ΔV Pt. 06

It was not a gentle kiss.

It was not a restrained kiss.

It was a hungry kiss. Her mouth thrust into his mouth and her hands cupped his back as she explored him with her fingertips. His hands hung at his sides for a few seconds before his nerve endings got the messages that his brain was screaming at the top of his lungs. His hands gripped her hips, holding her tightly as he turned his head to the side, kissing her fiercer. Harder. His tongue and hers met and danced together with a languid delight. Helen arched her back and her breasts pressed to his chest, her nipples achingly hard. Helen drew back, and Lucas whispered. "I wish I had done this while you were still blue..."

"Good to know," Helen murmured, then reached back. She started to undo the zipper on her uniform.

"Sir?" A confused voice came from the collar.

Helen paused, her finger poised against the valley between her slight breasts. Her cheeks heated. She coughed, then stammered. "Sergeant, make sure to secure the manor house. Ask the squid guy where you should stand guard. We should be out of the woods soon."

"Got it, sir," the marine said.

Helen flicked the transmitter off and tugged the collar open. This set it from the subdermal speaker to the open air one - meaning that any incoming communication would pipe through the whole room. She set the collar down and whispered. "Should we report in about the water?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," Lucas said.

"You do it," Helen said, then dropped to her knees.

Lucas opened his mouth in shock as her fingers worked at his leggings. She found and undid the zipper, then tugged his pants down with her teeth, biting onto them with a little growl. Her other hand was busy pushing at her uniform's top, sliding the slick, slippery fabric off her shoulders. Lucas' hand went to his collar and he closed his mouth in a hurry as Helen let out a little happy purr as her palm cupped his cock, drawing his member out. Her pale cheek rubbed against the dark shaft of his cock, and the touch of her silky smooth skin nearly choked him. Her eyes looked up into his eyes, playful. Mischievous.

They were eyes that could convince a man to do anything.

Those were lips that could back up those eyes - without saying a single word. The feeling of her closing her eager, eager little mouth around the tip of his cock and moaning softly against his body, buzzing along the shaft of his cock, was more inducement to do insane things than a few million dollars. Lucas' hand slid through her touseled, rainbow hair as he murmured into his collar. "Do we have a link to the Enterprise?"

Helen let out an eager little giggle. Her eyes closed and she pushed herself forward, making a very soft glug noise as his cock bumped against the back of her throat. Her lips slurped loudly as she drew back - popping her mouth off his cock right as the communications officer's voice came through the comlink. "Mr. Sibusiso, how are things going down there on the surface? Has the duel happened yet?" she sounded as if she was trying to be professional despite the insanity of the situation.

Lucas hoped he sounded the same. Helen wasn't sucking him off - her hand was pumping his cock slowly, gripping him firmly enough so that the slick sound of it was quite soft. Even so, he felt a thrill of panic at the idea that the com's officer might overhear.

"Uh, Enterprise, the duel went well. Ensign Trevor won," he said. Don't sound like you're getting a handjob, he thought as hard as he could. "But we've discovered something remarkable. The locals are able to, ah..." His knees quivered as Helen planted a tiny little kiss, right on the head of his shaft, her tongue licking around and around the edge of his foreskin, teasing him deliciously. His eyes closed and he gritted out. "Create water out of thin air."

The communication officer was silent for a few moments. "Did you...did you ask how much?"

"From our first questions," Lucas said, his heart hammering as Helen cupped and fondled his balls. "There are several thousand people who can make five to ten gallons, maybe more, every second of the day." He nodded. "As a logistics specialist, I've already done the math. Tell Captain DuPont that if we just had fifty of them onboard, and their powers worked at the bare minimum level they, ah, said..." He gulped. "We'd be able to completely remass our tanks in eleven days."

Silence.

"I will inform him of this right now," the communication officer said. The comlink clicked off and Helen stood, her body lithe and graceful.

"Fuck me, now," she whispered. "Nothing gets me hotter than the idea of mmm remassing in flight." She crooned. "I'm not even kidding. I'm fucking giddy." Her hands pressed to the silky red sheets of the ornate bed that dominated the center of the room. Her hips twitched and her feet planted as she thrust her ass into the air, hissing softly. "Imagine it, Lucas. Imagine being able to burn constantly from place to place, not needing to have our manuvering budget be constrained by logistic ships and stopovers. We'd be able to get back to Earth in weeks, not months. Days, even." She grinned, fiercely. "If we get the timing right."

Lucas stepped up behind her. His hands pressed to her shoulders and he leaned over her body, his voice warm in her ear. "You...have very odd pillow talk."

"Mmm," Helen murmured, turning her head to the side, pressing her ear to his lips as his hands glided along her sleek flanks, gripping her hips. He started to grind against her, feeling the hairless smoothness of her sex. His balls swayed with the motion as Helen whispered. "Your cock is fucking impressive for a total nerd, Lucas."

"Very odd pillow talk," Lucas said, shocked at how dry and witty he was managing to sound. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that after reporting while getting a blowjob, everything seemed easy as pie. His head leaned forward and he kissed Helen again. His tongue thrust into her mouth, muffling her moans as he slipped inside of her. She felt utterly velvety. Silken. Her pussy clenched on his cock and Lucas sent a bleary thank you to whatever genetech had licked most of the STDs that had ravaged the world during the Troubles. That, combined with the fact both of them had the standard astro treatment for their tubes meant that this bare-backing was actually considerably safer than a 21^st century pair fucking with a condom.

Lucas spared but a second of pity for his benighted ancestors.

Then he started to fuck.

The instincts had not left him, it seemed, because Helen jerked her mouth away from his to gasp in some air, then moan it out in a loud: "Ohh yes!" Lucas gripped her and ducked his head forward, his eyes half closed. He watched her through those slitted eyes, thrusting faster and faster, losing all self control as he rocked into her. His balls slapped and bounced against her clit, making her moan as she threw her head backwards, her whole body trembling in eagerness. She grabbed onto the sheets and let out a rythmic series of grunts: "Yes! Yes! Yes! God, I knew you'd fuck good!" She laughed. "Work my clitty a little!"

Her wish? His command.

His hand reached down and he found her clit. He circled it, then pressed it, then rubbed it faster and faster and faster. Helen's voice broke as she closed her eyes and clenched on his cock. Helen's juices squirted against his balls, frothing and dripping off him as he felt his own balls tightening. Cum rushed through him and white flashed across his eyes, clouding his vision. He gasped heavily, his lungs swelling as he breathed in and out and in and out. His head rolled backwards as he felt his cum joining her juices. He was oozing out of her. Dripping onto the sheets.

"Whoa..." he whispered.

"Yeah..." Helen mumbled, her head turned to the side, her cheek mashing against the pillow.

"I...I am..." Lucas sagged slightly, his hands gliding up and down Helen's sides. "I am not that good."

Helen closed her eyes, slightly. "Mmm, coulda fooled me."

But Lucas wasn't being self depreciating. He wasn't lying. He was remembering the last time he had made love - and he didn't think almost a year and change of not having sex would improve his skills remarkably. His brow furrowed as his fingers slid away from her hip - and for just a moment, he saw a glowing blue crackle around his fingertips. Electric energy seemed to thrill along his spine and his brow furrowed as he whispered.

"Helen?"

"Mmm?"

"I think-"

Both of their communication collars crackled on at the same moment.

"Ensign Helen, this is Captain DuPont," DuPont said, his voice crisp and clear.

Helen grabbed onto the collar, latching it around her throat and tapping at it quickly. "Yes, sir! I was just having my wounds seen to by a...well, a...a wizard, sir," she said, and sounded shockingly honest. And not out of breath. If Lucas hadn't seen her glistening, sweaty body, he'd have assumed that she was just arriving from a medical booth too. The way his cum dripped from her sex started to get him aroused again.

"Good," DuPont said, his voice confident, casual. As if he heard reports about wizards every day of his life. "The Russians have just scooped up even more things from the planetary surface - but their shuttle flights have stopped. Whatever they're planning for, they're planning on doing it soon." He paused. "We need to know if we can get paranatural assistance. And we need it yesterday."

"I have good news, sir," Helen said, grinning as she rolled onto her back. "Not only do I think the elves like me..." She was looking at Lucas. "But I think a new opportunity has shown itself."

Lucas gulped.

***

The first thing Kaleb of the Plains thought when the human's not-dragon began to fly was that the humans were trying to kill him. After all, they had strapped him into a strange metal chair with straps that reminded him worryingly of the trow and their torture devices, and then they had cast a spell upon him that made all other combat magic he had faced seem like piddling rain. This was an exaggeration - being under fire from fireballs and acid darts and magical missiles that never missed or erred in their course was significantly worse. But none of them had ever killed him.

This crushing force that pressed his eyes so hard that they deformed, that pooled blood in the back of his head so his vision began to go black, that forced his arms against their rests and made them feel heavier than anvils? It came worrying close. And unlike the fireball barrages or the acid darts, it was not a single instant of terror and death. It went on and on and on all while he was assaulted by a sound not unlike the roar of a dragon, but extended for minutes and minutes more.

And then, when the spell had faded...

A new spell took its place.

Kaleb felt as if he was falling. And he felt his stomach trying to crawl up and out of his body. It rushed towards his lips and, despite having the iron hard constitution of all orcs, he felt his lunch (such as it was) leaving him explosively. The humans, having cast the spell, had clearly expected it and placed a bag before his mouth, but his tusks meant that it was not a perfect seal. A single blob of his own sick floated in the air - tumbling end over end over end before one of the humans that Captain Markova referred to as 'marines' scooped it up with a small handheld wand that hissed and slurpd. Once the sick was dealt with, one of the marines spoke - and spoke in their odd, flowing language. Kaleb's brow furrowed and his spirits lowered even further. They were beyond the range of the translation cantrip.

Then his eyes caught the view out the window.

And all thoughts of dreadful spells and wicked humans left the orcs mind as he stared in awe at the planet of his birth. Not that Kaleb knew that was what it was at first. He saw it first as a crescent of blue and green and white, spreading outwards below him, with the blazing hot sun overhead and the silvery moon beyond it. The moon was what anchored his perceptions. He had seen it and plotted his course by it often enough. He had counted the phases and knew them within his bones - as when the moon was full was when the salt and silver had to be taken from storage and prepared. Knowing that was the moon, and that was the sun...

It took little imagination to then declare that to be Earth.

His home.

He could see the entire Sur from here, though a great deal of it was under clouds.

And then the next miracle that the humans had to show him arrived. He didn't know how long it took to reach, for he was too fascinated by the sight of his own world turning beneath him. He simply knew that, over time, a spec of light became larger and larger, until it resolved into the shape of what was clearly a ship. After all, it had sails. But it was unlike any ship that he had ever seen sailing the Black Sea or the Sea of Tears or the Sea of Ice. For one thing, it was a nearly perfect cone of silvery metal, angled and sloped like the conical roof of Baba Yaga's hut. The sails, too, were bizarre: They thrust from the back of the ship in a set of four, each one set like the spokes in a wheel. Each was canted in a zig-zagging pattern, and each one was glowing like the sword just before one takes it to the anvil.

"They're hot!" he exclaimed. Why and how was a mystery - but he clung to what he did know with fervor.

The marine next to him nodded and said something in the human tongue.

The ship drew closer and closer and closer. Distantly, he could see that the ship had several others in train behind it - like a mother duck and her ducklings. The line curved slightly, as if it was following the curve of the world under him. Kaleb had always known that the Earth was round. Anyone who marched across the whole breath of the Sur could see the way things vanished over the horizon - only true morons from the backwoods would claim it was flat. But he had always been certain that the Sun revolved around the Earth and that the moon was almost the same distance.

But here, he saw that the moon had grown ever so slightly larger - while the sun remained a distant glare.

And the sun clearly circled about the Earth, but...it too was a sphere, not merely a disk in space.

new

Kaleb shook his head in slow awe - and nearly missed the sight of the ship ahead of them preparing to open its mouth to consume them. Actually entering that mouth was a fresh, terrifying hell. It was announced by a series if bangs and pops, which rocked the shuttle here and there and caused his stomach to roil inside of him, trying to crawl up and past his mouth again. The banging and pops came at what seemed to be random intervals, but each changed the way that the larger ship approached - until, at last, they smoothly glided underneath the conical front and into the narrow cylinder that made up the base of the ship. Here, he could see exposed and intricate scaffolding, which was lashed around huge metal eggs that belied his understanding. And there was a oblong mouth - which scooped the not-dragon he was within and then closed tight.

The marines helped him unstrap, then laughed as he stood and immediately went sailing into the air. He rebounded off the roof, tumbling head over heels, his arms wriggling as he looked around wildly. He was floating. He was flying, like a wizard. Soon, he was laughing - and then he pushed off the floor intentionally, imparting to himself a bit of spin. Kaleb spun head over heels, and the marines began to clap and sing an uproarious marching song.

It lasted a bare few seconds before Captain Markova barked a single order.

Instantly, the marines were helping Kaleb right himself, then slapping onto places on the walls and ceilings that Kaleb saw had been cleverly crafted by some blacksmith to have curved bars that he could grab onto, or hook his feet on. The marines demonstrated, and soon, he was following after them into the belly of the ship. Here, he saw two other not-dragons, both of them being tended to men and women who were clearly artificers. Here, he also saw that humans were nearly as diverse as elves: Several of the artisans had strange, almond shaped eyes and darker skins. Others were the same flaxen haired hues as the captain, like elves.

The marines, though, had no time for the not-dragons. They hustled Kaleb to a hatchway at the edge of the belly, and there, he started to become bombarded by images that defied his understanding and left him grasping only the vague sense of the ship.

And despite the bizarre nature of what he saw - despite the men and women floating at odd angles, doing inexplicable things with unusual machines, despite the strange uniforms and stranger tools (some of which sparked and some of which created a brilliant white light and some of which crackled loudly) - the ship had a character that he knew. It was military. It was regimented and it had sergeants and officers and a leader. It had people doing scut work. It had people doing important work. And it had tough, hardened looking bastards. He started to sort people he went by into 'marine' and 'sailor.'

Sailors weren't really fighters. They made ships go, and they could get into a scrap if the ships smashed together. But marines were the ones you wanted when the rams hit and the ships stuck and you had to start stabbing. The sailors were all doing complicated and strange jobs. The marines were looking tough and tending to their weapons. Yeah, their weapons were all some kind of majile and none had a spear...

But they were still marines.

They were still sailors.

This was almost comforting enough to relax Kaleb from terror to mere nervousness until they came to the chamber of tortures. The chamber of tortures was pristine white - like what people said the afterlife was like - and it was tended to by a round faced woman with almond shaped eyes that the rest of the crew, including Captain Markova, called Dokror. Her actual name was lost in the confusing sentence structure, but Kaleb heard Doktor often enough to be sure it was either a name or a title. The Doktor was the leader of their tortures. The first thing she did was draw his blood using a sharp needle. Then she strapped wires to his body, shone lights in his eyes, smacked his knee with hammers, attached odd devices to his head.

And if this was the tortures humans meted out to their prisoners...

Kaleb was actually rather more optimistic once it was all done. He was leery about the blood sample - but if they were going to cast spells using his blood, he was already in their power in a dozen different ways. The Doktor bustled away, and Kaleb was then taken through several more corridors, the marines and the Captain moving behind him. They came to a hatch which was guarded by two marines - and these were in heavy armor and had their heavy majiles prepared. They came to attention - which required locking their feet against the ground slots that were regularly placed on the floor.

Well...

Was it the floor?

Kaleb felt a dizzying sense of vertigo.

The floor could be anywhere.

There was no floor. There was merely this eternal floating, tumbling.

He shook his head slightly as the hatch opened and Captain Markova gestured with one hand, and the Marines pushed him into the room. He grabbed onto the ceiling to slow himself down - and found himself looking at the very last thing that he had ever expected.