Wild Space Pt. 04

When she felt Ogan's breasts brushing up against hers, Sita eagerly scooted forward, only to be pushed roughly back by her throat. She made a soft, pleading noise, wanting to touch the other woman more fully. Instead Ogan held her down harder, on her back, and positioned herself between the smaller woman's spread legs. She leaned over and kissed the soft skin above Sita's breasts, along her collarbone.

Sita could only sigh and squirm for so long. Nimbly, she lifted her legs and locked the other woman around the waist. She could feel her wet cleft pressing insistently against Ogan's hard stomach, and grinned when the older woman struggled.

"Your turn, you first," Sita purred sweetly. "Or I am not letting you go."

Ogan wriggled out of her uniform pants, kicking them away, spread her legs, and shook her hips as she leaned over the desk. Sita bit her lower lip as she automatically knelt, slipping into a submissive role instinctively. The Ranger placed her hands under the woman's buttocks, right where they met the thighs, and rubbed soothingly. She smiled when she heard Ogan make a breathy and happy noise. She wanted to please this woman, she belatedly realized, as she massaged her fine, tight ass. Sita wanted approval from her, to do exactly as she was bid. She spoke up, shyly.

"Tell me what to do, please," She almost begged the older woman.

"What, love?" Perched up on her elbows, Ogan glanced behind her at the eager young woman.

"You're the chief," Sita said softly. "Act like it."

Ogan had a quirky mouth. Her lips were thin and when she smiled they twisted to the right side and bunched up while she wrinkled her nose. It was an endearing trait and Sita nearly smiled right back, but didn't want to spoil the mood.

"Mmmm, that's a good idea," The older woman said with a smirk. "You can start by kissing my ass."

Sita thought she would never ask. Happily, she pursed her plump lips and kissed worshipfully. Her mouth warmed the soft flesh beneath it. Ogan's buttocks were firm, the skin stretched taut over the muscle and fat. After a few smooches, she asked for and received permission to better use her mouth. Sita spread the skinny cheeks apart and lovingly speared the other woman's puckered asshole with her tongue. In response, Ogan cursed in surprise and then laughed in strained delight and squirmed a bit in her bent over position.

She worked a finger into the other woman's already wet cunt, ensuring not to insert it too roughly. A quiver and another soft curse answered her. Emboldened, Sita fingered her and tongue fucked her asshole at an alternating pace, causing Ogan to groan louder and breathe harder, body shivering against the desk, pushing back onto the finger and tongue that probed her.

After a few minutes of concentrated effort Sita succeeded in getting the other woman off at least three times. It was hard to tell as Ogan had been very wet from the beginning, and was shuddering and moaning throughout. Finally, her plump lips swollen even more and reddened by constant contact, Sita smiled and smacked the other woman's ass, as if signalling an official time out.

Ogan tried to stand up straight and tightness in her back or weakness in her legs made her stumble and laugh. Sita helped her and clung to the other woman when she felt herself being hugged.

"I just need a minute, love," The chief murmured against her neck. "Been so long since I've cum so hard. This old body isn't used to it."

"Your body isn't old," Sita said, and tenderly kissed the other woman on the forehead. "You just proved it. You're beautiful."

"You are very nice to say so, but I question your motives." Ogan smiled her quirky smile. "Is this only because you want me to make you cum as hard as you made me?"

"I'm being completely selfish," Sita admitted with a giggle to make sure the other woman knew she was joking. Nevertheless, she was soon sitting on the desk herself, legs pulled up, heels on the hard flat surface, her sex entirely exposed.

"Play with your titties while I eat your pussy," Ogan said in an authoritative tone. When Sita didn't reply right away the older woman nipped sharply at the tender flesh on the inside of her pale thigh.

Sita gasped, but the bite was only painful at first. After the initial rush the pain mellowed to a blissful sensation that made her hiss and grow even more wet between her legs. Finally, when she could bear it no more, her hands went to her ripe, firm breasts, pale pink areolas surrounded by even paler white skin. She gathered one in each hand and obediently flicked an index finger over the nipple.

Ogan nuzzled the scratchy seedlings of black pubic hair, kissed the slightly parted lips. Above her, Sita sat staring down at the beautiful woman kneeling between her legs, hazel eyes round and glimmering, sensuous mouth breathing hard. When Ogan's lips finally melted onto her vagina Sita cried out, and nearly scooted backwards on her elbows, so sensitive was her eager sex. Next came the older woman's tongue, hot and skilled and nimble. Ogan flicked it over the engorged clit until Sita nearly screamed and bridged her hips a bit off the desk, and then brought her down by kissing and lapping at her lower lips until she grew calm, only to repeat the cycle over and over.

Finally, Sita could take it no more. She was full on pinching her nipples now between thumb and forefinger, roughly jiggling the breasts by them, looking down at the gorgeous mature woman giving her pleasure, her curly dark black and the busy mouth twisted in a smile. That last look and the relentless, sweet pressure of Ogan's tongue drove her over the edge. Soon Sita was writhing and raising her hips from the desk, bucking and writhing against Ogan's mouth. The older woman expertly rode out the animated orgasm, the two never breaking contact.

When she was finally spent, Sita found she needed a minute herself. Ogan helped her up and the women clung together again, and a laugh was shared between them.

"Pleasant as that was," Chief Warden Oan said, breathing hard, wiping some light sweat from her brow. "I think we both need to get back to work. Have you decided how you're going to proceed, Sita?"

She didn't, and could only shake her head. The other woman kissed her again and said some blandishments, but Sita was suddenly wary, and frustrated, the afterglow of her orgasm fading quickly.

"Araxis IX is too far. For now." It was time to go home and face the music, both with her case and her marriage.

**************************************

The fellow with the heavy repeating rifle who was pacing a thousand feet out from the encampment was the first one to die. For once, Edge did not need stealth, and announcing her presence suited her purposes admirably.

Announcing her presence consisted of firing the chopped down carbine cradled in her arms openly, with no silencer or muzzle. The energy bolts sang out over the mountain lake, a tight grouping of three, each one reflected in the black water below them. They hit the man nearly instantaneously, sizzling through him and cauterizing the wounds as they went. He toppled heavily to the dirt, dead on his feet. There was no blood.

Other men and women heard and saw and took up yells of alarm. By then, Edge was already moving, a black figure in the dim light of the gloomy pre-dawn, boots crunching over the gravel. She had the luxury of taking up a stable firing position for those first few blasts, but now she was going to have to shoot and scoot, to quote her former instructors. Running around with a few loaded weapons wasn't always ideal, but neither was a lone soldier standing still while under fire.

And she was under fire, as her enemies took up positions themselves and peeled off shots at any threat, real or imagined. It took her a minute of running, her gear rattling, until she fired again: legs braced for the recoil, she took out another who wielded a powerful long distance rifle, sending them screaming and falling heavily into the lake. The fish were surely going to feast today.

She should be OK from here on out. If her intelligence was correct they would be down to pistols now. Accordingly, Edge moved closer into the camp, eyes nonetheless wary for any threat.

The others had a better idea of her location, however, and the light was getting better. An energy bolt winged by her shoulder so close that she could feel the heat of its passing, and she hugged the earth, just as she'd been taught so long ago. More and more fire streaked over her head, and, working out the shooter's approximate location, another attacker was methodically removed from the equation. They were firing too rapidly and not moving about, making their deaths a matter of mere deduction. Edge's mouth twitched in contempt, but she kept her head. She was too close to feel any hubris now.

The final one, a woman, wanted to take off and run, yelling incoherently in fear. Edge took careful aim and then unhesitatingly shot her in the back. The bolt took her right through the center of the body, causing her arms flinging above her head, her pistol flying from her body, throwing her to the dirt, giving her the look of an undignified, toppled angel. The woman's scream was cut short as the life was punched out of her. Or so Edge thought.

As she carefully approached, weapon always at the ready, she saw the woman was still breathing, so Edge ended it with a mechanical double tap from her carbine. She moved on without looking back.

Don't let up, now, she told herself. Her target would probably be armed, though he would be even less well trained than the lot she had just dispensed with. Edge moved deeper into the camp. They had thrown up a few temporary, prefab shelters, the kind an enthusiastic first time camper would buy if they only thought the most expensive meant the best. There was trash strewn everywhere, dishes, shed clothing and bedding. From the smell of it Edge knew that they had been here a long time, and had probably grown bored. Hence their complacency and the ease at which she had killed them.

To his credit, her quarry wasn't cowering or pointing a weapon at her. When she came upon him he was seated, a ramrod straight man, pale skin bright in the morning light, with a headful of greasy black hair. He gave her a hard and strange look, as if he was expecting her but somehow peeved to see her anyway.

"I'm grateful for the years and what time I have left," The man told her in a quavery voice like dreams breaking apart upon waking. "Even if its two years or two minutes."

"Plenty more where that came from, Colonel." Edge told him.

"You're making fun of me by giving me my former rank," He said. "But I appreciate it all the same."

"Do I have your word as a former officer and a physician that you will cooperate if I treat you as such?"

"More mockery, but yes. I won't try to fight you." He shrugged. "After seeing what you did to get to me, I don't think I'd stand a chance."

"You haven't seen what I can do yet," Edge promised. She slung her weapon over her back. "Killing a few radical extremists is nothing."

"They were loyal and brave. Which is more than I can say for you, misguided lass." Colonel Doctor Crobe, master of genetics, had eyes as dark as night, cheekbones sharp enough to slice meat on, and a bony chin under a blade of a nose. It was as if someone had boiled all of the flesh from his bones, leaving a papery thin cover of skin over a skull. It wasn't hard for Edge to picture him in his black uniform or a lab coat. "You still serve Centralia. I'll take a loyal fanatic over you."

"Neither of us serve Centralia any longer." She told him. "But we were both in the Army. And that makes us comrades in arms, doesn't it?"

"It makes you seem slightly more intelligent than you did when you charged in here, shooting," Crobe told her carefully. She disliked something about his eyes. He had the look of a man who was deciding best how to start dissecting her. "But it doesn't make you my friend. If you think I am going to let you turn me in-"

"No one is turning you in, colonel," Edge said. "I'd be on the executioner's block quicker than you, if you must know. No, I have a job for you."

Crobe seemed nonplussed, and anything that could shock him was remarkable, in her mind. Colonel Doctor Crobe had been a research scientist in the Capital Army. Most Centralians were xenophobic towards aliens, but the military and nobility took it to the next level. Crobe was one step above that, with a genius level intellect and a willingness to do whatever was necessary to boot. If there was anything that scared him, kept him on his toes, she meant to use it.

"Who are you?" He asked her bluntly, eyes searching, more interested now.

"I'm someone who has done a lot worse than you, and unlike you I am still doing it and not in hiding." She said.

The sun had risen. She felt his eyes searching her face again, this time speculatively, appraisingly. Edge hadn't bothered to disguise herself, not for this, but her cheeks and forehead and chin were slick with camouflage face paint. It felt strange, not to have a different face, but it wasn't needed any longer, a thought that made her feel almost uneasy.

"You have human eyes, but you could be a half breed." Crobe said with the detached tone of a scientific racist . "How do I know you're fully human?"

"The same way you know I am going to let you go after you do what I ask." Edge gave him a very human smile she didn't feel, her teeth a stark white against the brown and green paint. "Trust."

********************************

The Capital Navy liaison officer, Ensign Alla, had left an urgent message for them when they returned back to the base. Yomp groaned aloud.

"She can't even give a Ranger a moment or two to breathe," He said sourly, in a rare bad mood. He scratched at his pink and red forehead. "Right now I need a nap, not to give another report."

Sita didn't blame him. Kekal had proved fruitless. Yomp had agreed that going to Araxis IX or Jansen's Planet over a stolen drinking horn was ridiculous, exactly the type of case their lieutenant had sent them on. His visit to Lord Prag's estate had been just as maddening: his drinking horn was a cheap thing, the kind of bauble sold by a tourist conning vendor in a spaceport. Lord Prag had become aware that his rival's ancient horn had been stolen, and had only bought and displayed a cheap gregaw of the same to rub salt in an enemy's wound. They had been roped into a preposterous case of alleged theft among dinner party rivals. Prag's sarcastic offer to gift it to Lady Nida's family had been met with a curse from Yomp.

"What about the Pink Lady?" Sita asked. "What did the technicians say at the hangar?"

"Engine parts were missing, but why is anyone's guess. According to the report the Natals gave me the ship was a run of the mill transport, nothing special about her at all. So why steal its engine?"

"I have no idea, but once the family got involved the investigation went sour." She observed aloud.

"The Natals and the Centralians both, you mean. I'm convinced that Madaline Natal was murdered, and that we won't ever get to have a crack at a real case like that." Yomp said glumly. Had more red skin sloughed off of him in the last twenty-four hours? She hadn't seen him look so tired in a long time. He smiled at her, but his heart wasn't in it. "Let's go see our liaison officer so we can get some rack and family time, girlie."

Family time. Just the mention of it set her stomach to acid. Sita still hadn't called Arold, but she couldn't avoid him forever. The gloryhole on Mobussah, the sexy herd warden on Kekal. She knew these encounters were happening because she was frustrated at home and didn't want to face her husband. But she would have to, sooner or later.

Even though Sita was exhausted, she felt a perverse relief that she was going to meet with Ensign Alla, despite who she was and who she represented. Somehow Sita thought that the Capital Navy officer didn't only want to meet with them to keep up appearances of actually doing her job. Maybe they were about to be handed the case. And she could figure some things out, take a little break. It would be satisfying to do so, to deal with the issues at home, but even more satisfying to nail the killer.

Alla's office was uncluttered, sterile, and bereft of personal items, unlike a lot of the senior Ranger's offices. It was also empty. Unhesitatingly, Yomp grabbed one of the spartan chairs and gratefully sank into it.

"Are you insane?" Sita said from her rigid position of attention.

"When you get to be sixty some years old you see how eager you are to stand up all rigid for minutes on end," The old man said languidly. "Besides, she's not our officer."

Yomp wasn't entirely wrong, but Sita would not have sat before an ensign of the Capital Navy for all the silver in the galaxy. Yomp would retire soon, and could afford such a luxury. She was not so lucky.

The Navy officer entered her office a few minutes later and when Sita straightened she was told to sit immediately. Feeling like a fool, she did, and covertly studied the young ensign.

Alla wielded a scourge and wore the cream uniform of the Capital Navy, and creamy too was her white skin, a color that set off her dark red hair. She shaved one side of her head so that only a blanket of tiny brick colored buds sprouted, and the rest of the fiery hair was cut short, brushed over to one side. A beauty mark and pouty lips, along with her exquisite alabaster complexion, gave her a coquette, girlish look, except for her eyes. They were an extraordinarily dark violet, almost black, and vacant as a shark's or a doll's. And like a doll, Alla's figure was exactingly perfect, almost surreal, as if she had been assembled by a committee of horny old men all recreating their perfect lovers of years past. Her waist was nearly narrow enough to be encircled by even Sita's tiny hands, and yet the cream uniform strained to contain the luscious curves of her shoulders, legs, buttocks and breasts. When Sita had first beheld the perfect vision of Alla she had nearly bitten her own lip in half, but others in the department had warned her away. And after she had gotten over her own hormones Sita saw the sense in that, but that didn't stop her from looking and enjoying.

"The Natal family has presumed that I have enough time and resources to take up their investigation," Alla said without preamble. Her voice was rich, with a military accent and deep for a woman, but still feminine. "That is not the case. After contacting the nearest Navy admiralty and even the closest Army post, Centralia isn't inclined to send anyone to help, either."

"That's surprising, ma'am," Yomp said, giving the doll-like woman her due as an officer even if he hadn't stood at attention for her.

"There is far more to Capital Navy protocol than my presence here," The ensign said bluntly. "The Natals are rich and well connected, but apparently not well connected enough to warrant a Navy JAG officer."

As she listened to the commanding tone, Sita's mind went, unbidden, to rumors she had heard in the squad room regarding Alla. The ensign was said to prefer men, men who were strong and cruel enough to slap her about, beat her, fuck her, leave her bruised and nearly bloodied. Alla only rarely coupled with other women, it was said, and when she did she was much rougher on the unfortunate women than men were with her. Ever since then, Sita had not been eager to make the ensign's acquaintance between the sheets. Or anywhere else.

"Still..." Yomp said, and rubbed his chin with a clawed hand, black eyes narrowed. "I'd think the local admiralty would at least send someone official out to investigate."

"They haven't, and neither are the Rangers. The case is closed. It's a dead end, no jurisdiction for either of us." Alla said shortly, and Sita abruptly realized they were being dismissed.