Sergeant First Class Mark Smith watched as the heavily laden articulated carrier approached the truck he was loading. The massive pallet of munitions was headed for the Fourteenth Infantry Division. They were about to make a big push in Charlie-sector. Mark waved his datapad at the pallet's sticker, reading its encoded information. He checked the weight on the datapad's screen and told the carrier's driver, "That's a heavy one. You better make sure it goes near the front axle. The driver nodded, and with the grinding sound of wheels on hard packed ground, the carrier turned and headed down the open side of the truck.

Mark was in charge of the twenty or so trucks being loaded that day, and like any good leader he was in tune with the mechanical and human cacophony that surrounded his little domain. So when the hustle and bustle changed pitch, he turned to check things out.

Down the double row of trucks strode a figure in black full body armor. Only Elite Troopers wore that incredibly expensive type of armor. As well as being impervious to most small arms, the smart-carbon pieces could adapt to the coloration of their surroundings in combat. Otherwise, the stuff defaulted to an intimidating polished black. The Trooper left a wake of gaping soldiers in his wake. Elites were seldom seen unless they were in a staging area in prep for some sort of behind the lines action.

Mark could see that this Trooper was actually a female. She was carrying her full-coverage helmet in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. Her short red hair bounced in time with her full strides and her mouth was set in a grim line. Mark couldn't see her eyes. They were covered by large aviator style sunglasses. One thing was for sure, she was headed directly for him.

Mark felt his pulse double. His mouth dried out and his hands suddenly grew slick with sweat. He had to wipe his palm on his pant leg and re-grip his datapad in order to keep it from slipping to the ground. With a double thud of her boots the Trooper stopped in front of him. Seeing the single black on black stripe of a lieutenant's insignia on her shoulders, he came to attention and said, "Can I help you, Ma'am?"

"Sergeant," she said in a clear soprano that carried to every corner of the suddenly quiet compound, "My people seem to be missing some special munitions that should have come from your depot." She thrust the paper that she'd been carrying under his nose.

Mark had to lean his head back in order to read the inventory number on the paper. He quickly tapped the number into his datapad. "Lieutenant, that stuff was shipped out two days ago," he said, trying to keep his voice level.

The Trooper was only an inch shorter than Mark. She stepped up nose to nose with the sergeant and said coolly, "I don't think so, Sergeant Major. I think those boxes are gathering dust somewhere in that black hole of a depot you run."

"We can go check that, Ma'am. If you'd like," Mark said.

"Yes, let's do that," said the Trooper. "Lead the way."

Mark moved as quickly as he could, without actually running, into the depot. The Trooper's boots thudded onto the ground right on his heels. Mark stopped before a heavily locked door. He tapped a code into its keypad and then thumbed the bio-scan. There was a heavy clank of bolts being withdrawn. Mark pushed open the thick steel door, and then he and the Trooper stepped inside the bunker where the more sensitive munitions were stored.

Mark watched as she closed the door, and then as she tapped a long series of numbers into the inner keypad of the door lock. To his surprise the door locked. "How did you do that?" he asked. As far as he knew, only three people on the base could operate that lock.

"With my clearance, I can do lots of interesting things," the trooper said with a smile. She took off her glasses and tossed them into her helmet which she sat on a shelf. Her bright blue eyes shined as the Trooper walked up to Mark. She clasped her hands on both sides of his face and then kissed him hard on the mouth. Mark returned the kiss as good as he got.

When they finally came up for air, Mark said, "My God, Janet, what are you doing here?"

"I was in the area, and I decided to show a poor rear echelon boy some fun," she said with a shrug and a smile. She grasped the forearm guard of her armor and gave it a complicated twist, turn, push and pull. The armor all along her torso and arms sagged as if in relief. Janet grasped her collar and with a quick pull, half her armor was sitting on the floor. "Are you going to get naked, or are you just going to watch?" she chided Mark.

Actually, Mark did both. He had been amazed by Janet's body ever since he had seen her on the beach during a furlough. She and another guy had played Mark and a friend in a volleyball match. To his embarrassment, Mark's team hadn't managed to win a single point. But it was worth his chagrin to watch her play. She seemed to glide over the sand as she effortlessly returned every shot just where it was most effective. Her body was as awesome as her play. Her tiny bikini fought to rein in her firm breasts as her smoothly muscled body moved about. Her shapely legs went, as they say, all the way up. After the match, Janet had stood a round of beers for everyone. By the end of that glass of beer, Mark was thoroughly smitten. Janet was as smart and funny as she was beautiful. He knew that she was military of course, but it wasn't until the end of two days and nights of heated sex that she had revealed that she was a member of the Elites.

"What's with the red hair, and are those tinted contacts? I almost didn't recognize you." he said as he rushed to undress. "Have you been on a mission?"

Janet let her gambeson fall to the ground, revealing her sexy body. "I can't say, and you shouldn't ask," she said. She took a seat on a nearby crate and spread her legs wide, revealing her passion swollen vaginal lips. Janet licked a finger and put it to her clit. Rubbing her little nubbin with a circular motion, she curled a finger in invitation at Mark. There was no point in him playing coy. His cock was already a steely mass of turgid flesh. He had a solid eight inches, more than enough to impress most women, but with Janet it seemed barely adequate. With his dick bobbing about in eager anticipation, Mark stepped quickly in front of Janet. She took his cock in hand, and after a couple of quick strokes, popped the head in her mouth.

"Oh shit, that's good," he sighed. Janet took his entire length effortlessly down her throat causing Mark to shudder. She licked and sucked and twisted her head about. Mark's head fell back as his eyes stared up sightlessly at the roof of the supply bunker. Janet could feel his cock swell in anticipation of an explosive orgasm. She slowed her ministrations until it cooled off, and then she brought him back to the brink once more. In fact, she did it again and again until Mark mindlessly began to thrust his hips urgently forward.

"Not yet, baby," Janet said with an evil grin as she clamped her hand firmly over his cock head, stifling any impulse Mark had to cum. She pulled him forward and down until Mark was on his knees. She spread her shaved pussy with her fingers. "Now it's your turn."

Mark eagerly lapped at her succulent vaginal lips. He alternated between swirling the tip of his tongue around her swollen clit, and then thrusting it as far as possible up her clasping cunt.

Janet grasped his head in both hands and smothered his face in her quivering pussy. She rode his thrusting tongue to an exquisitely sweet orgasm. Then she crossed her legs over his back and came another time while Mark struggled for air. When the waves of lust finally ebbed from her overheated pussy, she released Mark from her smothering embrace. She stood with her legs spread firmly while he caught his breath and struggled to his feet. "That was wonderful, babe," she said, stroking him under the chin.

"Thanks," he wheezed, "my pleasure."

"No, here's your pleasure," she said as she turned and grasped the edge of a shelf. Bending over she swished the twin globes of her sculpted ass in Mark's direction.

"Oh yeah," said Mark. With his rock hard penis leading the way, Mark stepped behind Janet. He kneaded the solid muscles of her ass while he hunched down and nestled his cock head in her pussy lips. He shoved his hips forward and suddenly his dick was engulfed in hot, wet, clinging pussy heaven.

"Mmmm... Janet," this is too good he said in a strangled whisper.

"Damn right," said Janet. She swung her ass in a tight circle while clamping down on his rigid flesh.

Mark began to pound her pussy like a jackhammer. The room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping on flesh in a steady beat to the chorus of gasps and moans from the two lovers. Mark couldn't last long at that pace. His back arched as he shoved his dick as far as possible into Janet's pussy. His face scrunched as if in pain and he grabbed at her heaving ass as he shot a hot load of cum.

A few minutes later they were both dressed and about to leave the bunker. "Don't forget your datapad," Janet told him.

"Oh yeah," said Mark. He walked back and picked the device off a shelf from where he had tossed it earlier. When he got back to the door, Janet had settled her gleaming black helmet on her head. He couldn't see her face through the visor. He knew there were all sorts of communications and sensor capabilities built into her helmet and armor. The Elites looked darkly futuristic in their anonymity, although people who called them storm troopers tended to lose teeth and suffer broken bones.

She reached up and caressed his cheek and then she flicked her wrist, stinging the side of his face with a slap. "For heaven's sake, wipe that I-just-got-laid grin off your face," she said, her voice sounding lower and more resonant as it came through a speaker in her helmet.

"No problem," said Mark as he rubbed at his reddened, painful cheek.

He opened the door to the bunker, and soon they were back among the trucks still being loaded with their supplies. Janet was a half-pace ahead of Mark when she suddenly spun about and shoved him to the ground, her body tumbling over his. A split second later he heard the scream of an incoming mortar round and the thudding, crunching sound as it exploded on contact.

Instantly, Janet's weight was gone. She was up on one knee; her helmet moved in little fits and jerks. Mark could only guess at what she seeing or to whom she was talking. Her head turned in his direction. She didn't say anything, but her hand squeezed his leg hard enough to hurt even through his adrenalin overload. And then she was off and sprinting like a runner out of the blocks. The sight of her figure racing through the confusion and panic of the loaders was the last thing he remembered.

Janet's mind slipped into a state of hyper awareness. Giving vocal commands to the computer situated in the lining of her armor, she tied into the local Tactical Interface Network. Already, airborne drones had tracked the flight of the falling shells and TIN was showing the position of their origins. The fire was coming from a residential neighborhood only two hundred meters away. Probably two tubes were being used in close proximity to one another.

Somebody's got balls, thought Janet. They'd managed to slip into a supposedly secure area. The mortar teams would be dead or captured in minutes, but they'd inflict one hell of a lot of damage in the meantime. She looked down at Mark. He didn't seem any the worse for her surprise tackle. She squeezed his leg in farewell and then sprinted toward the compound gate.

"Camouflage," said Janet as she turned down a side street. Her suit read its surroundings and changed color accordingly. If she stood still she'd merge into the background - which she did for a few seconds. Stopping at a corner she studied a map of the area. The TIN had updated; the mortars were situated in two neighboring courtyards. If the bad guys were smart, she thought, then they would have heavy weapons facing the streets in the surrounding houses, waiting to ambush the armored response that was sure to come. The alleyway between the courtyards would probably be covered by only small arms. She hoped. She drew her sidearm.

Sprinting across a street and into the strip of land between two houses, she turned into the alleyway in question. She spotted one guard and shot him dead before he was even aware of her presence. Another guard, on the opposite side of the alley, got off a burst of fire which whined over Janet's head. He was dead an instant later.

A heavy machinegun opened up from the far end of the alleyway. Due to her camouflage, Janet knew that the gunner couldn't really see her from that distance, but firing nearly twenty rounds a second, he didn't need to. She stayed low and dove over the waist high wall into the first courtyard that contained one of the mortars.

Performing a shoulder roll, she came up firing. Three shots later, the mortar team was down. Something slammed squarely into her back; she'd been shot by someone to her rear. Shit happens when you don't take the time to scout things out, she thought. It hurt badly, but her body armor wasn't some of the most expensive stuff on the planet for nothing. The material crystallized upon bullet impact, attenuating the energy across a large area and even turning a large fraction of that energy into electricity that was stored in capacitors. In a nice bit of irony, enemy fire could power her suit.

Janet fell forward and spun; she brought up her gun and fired in one fluid motion just before she hit the ground. Across the courtyard a neat hole appeared in the forehead of a boy. The rifle that fell from his hands looked almost as big as his slender body. Part of Janet's mind registered the fact that here was the stuff of nightmares and probably more than one weepy drunk, but that was for the future.

She got to her knees and scrambled toward the alleyway wall and the other mortar. More fire came from her front. This time her suit sensors noted the flashes and marked the shooter's position on her visor. She raised her weapon and fired its last three rounds. She was rewarded by seeing her assailant's rifle tip over and fall to the ground.