Lysa looked at the warrior as it looked at her, their bodies already secreting sexual pheromones, as both of them had been aroused by the voice that screamed in the night. She knew that it was Jana Cruz, could hear the rage and the loathing in the voice, could hear the promise of violence. Yet she also registered that it was a cry of pleasure, so Jana was no doubt fucking some soldier at this very moment. So closely tied were violence and sexuality, she thought to herself, as she watched the Izrid warrior watching her. Might as well, she thought to herself, this is the path her life had taken so she decided to embrace it. The warrior woman silently stood up and let her blanket slip to the ground. She had gone to sleep with only her tank top, which she pulled over her head as she walked towards the warrior, and her panties, which she dropped to the ground as she stood before him.
This Warrior’s penis was swelling with desire, and his pheromone glands were pumping out scent and secreting oil at a rapid pace. The hybrid Lysa straddled him as he sat up straight and kneeled before her on one knee. This Warrior gripped her waist with two of his hands as his others ran up her back. This Warrior shuddered with sensation as Lysa’s own pheromone secretions mixed with his, and she lowered herself onto his towering member. She moved up and down on his girth, aided by the strength of his hands. She rested her forehead against his and they began breathing into each other’s mouths as they made love.
She rode the warrior’s cock as her mouth found his and she kissed him. At first the warrior seemed nervous, as if it had never been kissed before, and in that moment Lysa realized just how human the act of kissing really was. This realization spurred her on into a deeper kiss, and she slid her tongue into his mouth to rasp it against his own serpentine tongue. The warrior’s reptilian face was ill shaped for the articulation of a human kiss, though Lysa swelled with desire as the warrior clearly made the attempt to mimic her movements. His jaw distended and he tilted his head sideways, and then sloppily open his mouth to nearly engulf her face from her chin to the bottom of her nose. The warrior’s tongue caressed Lysa’s face and then wetly intertwined with hers as she braced her arms on either side of his neck so that she could lock her hands behind him. The hybrid woman hauled herself up and guided the warrior to the ground on his back. Once he was down Lysa crouched over him, her pose primal and aggressive as she began running her hands roughly across his chest, hard enough that had he been human she would have broken the skin. Once more Lysa guided the warrior’s massive cock into her dripping womanhood, and again began riding him. She started grinding her hips into him as he drove himself deep within her, arching his back slightly so as to thrust as far as he could.
This Warrior ran his four hands across the hybrid woman’s body, wanting to touch every inch of her. The Izrid had no real word for beauty, and had the warrior been from a more advanced cognitive caste he might have formed the words to describe the sight that filled his eyes. The hybrid woman was covered in battle scars, and yet they all seemed to complement the hard muscles and feminine curves of her body. This Warrior reached up to squeeze her bouncing breasts and found himself pinching her nipples between forefinger and thumb, eliciting a small cry of pleasure from her as she continued to grind on him. After several more moments she leaned forward, planting her hands on the ground to either side of This Warrior’s head, and she began the human kissing again. The dual sensation of her sucking the ultra-sensitive tip of his forked tongue and the feeling of her pussy enveloping the length of his member was the most pleasurable thing the warrior had ever experienced. That is, until the hybrid woman began to thrash and arch her back in the throes of a body-shaking orgasm, the sight and sensation of which triggered his own.
Morgan had also heard the scream, though lay still, and watched in silence as her two warriors coupled. Her own womanhood pulsed with desire, though her mind was tinged with jealousy. Morgan quickly identified that feeling as being a rather human reaction, a conditioned response from the old patriarchy of human civilization, and she banished it from her mind. They were her brood, and it pleased her that they were together. Morgan could smell their desire, taste it on the air, and it aroused her more. Gently she began to touch herself under the blanket, and soon reached a quiet and intense orgasm while watching the final moments of her warrior’s coupling. Morgan watched as Lysa fell asleep on the warrior’s chest. It was the first time she had seen Lysa relax since first reconnecting with her in the compound. It was as if the warrior side of Lysa had taken over, and was in a constant battle and survival mode. She had disappeared during the firefight as her Izrid brood warrior had whisked her away in his many arms, not giving her a chance to fight and most likely die, even if bravely.
They had been on the run for a long time, and though they had picked up a few other survivors of the firefight, there had been no sign of Lysa. After spending many hours on the run she began to sense Lysa’s presence grow closer and closer, until the warrior woman had emerged from an alleyway. Lysa’s dress was cut to pieces and she was covered in cuts, bruises, and several grazing bullet wounds. She had an empty flechette caster strapped to her back, an Izrid energy shield in her left hand and a gore-drenched Izrid war-axe in her right hand. Not long after that more Izrid patrols had begun to move into the area, no doubt having finally succeeded in re-taking the initiative from the resistance forces, who while effective during hit and run skirmished were not packing the kind of numbers and firepower for a stand up fight with the Izrid legions. Lysa had taken the lead, as if it was she who commanded the group, and pushed them onwards into the wilderness of Old Chicago, and since then she had not paused for food or rest. Yet there, in the warm afterglow of intimacy and in the arms of a creature once her foe, Lysa relaxed and slept. Morgan smiled at this. Let her take her rest, tomorrow she will need all her strength, because the resistance would soon be upon them, and the time to fight had come.
ACT V
“This is the place,” said Magna as he pointed across the rubble-strewn fields towards a tremendous abandoned warehouse, “We scoped the whole area, and that’s the only real defensible position for miles.”
“The monitor isn’t as accurate as I’d like, but we’ll have to go on that assumption for now,” responded Jana just as she keyed the microphone on her headset, “Alpha Team, approach from the southwest. Bravo Team execute a flanking approach due west. Charlie Team, you’re on overwatch, we don’t want any Izrid stealing our kill. How copy over?”
“Bravo Team, good copy.”
“Charlie Team, good copy.”
Magna looked up as Jana handed him his binoculars, and then un-slung his machine gun, “Alpha Team, good copy.”
“I want confirmed kills people, so explosives in dire circumstance only. Good hunting,” Jana ordered as she, Magna, and the rest of Alpha Team began making their way towards the warehouse.
Jana knew from the monitor in Lysa’s tongue that the hybrid fugitives had either run as far as they could or had chosen to stand and fight. For the sake of her own battered platoon she hoped that it was exhaustion, as she would lose less soldiers that way. Soldiers that could return to the resistance and keep fighting the alien scum. Jana had no intention of leaving the warehouse alive. So long as she laid eyes on the corpses of the hybrids and their Izrid ally then she could take her own life in peace. Until then, she would do whatever it took to bring them down.
For nearly ten uneventful minutes Alpha Team closed in on the warehouse, moving as carefully as they could through the blasted neighborhood. They were careful to move from covered position to covered position, each of the soldiers keenly aware that one of their enemies was Morgan, a sniper of no small reputation. When a single shot rang out and Bravo Team reported a KIA casualty Jana knew that the end was close at hand.
“Pick up the pace, let’s get into this fight!” shouted Jana as she broke from cover and began sprinting for the southwest wall of the warehouse. Magna and the others followed, rushing for the objective with guns raised.
Magna saw the glint of gu
nmetal and a silhouette moving in the third floor window, and managed to fire a burst from his machine gun. The rounds went wide, though did push the would-be shooter deeper into the warehouse. The big soldier slammed his shoulder into the wall, making himself as flat against it as his bulky frame allowed and keyed his microphone.
“Charlie Team, this is Alpha, we’ve got a shooter on the southwest wall, third floor up,” bellowed Magna as Jana led the rest of the squad towards the loading dock door where they stacked against the wall in preparation for a breaching action.
“Alpha we’ve got your shooter, sit tight and we’ll flush her to you,” responded the Charlie Team sniper from nearly five hundred yards away as he sighted down his barrel.
A shot rang out, and Magna heard the glass shatter as the hard round punched into the building. A second, then a third followed, then the sniper’s voice gave the ‘go’ in Magna’s ear. The big soldier gave a positive hand signal to Jana and she fired a sawed off shotgun into the hinges and handle of the door in rapid succession. As soon as the handle was hit the rest of the squad pushed through the door, which fell to the ground, and began filing into the warehouse.
“On your left! On your left!” shouted the sniper, and instantly gunfire sounded from within the warehouse.
Magna hurled himself through the doorway after Jana and saw that already one of his squad mates lay on the ground, riddled with holes and bleeding out. Several soldiers were firing upwards through several floors of staircases and grating. The sparks from their rounds showered down, though through the haze and flash Magna caught a glimpse of the shooter. He thought her name was Susan, a pretty young thing who couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. He knew her from the camps, and hadn’t actually realized that she had completed the rudimentary combat training that MacArthur had instituted. He’d seen her in action during the blistering firefight at the compound, and knew that whatever she had been before, she was now a hardened killer and deadly. The soldiers kept exchanging fire with her as she ran across the grating with superhuman agility, running and shooting as she stayed one step ahead of the squad’s hail of bullets. Another resistance fighter dropped to the ground by the time Magna had gauged her trajectory, and he pointed his machine gun in the opposite direction. He squeezed the trigger moments before she was in his sights, and shouted in triumph as the second burst from his machine gun caught her. Bullets tore apart her right thigh and her momentum carried her out of the way of the third burst as she collapsed to the grating. Magna kept squeezing the trigger as he corrected his aim, and despite the hybrid’s speed and agility he managed to pound half a dozen more rounds into her back as she struggled to her feet. The force of the impact pitched her forward and facedown onto the grate. She twitched several times as blood poured from her wounds, making a red rain that spread out below her from the third floor, to the second, to the first, and finally pooling on the floor.
Jana shouted a warning and Magna backpedaled into the half-cover of the stairwell as a cloud of flechette rounds tore through another soldier. Her squad had been reduced to fifty percent strength in a matter of seconds, and though it was a grievous loss, they had managed to kill one hybrid, which left only Lysa, Morgan, Ariel, and the warrior. Jana sprayed fire in the direction of the unknown shooter as she sprinted across the open warehouse floor in an attempt to get underneath the enemy. More rounds chewed into the concrete floor as she ran, though she managed to leap under the cover of the grating, which ended up deflecting the last of the rounds in a shower of sparks.
Magna opened up on the position he thought the shooter was occupying, and after he strafed the area saw that he had flushed Lysa herself from her vantage point. He tracked her with his fire as best he could, though was unable to land a solid hit before she had circled around above him. Jana was busily reloading and scampering to adjust, and the other two soldiers were rushing up the stairs. Magna was a true machine gun man, a believer in the power of the weapon to push the enemy around. To kill them or force them to move to where he wanted them, and that was what he intended to do with his old lover. Magna stepped out of cover and walked swiftly backwards, his gun sight scanning the upper floors in a sweeping pattern as he gave himself an ever-larger field of fire.
Bravo Team breached the second story window and began filing onto the catwalk. They spread out in two directions as Jana gave them silent hand signals. Jana could see that Lysa had retreated into a series of offices on the second floor, and her last two soldiers from Alpha Team were going in after her.
“Bravo Team on the left, get into overwatch on that set of offices across the way,” ordered Jana as she rushed up the stairs to meet them, “Bravo Team on the right back up Alpha and kill that bitch!”
“Charlie Team! Where is my overwatch on the southwest offices? You should see her, she’s right there!” shouted Jana as she joined Bravo Team and sighted down her rifle at the doors of the office area, “Charlie Team do you copy?”
The Alpha soldiers breached the door and rushed inside before the Bravo squad reached them, and in seconds there was an eruption of shooting. Moments later the Bravo squad entered the office area joined in the fight. Jana couldn’t make out any of the radio chatter because of the sudden static on the line, as if one of the soldiers had tried to key his microphone and was unable to say anything. Suddenly an armored Izrid warrior emerged from the office area holding a massive energy shield, and he began firing two different automatic weapons with his other arms. He was splattered with so much blood it was obvious to those who saw him that the fate of the soldiers in the office area had been messy. The warrior was joined by Ariel, still clothed in the ragged dress she had escaped in. She too was blood spattered and carrying an automatic rifle, which she had turned on the soldiers. The Bravo squad and Jana returned fire, and for several blistering seconds the warehouse was filled with the deafening cacophony of weapons fire.
Magna could see that the small arms of Bravo squad were doing little to affect the Izrid warrior or Ariel, protected by the shield such as they were. He also saw that the hybrids had already halved the size of the squad with their own withering fire. The big soldier cut loose with his machine gun and stitched the soldier’s legs and lower abdomen with a salvo of rounds. The warrior staggered and his shield wavered, encouraging the Bravo squad to keep pouring on the firepower. The machine gunner realized that he’d begun screaming as he piled on the hot metal projectiles, destroying the energy shield. As the shield went down Jana toggled her rifle to full-auto and squeezed the trigger, then shouted in triumph as her hail of bullets shattered Ariel’s lithe body. Magna’s sustained fire also drove the warrior backwards through the door to the offices. As Magna’s machine gun clicked dry he was positive that the warrior had to be dead or dying, as he’d scored at least a few hits that didn’t ricochet off the armor or melt away against the energy shield. As the big soldier turned around he saw that Jana had been coaxed from her position along with Zach and Hosan, the last two survivors of Bravo squad. They were rushing up the third floor stairs as they exchanged fire with Lysa, who was matching them step for step while she fled for the roof access hatch. Magna knelt down and drew his sidearm, then started vaulting up the stairs to reach them.
Jana and her two soldiers burst through the roof access hatch on the north side of the warehouse just as Lysa emerged from the other. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and then everyone started shooting at each other again.
“Charlie Team! Where the fuck are you?” screamed Jana as she watched one of her soldiers pitch backwards from the impact of hard rounds as Lysa emptied her sidearm at the resistance fighters, “Take the goddamn shot!”
As soon as the order was out of her mouth a high velocity round punched through Zach’s skull and his body was knocked to the ground by the impact. Jana crouched behind an old air-conditioning unit as she loaded her last magazine. She was surprised at how little sadness she felt about Zach’s sudden end, and wondered sickeningly if that was a result of the new and t
errible Izrid side of her. She should have at least felt something, and yet, all she could feel was a twisted sense of guilt about the slaying of the other hybrid women.
A scuff of movement pinged to her left and Jana swept out of cover, finding herself face to face with Lysa, who also held her pistol at the ready, racking the slide on a fresh magazine even as they stared at each other. The look on Lysa’s face was ice cold, and her had did not tremble in the slightest as she lowered her weapon. Jana did not understand why she would have done so, and then she understood.
“Charlie Team?” Jana asked, her voice barely a whisper as a dreadful sense of realization crept into her mind, “Morgan?”
Alien Resistance: Omnibus Edition Page 12
