tagSci-Fi & FantasyStarlight Gleaming Ch. 01

Starlight Gleaming Ch. 01


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Janetta Tlacotli. Interceptor pilot, code name Ravensclaw.

I saw her name on the Transfer Roster and nodded to myself. So it was true. She really was coming here. I hadn't seen her in twelve years, six months and five days -- but who's counting? And I still remember every inch of her flawless body. Just thinking about her made me hard. Fortunately, I was at my desk, so nobody saw my reaction. I read the codes and knew her assignment. The higher-ups had picked her to be the Wing Captain for our new space-capable AT-24 Queztl class Starhawk interceptors. A plum job, and a stepping stone to becoming a general.

My name is Commander Ranji Kandikan, second in command of Flight Ops at Guardian War base in the Empire of Chimorro. Guardian War base is on the Chotocco plateau high in the mountains of the southern continent, at the south end of a large lake.

We are building a magnetic catapult system, to speed the launching of cargo and ships into high orbit. This is a new technology and it will help us move from the third position among the three superpowers to number two or maybe even number one. Sabotage has been our greatest hindrance.

Our initial space station has been lagging in development. Naturally, security is tight. If things progress as planned, the catapult will be completed in six months. Projections show that the system will initially deploy more than a thousand tons of material a day for a fraction of the cost for current chemical rocket launches. We are also working on a magnetic recovery system, to speed and simplify retrieval from high orbit.

The Atlanteans and the Aesir-Vedans already have operational space stations as well as a few outposts on the moon. On those stations, they have large habitation rings and space capable flights of interceptors and bombers. While both of our rivals deny this, and despite international treaties, we are convinced they also have suborbital tactical and strategic weapons onboard their stations.

Rumor was that ... well, rumors were rife these days. Nearly ten years ago, we gave the Atlanteans a drumming at Galiode in the Sargasso. They withdrew their ballistic missiles from the islands and things calmed down. Even if they had honored the treaty to not put a missile system into space, they still had interceptors and bombers based above our planet that could reach any point within the Empire within half an hour.

All things considered, though, the Atlanteans were easier to deal with than the Aesir-Vedans. While my family is originally Vedan, coming from Hrappa, my parents emigrated before I was born, and my father's work as a material research scientist was rewarded by the Empire with entry into the Science sub-caste of the Priest caste. I'm of average height and fit. In this part of the world, my coloring is more golden than copper, and that makes me stand out. That and my blue eyes.

Excitement in our country is high. While our initial space station is already in orbit, the catapult will make completion much easier and for much less cost. Further, we intend to base our new Starhawk interceptors just coming off production onto the space station to support our B-44 Thunderbird bombers.

The new Starhawk was capable of both extended space and atmosphere combat. Once deployed, we intended to test its range, with the expectation it could reach lunar orbit in just over two hours, have an hour of combat time with enough fuel to return to base.

The Starhawk comes with four Jaguar Plasma Cannons, two Manco Capac engines mated with Tipico inertial dampeners. They are capable of reaching mach nine safely, reducing the stress to two point seven one gravities on high intensity turns. These new aircraft were expected to challenge the Atlantean JiM-120 Helios and completely surpass the Aesir-Vedan AT-12 Bodn. Comparing them to birds of prey, if the Bodn is a kite and the Helios is a small hawk, then the Starhawk is an eagle. The reports from the Nazca Proving Grounds were impressive.

The names of the pilots doing the testing had been classified, of course. But Wing General Tlamachtacol, our base commander, had seen some of those trials and was sure he'd recognized Janetta as one of those pilots.

Some of the military old guard are still surprised at how far Janetta has come.

Tlacotli. A hundred years ago, her name would have trapped her in the Crafter Guilds as an animal handler. Thankfully, that sort of hidebound thinking hadn't stopped her. Janetta was probably the best pilot I'd ever seen, and arguably the best the brass had seen, too.

Top Flight is located at Ute War base in the Northern Desert of the Northern Continent, where the best of the best in the Air Service compete in war games. For three out of the last four years, Janetta's team has won first place.

Coming in with Janetta were seventy-nine picked volunteers. Eight flights of ten fighters. Until the magnetic catapult was completed, Janetta's job would be to make them into a cohesive fighter wing. Until they were transferred to the space station, Viracocha's Glory, they would supplement the aerial defenses at Guardian War base. Naturally, our first space station was named after the first Chimorro Emperor.

Janetta. A lot of things have happened since then, but I still recall how she first looked as if it were yesterday instead of sixteen years ago.

We were both freshly minted Sublieutenants straight out of the Air Academy, taking advanced courses at Tikun War base in the Yucatán. I had already failed my own tests to become a fighter pilot. I could handle a rotary wing, a prop-job, and a shuttle, but I didn't have the reflexes for supersonic combat. I could have gone into Ground Service Air Defense, but opted to stay in the Air Service and train in logistics and operations.

It was in Basic Tactical Command class when I first saw her, and with one look I was smitten. Tall, lean, copper skin with enormous black eyes that showed intelligence and drive, and lustrous, shiny black hair that, when braided, hung halfway down her back. Pert rounded nose and full, rounded lips, and big, white teeth. High, firm breasts, narrow waist and a slim butt. She was full-blooded Nahuatl.

Janetta wore the usual Air Service colors of dark blue trousers with a cyan blouse, but she also wore her pilot's flight jacket. Covering the entire back panel was the rising Imperial Sun in yellow, orange and red supported by two upright jaguars on each side. She came into the room chatting with three young men, also sporting similar flight jackets. Seated at her chosen desk, she looking like a coiled cat ready to jump up at a moment's notice.

The graceful way she moved was pure poetry in my eyes. A hundred years earlier, she would have had a warrior's headdress with thousands of feathers, stones, and patterns of cloth streamers, her chest bared and covered in tattoos, a macuahuitl sword in one hand and Chon semiautomatic pistol in the other. Of course, a hundred years ago, we were just learning how to fly aircraft. Thankfully, the warrior women no longer had to remain celibate upon pain of death.

My first day of Basic Tactics class was a haze. I kept sneaking glances at her.

And then finally class was over. I was still working up the courage to ask her out when, in the rush of everyone leaving, I lost track of her. Dejected, I collected my books. Tomorrow I would make sure I spoke to her.

I was walking down the hall when suddenly Janetta came up from behind me, pushed me into a supply closet, and slammed the door behind us. I started to move, looking for the light switch, when she pushed me back and I sat hard onto a box. Her hands then reached down and quickly opened the zipper on my trousers.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Only the barest bit of light came in from under the door. All I could see of her was her outline.

"Relax. This won't hurt, I promise." I could hear the laughter in her voice. "You're Vedan, aren't you? I can tell by your coloring. Gold-brown skin, blue eyes. How'd you get in here, golden boy?"

Her hands found my cock, which was quickly hardening.

"My father is a scientist. They fled in 2317. My -- ow! Hey! Be careful there!"

"Sorry about that. That's quite a bulge you pack around. Some guys put socks into their briefs thinking it won't matter later. With you being so pretty, I just had to know. Because it's real, I'll fuck you. If it had been fake, we would have nothing to talk about. Ever."

Her hands gave me a quick couple of strokes. She leaned forward, her hot breath searing my mushroom head. "You," she murmured, "are a most fortunate man." Reaching inside my trousers, she gave my balls a quick caress.

Then she inhaled my cock, and I was in heaven. Her head bobbed up and down in the dim light, and I enjoyed her tongue working my shaft and crown. I reached over to put my hands on her head, but she batted them away.

She stood and I heard her open her own zippers. Female warriors were allowed trousers like men, but in deference to their anatomy, they had two buttons and a pair of zippers holding the front flap in place so they could either squat or lean forward to urinate without having to drop their pants. The next moment, she straddled me and I felt my cock begin entering her hot sheath. Only moderately moist, she determinedly rose and dropped, using her weight to impale herself a bit deeper each time. Her breath coming in sharp gasps, rising just a bit as penetration deepened. She was obviously interested for she soon slickened up, making passage smoother. Even so, she was incredibly tight. Then she hit bottom and I could feel the ridge of her cervix brush the crown of my cock.

"Oh, yeah," she muttered, grinding away on my lap. "That's the ticket."

I reached up to squeeze her breasts, but again she brushed them away.

"Don't distract me while I'm flying." Grabbing my shoulders, she rocked her hips with solid, firm thrusts, pushing her clit against my pubic bone.

"Maybe I want to feel them," I retorted.

"If I like what you do, maybe next time I will let you. Right now, just shut up. We have a very short time to complete this mission." Janetta picked up her pace, rocking faster.

In the darkness, I could see little, but I could feel her body enveloping mine. She was hot and slick, and the sound of something squishy moving seemed loud in my ears. And she smelled faintly of jet fuel and something else, something familiar.

"Kandikan. Name's ... Ranji Kandikan." I gripped her waist, helping her move.

"Shut up and fuck, Kandikan! I mean it!" Her hips rocked faster and faster.

Quietly, her breath began to catch as she worked her crotch up and down, arching over mine. "Huh, huh, huh." More speed until she inhaled deep, grinding herself down, shaking and sighing. Her pussy clenched, the tight ripples squeezing my shaft, over and over.

For half a dozen breaths I waited for her to move. "Thanks," she said, and her feet hit the floor. I couldn't believe it! She was going to hump and dash on me!

I grabbed her butt and stood up, shoving her against the wall. She gave a surprised grunt, then wrapped her legs around my hips and sighed appreciatively. I pumped rapidly, determined to coat her insides with my cream. The novelty and excitement certainly played a factor. In less than a minute, I drove deep into her hot, tight cavity and gasped, exploding inside her hot depths.

Janetta waited barely three breaths, then dropped her legs and patted me on the shoulder. "Payload delivered on target. Now pull out. I'm due at the hangar and I don't want to be late."

She reached up the wall and flicked on the light.

My eyes blinked as I withdrew from her pussy.

She glanced down. "Quality delivery system you have there." Then she reached over and unhooked my neckerchief, and without any ado, used it to wipe down her dripping pussy. When she was done, she handed the neckerchief back to me and zipped her uniform back into place. My own crotch was wet, my trousers were soaked with her juices, and my neckerchief was thoroughly soiled. I was going to have to hit the latrine before my next class, and that meant I was going to be late.

Janetta gave her uniform the once-over, picked up her small pack and put her hand on the door knob. "Kandikan, you rate a repeat test flight. I'll tell you when."

Then she was gone.

Something clicked then. Oranges. Jet fuel and oranges. Odd combination, but it seared itself into my brain. That was ever after Janetta.

I grabbed my own gear and hurried out. At that moment I knew two things. First, I wanted her, and not just once or twice but as often as I could get away with, and she didn't necessarily have to like it. Second, I resolved to break her reserve and make her say my name when she came.

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byTJSkywind© 5 comments/ 27399 views/ 81 favorites
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by Anonymous

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by TJSkywind03/21/18

Comments well taken

I'm the first to admit I don't have a strong math / physics background, just a love of space, aircraft, and SF/F. I'm also a BRAT survivor and was in CAP in my teens.

The Mach speeds (speed of soundmore...

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by Anonymous03/13/18

Mach numbers,,,,

Capable of Mach,, what? Your G acceleration numbers make sense,, sub 3G's for anything sustained. But your Mach numbers are way, way off. It requires about Mach 20 something just for LEO.. andmore...

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