The Naked Weapon


No, he's a stuck up prig. But he fights like a badass, so we put up with him. Beli's whole body shimmered and I could feel/see/hear/taste her amusement. It was like a matrix of sensations, washing out of her body and into mine. A complex weave of emotions that made me feel at ease, but...not just by wiping away my sense of nerves. No. I felt at ease because I knew her. From the tiny mole above her left butt-cheek to the little telekinetic field she used to prevent sagging and keep her D-cup breasts perky. Because being psychic was all about cheating.

I grinned at her. So, you're an empathy?

Empathy, telekinesis, a bit of general telepathy. Everyone who goes into combat has to be at least factor 4 on the TK scale, for the war-forms. Beli sat down on the bed, time speeding up for a moment. I sat next to her, and our thighs touched. The contact reminded me of my still half-hard dick. My cock was laying along my thigh, nestled between my legs, just waiting for its eagerness to beat surface tension. Then it'd be thrust up into the air. I gulped and shifted one leg to try and keep him down -- but that ended up brushing my foot along Beli's shin and sent an even bigger surge of raw lust through me.

"What's a war form?" I asked, aloud. Because I was thinking if I contacted her brain with my factor four telepathy, uh...

Amelia had been ready to ride me in public. And I was pretty sure she was a lesbian, in a committed relationship. With great mind powers came great responsibility to not, like, rape people. If it was rape to slip someone a roofie, it was super rape to do it using mind powers.

Beli grinned. "Worried about, uh, Little Hatem?"

Her finger caressed along my thigh.

So there are bits of physical contact that just sort of happen when everyone's a psychic super-soldier and nudity is enforced by subquantum mechanics. But then there are bits of physical contact that happen because someone is DTF and that someone seemed to be Beli. You may not know this about me, but someone whose nickname was Abby and whose lifetime was spent in front of laptops hacking did not actually have the best track record with women. Just being ripped was only a quarter of what was needed. You also needed to spend time with girls. And ask them. The asking them had been the hard part.

So the touch of this Mumbai beauty was sending my heart racing almost as fast as finding out that humanity was engaged in a secret war with psychic aliens that ruled the galaxy.

"Yes," I whispered.

"My empathy factor makes it rather hard to slip anything past me..." Beli purred. "And you know, some girls enjoy the heedless feeling of male sexual urges. When it's wanted." Her eyes twinkled and she leaned forward. Her breath was warm and moist on my ear and that finger started to draw slow, steady circles along my thigh, teasing my skin. It was as if every goosebump I had was a tiny button, and that button triggered the part of my brain that said: Yes, you will do everything the nice lady says. My cock had graduated from half-hard to fully hard to hard enough to push my thigh out of the way.

And the hell of it was, she wasn't even whispering erotic things in my hear.

"A war form is the telekinetic field that Doyen use to fight -- in space, on the ground. It's dirt simple, cuite. Just imagine yourself, but bigger."

I closed my eyes. "F-Fuck..."

Beli chortled. "No, that's what we do after the missions."

"After?" I looked at her.

"Adrenaline's a hell of a drug," she murmured. "And if you don't mind me saying it,'re so gorgeous I want to rub my face all over you. But..." She stood, her rump filling my vision like a perfect moon. "You need to focus on training." Her rump jiggled as she flounced away, her giggle ringing in my mind.

I gaped at her. I wasn't sure if I had just been given the best fucking motivation in the universe, or if my balls were about to explode. Or both.

Fortunately, at that moment, neither of my balls decided to explode. Instead, it was the ship. The entire room rocked hard to the side as lights shifted to hard red. Alarms rang out and I was sent sprawling from the bed. My belly hit the deck and I groaned as the sirens wailed louder and louder. I looked around -- and saw that Diamond had sprung into action. She had leaped to a door frame and was pressing her palm against it, creating a shimmer of distorted space that changed the corridor beyond to a huge hanger-bay, like the kind you'd see filled with space fighters.

"Come on!" She shouted. "Go! Go! Go!"

The rest of the PsiCom team, who had all been laughing gaily and chatting mere seconds before, were through the warp as fast as they could run. I scrambled to my feet and ran forward -- right into a blocking arm.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, Hatem!?" Fang snarled at me.

"No fucking way am I sitting this out!" I said. "We're under attack, aren't we? You need everyone you can get?"

Fang bit his lip. I wasn't sure if I made a good point or if my telepathic powers made it seem like a better idea. Whatever the answer was, the only reason I didn't shove him out of the way with my own mind powers was because he took his arm away and ran with me. Diamond was the last through and the warp shut behind her as I looked around the hanger bay. Fang's voice was loud in my ear.

"You stick by me, Hatem," he said, scowling. "We might just live through this. Fifteen Doyen paladins are on HQ's ass and they've brought in a Death Star."

I blinked. "How do you know that!?"

"Psi-burst from HQ," he said, tapping his temple. "You have to lower your shields to pick it up. But, listen, don't even try lowering your mental shields right now. The Doyen are masters of telepathy. They'll be jamming us and sending suicide memes our way from the instant the battle stars."

"Then how do we fight them?" I asked as Fang jogged towards one of the large, yellow rectangles that were painted on the floor near the huge airlocks that looked like they were used to launch space fighters. The hanger bay was full of movement. Crew in uniform, driving heavy forklifts, and operating cranes that hung from the ceiling, were moving around huge armor plates and massive guns and barrels upon barrels of...fuel? Ammo? I wasn't sure.

"By cheating!" Fang said. He stopped in the center of the yellow square as a techie tossed him a slender pair of earbuds. They looked like an Apple product, and he slipped them into his ears. "Com-check." He paused. "Good."

Radio communication. Rather than psychic. And if the Doyen didn't use tech, they...


Then Fang slammed one fist into his palm. He growled as loud as he could, and suddenly, Fang exploded with blue light. When the flare was gone, a massive, naked human stood before me. And I'm talking massive. Like, easily, fifty feet high. Like a small building. With a dong to match. But even more than that, the human standing before me was bright blue and semi-translucent. White stars shimmered through the translucent skin, and I could see the tiny speck that was Fang himself, centered in the torso, right where the joining of the lungs would be. His arms spread out -- and the human's arms spread out.

So, that was a war-form.

But a question nagged me.

How could a bunch of humans -- young humans -- stand up against Doyen paladins? If they had been cursing the galaxy for ten thousand years with nothing but their psychic powers, weren't we totally out of our league? And then the cranes and forklifts got to work. Chunks of steel as thick as my whole body were dropped onto the war-form's shoulders, then affixed to arms, while technicians suspended from hanging platforms screwed and wired smaller bits onto fingers, attaching joints and seams so that they could flex. Gauntlets. More armor was loaded onto the chest, the back. Soon, even his mighty psy-dick was covered.

Then came the weapons.

Take the main gun on, like, an A-10 Warthog or maybe an old style WWII era battleship, then stick it into a rifle and give it to a fifty foot tall armored hunk of metal and holy shit, Fang was a mecha.

I sprinted to the nearest yellow square that wasn't occupied.

Once I got there, a tech ran up to give me a com-unit, then stopped dead. "Who the fuck are you?"

The ship rocked again. A chunk of metal the size of a small car hit the deck and screamed its way along an alarmingly large amount of space before coming to a stop. Screams came from the unlucky techies who hadn't managed to get out of the way. I looked at the techie.

"I'" I paused, then focused. And totally supposed to be here.

Bad pool?


But the ship was getting hit by something that the crew called a fucking Death Star. I think that it was time to get out there and do what I could to help. So, I aped what Fang did. And absolutely nothing happened. I stood there, with a com unit in my ears, my dick hanging in the open air, and the only thing blue and giant about my butt was my balls. I closed my eyes. What had Beli said? Just picture yourself, but bigger? I gulped and tried to imagine a bigger Abadi Hatem.

And the picture refused to form.

I could hear the loud hss CHUNKS sounds of airlock doors opening and mecha being launched into space.

The ship rocked a third time. The klaxons were sounding way more frantic and eager now.

Come on, Abby. I thought.

What was I?

I was a hacker. I broke into places for the lols. But there was something more, wasn't it? There was a teeny tiny part of my brain that internalized every single sneering thing a white American told me. My family had lived in America since the 1970s. I had been born here, without an accent. Heck, I had been I the Boy Scouts. And I was still treated by some people (and I'm using that term more liberally than they do) as if I had just crawled out of some hole in Afghanistan. And every time I pulled off something with computers and tech, I could know that I was rubbing that random lady from WalMart's nose in the dirt.

Bigger Abby...what was bigger Abby?

And suddenly, I saw it.

And when I opened my eyes, I was fifty feet fucking tall. I didn't peep out through the chest, out of where my real body's eyes were. No, I looked out of the eyes of my war-form. And I could feel the tree-ripping, building smashing, amazing strength of my whole body. It thrummed through me as if I was an electrical dynamo. The techies did their jobs fast -- armor plating started to slap down. I expected to feel the weight, but I didn't. It was like wearing normal clothes.

So, in other words, a relief.

"Whose Bravo-9?" Beli's voice came over the coms.

"That's the new fish," Fang said -- his voice tight.

"Holy shit, you're going to fucking die!" Diamond exclaimed.

"Who put the new fish in a suit?" A voice I didn't recognize -- maybe it was the white guy who had offered to probe me? - asked.

By that moment, two things had happened inside the deck. The first was that Sergeant Barry came running towards me, bellowing at the top of his lungs -- and right into my ears, since he was holding a walkie talky in one hand. "Recruit Hatem, get your stupid ass out of there right now!"

The second was that the techie I had brain-slapped had just dropped a fucking machine gun the size of a city bus into my armored hands.

"Sorry, Sarge!" I said, turning around. My armor squealed and groaned as I started to rush towards the airlock. I focused, trying to imagine the doors opening before me. And lo, a warp shimmered into life before me. It was as easy as winking. I plunged out into space...and into my first space battle.

It was only after the warp closed that I remembered I should have been fucking terrified.


Space. The first thing to know about space is that you can't see with your eyes -- not in the way you're used too. The shadows are too stark and the light is too piercing. There's no softening and refracting that you get on an atmosphere. If I was just using my eyes, I'd have seen lots of vague shapes and blurring motion and the massive bulk of the HQ ship. But I wasn't just using my eyes. My talent was coming to life in this direct threat -- and while I didn't know loads of fancy tricks, I knew enough to rely on it.

I could see the glowing forms of the Doyen -- unarmored and lithe, zooming around the rear of the HQ ship. Their weapons also glowed in their hands. They carried swords and spears and whirling flails and crackling tiger claws -- weapons from humanity's bronze age past, given life and size and crackling intensity by telekinetic powers honed by millennium of domination. Just looking at them, I became aware of the muffling pillow of psychic interference. I was no great shakes at the mind talking, but feeling the gag around my ability to speak telepathically kept making the back of my neck itch and my throat feel like a used sock.

Against the paladins and their jamming field flew my new buddies. And I saw that we humans were doing what we did best.


"Missiles away!" One voice said, his voice clear through the radio com unit, as a suit's shoulder mounted rocket pods opened up -- arcing streamers of glowing contrails tracing through the air in zig-zag patterns as a Doyen slashed with their sword. Two missiles were actually literally shorn in half, but the third struck home with a bright white flash. The Doyen went spinning away, half his war-form flickering and rippling.

"This fucker's on my tail!" Diamond said, putting on an extra burst of speed with not just her TK, but also a pair of rocket engines strapped to her back. As she soared away, a Doyen came closer and closer, jabbing with his glowing sphere.


Time to help!

"I'm coming!" I said, focusing and flinging myself forward. I thought of it like a big hand grabbing me and shoving me forward -- and that turned out to be the operative word. Shove. I tumbled and wheeled wildly as I rocketed towards Diamond and her pursuer. My left elbow clipped the Doyen and I rebounded, wheeling away, the motion making me feel sick. I didn't stop spinning until something hard and hot slammed into my other side, hooking and stopping me. I gasped -- feeling the sharp pain of something tearing into my side.

My psychic side.

I was being stabbed by the glowing spear. The blade had turned into a hook, holding me in place as I got my first real good up close look of a Doyen paladin. Take the glittering, spiny, gemstone figure I had seen in Barry's mental image, then explode it to hugeness, then add on an extra level of muscle that bulged between the gemstone plating like a biomechanical horror, and you got a pretty good idea of a Doyen warform. I swung my rifle around. But this paladin had clearly fought humans before. He jerked the spear free with a twist, then twirled the spear like a staff, knocking my rifle from my hands before I could even blink. The rifle twisted away in space.

I thrust myself backwards and wished as hard as I could that the rifle was in my hands -- but my brain was too busy doing the oh fuck you're going to die dance. The Doyen paladin thrust the spear point towards my chest and the blade slammed home. It cut into a few inches of steel and rebounded.


We humans. We cheated. I grabbed onto the end of the blade with both hands, snarling.

The Doyen focused -- I could feel the attention -- and then the spear's shaft exploded outwards into a hedgehog of spikes. Several thrust through thinner parts of my gauntlets and pushed through fingers and hands and wrist. The agony was hard to describe. White hot flames shot along my arms and the first thing I did was try and let go. My fingers refused to respond -- they were locked tight, clenching as hard as they could. I shuddered, then roared over my com-link. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

"Anyone spare to help the new fish?" Fang asked -- his voice clipped.

"The DS is coming for an attack vector!"

That voice was Beli's -- and I swung my head around, narrowing my eyes. The Death Star was harder to spot than I expected. I had thought it would be something huge and ominous and gray and delicately beautiful, like the rest of the Doyen. Instead, it was actually half the size of the headquarters ship and crude as all get out. Imagine a boulder made out of a single, uncut diamond, ridden by a trio of Doyen paladins. They stood in a half circle on one of the broad flat planes, making thrusting motions with their hands, and...singing. It was a song that carried into my mind, through the muffling pillow of psychic static.

I didn't speak the language. But it still translated to one word, repeated again and again in my mind.

Die. Die. Die. DIE!

The diamond was starting to glow with psychic energies.

I remembered Amelia's crystal gun.

I gritted my teeth and focused on my hands. I actually locked them down harder. The Doyen Paladin's facial expressions were utterly unreadable. How could you read a gemstone? For a moment, the irony of the fact that, for the first time today, I was clothed (in armor) and facing someone else who was naked (the Doyen), struck me. Then I swung my body around, aimed us at the Death Star, then found the switch for the rocket thrusters that made up my back armor. It was less hard than you might expect. It was a big old switch in the helmet, which you could touch by moving your war-form's chin. I jerked my chin up, hit the button, and the Doyen's slit-eyes actually widened as we shot forward. The spear buried itself deeper into my chest plates and I gritted my teeth as I felt the very tip start to burn against my actual chest.

The Doyen looked back over its shoulder, then looked back at me. I heard a growl -- and transmitted through the spear, a deep, gravely voice boomed in my mind: You think I'll let you go, chattel?

I snarled, then hit the accelerate button again.

This actually made more rockets kick on.

"Fuck you," I snarled.

"Abby!" Beli shouted.

The rockets cut out moments before we hit the Death Star, having exhausted every bit of fuel. But space was kind, and preserved our momentum. The Doyen struck the gemstone just as it began to fire the beam of pure psychic force, knocking it so off target that the rippling blue-white energy shot above the HQ ship and into the depths of space. Then the diamond cracked and the spear shattered and I felt something zip past my body -- close enough to almost touch my elbow. My back armor exploded. The diamond exploded.

The Doyen screamed.

I screamed.



My eyes opened.

I was tumbling.

My hands hurt.

My face hurt.

Honestly, my all of me hurt.

Did Malcolm beat me up? That kid had been my bully since middle school, and now that we had both graduated high school, I was kind of thinking he'd...give it...I shook my head, my eyes widening as I realized I was not in bed, I was not beaten up by a high school bully I hadn't seen for six months, and that I was, in fact, tumbling through the air at terminal velocity, surrounded by a cometary haze of shredded mecha armor plates, all of which glowed a brilliant, cherry red.


My life was kinda nuts right now.

I spread my arms wide and looked around, trying to piece together what had happened. Okay. I had hit the Death Stark with an improvised Doyen/Spear/Me missile. Explosion. Blackness. Now I was falling, naked, through an atmosphere. I gulped. Well, one of my prime factors was a warping power. Maybe my warping powers had dragged me back to Earth!

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