by Mima
But she was utterly unlike any of his most recent servers. Unlike any other server picture he’d seen, she wasn’t posed in a happy smile, head cocked seductively, eyes beckoning. She sat looking rather surprised, and very serious, her mouth small, with a tiny furrow between her brows. She was plain, but cute, and could possibly be pretty if she smiled and decorated herself. But clearly, she wasn’t interested. Ah, crap on a bug on a stick on a rock. Malla. They’d killed her to hurt them. And despite the fact that he’d never met her, it had worked.
He jumped when the com blinked. Beginning to feel the icy distance he got after an adrenaline surge, he opened the real-time, local com speaker.
“Luo Team?” It was tagged station control.
“This is Shon.”
“Yeah, hi there. This is Bardsley. So, there’s something requesting clearance, and it’s really weird. You expecting someone you didn’t tell us about?”
Shon straightened ramrod stiff. “Yeah, I just got notice that we did have an incoming, but it was interrupted.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. There’s an incoming fighter pod broadcasting your clearance, but refusing identification. We scanned them and the person is solo. That’s just crazy.”
It was a serious breach of safety protocol to travel alone. “Which clearance code are they using?”
“Doggy style 69.”
He could hear snickering in the com room. With a sigh, he slumped against the chair back. For a moment, he’d had a wild hope. But that was one of Kor’s call codes. It wasn’t one High Post would have given a server to use. And a server wouldn’t have gotten hold of a fighter pod even if she did have the brass balls and skills to fly one in alone. What the hell was going on?
“Bardsley, put them in Hangar 3. Clear all personnel from D wing and send the armed unit to the gate there. I’m coming in with one of my team, and if I fail to reenter, or if I fail to give that same code back, you are to call High Post while giving whoever enters after us lip service.”
The background chatter of the com room was noticeably absent as the humans
absorbed the drastic measures guarding against a hostile occupation.
“I’ll need to log this with John, sir.” Bardsley sounded a little rattled. John was the small station’s commander. All the humans were still on edge from the reopening of the gate a few days ago.
“You do that, Bardsley. Let them dock. I’ll be there by the time they disembark.”
Shon managed to stand, gritting his teeth as his wounded thigh screamed, triggering a hunger strike to his lower back. He limped into Vel’s room. It no longer looked like the room of an organized ascetic. It was covered in medical equipment. Grady, of course, was at his side. He was awake and cursing Vel in a steady whisper. He stopped when Shon leaned in the doorway.
“Grady…” He didn’t know where to start. He shook his head. Tapping his comlink, he queued Kor.
“Yes, Grandpappy?” Kor’s smart retort lacked its usual crispness. Spirit, let there be no other incursion. If there was, he didn’t know if Kor would last until he got to him for backup. Kor was one of the finest fighters he knew. A week ago he would have scoffed at Kor’s inability to hold his position. Not now, in this situation.
“Link us, Kor.”
Silence, and then Kor flipped some mental switch and he was in the real-time brains of Grady and Kor, with Vel a low, throbbing pain alternating with static. Kor began cursing Grady.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Shon asked, his throat rasping in horror.
Grady just stared at him, red-eyed and vicious.
Shon moved his gaze to Vel. He wasn’t quite in a coma. He was in some holding state in between death and pain and unconsciousness. Spirit. Vel, ah --
“Cut with your pity and guilt. I’ve got him, and you’re starving to let me keep trying.
We’re all in this together, and don’t think I don’t love you for it.” Grady’s voice was cold and steady.
Kor’s curses fell silent, simmering in unhappiness, fear for Vel, and a wild, spiking hunger.
Which reminded Shon of his purpose. In one practiced brain dump, he gave the other men the knowledge of Malla, and the mysterious incoming fighter.
“Get the humans down here on the gate and take me,” Kor demanded.
“No, I’ve got them on backup in case it’s an assassin from the Duke. They’ll have a chance of stopping a station wipe if he tries to go that far.”
“He wouldn’t! Would he?” Kor looked stunned.
Shon sighed. “The Duke is a disgraced tyrant backed into a corner. For the chance to kill the son of his nemesis, he would kill many, and already has.” Serious brown eyes flashed in his mind again.
Grady stood. “I’ll go. Let me get suited up.”
“You’ll have to keep on the gate until I can settle this,” Shon told Kor.
“I’ll keep the link live.”
“You know you can’t, boy. It’s draining you even now.”
“Shut the fuck up, Grady. I’m up to it.”
“Save your energy for when we need it, K,” Shon cautioned.
“And fuck you, too.” Kor abruptly severed the mental connection.
“He really has a problem admitting his feelings, that one,” Grady commented.
Shon chuckled, but it was true. They went together to suit up in the armory. When he was buckling his knee boots in place, Kor popped the team link back open.
“Give us her face, Shon.” Kor’s mental voice was tight, the words swirling with regret.
Shon supplied Malla’s unique image. Kor closed the link.
Grady sighed. “Ah crap, Shon, now I gotta have nightmares. That one would have been special.”
“Yeah. I got that, too.”
They informed a groggy, weak Bea what the status was and she armed herself and went to sit with Vel. Both men moved swiftly through the corridors. They spoke briefly with the team arriving at the hangar gate, checked to make sure the wing was clear. Then they sealed the blast door and went grimly to the hangar. The fighter was just docking. The midnight-aqua lights were flashing their warning to keep away from the hangar door, and Shon felt more than heard Grady’s hiss at the memory of the last time they’d seen those lights.
He reached out and took Grady’s hand. Despite their thick, cold armor, Grady gripped it tightly in return. When the light killed, they both drew their weapons and approached the door.
* * * * *
Malla docked at the hangar. She was so relieved to turn the ship off that she burst into tears. Tears for Captain Krevnoy, who’d been cocky and confident despite her concerned warnings when he'd agreed to take her medallion as a decoy. Tears for his crew. Tears for her lost medallion. Tears for her suicidal solo trip of the last four hours. Tears of exhaustion.
She’d hacked the Team’s file. She’d spent four million credits of Allied money buying Bren-Bren’s fighter pod. She’d done her own navigation. Well, with the ship’s help. She’d only had to correct course seven times. She’d plotted with Krevnoy, and with Bren-Bren, and worked things out in her own head. She found it hard to comprehend that it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since she’d woken in her cozy room at her Base, a server-in-training.
She’d made it. She’d outwitted her Team’s enemies, and now that she was here, her real work would begin. They’d need her immediately, even though they wouldn’t be expecting her. Shaking, gasping on ragged breaths, she brought herself under control.
The ship had no lav, and she had to pee something fierce. It wasn’t meant for
interstellar distance travel. She went to her case, and took out a refresher kit. After washing her face with a damp freshening pad, she brushed her hair and fastened it back at her neck.
Her breath definitely needed a squirt, and the mint stung. She straightened her rumpled traveling dress, and put her stiff, protective server cloak on. It had already saved her life once, and had paved the way with Bren-Bren. She debated leaving her case on board,
but decided not to. It had been a tumultuous trip, and she’d needed it several times. Leashing it on her wrist, she stood in the small cockpit and tried to center herself. Service. Servers served. Never fear their hunger. Embrace it. Serve and be served.
Malla went to the sealed door and opened her end. There was a pop, and a twinge of vertigo as the pressure adjusted. She was surprised to see the station door was still closed as well. She pressed the release bar, and stepped back. The door cycled open with a hiss.
Standing in the doorway were two fully armored Luo soldiers. A large, unusually
empty hangar stretched out beyond them. The right-hand helmet tipped to the side, almost quizzically. The other even bigger soldier said, “Fuck me.” His voice was distorted by the filter on the full cranium helmet. Both of the men holstered their weapons at the same time.
Malla sized them up. Her image reflected back at her in the shiny surface of their black visors, looking tiny. Be brave. Be bold.
“Greetings, Grady, Shon. Sorry I’m late.” She cringed at the inadequate words, and added, rather lamely, “It’s nice to meet you.”
One of the men pressed a sequence into his comlink at his wrist and his visor cleared.
She’d been right. It was Shon on the right. His black eyes seemed to pierce right through her.
He was visibly shocked. “Malla?”
“Reporting for one month’s trial, sir. I understand you’ve had a bit of a tough run.”
The other, larger soldier let out an enormous “You’re alive!” He rushed her with his arms outstretched.
Horrified, Malla whipped her mag case at him with a snap of her wrist, cowering back, crying, “Stop !”
He froze not a meter away, clutching her mag case in his arms like a ball. Standing stiffly, his voice rumbled from his helmet. “I beg your pardon.”
Shaking from the near miss, Malla lifted her hand to her neck and undid the cloak’s seal. “No, it’s not that. I’ve just had a bit of trouble on the trip here, and I lost my medallion, and my cloak is on full array. Even your armor might not have been enough.” She let it fall to the floor around her, and shook off the wrist leash. “But now that you’re here, I won’t need it anymore.” She stepped out of the folds, and went right up to the large man.
Laying her hand on his arm, she said, “What are you doing here? You’re injured, both of you. You should be resting.”
He dropped her poor mag case to the side, causing it to bounce once with a clang before settling on its axis. Then he grabbed her up and crushed her in a giant hug. Malla got a distorted view of her astonished face in his visor before she was wrapped in a clutch of stiff body armor that smelled of antiseptic.
When his grip slackened, she turned her head and saw Shon had stepped up to them.
His helmet hung from his fingers, thick black hair mussed, those black eyes still piercing her. His eyes moved across her face with desperate disbelief. “You, woman, are a Spirit-sent miracle. I can’t believe you made it.”
She gave a shaky smile, laying her head on Grady’s chest. “You better believe it.
Because I came here for you.”
She meant her words to be a bit of banter, and was surprised by his reaction. His head jerked back as if he’d been hit, and his eyes went wide. Then a mask came down over his face, his eyes flat and distant. Her smile faded.
She pulled a hand out from Grady’s surrounding arms and reached out to him. “Shon, I’m here, and I’m glad. Let’s get all of you taken care of, and then we can talk.”
He stared at her for another beat, then stared at her outstretched hand. His shot out inhumanly fast and gripped hers hard, the armor cold and thick. His eyes met hers again, and there was something there. A hint of his prior disbelief, and a hint of aching hunger.
Then she squeaked as Grady dipped and abruptly she was tossed into his arms, cradled, with her legs awkward and stiff in the air, her outer arm flailing as it pulled out of Shon’s grip. She reached and grabbed at Grady’s neck.
“Let’s go, Shon. Now.” Grady’s voice rumbled out of his echo-y helmet, quivering with eagerness.
It became clear to her that they hadn’t known it was her and hadn’t trusted the
incoming ship when they had to go through an odd security protocol at the station entrance.
But then they were past the ogling humans, with Grady nearing a run after a few moments.
Joggled and jiggled, Malla gasped a laugh. It was rather exhilarating being carried by such a massive strength. His momentum was a little alarming. Finally, he let her slide to the ground in front of a door surrounded with security measures.
Shon opened the outer door and they all stepped into a vestibule. They went through more security, and they entered a living area. He turned back to the door and retriggered more security, then tossed the leash to her mag case down. Both men let out an enormous sigh of relief.
Shon looked at her. “You’re safe now.”
Malla looked at his intense face and felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Everything that had come before was set aside. Everything about to come she welcomed. She was here, with her men. Despite seeing their stats in their files, they were bigger than she’d imagined. Her fingers itched with the desire to trace the line of Shon’s jaw. His lips were full and red, eye-catching in his black and tan face. Her nipples tightened. Those lips were hers.
The far door opened across the lounge. A lovely, tiny blonde came out in a pink
lingerie set.
“Oh!” The blonde was at first surprised, then crumpled to the floor in tears.
Grady ripped off his helmet and gloves, while Shon hurried to her, kneeling and
gathering her up. He murmured to her, but her hiccupping sobs were clear.
“Finally, a new server! Oh Shon, I’m so sorry. I’m just so tired, so very, very tired. And I knew I wasn’t enough, and it was awful, and I’ve been so worried…” She trailed off into an earnest cry then. Malla noticed she was pretty even in her meltdown.
Grady had gotten his upper armor off and opened his lower armor, but left it to hurry to her. Both men huddled around the exhausted server, praising her and calming her. Shon stood with her clinging to his neck.
“I’ll take her to her room.” He hesitated, looking from Malla to Grady.
“Does she need anything?” Malla asked.
Shon glanced at her and shook his head.
“Then Grady and I will be in his room.”
Grady looked at her, and his blue eyes were so much more eerie and pure than in his photo. “You’ll do that? No formalities?”
“What formality could possibly be worth Vel’s life?”
Grady tugged frantically at his lower armor, peeling it down his hips. He threw himself into one of the soft blue chairs in the room and tugged at his boots.
“Ummm, there is one thing, Grady.”
He froze, staring at her with those desperate eyes.
“I really need to pee first.”
“Down the hall, third on the right.”
Malla skirted him warily as he tugged at his shirt while trying to kick his boots off with his feet. She scurried down the hall, wondering where Shon had disappeared to. She ducked into the lav and peed. Sighing with relief, she shrugged out of her crumpled dress. It stank of fear. She found a sanitizer and washed up. She was just leaning over to drink out of the sink, when the door chirped a lock override and opened.
Grady filled the door entirely. He was nude and erect, his creamy skin a backdrop for a swollen erection. His blond hair glimmered around his balls and stiff dick. He was the largest of the team, and his dick matched his size. He was huge, looking even more enormous out of his armor. The fresh red scar on his ribs matched his erection, but the bruising around it was obscene. He’d carried her with that injury?
“Malla, are you sure?”
“I’m eager, Grady. To serve you and heal you.”
“Go back.”
Malla watched him, cautious of hi
s clenching fists and pumping chest.
“The sink. Go back over the sink.” His voice was so low the words were a slurred rumble.
Her heart seized, and her cunt gushed, clutching in preparation. This was it. This was real. A flush swept up her chest and neck. She slowly bent, closing the sink basin, and resting her forearms on the counter. It was low enough that her back leveled out with her hips. She arched her back, pushing away from her elbows to let her breasts hang freely beyond the edge. She widened her stance, swung her hips.
“Like this, Grady?”
He entered the lav, and the door shushed closed behind him. He kicked at the toilet, sending it up into the wall. He stood behind her and stared at her open legs. She watched him in the mirrored wall in front of her. A tremor ran through him.
“Grady, touch my lips. Take my cream and put it on you.”
He froze. After a long moment, he took a ragged breath and reached out a giant hand.
His fingers were hot as they gently glided around her hole. Feathering touches glanced along her folds.
“That cream is for you, Grady. Use it.”
He stopped, licked his lips. Then he slowly, oh so softly, sent one thick finger into her.
Her vagina spasmed around it, clenching and rippling. More cream gushed down to christen it, to ease along her thighs. The first touch. Her Grady. He pumped very delicately, once. He withdrew his hand and while he held himself with his other hand, painted his tip with glistening cream.
“That’s good, Grady. It’s enough. Now come to me.” It was like encouraging a skittish, half-starved animal.
He dragged his eyes away from her bottom and met her eyes in the mirror. “You don’t deserve this.”
“Vel needs you, Grady. Let me feed you.”
He angled himself down and set his cock to her hole. The touch of him against her wet folds was searingly hot. Her knees shook with excitement. Oh, the look on his face as she watched him standing behind her. He stared down at her ass with awe and need and wonder.
Grady, her Grady. This was no training exercise. She needed to heal him. Her urgency was so strong she trembled.
