Jupiter's Halo: Unbroken

by A P Heath

  Still, he could not be overt in his affections towards this young woman. His union to the Ambassador might be nothing more than a shell, a façade to please the conventions of their families, but still he could not be seen to break the bonds they had both spoken.

  How he wished to though. He yearned for this woman like nothing before. He wanted to speak to her, hear her voice, make her smile, make her laugh, make her cry out his name in pleasure.

  He’d imagined it so many times. The arousal it caused so strong, so urgent in its need to be released, he was forced to excuse himself from whatever situation held him and find a private place to relieve himself of his lusty burden. Every time he exploded with a strength and potency that shook him bodily, leaving him breathless.

  Afterwards the self-loathing would fill him. He was a sad, spent old man and she was the most magnetizing creature he’d ever seen. Alive with energy and filled with the vibrancy of her prime. She never could, never would want him that way.

  But the looks and smiles had become something more.

  He found her looking at him. Casting her eyes away when he saw, the indescribable cuteness of that blush filling her cheeks.

  It had taken two full weeks before he’d found enough courage to speak to her. He was faltering, doddering even, but she had smiled and curtsied and told him how happy she was to

  properly meet him.

  He’d dreamed of her that night. A dream so deep with passion and vivid in its reality he’d cried at the disappointment of seeing his sleeping wife when he woke.

  That first greeting had become occasional greetings.

  Then a few words in passing. Then conversations, snatched in moments of privacy when his wife was otherwise engaged or too engrossed with her work to notice.

  The conversations grew longer in time. He realised after some days that her propensity to catch him in a private moment tallied perfectly with the times his wife was elsewhere but the suite. He liked that.

  He liked that a great deal indeed. Surely this woman, no matter how ridiculous or far-fetched the prospect, was making an effort not to be seen with him by the Ambassador. That could only mean one thing in Reginald’s mind. She didn’t want to risk the Ambassador thinking something awry was going on and send her away from the station. Anyone trying not to appear guilty of an act always was just that in Reginald’s experience.

  Or, if not the actual act, guilty at least of wanting it.

  Armed with this new found belief in her hidden feelings Reginald had decided to take a chance. When her working day finished he accosted her as she made to leave. He was careful to choose a day he knew his wife would not be returning for many hours.

  He engaged her in conversation, desperately trying not to let his excitement rob the words from his lips. They walked together, slowly, towards the suite exit where she would leave him to return to her own meagre rooms.

  As they neared the doors he could contain himself no longer.

  He took her by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall.

  It was rash, impulsive. The rest of the Ambassadors office staff had left, but still there were any number of other servants around who might see them. In that heady moment he found he didn’t care. All he could see was her and he knew she wanted him. He knew it.

  He kissed her hard, pressing his face to hers with the passion that had boiled in him for so long.

  She was shocked. He could feel her body stiffen at the embrace and his world threatened to crash down around him as he contemplated the prospect that maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was all in his mind and even now she was set to scream and run from him.

  But her body had softened. She leaned into his kiss, her tongue in his mouth, her hands clasping the thick hair at the back of his head. She pulled away, the colour on her plump limps smeared by his contact.

  “Not here.” Was all she whispered to him.

  He had taken her hand, led her as quickly as he could without physically running, to one of the many unused bed chambers of the suite and there all his dreams had come true.

  They’d made love for hours. Reginald was not a man who thought in terms like ‘made love’, but now it seemed accurate. It was frenzied to start with.

  Their passion for one another allowing for nothing but immediate gratification.

  He’d expected her to leave after the first time. To dress in shame and embarrassment and meekly make her way from his presence.

  She had surprised him again though. She had taken hold of him, her caress gentle but somehow more invigorating than any he’d ever felt.

  She coaxed him back to her, again and again. Every time she would maneuver him delicately into a new position.

  Every time he would think he could not go again and every time she would prove him wrong.

  Her body was fantastic. She was toned, muscled but not muscly, slim where he liked and curving in all the places that sent his aging libido into overdrive. Everything he had dreamed she would be, she was and each climax drove him further into ecstasy than the one before.

  After four hours she allowed him to rest. She was coquettish as she dressed. Hiding her body with her hands or scraps of her

  clothes, every now and then allowing him a peak which somehow fired his passion as much as the sight of her fully naked had done.

  She was teasing him, he knew, but there was no will left within him to do anything more but let her. He found himself ready to take her again. He stood from the bed, its covers in total disarray from the energy of their repeated coupling and made to take her in his arms.

  She placed a hand on his arm, with the other she put a finger to his lips.

  “No”, she said gently, a sly smile twisting her lips and creasing her eyes devilishly.

  “Always leave them wanting more.”

  She winked slowly and withdrew her finger before leaning in to place a long kiss against his unresisting lips. Then she was gone.

  That had been the first time. There had been more since. So many more, but for Reginald it would never be enough.

  He wanted to take her away from here. Away from this station to show her the pleasure gardens of Mars. He had told her so on many occasions.

  They could have an estate on the Utopian Isle and live out their days in luxury together. She had smiled at him and laughed. She didn’t believe it, didn’t believe he would leave the Ambassador, shame his family and give up his life all for her. He would do just that. There was a certainty in him harder than the rock of Luna.

  He watched her now, sleeping peacefully, her delicate limbs splayed on the bed where they had fallen exhausted after she’d shown him the pleasures a simple cord and scarf could add to their love making if used correctly.

  He’d hesitated at first, unsure if she was pushing him too far.

  Now he knew what to do he wanted to try again with confidence. He slid across the bed, pushing her legs further apart to allow himself between them.

  He kissed the skin of her back, her neck, nibbled at the lobe of her ear. She moaned gently, lifting her pelvis to press against

  him, letting him know she wanted him to continue.

  In that moment Reginald did not think of his wife. He didn’t think of his family, or Luna, or the pleasure gardens of Mars. There was only her.

  Her name was Cammie. Cammie Li’An and Reginald knew he was in love with her.

  SEVENTEEN

  “Yes Lord Admiral, sir.”

  Timonny’s words filled the troop compartment of the Peregrine from the loud speakers secured along the centre of the ceiling.

  Aitkin and the reserve force sat in waiting, listening to the mission comms through Aitkin’s link. Technically he was not supposed to share the officer level comms with anyone but another officer of similar rank or above, but Aitkin liked the marines under his command to know what they would be heading into if they were called upon.

  It also helped keep them from idle boredom. The internal space of a drop ship on mission was not one to inspire
excitement.

  Each marine was fastened into their seat, fully armoured, so tight they could barely move a limb. The lights of the compartment were dim and the Peregrines had no windows or viewing panes along their hulls to allow at least a look outside.

  Aitkin had linked his comms shortly after the primary force had entered the loading bays, not only to allow his marines to listen in, but to stop Sergeant Johs from asking him what was happening every ten seconds.

  He looked at Johs now, sat directly across the compartment. The sergeant shook his head at the pettiness in the second captain’s response to the Lord Admiral. He opened his mouth to speak but Aitkin silenced him with a look that Johs knew all too well; eyebrows raised, head tilted to one side, lips pursed.

  It was a look that Johs had received on many occasion when voicing his personal opinion on Captain Timonny’s behaviour. It wasn’t that Aitkin disagreed; it was simply a matter of respect.

  The marines of the Deorum were taught to follow orders and respect their superiors.

  If Aitkin let a sergeant openly show disrespect to a captain then he had no place being a lieutenant.

  If the marines didn’t respect their commanding officers it

  might lead them to question orders and Aitkin had seen enough combat to know that questioning an order could cost more lives than following a bad one.

  In the midst of a firefight hesitation was deadly.

  “It’s not as if he’s a bad captain.” Aitkin sent the private comm across to Johs.

  “His tactics are sound, if uninspiring and he doesn’t waste the lives of his marines on follies and bravado.”

  Johs was nodding his agreement.

  “He’s just such a dick though.”

  The sergeant sent back with an impassive face. Aitkin managed not to laugh out loud, but couldn’t keep the smile from his lips.

  Captain Timonny’s mental voice issued from the speakers again.

  “Sweep of the sub levels is clear Lord Admiral. We’ve encountered nothing but empty rooms and supply crates. Sergeant Johs and her squad have passed us, heading to the substation to release the trans-terminal lockdown.”

  Sergeant Johs looked up at the mention of his sister’s name.

  “Very good Captain,” responded Captain Lanad. “Take up position at the internal link stair on level thirteen and await further orders.”

  Timonny didn’t respond and Aitkin knew he would be balking at receiving the order from Lanad instead of the Lord Admiral.

  “Captain Timonny,” Lanad repeated, “Confirm you’ve received my order.”

  There was steel in the First Captain’s tone and Aitkin wondered briefly if he should restrict the comm link.

  If Timonny chose now to stick stubbornly to just sending a confirmation signal or worse was openly insubordinate, every marine listening would brand him a fool and his command over them would be seriously compromised.

  Thankfully Captain Timonny remembered himself before Lanad had to repeat his order again.

  “Confirmed Captain.”

  Even without the Captain using his speaking voice Aitkin

  thought he could hear Timonny’s begrudging tone.

  “Myself and 2C1 are holding position at the internal link stair.”

  Timonny paused and Aitkin could imagine seeing his face as the captain swallowed a bitter mouthful of pride, “Awaiting further orders.”

  He released the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and felt the muscles in his arms and back relax. Johs was looking directly at him, a mischievous look in his eye. Aitkin shook his head slowly to forestall any comments the sergeant might choose to make internally or externally, closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the support rest.

  After a moment’s silence another voice spoke in the compartment.

  “Captain Lanad, we’ve found signs of a fight on level four sir.”

  Aitkin’s eyes opened. It was Lieutenant Mentrim. Captain Lanad had divided 1C1 and taken half the marines up to level three while Lieutenant Mentrim took the other half to sweep level four.

  “Any life signs?” Lanad responded.

  “No sir, it looks like there was a fight by the entrance to the trans-shaft. The terminal’s open on this level. There’re signs of bullet impacts all round the inside and blood on the corridor wall. There’s a trail too sir.”

  Another voice interjected, “We’ve got something on level six too sir.” This time it was Sergeant Deneminjic of 1C2.

  “Mentrim, maintain open comms and continue your sweep. Find out where that trail leads and keep your marines combat ready.”

  The First Captain issued his orders with the confidence of a seasoned commander, “Deneminjic, report.”

  “There are bodies here sir,” Sergeant Deneminjic continued,

  “From the look of it one station tech and three unidentified.

  One of the evac pods has launched and it looks like the tech and one of the others were trying to reach a second. It’s a real mess down here sir.” Deneminjic finished.

  “A mess Sergeant?” Lanad returned the question, urging more detail from his officer.

  “Yes sir. It looks like they tried to make a barricade out of the storage crates, but something must have hit it hard. I mean really hard, sir. They’re scattered all over the place and it looks like the tech was crushed by them. There’s not much of him left but we’re trying to get a read on his ident from the bits we can find.”

  “Understood, let me know when you have a clear read.”

  “Captain?” Deneminjic was hesitant.

  “There’s more Sergeant?” Captain Lanad replied.

  “It’s… strange sir. The woman here was clearly military, but there’s no sign of rank nor company and there was nothing in the briefing about other forces on board.”

  Deneminjic was delivering the information as a statement, but there was a questioning tone in his voice.

  “Continue your sweep Sergeant.” Was all that Lanad sent back.

  Johs was looking at Aitkin across the compartment of their Peregrine.

  “What the hell is going on here?” He asked, his face a mask of confusion.

  “At this point your guess is as good as mine Sergeant.” Aitkin replied. He kept his tone level, not revealing the rising disquiet he was feeling too.

  Something is out of place here.

  Lieutenant Mentrim’s comm link started up again, his voice filling the close confines of the drop ship.

  “We’ve got bodies sir.” His voice was flat through the comm.

  “Your position?” Lanad responded.

  “In the recreation suite sir,” Mentrim sent back.

  “There are eight of them sir. Three piled against the internal wall in one rec room and another in the main chamber on the way to the commissary. The others are…” He paused.

  “The others are what Lieutenant?”

  “Well sir, to be honest they look like they just lay down where

  ever they were standing. They’re all just lying in a bloody line

  sir. ”

  In the Reserve Peregrine Aitkin and Johs exchanged a look.

  “It’s odd Captain, but from initial inspection none of the first three are showing any external injuries, but the others have all taken rounds sir. It’s just…”

  “Just what Lieutenant?”

  There was exasperation in the Captain’s voice. He was unused to the officers and marines under his command being anything but certain.

  “Well, there’s no blood and they’re not lying right. From the shots they’ve taken they should be crumpled against the walls or at least showing some signs of falling. One of them’s taken a round right through the eye! Instead they’re just lying in a line sir. Forgive me sir, but it’s bloody weird in here.”

  Johs mouthed a silent ‘What?’ at the words they heard. Aitkin shook his and raised his hand to forestall more comments, concentrating on the comms.

  “We followed the blood train and it look
s like it belongs to the body in the next room. She’s missing most of her head and from the marks on the wall it looks like she was using the station comms when she died. She looks military too; her gear’s pretty high tech sir, but I don’t know of any company that operates without comm links so I couldn’t tell you who she’s with. There’s no blood from the rest of the bodies though Captain, not even the one with a hole where his eye should be!”

  “It’s the same here Captain.” Deneminjic added.

  “The woman has a pretty nasty head wound and the tech…well…the tech is in pieces, but the other two are all wrong. They’ve taken rounds too, but it’s like whoever shot them was firing on target dummies sir. There’s something else sir.”

  Deneminjic was clearly spooked by the whole situation, but he was doing his best to keep his comm link from betraying him.

  “There are weapons here I don’t recognise. They’re not Deorum design and they don’t look like anything I’ve seen before.”

  Aitkin was lost. No blood? How did someone take a bullet to the eye and not bleed? And why would they be lying in nice neat lines after a firefight? Captain Lanad was clearly not happy with what he was hearing either. In the face of confusion he fell back on what he knew.

  “Lieutenant Mentrim, Sergeant Deneminjic, stay on point. Our objective is to find out why the S.E.P. wasn’t followed and get the techs back to Luna, alive or dead. If we’ve got to take extra bodies then so be it. No doubt there’ll be plenty of medi-techs back home who can fathom out these mysteries for us. I want those bodies wrapped and back in the primary loading bay in ten minutes.”

  After a moment’s silence both Mentrim and Deneminjic replied.

  “Yes Captain.”

  “Yes Captain.”

  “And bring these mysterious weapons you’ve found too.” Lanad added as an afterthought.

  “I expect Command will want to know if someone out there’s developing new tech.”