Purple Heart
Chapter 2: M.I.A

Copyright© 2016 by Snekguy

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 2: M.I.A - After a recon mission in the Kruger system goes badly wrong, Moralez finds himself maimed and disgraced, his only hope for recovery rests in the notorious Pinwheel station.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Coercion   Consensual   NonConsensual   Rape   Reluctant   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Military   War   Science Fiction   Aliens   Space   FemaleDom   Light Bond   Rough   Sadistic   Cream Pie   Oral Sex   Petting   Big Breasts   Doctor/Nurse   Size   Caution   Slow   Violence  

Moralez’ feet were beginning to hurt, they had been walking for so long, with no sign of any other survivors or any more Bugs. These winding tunnels went on for miles, and they were hopelessly lost. The tension was constant, it was impossible to tell if or when another one of those giant Bugs might appear. If it did, then they would not be able to stop it this time. The heat was getting to him too, the deeper they went, the more hot and humid it became. It had to be intentional, this was a hive, he was sure of that now. That thing they had fought, it must have been some kind of combat variant. Were the Betelgeusian soldiers that they had been fighting all this time just drones? Did they have to become established on a planet and build a hive like this before they could grow these warriors?

The information was crucial to the war effort. If an army of those things came pouring out of the ground, the UNN would be completely overrun, and no amount of Borealans or Krell would save them. He had to get back to the UNN line, but how?

He glanced over at the Borealan. She was walking beside him with her long, loping strides, her orange tail trailing behind her. Perhaps she would be able to smell their way out? Or at the very least, help them avoid the passages where the pheromones were the strongest.

“Hey, what’s your name?” She didn’t reply, keeping her eyes on the tunnel ahead of them. Still surly. Well tough shit, he outranked her, and they were in a combat zone. “Hey, I’m talking to you. What’s your name, soldier?”

She shot him a sideways look and gave a reluctant reply.

“Aziote.”

“Alright, Azi, what do you smell? Anything that can help us?” She seemed annoyed by his abbreviation of her name, but she sniffed the air experimentally.

“Nothing, it all smells like Bug.”

“Zuga said that he could smell what might be pheromone trails, that they were stronger leading deeper into the hive. Smell anything like that?”

She shook her head dismissively.

“Well keep a ... nose out for it. It might be the only sense of direction that we have down here. Oh, and take this.”

He unholstered his pistol and handed it to her grip-first. She took it in her large, clawed hand and weighed it experimentally. It was comically small to her, her finger barely fit through the trigger guard. She sneered, baring her pointed teeth as she examined the M1911.

“What is this?” she spat, “a chemical weapon?”

“That’s a 1911, that design is over seven hundred years old, still in production. Not exactly top of the line, but I never leave home without it. Those .45 rounds will still kill a Betelgeusian in a pinch.” She held it between her fingers like a toy, examining it with a disgusted expression on her face. “Take it,” he insisted. “You lost your XMR in the cave-in. Better to have an old weapon than nothing.”

She sighed and reluctantly shoved the pistol down her utility belt.

As they rounded the next turn, they came to a fork, two paths that looked identical. Moralez waited for Azi to sniff the air, then she gestured towards one of them.

“This smells less of Bug,” she said. Moralez walked over to the second tunnel, then licked his finger, holding it in the air for a moment. “What are you doing?”

“Hold on,” he replied, concentration etched on his face. “There’s airflow here, coming towards us down this passage.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She crossed her arms, watching him skeptically.

“Well, I have a theory. There are species of insect on Earth that build hives underground, and they’re capable of making vents that cycle air through the tunnels. They can bring fresh air deep into the colony, control humidity and temperature, you name it. I think the Betelgeusians can do the same, and if I’m right, then this air is entering from somewhere we might be able to exit through.”

“But it smells strongly of Bug down there,” she repeated as she gestured towards the first tunnel. “This one smells better, we go this way.”

Moralez frowned at her.

“Excuse me? I outrank you, soldier. You’ll follow my orders. We go this way.”

The Borealan bristled, her flat brow furrowing and her lips curling to reveal pointed teeth.

“You are not fit to lead, my pack is dead because of you. We go this way.” She punctuated her command with a violent gesture, pointing her black, curved claw down the tunnel.

“Listen here you insubordinate fuck.” Moralez aimed his XMR at her, and she seemed surprised by his response. She backed up a little, eyeing the railgun barrel that was pointed at her chest. “Get your lanky ass in that tunnel, or the only thing waiting for you when we climb out of that air vent will be a military prison.”

She seemed to consider for a moment, weighing her options maybe? He kept the gun trained on her, and eventually, she fell in line and made her way past him down the ventilated passage. He elected to follow a short distance behind her, keeping the rifle in a ready position as he used the flashlight attachment to light their way in the darkness. Borealans could be fast, and if Azi decided to turn on him, he’d need to be faster. As if they didn’t have enough problems to worry about already besides fighting each other.

They walked for another half hour or so. Although Moralez could definitely feel the gentle flow of fresh air on his face now, the heat and humidity were still stifling. His boots were filling with sweat, and it was becoming uncomfortable. Azi paused for a moment, removing sections of her black body armor and dropping them to the tunnel floor. First her shoulder plates, her breastplate, then she pulled her thick leather undershirt over her head to expose her torso. She was certainly in shape. Bunches of toned muscle lined her shoulders and back, her biceps protruding as she raised her arms. Moralez’ eyes were drawn to the deep channel that ran all the way down her spine. He could see her Venusian dimples peeking out over her low-hanging belt. She looked remarkably human for what she was. Beads of sweat rolled down her subtly tanned skin, glistening in the light of his torch. She wore some kind of tube top or maybe a sports bra to protect her modesty, but that was it.

He noticed that the orange fur that covered her hands, with its faded tiger stripes, ended at her elbows to make it look as if she was wearing fuzzy gloves. Her hands and forearms were adorned with a thin coat of cat-like hair, while her biceps and shoulders were smooth like the skin of a human. There was no fur anywhere else on her torso either. He glanced down at her feet, noting that they too were furred and wondering how far up her legs it extended. The only other places that it was present were on her tail, and of course the hair on her head.

“Don’t you need that?” he asked, gesturing towards her discarded gear. She turned to face him, her belly just as muscled as her back, with a six pack so defined that his beam cast shadows on it.

“The air is stifling, it matters little. If we encounter another large Bug, it will not protect me.”

“True enough ... let’s keep moving.”


He must have been right, the tunnel was starting to slant upwards. It was barely noticeable, but they had to be on the right track now. Azi’s observation worried him, however. If they encountered a group of drones, they would be able to deal with them, assuming that they didn’t have energy shields. Another warrior was a different matter entirely, and although he suspected that they could be outrun, in the process of escaping they would surely become even more hopelessly lost than they already were.

He fumbled for his canteen, at least it would recharge quickly in this horrible humidity, its system drawing in moisture from the surrounding air automatically. He raised it to his lips and took a draw, careful to keep one eye on Azi. They had been walking all day and probably all night too, it was impossible to tell underground. He checked the watch on his wrist display. They had indeed been down here for about eighteen hours now, he was becoming tired. But where could they rest in this maze of tunnels? Wherever they slept, they ran the risk of a Betelgeusian patrol stumbling over them. There had to be storage areas down here somewhere, or would those be deeper inside? No, it didn’t make sense for the Bugs to have to travel all the way back down into the network to resupply. Logically, such caches must be placed along the tunnels that led to exits, like the one they were surely in right now.

“Keep an eye out for side tunnels,” he said. “If I’m right, then there must be storage rooms around here somewhere.”

Azi didn’t reply. Even she was struggling, her skin was shiny with perspiration, and her top was soaked. Moralez jogged a little to walk beside her, careful to keep his weapon pointed in her general direction, and offered her his canteen.

“You look like you could use it.”

She didn’t respond, simply staring straight ahead as she marched. Moralez became annoyed and decided to confront her.

“What’s with the attitude, soldier? I didn’t kill your pack, the Bugs did. Wasn’t my idea to come down here either, those were the Admiral’s orders.”

Her eye twitched, he was getting under her skin. All the better. He didn’t have much hands-on experience with these aliens, but he knew how to control his troops. She’d fold like any of them if he put enough pressure on her.

“Well? Out with it. I asked you a question.”

She growled, a low, primal rumbling that reverberated in Moralez’ bones. Was that some kind of threat display? Just who did this alien think she was?

“You think I won’t hit you upside the head with the butt of my rifle? I don’t have time for this, you’re only making things worse for us. I outrank you, so either fall in line and do as I tell you or I’m going to make you. Now drink, or you’ll become dehydrated, and I’m not about to drag you out of here.”

She balled her fists, her orange, furry tail flicking back and forth in irritation. He waited for her to argue, but instead, she snatched the canteen from his outstretched hand. She took a drink, glaring at him with her amber eyes, then handed it back.

“That’s more like it,” he added. “I don’t care if you don’t like me, just do your goddamned job, and we won’t have any problems.”


They walked in silence for a while longer, this tunnel seemed endless, and there had been no forks for a long time. Moralez was used to staying awake and often being in combat for longer than twenty-four hours at a time, but something about the temperature was just killing him. Azi fared no better. Her fuzzy, orange hair was limp and damp with sweat now, her top stained almost transparent. Suddenly she stopped, sniffing the air.

Moralez took a knee and shouldered his XMR, illuminating the tunnel warily, ready to fire on any approaching enemies.

“What it is?”

She continued to sniff, moving over to the passage wall, following some kind of scent. She placed her hand against the resin wall and hesitated, then put her furry ear to the surface.

“Something in here ... smells different. I think the wall is hollow.”

Moralez rose to his feet and slung his weapon over his shoulder on its strap, placing his hands against the warm, smooth resin. It must be a storage space, they had to be here. There would be some kind of switch, a pressure plate maybe? How would an insect that mostly communicates through pheromones open a sealed door? They ran their hands over the surface, but they couldn’t find any obvious electronics. Moralez traced his fingertips along the firmly packed soil where he expected the door frame to be, and recoiled as they met something wet and spongy.

“What is it?” Azi walked over to him, leaning down to his level to examine the wall. There was a gelatinous mass protruding from the damp soil through a convenient hole in the resin, mucous green in color, embedded in the wall. Azi prodded it with her claw, and it wobbled like jello. Was it alive? With his gloved hand, Moralez gripped it and pulled, the slippery material deforming under his fingers. He unearthed more of it, but it was stuck fast, half a dozen little tendrils disappearing deeper into the soil.

“Some kind of native mold?” he mused. He released the mass, and it rebounded as if it were made of elastic, settling slowly back into its original position.

“It cannot be a coincidence that we found a hidden door and this odd thing in the same place,” Azi replied, scratching her chin with her hooked claw as she considered. “They must be linked somehow.”

Moralez snapped his fingers, startling Azi. Had she never seen that gesture before?

“A bio-sensor! It has to be. This is the door control. Bio-sensors respond to environmental stimuli in order to serve a function, like detecting minerals or gasses.”

“Okay, but what does this one respond to?”

“I don’t know. Consider what we’ve learned about how Betelgeusians communicate, pheromones and scents, we’ve not even seen evidence of writing so far. What if this door opens to a smell command, the same way that a human door might open to a voice command? The Bug stands here,” he moved in front of the door, standing with his legs spaced apart. “Then it releases a scent, perhaps some specific pheromone or a pattern of smells. Zuga said that the pheromone trail was complex, like a written language, he just didn’t know how to read it. When the sensor picks up the scent, the door opens.”

“That doesn’t help us open the door,” Azi grumbled, “we cannot make such smells.”

“Let’s have a think about this,” he said, standing with his arms crossed in front of the gelatinous door control as it pulsed gently. “What if it’s coded to only open when it senses a Betelgeusian? If we traveled back down the tunnel, maybe we could drag back one of the bodies, and-”

He jumped out of his skin as Azi slammed her leg into the door, the metal beneath the soil ringing like a bell.

“What the hell are you-”

She kicked it again, driving her foot into the surface with her massive, powerful leg.

“What if you set off some kind of alarm-”

She wasn’t listening. The alien pounded the door relentlessly, and to Moralez’ amazement, it began to dent inward. The dirt that had been somehow glued to the surface to conceal it was sloughing off under her assault, revealing the silver metal beneath.

“Idiot! If you break the door down, they’re gonna know we were here! I order you-”

The door fell to the ground with a heavy clang that reverberated through the passage. The gelatinous blob started going crazy, flexing and twisting as if it were in pain. Moralez had no idea what to do. Azi was out of control, she wouldn’t follow his orders. Summary execution was out of the question, he needed her. If he came across a Bug patrol on his own, he wouldn’t be able to fight them off. He cursed and knelt for a moment to draw a combat knife from his boot, stabbing the gelatinous blob with the blade. It wobbled and bubbled, leaking yellow pus, then went still.

“Damn it Azi, what’s the point of hiding in a side room if you make it obvious that we’re here?” He wiped off the blade on his sleeve, then stepped over the dented door and into a small, dingy room. It was roughly circular, with a domed roof, all made from the same sculpted soil as the tunnels. There were crates in here, odd, vaguely rectangular boxes a dull brown in color that looked like they were made from some kind of poured resin. There were no light fixtures of any kind, they were probably labeled by scent just like everything else in this godforsaken maze.

Azi sniffed the air in the room tentatively.

“No Bugs in here, not for a long time. It will be safe.”

“Yeah, unless a patrol comes down that fucking tunnel and sees the busted door.”

She hooked her fingers under the metal plate and hefted it back up, leaning it against the door frame so that it more or less blocked off the room. Moralez shot her a sarcastic glance.

“D.I.Y expert over here. Remind me never to let you remodel my house.” He doubted that she understood any of his veiled insults, but she huffed dismissively, turning to examine the crates. She kicked one experimentally.

“Don’t break those too!” Moralez added. “For God’s sake, they could be full of sewage or chemical weapons for all you know.”

She ignored him, bringing her massive, paw-like foot down heavily on one of the boxes. It shattered like brittle plastic, disgorging dozens of Betelgeusian handheld pistols and what must have been wrist-mounted energy shield projectors onto the floor. She picked up one of the devices and thumbed the switch, a blue oval of plasma flaring to life, blinding Moralez in the gloom. She waved it back and forth, smirking at him as his eyes adjusted to the glow. She pulled his 1911 handgun from her belt and tossed it unceremoniously at his feet.

“You can have this back.”

He stooped to pick it up, brushing dirt off the receiver and scowling at her as she appraised one of the Bug weapons. He walked over to the pile and picked up a shield projector for himself, might as well take one, but he didn’t care for the Bug guns. His handgun had served him well up to now, and he wasn’t about to start doubting the .45. He strapped the strange device to his wrist and switched it on, the blue, translucent shield wavering and fizzing as it took form. Much like the weapons that the aliens favored, the shield made use of magnetically-contained plasma, molded into the desired shape by the electromagnetic fields. It wouldn’t actually stop a bullet or a knife, but it would more than likely melt the metal before it made contact with the user. He collapsed it again and holstered his pistol.

A wave of fatigue suddenly overcame him, and he sat down on one of the crates, the relief on his feet and legs was immediate. It was still uncomfortably hot, but he could deal with that. Now that they were out of immediate danger he could think, try to puzzle their situation out, come up with a real plan that didn’t involve them just walking until they dropped. He removed his armor plating, his helmet, and his backpack, stripping down to his uniform. Instead of throwing them to the floor as Azi had done, he stacked them on the crate beside him. He stretched his arms above his head, yawning. His body was a patchwork of scars and burns, mementos of old battles standing out prominently on his tanned skin. Azi seemed drawn to them, watching him as he ran his fingers through his sodden hair. He noticed her looking and pointed to one of his scars, a large, discolored burn that looked like a splash of paint across his chest.

“That one almost took me out. Plasma grenade burned straight through my armor, almost down to the bone.”

She didn’t reply, merely watching him, her head cocked like a curious dog. The silence became awkward, and he turned away, frustrated. Maybe it was futile to try to bond with her, he still wasn’t sure if she genuinely blamed him for the death of her pack or if she was simply an ill-tempered bitch. Either way, it had to stop. Their cooperation was crucial to their survival, and he outranked her. No point bringing it up now though, he was too tired to argue.

He rummaged through his pack, retrieving a tightly-rolled sleeping bag, and lay it on the floor beside the wall. Might as well get some shuteye while they had the time. He pulled some nutrient bars from a pocket on the side of the pack and unwrapped one, chewing the dense ration. He unzipped the bag and climbed into it as Azi watched, perched on one of the intact crates. She didn’t have a pack, and he assumed no sleeping bag or rations. Maybe the aliens could go a while without eating, or maybe she was just careless. He wasn’t about to share with her after she had snubbed his previous gestures.

He finished the nutrient bar and settled in. It tasted pretty foul, but there were about three thousand calories packed into it, along with all the vitamins and minerals that his body would need on short notice. As he began to drift off to sleep, he was startled awake by the sound of another crate shattering. He rose to a sitting position, his heart racing, seeing Azi rummaging through the contents.

“What are you doing? We need to sleep while we can.”

She ignored him, picking up a strange package wrapped in some manner of brown paper, smelling it and turning it over in her hands. She peeled the paper away, revealing some kind of black substance that looked like road tar. She licked it, then dropped it, spitting and grumbling to herself. She eyed his pack, then turned to him, her arms crossed.

“Give me your food.”

Moralez laughed at her, doubling over as the effort sent a flare of pain through his ribs, still bruised from the warrior Bug’s claw bash.

“Excuse me, soldier?” He made sure it sounded condescending, trying to goad her into reacting. She bristled and bared her pointed teeth.

“You have food, give some to me.”

That was the last straw. He unzipped the sleeping bag and rose to his feet. It wouldn’t be intimidating to such a large alien, but it was a force of habit, this would not be the first time that he had been forced to talk down a disgruntled subordinate. Her insubordination and lack of respect were unprecedented, however, had this alien even completed her military training?

“Let’s get one thing straight, Mad Cat, I outrank you. That means you do what I say, when I say it. That isn’t a suggestion, it isn’t optional, I’m not asking you politely. Either you get your shit together and follow orders, or I’m gonna exercise my right under section ninety-four of the military justice code to summarily execute you for mutiny. We’re still on mission, and this mission is under my command, we have to assume that nobody else made it back to the surface and that we’re the only ones alive who can warn the Admiralty about the hive and the warriors. I’m not going to let your petty bullshit get in the way of that.”

He unholstered his handgun and pointed it at her chest, fast enough to surprise her, he noted. That might be useful to keep in mind later on.

“So what’s it gonna be? Are you going to follow orders or am I going to have to put you down?”

Azi was seething with barely contained anger. Her claws were outstretched aggressively, and her pupils were dilated into large, dark circles. She might be strong and fast, but she wasn’t faster than a bullet ... was she?

Moralez reached into the pocket of his pants with his free hand and tossed her the remaining nutrient bar, a gesture of goodwill. It landed at her feet, and she stared at it, a furious expression on her face. He got the feeling that this wasn’t about the food at all, something deeper was going on here. Her eyes rose to meet his, and she spat a curse in her native tongue.

“You are not fit to be Alpha, you are weak, you made bad decisions.”

“Alpha?” he repeated, confused. “What the hell are you talking about? What does that mean?”

He saw the glint in her yellow eyes too late, the contraction of her muscles. As if in slow motion, he watched her duck and charge, propelling herself forward on her spring-loaded legs. He squeezed the trigger, the 1911 recoiling, expelling a bronze bullet casing with a swirl of smoke. The projectile blew past her hair, the only sign of its passage a ruffling of her orange mane in its wake, and she was upon him before he could ready another shot. She slammed her open palm into his chest, knocking all the breath out of him. He collapsed to the floor, heaving as he tried to suck air into his empty lungs. She stepped on his wrist until he released the handgun, then kicked it away across the dirt. She gave him a moment to recover, and he rose to his hands and knees, coughing. Azi crouched, and lowered one of her massive hands to grip a fistful of his hair, Moralez wincing in pain as she pulled his head up and snarled into his ear.

“You can’t even defend yourself, you miserable ape. I am Alpha now, we do what I say.”

“I’ll have you ... court-marshaled,” he spat, still catching his breath. “You’re going against the wall for this, I’ll ... make sure of it.”

“You aren’t in a position to make sure of anything, and when I’m done with you, you won’t want to.”

“Talk sense you goddamned fleabag,” he growled. She tugged his hair in response, and he gritted his teeth.

“Keep fighting me, see where it gets you.”

There was an odd look on her face now, her eyes playing over his body. Was that hunger? Did Borealans eat humans? She flung him backwards and released his hair, slamming him against the wall, and he sank onto his sleeping bag in a heap. She stood at full height, leering down at him, and her pink tongue left her mouth to wet her lips. Fuck, she really was about to eat him. He was defenseless, except for ... but he’d have to be fast. Provoke her, wait for her to get close, then strike.

He began to laugh, sputtering as his burning lungs worked overtime. Azi cocked her head, not understanding his reaction.

“You call that a punch? Felt like a light breeze.”

She balled her fists again and leaned closer, angry for sure. But there was something else, a longing in her stare that set him on edge.

“Oh, I can do worse,” she whispered in a mocking tone.

“Why don’t you say that to my face?”

She crouched and leaned closer, her pink nose an inch from his. He could feel her hot breath on his skin. His hand inched slowly towards the knife in his boot as he maintained eye contact, trying to keep her focused on him.

“I can make you beg, first for the pain to stop, then for it to continue...”

He drew his knife, the blade angled downwards, and drove it towards her neck with all of his strength. She was faster than him. Her reaction times, her reflexes, the firing of her powerful muscles. There was no way that he could have taken her by surprise. She caught his wrist in her large hand, a trickle of red blood staining her orange fur. The tip of the blade had found its mark, but it had only penetrated one or two millimeters. The tightness of her grip became unbearable, and he released his hold on the knife.

She touched a fingertip to the small cut, rubbing the crimson fluid between the fleshy pads on her thumb and index finger, biting her lip.

“You’ve stung me, little insect, and now I’m going to crush you.”

He swung a punch at her with his free hand, but she dodged it easily, shackling his arms in her steely grip. She slammed him to the floor, pinning him under her weight on the sleeping bag, then her oddly dexterous tail snaked over her back and bound his wrists above his head like a sinewy rope. He struggled against the appendage, but it was all muscle, he was completely overcome. For all his training and experience, he was powerless, immobilized before this massive alien.

She straddled him, her face reddening as she wet her lips again, tracing the contours of his body with her amber eyes. She was predatory, but Moralez felt less and less like she intended to eat him. What was her plan?

“I love it when you fight me, there wouldn’t be any sport in it otherwise.”

She traced his exposed chest with her wicked, hooked claws, drawing red welts in his skin. He shivered and writhed as they burned into him, the pain awakening his senses, amplifying them. He was suddenly aware of the pressure that her firm, steely thighs were applying around his waist, the heat and moisture that penetrated his clothing. He looked up at her burning cheeks and realized that she was aroused, she was burning up. What did she intend to do to him?

“So fragile, so weak, so easy...”

She raked her other hand across his belly, breaking the skin slightly, leaving three scratches that welled almost imperceptibly with blood. He bucked and grunted, his body trying to save itself with futile, primal struggling. His hands were bound too tightly by her tail, and even with leverage he wouldn’t have been able to lift her, it felt like an elephant was sitting on him.

“In my culture, we scar people who don’t know their place, it serves as a memory. Your flesh is so yielding, I could carve you up like meat. Some part of me wants to spill your guts, to watch the blood drain from you.” She closed her eyes and rolled her head back, grinding her wide, heavy hips into his groin. “But then the fun would be over too quickly.”

She leaned over him, tugging at his hair with her long fingers to pull his head aside, and pressed her fat lips against his carotid artery. His blood ran cold, and he tensed as he felt her sharp teeth dig into his skin, his racing heart making the vein pulse against her sharp incisors. Her breath was warm and sweet, and he shuddered as her long, feline tongue grazed his tender flesh to taste his sweat and his fear. He felt her chuckle as he trembled under her touch, her black, meat-hook claws tracing the line of his clavicle. She moved down to the nape of his neck, mouthing and kissing as she went, then bit his shoulder. He felt her teeth pierce his skin, burning pain flaring through his nervous system, forcing a cry from his lips that he tried desperately to stifle. Her bite force was incredible, she was locked onto him like a vice. Yet even through the pain, he could feel that she was holding back. This was nothing to her, a love bite, a hickey.

She withdrew, leaving a ring of swollen, sore tooth marks that seeped a slow trickle of blood. She dragged her rough tongue across the wounds, savoring his metallic taste as he groaned. She smacked her lips in an exaggerated display, making sure that he was watching as her agile tongue snaked forth to catch a stray droplet from her chin.

“You taste so good, sweet, like syrup. Blood is an aphrodisiac to us, you know. The warmth, the texture, the aroma of a defeated enemy. It excites me.”

She ground her groin into him again, and with a pang of shame, he realized he was semi-hard. She noticed his expression and laughed at him as she rolled her hips.

“Humans get the picture, eventually. This is the way of things, you’ll learn how to submit to your betters.”

“Fuck you,” Moralez spat, putting on his best stoic face. She giggled, an oddly feminine sound coming from such a large, heavily muscled creature.

“That’s the idea, L.T.” She leaned closer, nuzzling his cheek with her nose. “I’m going to kiss you now, and if you bite, I’ll put your eyes out. Understand?” She pinched his lower lip between her teeth and tugged, then released it, waiting for a reply. He elected to glare at her instead. If she had wanted to fuck, to relieve stress ... even to enjoy what might well be their last night alive, she could have just asked. She had a handsome, sculpted body, he wouldn’t have refused. But this didn’t feel like it was about sex, it was about power, control. She was asserting herself over him, and she wanted him to know it.

She pressed her soft lips against his now, parting them to tease him with gentle, tentative strokes of her dexterous tongue. The sensation sent a pleasant chill down his spine, and he felt his erection rise to full prominence, throbbing as she eased her organ deeper. She became more confident and aggressive as her kiss dragged on, cradling his head in her large hands, almost loving as she probed his throat. Her tongue was impossibly long and thick, coiling like a snake, the feline barbs tickling the roof of his mouth. He tasted his blood on her breath as her saliva mixed with his own. She wasn’t just kissing him, she was invading his head. She was violating him, muddling his beleaguered mind with her unexpected affection. Worse, she was good at it. Too good. He felt his hard member press against her crotch as his eyelids drooped of their own accord.

Just as he was beginning to relax and forget the pain that pulsed in his shoulder, she scoured his ribs with her claws, leaving stinging trails that jolted him from his trance. She muffled his surprised exclamation with her roving tongue, the slippery, meaty organ filling his mouth obscenely.

She waited for him to stop struggling, then released him with a wet pop, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and smirking at him as he panted.

“You don’t know what to feel, do you? Don’t think. Let me think in your place, then do as I say. That’s the point.”

She sat up straight, pulling her sports bra over her head. Her breasts resisted for a moment, straining against the fabric, then they fell free as she removed their support. They bounced gently as they settled, firm and pert despite their immense size and weight. They were larger than his head, full and inviting, his eyes drawn to them with an almost magnetic power. Her pink nipples were erect, and beads of her sweat dripped down her bronzed skin, the sheen reflecting the scattered light of the discarded torch. Moralez felt saliva pool in his mouth despite himself, and resisted the urge to swallow conspicuously for fear that it might betray his lust. She knew he was looking, she had intended it, and his eyes followed her hand as it moved slowly down her impressive body. She paused to knead her breast, her flesh filling her palm and spilling between her furry fingers like cookie dough. When she let go of it, the sumptuous globe sprang back to its original shape, her fat wobbling enticingly. She ran her fingers down her torso and over her flat stomach, her chiseled abdominal muscles bulging, a solitary vein breaking up the smoothness that peeked enticingly over her low-cut pants. She undid her belt, then gradually lowered the zipper on her fly, teasing him. She stood for a moment, stepping out of her trousers, Moralez’ arms still firmly bound above his head by her long tail. She was wearing tight-fitting spats beneath, or maybe bike shorts. They clung to her figure, the fabric straining against the bulging muscles of her thighs and butt, the crotch sodden and discolored. She hooked her claws into the waistband and tugged them down, the elastic sliding over her smooth, tanned skin and struggling to pass over the exaggerated curves of her figure. As he had assumed, the fur on her feet did not extend all the way up her limbs. Much like on her arms, the downy coat ended at her knees, leaving her round thighs clean and flush.

She dropped the garment on the dirt floor, then lowered herself over him. This time her thick thighs closed around his head, her drooling loins hovering an inch above his face, so close that he could feel her heat on his cheeks. She crooned at him, peering down over the mounds of her breasts, and splayed her delicate lips with her fingers. She exposed her glistening, pink flesh to him, a solitary rope of her excitement dripping down onto his chin.

“Serve your Alpha...”

He turned his face away. She snarled and gripped a handful of his hair, yanking him painfully back into position.

“If you want to keep your tongue, use it, or I’ll pluck it from your head.”

He extended it reluctantly, and she drove her hips down, forcing her groin into his face. He sputtered, her leaking juices flooding his mouth and staining his lips. She was burning up, feverish, her flesh was almost too hot to touch. She yanked his hair again, eliciting a pained gasp. She was so damned rough with him and yet he got the impression that she was holding back, careful not to seriously injure him, but enjoying his discomfort. He doubted whether she would follow through on her threats to maim him, but he couldn’t be sure. Nothing about her personality was stable or reasonable, she was beyond control.

He swallowed his pride and licked obediently, lapping at her glistening sex as her thighs trembled with excitement around his head and her grip on his hair became tighter. He raked his tongue between her puffy labia, painting the folds of her vulva with his saliva, doting on her as if it might somehow calm her fury. She wouldn’t keep still, grinding on him, twisting and thrusting as if it might heighten the sensation.

“Deeper,” she growled through clenched teeth, pinching the engorged nipple on one of her fat breasts with her free hand. He did his best to oblige, pushing his tongue into her quivering tunnel. Her satin walls flexed and squeezed around him, sucking him deeper with their powerful contractions, slick with her oozing nectar. She tasted of salty sweat, sour metal, but also of an unmistakably sexual musk that ensnared his senses.

Her hand left her boob, creeping down to her mound, and she pulled back the hood of skin that protected her inflamed clitoris to expose the nub of engorged flesh.

“Here, gently...”

He pressed his lips around it and drew it into his mouth, playing his tongue over the shiny surface, drawing shapes on it and circling it slowly. He felt her legs close painfully around him as she shuddered, arching her muscled back. Was he ... into this? His member raged, straining against his underwear, throbbing so much that it bounced. It was so confusing, his mind roiling with conflict as he kissed and licked at her womanhood, feeling her pulse on his tongue. He didn’t know what he wanted. Was it just his body that was responding to hers, or was it something deeper, more worrying?

“Do you like the taste? Get used to it.”

He resisted the impulse to bite her, instead sucking harder, lashing the sensitive bud with his tongue. Her sticky, viscous honey seeped down his chin, clear strands of her excitement linking his face to her lips and making her thighs slide against his red cheeks. Her pace became more fervent, Azi rubbing herself on his face as if he were some kind of inanimate sex aid. It should have been disgusting. Her callous disregard for his need to breathe, her selfish humping, the undignified way in which she coated him in a glaze of her juices. But his member ached and burned, yearning for her cruel touch. It confused him, but the seething, conflicting emotions only added to the raw arousal that made his erection ache with need. He wanted to touch her bronze skin. He wanted to feel the way that the glistening beads of her fresh perspiration made his hands glide, to run his fingers over her firm muscles, tracing their perfectly sculpted contours. He wanted to take hold of those ample breasts as they hung tantalizingly above him, swinging and shaking with her every thrust, and maul them until his digits sank up to the knuckle in their yielding meat. But she kept him restrained, delighting in his frustration and discomfort.

“This is all your kind is good for,” she sneered, squeezing his head between her tanned thighs. “You deserve to be beneath us.” He tried to respond, but she muffled him with her groin, chuckling as he struggled. “You’re a slow learner. You can’t fight me, submit.”

She pulled away a little, a sagging web of her clear emission linking her sex to his lips. She waited, excited, did she expect him to give in?

“I’ll die before I give you the satisfaction, you bitch.”

His resistance only seemed to arouse her further, and he felt her meaty thighs flex around his head as she gazed down at him, her eyelids drooping.

“You just might...”

She rose off him suddenly, releasing his wrists from her flexible tail as she stood over him. Immediately he tried to stand, already preparing to swing at her. The reprieve was only temporary, however, and she struck him with the back of her hand to knock him back to the floor.

“Oh, I’m not done with you, ape. Hands behind your back.”

He rubbed his rapidly bruising cheek, then launched himself at her, aiming to hit her in the gut. It was the only weak point that he could reach. But this time she didn’t react. Too late he realized that she had allowed it, and he felt his fist crumple against her rock-hard abdominal muscles. She laughed at him as he cradled his hand, then closed her fist around his neck. Azi lifted him off the ground by the throat, slamming his back against the dirt wall of the storage room and pinning him, pressing her naked body up against his. Her breasts spilled around his chest, engulfing him like an amoeba trying to devour its prey, her skin as smooth as polished metal and feverishly warm. He clawed at her furry wrist with his fingers, kicking his feet in the air and gagging as she held him aloft, but it was futile. She moved her head in close, sucking his ear into her warm mouth and chewing it softly with her sharp teeth, the lurid sounds filling his head.

“Hands behind your back,” she whispered, “or I’ll choke you out.”

Darkness started to cloud his peripheral vision as her grip on his windpipe increased, and he stopped struggling, pushing his hands behind his back with some difficulty as he was trapped against the wall. He felt her tail snake up and tie them like a pair of fuzzy manacles, then she carried him over to one of the resin crates, sitting him on top of it. She released his neck, and he coughed, her fingers leaving red impressions in his skin. He glared up at her, swallowing, trying to soothe the soreness in his throat.

She fumbled with his belt buckle, it was too small for her large hands, then pulled his trousers down. She gripped the conspicuous bulge in his briefs, squeezing it rhythmically in her warm palm, laughing at him as he flinched and reddened. Why was his body responding this way?

“You look so angry. If you relax, it will hurt less.”

She tugged his underwear down, and his erection bounced free, as swollen as he had ever seen it. She brushed the sensitive glans with her fingers, making him flinch. She gripped the shaft and stroked it up and down, firm and slow, her lips curling into a knowing smile as his eyelids fluttered.

“For all your struggling, you’re throbbing in my hand. Does it embarrass you? Does it turn you on, knowing that you’re inferior to me?”

He turned his head away from her, cheeks burning, but she was impossible to ignore. Every flick of her wrist sent a fresh jolt of tingling pleasure through him, his body twitching and flexing outside of his control. He felt as if his brain wasn’t even a factor anymore, his body was under her influence, betraying him to his captor. She straddled him, one foot on the floor and one knee resting on the crate by his hip, her silky thigh brushing his skin. She leaned over him, her breath ruffling his hair as she peered down at him due to their size difference. Her perky breasts were at eye level to him, and his member rubbed against her belly, the contours of her slick abs teasing him. She gripped it again and angled it towards her smooth, hairless mound.

“We go at my pace. I don’t care if you can handle it or not, just don’t go soft on me.”

“Wait, I...”

She eyed him curiously, pausing for a moment. It was the first time that he’d done anything besides insult her so far. She hovered over his shaft, her juices dribbling down in strands, matting his pubic hair and coating his throbbing organ.

“Just ... be more gentle ... and I won’t report this.”

She raised her hand to her lips to stifle a laugh, then rested it on his shoulder, irritating the still raw bite wound from earlier.

“It’s cute that you think you have a choice. You aren’t going to tell anybody,” she crooned, her grip on his shoulder becoming stronger and her claws digging into his skin. “Because you’ll either be dead, or you’ll be begging me for more.”

He started to object, but she took a fistful of his hair and rammed her tongue down his throat, dizzying him with a crude, wanton kiss that made his knees go weak. She released him, whispering in his ear, her hot breath tickling him.

“I can be gentle though, I can go slow, make it feel good for you. All you have to do ... is beg.”

“I won’t beg,” he muttered, more petulant than he had intended it to sound.

“Then suffer,” she whispered, gleeful as she touched the tip of his erection against her hot opening. She pressed down on him, his tender glans pressing up against her twitching entrance. There was a moment of resistance where he felt as if his shaft might bend under the pressure, and then he broke through into her tight passage. He gasped, the sensation almost unbearable as the folds and wrinkles of her insides grazed his length, her muscles spasming and contracting around him. She took him impossibly deep, engulfing him to the base in her burning, slimy grip as her excitement leaked down onto his thighs. She sighed contentedly as his glans hit what must have been the limit of her tunnel. It would have hurt a human woman, but she seemed to love it, starting to grind on him slowly. She was resting all of her weight on the resin crate now, her powerful thighs gripping his hips to keep him from squirming loose. She was so strong, her muscles were like iron, and he groaned under the strain as she squeezed him mercilessly. She started to bounce on top of him, her heavy breasts bumping against his face, her sweat-drenched skin sliding against his cheeks. Her weight was too much, the strength of her downward thrusts forcing him ever deeper inside her. He felt as if his pelvis might break under the impact of the blows.

Azi was unconcerned with his pained expression and his gasps of mingling pain and pleasure, using him selfishly, twisting and stirring him inside of her as she thrust violently. His lower body was going numb but the ceaseless stimulation drove bolts of aching pleasure into his tender erection, an ecstasy that bordered on pain washing over him as what felt like luxuriant silk soaked in warm honey roiled around his buried member. She was so tight, so powerful, her pelvic floor muscles were probably stronger than his biceps. She used them to wring him like a dishcloth, crushing his cock between her undulating walls, forcing harsh and inescapable pleasure to his core.

He rolled his head back, his eyelids fluttering. He was starting to doubt his resolve, he had never felt so thoroughly ... fucked. She was relentless, indifferent. He glanced down to see her toned abs flexing and bulging as he watched his member slide in and out of her, lubricated by the thick nectar that spilled out around it. She breathed heavily over his head, her chest heaving, making her impressive breasts bounce in front of his face. She delved her fingers into his hair, her touch oddly delicate.

He had assumed that she was already fucking him in earnest, but now she went harder, letting gravity carry her down to slam their bodies together with an audible clap. The soft parts of her body rippled like the surface of a lake with each impact, her fat collecting beautifully on her bountiful chest, her thick thighs and her wonderfully springy ass. Sweat rained from her tanned skin, seeming to create a mist in the solitary beam of the discarded flashlight. The brown resin of the storage crate beneath his buttocks started to crack under the strain, she was putting too much weight on it. Her pounding was punctuated by grunts, primal and bestial, Moralez feeling a string of saliva fall into his hair.

He gritted his teeth against the sensations, trying to endure. It hurt, but it was a good pain, if there could be such a thing. A satisfying ache that seemed to scour an itch deep inside him, like taking sandpaper to a mosquito bite. He realized he was shivering, and a low whimper escaped his lips as she let her weight fall on him once more, impaling herself on his pulsing cock.

“I bet nobody has ever heard you make that sound before,” she chuckled breathlessly, beads of perspiration rolling down her flushed skin. “I’m just getting started with you.” She bit his ear, drawing blood, and all he could do was buck into her as his wrists strained against his bonds.

“You like this, don’t you? I can smell it on you, in your sweat. I can feel your heartbeat inside me...”

“Stop this,” he mumbled weakly. She licked her lips with her pink tongue and lowered her face to his neck, pinching his flesh in her sharp teeth. He groaned and writhed, trying to pull away, but his struggling only further stimulated her. He was buried so deep in her moist depths, he could feel every clench of her muscles, and she could feel every twitch and throb of his manhood in turn. She started to move again, and he shut his eyes against the sensation in a futile attempt to block her out.

“Can you feel it welling inside you?” she gloated, pressing his face between her breasts and using her biceps to squeeze them around his red cheeks. They were so absurdly large, quickly engulfing his head and cascading over his shoulders in an avalanche of quivering flesh. He could feel their weight pressing down on him, oppressive and yet more enticing that he cared to admit. Despite his animosity towards her, she smelled so good, her taste irresistible to him. The feminine musk of her body drove him wild, and he could scarcely stop himself from raking his tongue across her burning, glass-smooth skin. “Your body has already submitted to me,” she continued, her voice muffled by her bosom. “Even if your mind hasn’t. Know your place, say it.”

She tasted of sweat, and she smelled ... wonderful, intoxicating. He wanted desperately to just let go, to lose himself in her inviting body and give in to her completely, but he steeled himself against the impulse. His face emerged from the depths of her cleavage like a breaching whale, glaring up at her with furious eyes.

“Is that a no?”

She held his face between her hands and leaned down for another kiss, filling his mouth with her warm, slippery tongue and teasing out gasps of reluctant excitement. His whole body was quaking under her assault, his muscles shuddering involuntarily. He let loose a cry as she raked her claws down his spine, the sting contrasting sharply with her tender, almost loving embrace.

He would break, go insane, she was too much for him. She gripped him by the hair, starting to fuck him again. As her hot sheath milked him like a clenched fist, he felt his orgasm creeping up on him, the pressure building in his loins. He tried to hold it back, but she noticed the strain on his face, grinning as she bounced on top of him.

“Flood me, do it. You can’t help yourself.” His eyes became bleary and unfocused, his breathing ragged as she attempted to draw out his emission. She released his hands from her tail, sneering as they shot to her body, his fingers digging into her inviting flesh. He explored the curves of her muscular figure, kneading her heavy breasts and clawing desperately at her slick skin. In his throes of passion, all thought of resistance took a back seat to his mounting climax.

“Now you show your true colors, just an animal in heat. Release your seed, ape.”

He exploded inside her as if by her command, spilling thick ropes of his ejaculate into her waiting tunnel, the sensation of the heavy wads splashing against her reaches making her shiver and croon appreciatively. His muscles burned as they forced his essence deep inside her, as if his body itself had given in, indifferent to the manner by which it procreated. His brain was like a vestigial organ, what shame he felt overridden by the aching pleasure that rolled over him in sore, crushing waves. It was so powerful, encompassing, as though Azi was plucking at his nerves like the strings of a harp with her sharp claws. Over and over he thrust into her, the cruel alien slowing her rocking and letting him do the work in her stead, amused and satisfied by the sight of his desperate rutting.

He lay back on the crate, the combined mess of their encounter sloughing from between her legs and sliding down her thighs. He covered his burning face with his hands, his chest heaving as he recovered from the orgasm, twitching gently as aftershocks rippled through his pelvic muscles.

Azi rubbed her mound with her fingers then brought them up to her face, examining the gooey, cloudy mixture of fluids as it drooped from her hand like glue. She smirked and reached down to wipe it on his cheek. He rubbed it off with the back of his hand, glaring at her.

“Don’t relax just yet, L.T. We’re not done here.”

She wrapped her tail around his neck, tugging him to his feet as if it were a leash, and led him back over to the sleeping back. She dumped him unceremoniously, then climbed on top of him, forcing her tongue into his unwilling mouth again. He lay back, his guilty arousal overcoming his desire to fight her.


They walked down the tunnel, Moralez trailing a short distance behind Azi who had asserted herself as the leader of their two-man pack. He had understood at least that much from their heated encounter the previous night. His hips were sore, he was covered in bruises, bites, and scratches that stung and ached. He felt as if he had fought a tiger and lost. Well, wasn’t that essentially true?

Azi led him down the passage towards where they assumed a vent would be, the air becoming fresher as they went. She had not forced him to return the way that they had come as he had feared, she seemed to have reconsidered her position on the vent at some time during the night, perhaps when it had become her choice to follow the now undeniable breeze.

In a way she was right, he wouldn’t report her. He was too ashamed, both of how she had overpowered him, and of the way his body had responded to her assault. If his men were to find out, would they still respect him? Would they still follow the orders of a lieutenant who had been disgraced, and had on some level, enjoyed it? He had protested and he had fought, but she had made him come over and over, eventually resulting in a kind of exhausted compliance that she had taken to mean submission. He hadn’t submitted to her, not really, at least that’s what he kept repeating to himself as they marched.

It was odd, after the way she had treated him she had allowed him to rearm, as if the idea that he might seek retribution had not even crossed her mind. Was it a cultural quirk? She thought of herself as the leader now, did she assume that it was in his nature to obey her unquestioningly? Either way, it didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to get out of here alive if he shot the only person who could actually take on the Bugs in such close quarters and reliably win. She was carrying a wrist-mounted Bug shield and one of their odd, sculpted energy pistols. Moralez hefted his XMR, lighting their way with the torch attachment.

They rounded a final corner and saw a point of light in the distance. Moralez felt his weariness vanish as he realized that it was an exit to the surface, that was Kruger’s yellow sunlight shining down through the hole. He had been right, they were in a ventilation tunnel, and freedom was within reach. As soon as they broke the surface, he could use his helmet radio to report their position and call in evac.

They hurried down the tunnel towards the circle of light, but Azi halted abruptly, holding out her arm and gesturing for him to stop. He shouldered his rifle and scanned the passage ahead of them.

“What is it? Do you smell something?”

“Quiet!” she snapped.

A hundred meters ahead of them, one of the tunnel walls cracked open. A hidden door of the same kind that had concealed the storeroom slid aside, and a whole squad of Betelgeusian drones filed out. They turned towards the exit, their backs to Moralez and Azi. They hadn’t seen them yet, if they kept quiet, the Bugs might just leave. They were heavily armed, sporting shields, pistols, and their signature daggers. They must be preparing for a sortie to the surface.

The pair stood, frozen in place as the Bugs walked away from them. If a single one of them turned its head, they were finished. Moralez doubted that even a Borealan could take on a whole squad of Bugs in such a confined space and come out on top.

Moralez cursed his bad luck under his breath as one of the aliens turned casually, then started, staring for a moment with its compound eyes. Its mandibles waved erratically, and without it uttering so much as a sound, the whole formation turned to face Moralez and Azi. They ignited their blue energy shields and unholstered their weapons, knives drawn and pistols ready. Moralez closed his visor, taking a knee and starting to fire into the group. Azi launched herself forwards on her powerful legs, racing down the tunnel, covering the ground at a speed that shocked him. He managed to down one before its shield was up, but without the support of a fire team, he’d never get any shots through the phalanx that they formed. The drones were blocking off the tunnel, and with it their only escape route.

Azi waded into them, a blurred melee of claws, gunfire and plasma. She scattered the smaller insectoids, knocking them off their feet with her powerful strikes. Moralez muttered another curse and rose to his feet, slinging his XMR over his back and whipping out his 1911. He ignited the shield on his wrist, rushing towards the brawl. He couldn’t fire on them without the risk of hitting Azi, not that she deserved such consideration.

The aliens were distracted by Azi, and so he fired around the shield, catching one of them in the back as it dodged her blows. It gurgled and stumbled, leaking yellow goo before falling to the floor. Azi had dispatched a couple of them with strikes from her hooked claws and point blank bursts from the energy weapon, but she was bleeding profusely from knife wounds as the aliens surrounded her, hacking and stabbing. It looked bad, but she wasn’t going down, and Moralez had to remind himself of how resilient Borealans were. Two of the Bugs separated from the group and came towards him, Moralez blocking their green energy bolts with the shield, the plasma dissipating over the crackling surface. He returned fire, but his bullets melted, turning into showers of molten sparks as they hit the barriers. He didn’t have enough ammo in his pistol for this kind of engagement, and he couldn’t fire the XMR one-handed and keep his shield up. He wasn’t like Azi, one good stab or well placed shot, and he’d be dead.

Fuck it, he’d have to get in close and personal. Wishing that he also had four arms, he holstered his .45 and crouched to draw his knife from his boot. He was trained as a marksman, this was downright medieval in comparison. He steeled himself, raising the dagger and crying a challenge. One of the Bugs unsheathed two curved blades from shaped recesses in its armored thighs, wielding them in its lower arms, the upper pair holding its shield and pistol. It met his challenge, charging towards him with its blades swirling. Their shields blurred together as he parried the attack, crackling and fizzing as their magnetic containment fields merged and twisted, warping as the Bug brought both knives towards his belly. He shoved it back, and it stumbled, temporarily out of range. He rushed forwards and drove his combat knife into its neck as it tried to bring its pistol up to fire at him, the sharp blade piercing the unarmored joint in its carapace. Despite being stabbed in the throat, it didn’t go down, and Moralez wondered if the things even had lungs to begin with. It was distracted by the injury, however, ichor leaking from the wound and from its insect-like mouthparts. Before it had a chance to reorient itself, he spun his knife in his hand so that the blade was facing downwards, driving it into the creature’s compound eye like a pick. The glowing lens shattered as if it were made of glass and Moralez felt his blade sink into something soft, the drone’s mandibles twitching as it lurched backwards and abandoned its attack, clutching at its face.

The second Bug charged him, ducking under his shield blow and slicing at his chest. The ornate dagger dug into his armored plating, leaving a deep gash that didn’t quite penetrate the Kevlar vest beneath. Those things were fucking sharp! He hopped back, taking a defensive stance and raising his shield. His opponent circled, its posture low and aggressive, its four arms constantly in motion so as to keep him guessing where the next attack might come from. It flicked its pistol under its shield, aiming low, but he parried the shot with his crackling energy barrier and took the opportunity to advance on it. It blocked him with its shield, and again the magnetically contained plasma fused, molding between the two opposing fields. Thinking fast, Moralez discarded his knife, whipping out his handgun and forcing the solid object through the two barriers. Bullets would melt, plasma would be dispersed, but objects could be pushed past the energy field. He gritted his teeth against the pain as the boiling plasma began to melt his glove, searing the skin beneath. He smelled his own flesh cooking as he pulled the trigger, the metal beneath his fingers blistering them. His opponent collapsed into a lifeless heap as ichor dripped from the exit wound in the center of its sternum.

He looked over to Azi as he cradled his blistered hand. In the time that it had taken him to kill two, she had almost finished off the whole squad. They had been routed and were scrambling to get some distance from her in order to make better use of their guns. Azi looked like a demon, drenched in cuts and crimson blood almost from head to toe, her eyes wide and wild. He didn’t know how much blood her kind could lose and stay conscious, but it looked like she needed help. He unslung his XMR, the shield collapsing into the projector on his wrist, and began to fire. He cut the distracted aliens down easily, the hypersonic slugs chewing through their chitinous armor.

He rushed past the panting Borealan, waving for her to follow him.

“Come on! More will come!”

She growled, bounding after him as they headed towards the light.


They emerged onto the rainy, windswept surface of Kruger III. Moralez savored the cool droplets of water on his face, his boots sinking into wet mud. He immediately activated his radio, scanning for active channels. They weren’t out of the shit yet, he wouldn’t relax until he was in orbit.

“Come in, come in, anyone on this frequency. This is Lieutenant Moralez of the forty-third, I am in need of immediate evac. Repeat, immediate evac required. I have information critical to the war effort. Is anyone receiving?”

He waited for a response as his helmet radio crackled and fizzed with static, his heart racing.

“Receiving you, Lieutenant, this is ground control. Why are you using an unsecured channel? Over.”

“No time, I got Bugs on my tail, and I have critical information. Get me a bird down here ASAP.”

“Roger that, putting your request through to the fleet, please hold.”

Please hold, what the fuck, was this a customer service line? He pointed his XMR back at the hole warily. Azi was standing a short distance away, the pouring rain washing the blood off her skin to reveal numerous cuts and wounds.

“You good?” he asked.

She didn’t reply, but she seemed fine. If he had any enduring anger towards her, he shoved it to the back of his mind. There was no time for that, survival was more important now.

“Your request has been approved by fleetcom, Lieutenant. Stand by, sending a dropship to your coordinates. ETA five minutes.”

Five fucking minutes? If more Bugs swarmed out of the mouth of that tunnel, then they wouldn’t last five seconds. He looked around frantically, searching for cover, but there was nothing. Just scraggly, sickly trees and a few scattered rocks, the whole loathsome planet was just a mud field. He still had his grenade belt, was it worth trying to collapse the tunnel?

Before he could decide on a course of action, a large figure emerged from the hole. Its shiny, blue shell reflected the sunlight in beautiful, iridescent hues. Its ornate, beetle-like antlers swayed as it marched onto the surface, sinking ankle-deep in the mud. A warrior, just as large as the last one. It extended its lobster claws, its serrated mandibles waving in a silent challenge. It must have been drawn by the fight in the tunnel, the stress pheromones and the stench of blood. It shambled towards them, picking up speed as it went.

Should they just run? The thing was massive, heavy, could it catch them?

As if to answer his question, the thing lowered its head and began to charge, digging its feet into the slippery dirt. It was faster and more agile than something of that size and weight had any right to be. It went straight for Azi, and Moralez fired at it with his XMR, the tungsten slugs failing to even irritate it.

It barreled into Azi, knocking her to the ground in a splash of dirty water. He couldn’t just stand here plugging at the thing, he had to do something before it turned her into minced meat. He ran towards them as the warrior lifted its claw into the air, intending to slam it down on the Borealan as she slipped and scrambled in the mud, trying to get clear. He plucked a grenade from his belt, priming it, then threw it overhand at the monster.

“Grenade!”

The warrior turned to look at him, and that gave Azi time to dig her paw-like feet into the dirt and launch herself behind it relative to where the grenade would land. There was a flash of light as Moralez threw himself to the ground, covering his head with his arms as debris rained down from the sky. He rose to his feet, expecting to see a smoldering carcass, but it was still on its feet. Trails of smoke rose from the shrapnel wounds that peppered its body, the ugly tears leaking goo. It had lost a chunk of shell, too, exposing what looked like white crab meat beneath.

It clawed at the wounds on its body with its smaller pair of lower arms, a liquid that looked like pulpy orange juice leaking from the punctures and cuts. Why wasn’t it dead? That shrapnel grenade would have mortally wounded an unarmored Borealan. It locked onto him now, its tiny, armored head tracking him. The thing started to stagger towards him, its uneven gait slowly winding up into a charge. It was a good distance away, he still had time, and the grenade had wounded it. He pulled another from his belt, raising the protective cap and hitting the primer button. He cooked it for a moment, waiting for the creature to draw a little closer, then lobbed it.

There was another loud blast that threw up a cloud of filthy water, this time too close for comfort, and he felt his armor stop a hail of stray fragments that would have penetrated had he been a little closer. As the cloud of water vapor cleared, the thing was still standing. It staggered now, parts of it missing, but it kept coming. He only had one grenade left, if that didn’t kill it, then nothing would. He heard Azi’s pistol firing at it, but it was unconcerned, reaching its claws out towards him like some kind of shambling zombie.

He held his last grenade in his hand, flipped the cap, and pressed the button down. He’d have to run when he threw it, this was too close.

The world suddenly exploded around him, great clods of dirt thrown into the air as he was knocked onto his back by the impact. The sound of a cannon rolled over him, delayed in relation to whatever had fired on them. A Penguin gunship cruised over his head, the engines roaring as it banked for another pass on its stubby wings, the close ground support cannon on its nose smoking and glowing orange. A UNN dropship followed close behind it, the thrusters on its belly spouting blue flame as it slowed and began to hover. Fleetcom had sent in the cavalry, their evac was finally here, and it had brought an escort. The Bug was making a nightmarish gurgling sound. Its heavy shell had been split open like a fruit by the twenty-millimeter cannon, and its viscera was rolling out of it in clumps, yet still it marched inexorably towards the prone Moralez.

The gunship hosed it again, the massive rounds tearing into it and kicking up a blinding wall of dirt and water that showered down on him like a heavy rain. He felt a sharp pain in his lower leg, maybe some shrapnel had hit him. He couldn’t see, his visor was covered in mud.

Where was his grenade?

He fumbled for it, trying to wipe the filth from his visor and dig through the mud around him simultaneously. His hand closed on a hard ball, and he felt for the primer, his gloved fingers slipping on the muck that caked it. If he could just press the button again, there might still be time to disable it.

His world went dark.

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