Chapter 2

Gavril awoke even though the alarm hadn't gone off yet. He was a creature of habit and rising early was one of them. The warm body next to him was enough to stop him from moving. Though he felt a little tired, he wasn't the least bit muzzy despite the drinks the night before. He had stopped early enough and had even turned down the dessert liquor despite Kamaria's pleading. He told her "next time" and was rewarded with a devilish grin.

Sometime in the early morning hours, Kamaria had kicked off the sheet covering their bodies. Gavril was still covered in the thin white sheet from the knees down and felt quite comfortable. He compared her soft mocha skin to his own tanned white skin and liked the contrast. She had hips that he had been able to hold on to in their frenzy. One of them was framed in the light from the window as she slept on her side. He stroked it with his hand and was rewarded with a quiet "hmm" of appreciation.

She rolled over, laying her head upon his shoulder and wrapping her arm across his chest. Her leg pinned his thigh to the mattress. Although her breath tickled the hair on his chest, her body draped across his side grabbed his attention more. He wrapped his arm across her back and began to knead the muscles along her spine.

"Good man, good heart, good cock," she said, speaking to his nipple. "Do you have to get up now or do we have a few more moments?"

"I'm content to stay right here for the rest of my life," Gavril said, "if it were possible."

"That's a sweet thought," she mumbled. She reached out with her free hand and gently tugged on his semi-erect cock. "I was thinking along the lines of using this silly little thing one more time."

"Ahem," Gavril said.

"I meant to say 'silly BEEG thing, '" she replied with mock seriousness. "Oh, it's so BEEG it nearly split me in two. Oh, my God. I've never seen a BEEGger one in all my days. I won't be able to purge the sight of this BEEG cock out of my thoughts until the day I die."

"The last sentiment wasn't bad," Gavril said, enjoying the rise that her hand was coaxing from his cock. "Of course, I'm now obligated to take you with my BEEG cock and fuck the living daylights out of you."

"Oo, BEEG promises. Are you sure that you're up to the task?" she asked, giving his nipple a lick with her tongue.

"I could say that I don't make promises that I can't keep, but that's just a bunch of words. I'm just going to have to show you that I mean what I say," Gavril said with an exaggerated sigh.

Kamaria chuckled and rolled on top of him. She snuggled down his torso until she lined up her pussy with his erection.

"I got something that I like," she said.

"Share and share alike, I always say," Gavril quipped as he poked the head of his cock against her nether lips.

"I'm sure you say that every time the other guy gets a box of cookies," Kamaria said as she eased down on his cock, letting the head split her lips and dip into the wetness.

Gavril wanted to come back with one more retort but the sensation at the tip of his cock was too captivating. He hunched his hips for a deeper penetration and made only a tiny move forward. Kamaria, staring intently into his eyes, inched back with her hips allowing his cock more entry into her pussy.

"Oo," Gavril moaned. "There are boxes of cookies and then there are real boxes of cookies."

"A box of cookies?" Kamaria said as she sunk down another inch. "Is that what you call it?"

"I call it, unh, a bit of heaven usually, but you brought up the cookies. So, cookies it is and a fine, unh, box of cookies — oh god!" Gavril exclaimed as he suddenly sunk balls deep into her pussy.

"Slow and steady wins the race," Kamaria said as she set a slow rhythm. "That's an order, sergeant."

"Oh, gawd, yes," Gavril said, trying his best to comply.

A few hours later Gavril stood before a nondescript building with a small seal of the Imperial Forces next to the double doors. With a quiet sigh that meant "what will be, will be", Gavril grasped the handle and pushed the door open.

The inside was a letdown. The standard flooring was scuffed and marred by too many feet and too many swabs with harsh chemicals. The walls were bare. One man sat behind the standard issue, older than time, military desk. Gavril walked up to the desk and gave his name to the staff sergeant. Between sergeant and sergeant there was sometimes a little bit of give and take, but this man was tightlipped. He was also missing three fingers on his right hand and had unsheathed biomechanical implants in their place. Most amputees masked their artificial limbs with flexible, faux skin but there was a certain macho swagger in not covering the mechanical parts. The implants clicked as the sergeant pressed buttons on a keyboard.

"Take the door to your left. Have a seat. Remain silent," the staff sergeant said before he turned his attention back to the screen in front of him.

Gavril went to the door and stepped into a waiting room with mismatched chairs around the circumference. The walls looked nearly as scuffed as the floor. The overhead light fixtures were spaceship indirect retreads, which left no shadows. The other nineteen men in the room looked up at him, took in his uniform and rank, and promptly ignored him. He was the lowest rank in the room.

They all had clean and pressed uniforms. Gavril took a seat and began to catalogue the "officious shit" among whom he sat. Most of them looked to be fit and a few even had suntans. Whether they got their tans sunbathing or stomping through the jungle was an unanswerable question. From what Gavril had heard, Awanil Cent. Com. spent some serious credits on officer retreats, but rumors are just that, rumors. He had seen plenty of the higher grade officers sunning themselves on the rooftops of their apartment buildings with an ice chest and a personal escort or two.

He stared at his boots, wondering if he was going to need to replace his right bootlace soon. Laced boots worked much better in the Awanil climate even though they were old, old tech. Microseals caused the feet to cramp and swell because the skin needed to breathe at some point during the day. If microseals had a fault, it's that they couldn't be easily adjusted or adjusted at all because they were manufactured for one user ti use in vacuum usually. Spacers needed microseals. Awanili grunts needed extra shoelaces.

"Attention!" a female voice called out. Gavril was standing straight before most of the other men in the room. After all, he always had to do that shit at his grade.

At of the corner of his eye, Gavril saw the royal Volentin stride into the room wearing a full colonel's uniform. Before he could stop himself, he admitted that she looked rather shapely in her starched outfit. Steeling himself, he looked straight ahead and tried to empty any more of those kinds of thoughts out of his head.

The colonel made a circuit around the room, quickly inspecting every person. She stopped in front of Gavril. Her face was impassive and unreadable. When she had finished walking around the room, she came to the center and stood ramrod straight.

"Each and every one of you has been selected to test for a new unit that I am forming," she said. "All you need to know about this unit at the moment is that its purpose is killing or capturing Vizz in different environments.

"These next days will determine if you have what it takes to join this elite team. To join, you must rise to the level of excellence. I will only take those who meet my requirements and I'm not of a mind to explain just how high my expectations are. If ten of you pass, I will take the ten of you. If none of you pass, then I will walk away empty-handed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Twenty voices shouted.