by Joseph Pryce
Tsanga casually palmed the dead woman’s left breast with his right gloved hand and used his left hand to yank free his sword from her skull.
Commander Patuma is going to spit fire at the fact that our entire patrol is dead I am returning without at least one live prisoner.
He dropped to one knee in the snow and bowed his head in a silent prayer for his dead comrades. He asked the Creator to take care of them in the afterlife.
“Well….at least I am alive”, he said aloud morosely. The sound of his voice echoed shrilly in the still of the night.
Tsanga scooped up a handful of snow and used it to clean off the dead Volgag’s blood from his blade. That is when he had noticed a slight tremor emanate from the ground that caused the woman’s corpse to slightly sway. At first he thought that perhaps he had imagined it but then the second tremor was so strong that it tipped over Big Mary’s dead body.
“What the bloody hell?!” He exclaimed aloud. The third tremor was mighty enough to make the ground buckle as if some giant had stomped his foot in anger onto the forest floor. The ensuing shockwave sent Tsanga crashing into a nearby tree. The ground next him then cracked opened up like a blackened immense tomb and swallowed the Royal Guard corporal up into the darkness of the earth.
KINGDOM OF SUMMERHILL
PATRICE PATUMA
Commander Patuma was the third highest ranking officer in the King’s Royal Guard (KRG) and had come up through the ranks the hard way. During her very first week at Base Central, she had been gang-fucked by five members of her own platoon while the other five looked on and said nothing. At that time Patrice had been the only female recruit in the history of the KRG to ever be selected to join the Elite Forces Platoon. The Elite Forces Platoon was the KRG’s special operations force and were trained to operate in all environments, whether that environment be land, air or sea, they are prepared to operate in the freezing snows of the Coldlands, the scorching deserts of Sandstorm and the watery jungles of Ocean Imperial. Their fierce reputation to initiate lethal direct action strikes against any enemy of the realm of Summerhill, gave the platoon a reputation to be feared planet wide.
When Patuma arrived on that fateful night to Base Central in the small tony town of Heatone, which was situated ten kilometres east of Ebonskale, the capital city of Summerhill where the king’s royal palace was located, she was nervous and scared despite the fact that she had already gone through nine months of hellish training at the KRG training facility in Ebonskale. The ruthless training had been designed to screen out all but the most resilient candidates for the Elite Forces. The training including arduous tasks such as killing a grizzly bear armed with just a small hunting knife and surviving three days alone locked in a windowless prison cell without food nor water also forced Patrice to live seventeen days in the jungle without a stitch of clothing. The KRG Training Inspector provided her with only a week’s worth of protein bars, a tiny dome tent for sleeping, a longsword and a fully charged handgun to protect herself against the jungle predators.
Patuma had been deposited into the dense jungle known as the Sunburst Rainforest by Mbatha, her Training Inspector, a seven tall broad shouldered bald woman with a hard face that carried a nasty jagged scar on her left cheek. Mbatha left her with a solitary command before climbing back into her Hover Sled and flying away, “Survive”.
I remember crying that first night…..Patuma recalled with some grim embarrassment. The feelings and details from that awful first night assaulted her from the steam rising up from her hot shower. She soaped up her long toned dark skinned body and thought back to that fateful day from over twenty years ago.
The first night that she had spent in the Sunburst jungle had been a very cold one. Without any garments to keep her warm, the young fresh faced cadet found some leafy tree branches nearby and used them to sleep in. But they had been infested with ants and in the morning she discovered her brown body covered with insect bites. That was the one and only day out of the seventeen days that she was stationed there, did Patrice make any further attempts to cover her body. From that time on, no matter how hot the days became or how bone chilling the jungle nights were, she made the decision to revel in her naturalness. The hair under her arms and between her legs grew thick and kinky, her bare skin became even more sun kissed and her feet and hands grew calloused. In the mornings, she bathed in the small rushing waterfall located behind her tent, at dusk she used her handgun to cook the small orange jungle cats that she had killed for food. On Patrice’s last day in the jungle, she was attacked by the mother of those baby cats that she had been dining on for the week. The large carnivorous mammal with its large fangs and three slanted orange eyes had been searching for its litter in the thick bush behind the waterfalls where she had left them to go on a hunt. Patrice met up with the four hundred pound beast just as she was finishing her morning bath. It was only by chance that the young woman had taken her longsword into the falls with her in order to sharpen it on the razor like rocks that populated the shoreline.
Patrice managed to bring up the sword in the nick of time so that the mighty jungle cat could impale itself on the sword’s sharpened blade. The dying animal had wailed and wildly thrashed about, gnashing its teeth and refusing to die until Patrice used her sword to rip through the rest of its internal organs. Finally laying the big beast to rest. By the time Mbatha arrived on her Hover Sled to pick up her young trainee, she found Patrice squatting next to a raging fire turning the hefty jungle cat on a homemade spit.
I still have that jungle cat’s pelt hanging up on the wall of my penthouse. Patrice thought to herself as she washed and conditioned her long black braided hair under the streaming shower.
Mbatha had immediately recommended to her peers that Patrice be invited for submission into the Elite Forces Platoon. The many flags of the KRG flapped over Base Central the night she had arrived bearing the image of King Shaka’s grim visage. Her fellow platoon members immediately warned her of the initiation ritual that faced all new recruits. But seeing as she was the first woman ever to be selected for entry it would be a hard sell to ask the other men to beat up on her, which traditionally had been what the platoon did to new recruits. Patrice demanded that the platoon captain order the other men to initiate her as if she were a male recruit. She told him that it was his duty to ensure she was treated as an equal but it was to no avail.
The men of the King’s Royal Guard do not harm innocent women. Patrice recalled the captain telling her that evening in the platoon barracks.
That arrogant prick had the audacity to actually call me an innocent woman! As if I was less than equal from the rest of the men in the platoon!
To demonstrate her incredible mental fortitude and the iron will that gave her the strength to survive a full seventeen days naked and alone in the jungle. She stripped off her uniform right there in the middle of the barracks. Then to further shock the other soldiers, she calmly advised them that the choice of her initiation would be to take on the five biggest men in the room and promptly ordered them all to drop their trousers. The men at first refused to accommodate Patrice until she angrily whipped out her handgun and threatened to burn off their private parts if they did not comply. The first one to remove his trousers was Captain Nkuwu. When she laid eyes on the size of his endowment she almost balked at her hastily made up plan. The other four platoon members that gave into Patrice’s demand had sizeable woods as well and when they mounted her one by one, she could have sworn that she felt her kidney shift places. But the iron willed woman refused to make a peep as the five strong men drilled themselves into her. The soldiers had no idea that they were taking her virginity and Patrice found no pleasure in the sex act. To her it was just another obstacle to climb, another training course to surpass. Once she was satisfied in her own mind that she had endured enough to pass the initiation, she pushed away from the sweaty heaving men and finished them all off one by one with her hands. The initiation incident was never ever discussed within the platoo
n by any of the men who participated or whom observed.
Not one of those bastards ever doubted my commitment to EFP after that. She mused acidly.
Patrice used a thick black cotton towel to dab the water from her muscular back and iron hard stomach. The silent hot air blowers jutting out from the lavoratory walls could have dried her wet body in seconds but she liked the sensuous sensation of drying her skin with a towel.
Patrice had put herself on the front lines of every single dangerous mission that EFP flew as if she had a death wish, which resulted in moving lightning speed up the ranks of the platoon. When Nkuwu was killed by a Volgag during a treacherous search and rescue mission in the Coldlands, it was Patrice that was named to replace him. She and the captain had long since become lovers and remained so up until the day of his untimely death. The day she assumed his vacant position, she allowed herself to weep for the first time since she had been nine years old bent over the casket of her mother at her funeral. It would be the very last time she would every allow tears to run from her deep brown eyes.
Patrice stepped out of the steaming hot shower and picked up a glass jar of cocoa butter which she used to lather into her soft ebony skin. Despite the amount of firefights and evasive action missions that she had flown with the EFP, he skin was still flawless and tight. At the mature age of forty and five she looked as fit as a twenty year old. This should be credited to the exacting physical regimen and diet that she adhered to day in and day out for the last twenty-five years as well as the phenomenal resources of the King’s Royal Guard medical staff. Ten years ago to the day, Patrice endured a horrendous wound when a fearsome member of the green haired Yanide tribe attacked her during a routine reconnaissance mission. The Volgag slashed open her entire right side with a double-edged battle-axe. The woman’s name was Grutta and she would have cleaved Patrice’s head clean from her shoulders if she had been unable to parry the blow in time with her sword. Even mortally wounded the platoon captain was too much for the savage to handle and learned that fact when Patrice cut Grutta through from breasts to brain. The KRG medical staff were able to use their extensive skills to repair the damage to Patrice without nary a visible scar left showing.
The medics saved my damned life. The Creator bless them. She reminisced. I should be dead as moose meat.
The KRG doctors were all members of The King’s Genetic Masters Guild and were extensively trained in the arts of repairing broken bones, mending torn skin and regenerating lost limbs. It took each doctor a total of twenty-five years of schooling to master these skills. Each member of the guild were well into their fifties when the time came for them to apply for admissions.Patrice strode into her small but ruthlessly efficiently organized bedroom. As commander of the King’s Royal Guard, she could have secured living quarters that was more reflective of her high-ranking position but being more comfortable in life was not something that interested her.
Which is why I demanded to remain in the field. I have no wish to become some fat administration officer planted behind a desk. I am a soldier in my heart and in my soul.
The commander tossed her wet bathing towel at the young man dozing comfortably in her king sized bed. He was a clean faced nineteen year old cadet, freshly enrolled in KRG named Edic Quatar. Patrice had brought the young man home last night after outdrinking him at the non-commissioned officers’ tavern located off base in Heatone. The young Edic was in awe of the legendary Patrice Patuma and had been honoured that the illustrious officer chose him to have sex with.
The bath towel struck Edic in the face and startled him from his slumber.
“Get your hot little ass out of my bed, Cadet Quatar!” Patrice ordered him roughly. “Playtime is over!”
Edic rolled out of bed with a start and saluted his superior officer, which made for a slightly silly sight, seeing as he was not wearing any clothes. Patrice allowed herself a humorous grin and reached out to grab his young shaft. She felt it immediately stiffen in her hands so she gave it a few strokes and smiled once more when the cadet closed his eyes in pleasure.
Men are such weak minded creatures. A soft hand moving back and forth is all it takes for them to lose control of themselves.
She promptly let go of Edic and slapped him hard on the side his bare brown right ass cheek.
“Hit the showers, soldier. I have a busy day ahead of me and no more time to entertain you”, she said.
Edic was more than a little crestfallen. He had hoped that Patrice would have kept stroking him to climax but obediently did as he was told and marched into the bathroom to take a shower.
Patrice pulled out a pair of black tight-fitting underwear from her chest of drawers and climbed into them then entered her walk-in closet. The closet was small but like the rest of her penthouse systematically arranged and free of clutter. She had an impressive collection of blasters all displayed in glass cases hanging on the closet wall arranged according to calibre size. Next to the blasters, she had a collection of antique KRG swords including the sword given to the very first ever Royal Guard. His name was Captain Solomon Cetewayo and was considered to be the greatest soldier to ever serve in the KRG. When Patrice had heard that the captain’s estate was auctioning off the fabled sword, she had drained every last credit that she had in her savings account to purchase it.
Before I die, I must make arrangements to ensure Captain Cetewayo’s sword is passed on to someone who is truly worthy of it. She considered and added that item to a running mental checklist that she kept in the back of her head.
Patrice pulled down her black platoon jumpsuit from a nearby hanger and pulled it over her body. She ran her hand proudly across the EFP black eagle insignia stamped into the breast pocket. The words underneath the insignia read “EFP for life”, which was the platoon’s slogan. She took out her official service blaster from its case and shoved it into the holster strapped to her thigh. Lastly she climbed into a pair of long black combat boots that stretched over her knees.
“Make haste in there, Cadet Quatar!” She called out in the direction of the bathroom. “I want you to drive me to The Hive”.
“Yes, Commander!” The young lad replied efficiently. He turned off the shower and activated the hot air blowers which dried his skin in mere seconds.
Edic trotted out of the bathroom and snatched up his KRG uniform from the floor beside the bed. He got dressed as quickly as he could managing his best not to keep his superior office waiting too long.
Patrice was standing by the front door with her arms crossed over her chest content to watch Edic stutter about.
Patrice’s penthouse was located in a condominium reserved exclusively for commissioned officers of the KRG. The tall silver pyramid shaped building was planted on an incline that overlooked the entire town. On a clear day Patrice had a fantastic view of the king’s palace in Ebonskale from her penthouse windows.
Edic expertly floated Patrice’s square shaped hover-sedan out of the underground parking port and down the small side street that led away from Patrice’s building. The street promptly led to the main throughway that bled out directly to the Hive. The Hive was the heart of Base Central. It was the central headquarters for all of the KRG’s operations. It was a large building that housed over thirty-thousand military and civilian personnel. The enclosed circular structure made entirely of ebony plasti-steel had been designed to slightly resemble a beehive, the reason why the building earned its nickname.
Patrice glanced through the sedan’s transparent bubble-top out at the bustling main street. Heatone was a small town but because it was the location of the most important installation in the king’s service there was always much hustle and bustle about. She watched several large black tinted KRG service hover-transports roar past her. In a large green open field to her left she saw a battalion of Royal Guard soldiers trotting in tight formation behind their Training Inspector, a short muscular fireplug of a man with short cropped silver hair shaven at the sides.
Basic training…..S
he grinned silently to herself careful not to let Edic see. I remember those days…..I cannot believe that the last twenty plus years have gone by so quickly…..
That was last thing that Patrice remembered thinking to herself before the explosion. When she was questioned about it afterwards. She had told the investigating officers that the last thing she remembered was seeing a Hannix woman running up the street directly at her hover. Patrice’s world went completely black for one moment then the very next moment it was filled with hot flame and acrid ash and she found herself on fire in the middle of the throughway. Those who witnessed the explosion on that dreadful day told the authorities that despite burning alive herself, Patrice had been more concerned with extinguishing the flames that covered Edic more than herself. But the brave commander did not remember that part of the event….. What she did remember most vividly when thinking back to it months later was the awful stench of her burning flesh and hair.
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Patrice regained consciousness exactly ten days later in the Hive’s main infirmary. She was connected to a life support machine, a golden hued circular device that hovered over her hospital bed, with a half a dozen multi-coloured transparent tubes feeding cell repair nano machines intravenously into her vital internal organs and severely burnt skin and what was left of her scalp. She tried to force herself to sit up but found herself unable to move.
