievably in love with you, Yuán Xiùlán. Thinking about our future… the thought of possibly losing you to something neither of us can control?… scares the living ‘ell out of me.”

  “Me losing you, Sà màn shā? I don’t think I could bear it.” Xiùlán responded solemnly. “We’ve been together less than a year, yet I am unable to dream of any future that doesn’t include you, cannot think of a past that did not include you.” Dark eyes glistening with unshed tears, throat tight with emotion, she added, “We can only try our best to protect each other when we can, and pray to our ancestors to keep each other safe when we’re apart.” Continuing to speak softly as she finished the last bite of Jian Bing and rose to take care of the dishes, she spoke crisply, “Come on then. We have classes… lots of new stuff, to learn, to do. It’ll be fun!”

  Sam and Xiùlán had different classes, not uncommon considering the different directions their studies were taking them. Xiùlán was in a warehouse section of Delta-deuce – dome two – learning the intricacies of using the Alliance’s newly developed personal ME generator, a 15.5 centimeter deep device about the diameter of a dinner plate. Designed to be docked on a custom hardpoint on one’s back armor, it was automatically linked in to the suit’s microcomputer and controlled through one’s omni-tool; once activated, it could be adjusted to negate ones mass by any percentage, down to 3% of normal, enabling standing jumps of nine meters or more against standard station gravity (generally 0.85G). In a warehouse such as this, 3x2x2.5 meter shipping containers were normally stacked three high to a height of 7.5 meters; top of the stacks in the dim light commonly available was by and large a safe place from which to observe, to hide, or to stash easily portable equipment for later retrieval.

  The devices were incredibly power-hungry; the greater the mass reduction, the greater the power consumption. Eezo power-cells were easily changed out, but using them continuously risked low-power available when it might be most needed. A failsafe was programmed into the mini-computer in each device; it would not ‘power up’ at levels below 5%. If engaged with only 10% power available, the device would have a gradually lessening effect as power was depleted. Percentage of power available was auto-displayed in red at 10% capacity; the numbers flashed rapidly when 5% was reached.

  Xiùlán quickly discovered she did not need to adjust her apparent mass down as much as her instructors had expected, thanks to her extremely well-muscled legs. She learned that lowering her mass by half was usually enough to make scrambling up the sides of cargo containers, with their many handholds, as easy as climbing a ladder. Descending from the top was a bit harder; jumping down from three to six meters was a snap, as long as she really focused on sticking her landings.

  Lunch each day of this class was a survival ration eaten on site – she and her classmates had to retrieve them from the tops of the cargo container stacks. Most chose to simply sit in the middle of whatever container stack they happened to be on when they found and grabbed their food. After an hour, the instructors had them continue their exercises. It proved to be a long, tiring week for Xiùlán.

  Samantha was doing something completely new for her – she was in the weapons dome, learning to operate and maintain the various weapons the Alliance employed, both on the battlefield and in the alleys and confined spaces of buildings. Because of the aptitude she had displayed for firing high-powered sniper rifles and heavy pistols during basic training, she was spending her first week learning the intricacies of maintaining a Rosenkov Materials Volkov sniper rifle, an incredibly powerful long-range weapon only slightly less accurate than a Kassa Fab Harpoon.

  The class instructor was a grizzled old Marine, Gunnery Sergeant Arlen Vinson, who continuously chewed on a stub of the foulest cigar Sam had ever had the displeasure of smelling.

  ‘Gunny’, as he preferred to be addressed (“I don’t hold wit’ all dat ceremonial bullshit - jus’ call me Gunny!”) was a veteran of the first contact war, a career military man that had seen the worst of turian cruelty at the Battle of Shanxi.

  Traynor spent the entire week learning the intricacies of the Volkov, and spent hour after hour every morning field stripping and reassembling the weapon over and over until she was sure she could do it in a darkened room, at which point Gunny had her do just that.

  Afternoons were where she could prove her reassembled weapon was completely functional and deadly accurate. It became readily apparent to the Gunny that Traynor had a real gift for precision long-range shooting when she was hitting stationary targets at 1000 to 1200 meters from a prone position.

  “Okay Specialis’. Try hittin’ dese from a kneeling or crouched position.” He had then raised the targets at a range of 500 meters. Traynor was just settling in for an easy exercise when she felt not only a crosswind but saw the targets dancing around randomly, significantly complicating her ability to target accurately. After a few minutes and two missed shots (accompanied by wheezing laughter from the old sergeant), she found a rhythm to the targets apparent randomness and began picking them off one at a time.

  Gunny’s laughter abruptly ceased as he saw her drill the third consecutive target; she hit the fourth target immediately after the third – while she waited the two seconds for her rifle to cool, Gunny increased the downrange target’s distance to 750 meters and increased the speed of the crosswind by 5%. Traynor kneeled in a slightly different spot, sighted downrange and popped off two quick shots; as the rifle cooled, she performed a combat roll and relocated to her left, took up position and again fired twice in rapid succession. Four shots, four targets drilled, less than ten seconds elapsed time.

  The expression on Gunny Vinson’s face was priceless. Even with his mouth hanging open in amazement, the nasty stub of a cigar stayed in place in one corner, apparently ‘glued’ to his lips. “Goddamned fancy-assed shootin’ fer a youngster. You tol’ me ya didn’t have no trainin’ afore dis. Care ta tell me where ya learnt ta shoot so well?”

  Looking slightly embarrassed, Traynor answered, “Sorry Gunny. I’ve not had much opportunity to practice marksmanship, not since basic training. One of my instructors told me I had a lot of potential, but in ten weeks?…” Sam shrugged her shoulders.

  “Think I’ll send a report to da unit commander there – tell ‘im… or ‘er, since turnover’s so damn high, they need ta rethink how dey keep records on da people goin’ through da program.” Pointing a tobacco-stained finger at her, he added, “Potential like yours should never be overlooked!” Holding out a hand for her rifle, he concluded with, “Les call it a d
ay fer you… tomorrer we’ll see jus how well you do wit heavy pistols.”

  Xiùlán was learning new ways to employ her omni-tool for untraceable computer intrusion, and thanks to Traynor’s patient instruction over the past several months, she already had a good working knowledge of how to ease in past the most modern (or stubborn) security programming, plant monitors or destructive bits of code and slip back out, leaving none the wiser; she also had help from the newly installed upgrades to her Serrice Council omni-tool. It was even quicker and more efficient, leaving less of an electronic ‘footprint’ behind than ever before, making it a simpler to hide her intrusions.

  The upgrade also included a newer, deadlier omni-blade. While the tool would still generate a ceramic blade that rotated 180° to face forward, as well as the slimmer and longer version of the original extending backwards from one’s wrist and out at a 10° angle away from the arm, (allowing one to strike an opponent by using a crossways slicing motion), a third function fabricated a poison-tipped straight blade (type of poison dependant on the race of the enemy being faced), tip pointing forward, blade above and parallel to the forearm; once fabricated, a punch in the air that stopped anywhere adjacent to an opponent’s body activated the blade’s deadliest feature – it was instantly propelled forward above the wearers forearm, wrist and knuckles, in a manner and with a force equivalent to a bolt being released from a crossbow. From half-a-meter the ceramic blade was capable of piercing any chest or back plate currently being employed by the various armed forces and merc bands, and would slice through soft-tissue and bone with equal alacrity; kinetic barriers were also no help against an attack of this nature. It’s use against an armored cadaver had surprised some; the blade could actually cut straight through chest armor, the sternum and spine of the cadaver, with the point coming to rest exposed through the back armor.