Posted by Extranjero on May 02, 2007 at 12:29:45:
ROSE WARRIORS (Part 8)
The sentries at the gatehouse heard an engine in the distance, and saw a dusty billow on the ridge. The girl in leopard camouflage brought up her rifle, frowning, but the pair of black-clad Guards stayed nonchalant. “It’s just a Boar coming back,” said one. “No need to wet your knickers.” The girl glanced sullenly at them, and peered up the road.
The early morning light was warm and limpid. It showed no movement round the Citadel. Ahead of them, the road climbed straight to crest the ridge a thousand yards away. The arid northern ranges lay beyond it: a gulf of grassland just beyond their sight.
As they watched, an armoured jeep came jouncing into view and hurtled down the dusty road towards them. “Told you,” said the blonde Guard with a smirk. The Brigade commando curled her lip, her trigger-finger easing. She was a trim young redhead with a freckled nose and simmering blue eyes.
“She’s in a hurry,” said the other Guard, a tall brunette. She raised her field glasses from the cushion of her breasts. Even as she focused them, the Boar veered off the road, then hit the verge and skidded back on course. It windows gaped like empty sockets, not reflecting sunlight. “Shit, their windshield’s been shot out!” the watching Guard exclaimed.
Kicking up a trail of dust, the big jeep bucketed towards the gatehouse. All that stood between them were the outer checkpoint and a narrow bridge. But the sentry hut was empty and the barrier was still up. No traffic was expected at this hour. The blonde girl tensed and touched her radio headset. “Alarm, North Gate!” she called with sudden dread.
The Boar clipped the stone parapet as it charged onto the bridge. It ricocheted along the span and smashed into a buttress of the gatehouse. The sentries, piling down the steps, shrank back from an explosion – but the hulk just squatted, steaming, at the gates.
The heavy wooden portals creaked and parted. The blonde Guard ventured out, her rifle levelled on the Boar. She peered through the smashed windshield, and her fair complexion blanched. She glanced around, wide-eyed. “Oh, God. Call Ruthie!”
* * *
Ruthie was relaxing in her private swimming pool, in the shady inner courtyard of her quarters. Drifting naked on her back, she heard uneasy voices, then timid footsteps coming through the house. Rolling like a seal, she stood and ran her hands back through her slick dark hair. The gesture made her round breasts rise, the water streaming off them. An anxious-looking teenage Guard appeared, saluting her.
“Sorry to disturb you, Miss …The Watch-keeper says you’re needed at North Gate.”
Ruthie gave a sly smile as the girl’s eyes flitted quickly to her breasts. The young Guard blushed, composed herself and fixed her nervous gaze on the far wall. Ruthie climbed out of the pool and picked her bath sheet up. Her pistol lay beneath it on the tiles. She stood and towelled her glossy skin, while doves cooed from their bolt holes overhead.
“What’s your name?” she asked the Guard.
“Joanne, Miss,” said the girl. She wet her lips.
“Don’t worry, I don’t bite ... Unless I just can’t help myself.” Ruthie smiled lasciviously. The girl turned pink, but risked a sidelong glance. Her eyes were like a child’s after the promise of a treat. Ruthie chuckled. “Run along. Maybe I’ll catch you later ...”
The Guard bobbed her head and scurried off, while Ruthie shrugged into her waiting catsuit. It closed around her scented skin as she hiked the zipper up to squeeze her tits. She strapped her gunbelt round her waist and holstered the Beretta. The lustful smile still lingered on her face.
* * *
Rachel had commandeered a chamber in the palace buildings. It showed the ravages of time, but boasted an impressively-carved bed. She was lying in a nest of sheets when a knock came on the doorpost. Eyes still closed, she slid her small hand underneath the pillow – then sat up with a pistol in her grip.
The hard-faced section leader stayed impassive, despite the levelled weapon and the sight of Rachel’s tits. She waited on the threshold like a pert professional, her black beret contrasting with her leopard camouflage.
Rachel pouted, lowering her pistol. “I don’t smell any coffee,” she complained.
A wry smile hooked the butch girl’s mouth. Her hands stayed clasped behind her. “Begging your pardon, Boss … There’s been an incident at North Gate. The girly-Guards are flapping round. I thought you’d want to know.”
Rachel shook her long hair back and smiled impishly. “Thank you, Karen. Keep an eye on them. I’ll be along.” The girl gave her a casual salute and marched away.
Rachel settled back against the pillows. She stared down at the crumpled mass of sheets, then shoved them back. The girl with her head between her thighs looked up uncertainly. Rachel drew one leg up and gave her a lazy push. “Go on, you’d better join your squad. And don’t get seen; you know what Hanna’s like ...”
The naked trooper licked her lips and clambered off the bed. Her uniform was strewn across the floor. Rachel watched her dressing with a smug look on her face. Her fingers slid between her legs to finish off the job the girl had started.
* * *
There were several Guards around the jeep when Ruthie reached the gate. She sauntered through them to inspect the wreck. There were four girls slumped inside it with a crimson cavity in each one’s forehead. The driver’s arms were braced against the wheel in rigor mortis, her head tipped back as if in ecstasy.
The girl beside her held a dark rose clasped against her breast, as if was a lover’s parting gift. Ruthie peered at it over her shades. Reaching in, she plucked it from the mannequin-stiff fingers. The dead girl’s waxen features didn’t flinch.
“Now what do you make of this?” she asked. The others crowded round uneasily. “It looks like a message,” someone said.
“I reckon it’s a challenge,” Rachel purred.
Ruthie turned to see the Major prowling through the gate. She wore a sheer black body-stocking and her calf-high boots; a pistol belt was slung over her shoulder. The nylon hugged her shapely breasts, the nipples showing through as disks of shadow. The darker tuft between her thighs was plainly visible.
She swaggered up to join the group, and peered into the jeep. The watching Guards exchanged resentful glances. “So someone wants to pick a fight,” she said, and straightened up. “Let’s send some Boars over the ridge to see who’s hiding there.”
Ruthie folded her bare arms. “Hold on a minute, Major. I’m in charge of this emplacement while Leilani’s gone.”
“Spearhead Leader?” Rachel sniffed. “That’s nothing but a captain. Command Guard ranks aren’t worth a damn. I’ll give the orders here.”
The leopard girls who’d followed her were poised, their rifles ready. Ruthie bristled, bit her lip … then yielded with bad grace. “Have it your way … Major. There are four jeeps I can spare. You want my girls to be the bait, I take it?”
Rachel smiled. “Just draw them out. My Krocs will do the rest.”
She took the rose from Ruthie’s hand and sniffed it, then dropped it in the dust and walked away. Ruthie’s masked eyes focused on the tight peach of her arse, with a slyness that belied her stony face.
“Nice idea, Major,” she said softly. “I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried.”
* * *
Half a mile beyond the ridge, the main road forked in two, a choice of routes that led to different ranges. The grass here had been trampled flat by troops and vehicles. The earth was gouged with foxholes and slit-trenches. There were clumps of trees to left and right. A mass of pine trees loured on the skyline. A concrete blockhouse squatted in the shadow of the wood. The upper floor was Julie’s vantage point.
The Doll Soldier was leaning on the gritty window ledge. Her field glasses scanned the Citadel. The sun was getting higher, and her khaki blouse felt hot and prickly. At least her legs were bare above her desert ankle-boots. Her white kepi was tipped back casually.
The distant fortress shimmered in the mirage-haunted haze. She knuckled sweat out of her hazel eyes. The ground around the junction seemed deserted, but Sareeya’s troops lay waiting in the dirt. Julie’s heart was thumping and her mouth was ashen-dry. Excitement lit her freckle-dusted face.
She heard footsteps on the concrete steps behind her. One of the men came into the bare room. She knew that it was Richard without turning. Her heartbeat seemed to jump into her throat.
“Any movement yet?” his rough voice asked.
Julie looked round coyly, still craned forward through the window, aware that he could see her pert behind. Her scarlet thong was caught between its cheeks. Richard smiled slowly, in that cruel way of his. It emphasised his deep-set, steely eyes. Julie’s heart rate fluttered but she gestured carelessly. “Maybe they’re too scared to take us up.”
“Nah. They’ll come.” He crossed the room and peered over her shoulder. Her head was full of him as she began another scan. Like most of the Doll Soldiers, she had slept with other women – but as the brainwashing wore off, she’d found her taste for men was coming back. This rugged, fair-haired renegade had really got her going. She stiffened as he fondled her behind.
He wore a scavenged hussar’s jacket, hanging open to reveal his chest. It gave him a swashbuckling look, in contrast to his plain black combat pants. Julie briefly closed her eyes, then focused on the fortress. “There’re sending something through the gates,” she breathed.
He slid his hand between her thighs, caressing her plump pussy through the thong. “Four jeeps coming out,” she gasped, the field glasses trembling in her grasp. His fingers teased her expertly. “They’re on their way,” she squeaked. Still watching them, she raised her hips as he tugged her panties down, then grunted as he shoved himself inside her.
“Ten minutes,” she said breathlessly. “You think you’re gonna last?” His body started pumping her in answer. She reared against him, lips pinched tight, still studying the jeeps. The Black Boars drew inexorably closer.
* * *
The four jeeps chugged over the rise and rolled towards the junction, their dorsal gunners swivelling watchfully. The lead Boar followed the paved road, two others prowling out to left and right. A radio truck with twin antennae followed warily: distinctive by its squared-off rear, in contrast to the sloped backs of the rest.
Julie was still breathless as she glanced out of the blockhouse. The tension made her want to pee, but she knew there wasn’t time. She closed the blouse over her large, flushed breasts and buttoned it. Richard fingered her brown hair and helped adjust her cap.
They were waiting on the ground floor now. The slow growl of the engines reached their ears. Julie picked her sub-machine gun up and cocked the bolt. It was a French MAS 38, with a wooden butt and slanting magazine. Richard had an old Lee-Enfield rifle. Deadly accurate, but slow. They’d have to make the most of their surprise.
The jeeps came on. She turned her head. A sinister black shape lurked in the trees. Its gun was pointed past the blockhouse, over at the road, but the closeness of the tank still made her cringe. They had the electronics truck which programmed the Recluses, but she wondered if such things could be directed once unleashed.
As she turned back to the road, the shooting started like a sudden squall. Bullets raised a spume of dust and clanged against the armour of the jeeps. The lead Boar veered sharply as its riddled windshield turned a frosty white. Then she heard the sharp bang of a tank round as a Recluse was activated in a copse across the road. A burst of smoke exploded near the crawling radio truck, which scurried forward like a startled roach. The black tank followed through at once, emerging from the trees. Its turret swivelled, tracer bullets flying at the jeeps. Julie heard the tank start up behind them. She shrank against the blockhouse wall as the sealed, demonic Cromwell clattered past.
The gunner in the first Boar had begun returning fire. Her big machine gun tracked across the scattered ambushers, and silenced one of them with every burst. Richard leaned around the corner, sighting nervelessly. The rifle cracked and put a neat hole through the gunner’s forehead. The impact flipped the girl’s head back; her spine arched and her breasts strained at her tee-shirt. Then she slumped clear of the gun, her blank shades falling from her upturned eyes.
The other jeeps were milling as the tanks converged on them. The roar of rifles and Recluses flooded Julie with exhilaration. Bullets zipped and whined like hornets through the dusty air. Some of the rebels were kneeling up to get a better shot.
No-one heard the new, percussive noise until too late. A steady thudding filtered through the din. Then a shadow sped across them, cast by something in the cloudless sky. Julie looked up in surprise, and felt her stomach plunge. A lean and wolfish helicopter was hovering above the battlefield.
Some of the men below it started shooting frantically. The Havoc dipped as if in mock salute. Rachel smiled beneath her black glass visor. She only had to look at them to line her weapons up. She hadn’t bothered putting on her flight suit, and sat there in her armoured shell wearing just her body-stocking and her boots. Her breasts swelled in their sheer cocoon as she focused on the targets. “Hello, boys!” she called cheerfully, and took them where they stood.
The blast of 30mm shells was brief and merciless. The guys went down like scarecrows in a cyclone. The Havoc’s turret cannon started swinging left and right, its short bursts gouging out the ambushers. Clods of earth went flying up, and spilt blood hit the dirt. The rebels were dispersed in disarray. The girl in the front cockpit activated the Shturm rockets. Behind her and above her, Rachel turned her helmet-sight towards the tanks.
Julie watched in horror as a missile streaked towards the first Recluse. It blew the clanking beast apart: a gout of flame exploded from the hull. The turret flipped off like a lid, and crashed to earth a dozen yards away. As the blast began to fade, she heard more engines throbbing. She looked around despairingly, and two more gunships rose over the ridge.
The Krokodils had Gatling-cannons mounted in their chins. They twinkled like a pair of morning stars. A storm of bullets swept the field. The copters clattered forward. The half-inch rounds blew gaping holes through cringing female flesh.
Heartened, the surviving Guards renewed their own attack. The Boars were pushing forward now, their gunners laying down a screen of fire. Some girls bailed out of their jeeps to use their M16s: belly-downward in the grass, then charging in short rushes. Many of the rebels had bolt-action rifles, and couldn’t hope to match the firepower. Julie saw her dreams get ripped apart before her eyes. And then the Havoc pivoted around.
Richard grasped her blouse and dragged her clear of the building. A stream of cannon shells ploughed through the walls. Then a missile struck it, and the hardened concrete shattered like baked clay. Julie sprawled there on her back and watched it crumbling. The buttons on her blouse had popped. Her tits heaved breathlessly.
The copters were still hovering like vultures overhead. Their cannons pecked at anything that moved. Rachel shifted in her seat. Her stocking’s nylon crotch was getting damp. She locked on to the next Recluse, and loosed a salvo of unguided rockets. The Havoc bucked with their release. Her pelvic muscles spasmed. The tank exploded like a bomb.
“So that’s how guys feel when they come,” she purred.
Down below, the Guards were getting closer, like beaters forcing game birds out of cover. Richard brought his rifle up and shot one through the breast. The .303 round ruptured it, went through the girl’s slim body, and was in the air again before she’d realised what the numbing shock had been. Looking stupefied, she tumbled sideways. Richard worked the rifle’s bolt before she hit the ground.
Julie rose up on one knee and fired her sub-machine gun. The recoil quivered through her unbound breasts. The Guard she hit was close enough for her to see the wounds, but the killing brought no satisfaction now. “We’ve failed her!” she said bitterly. The thought was sickening. But could the Desert Rose escape? Perhaps, if they could buy a little time …
“Run for it,” snapped Richard, hunting round for a fresh target. Julie hesitated, then fell back towards the trees. Some of them were burning, and a spray of shells had wrenched whole branches off. She glimpsed the electronics truck, now blazing like a torch. Oh God, what if Sareeya was inside …?
Then she heard Richard cry out, and saw him topple over. An awful pang went stabbing through her chest. “No! You bitches! Leave him be!” She bolted back towards him, and felt her round breasts joggling as she ran.
Suddenly one of them bulged as if a fist had squashed it. The impact made her whoop and stumble round. Peering down with saucer eyes, she bleated in dismay. Her tit had bounced back into shape, but a bullet hole was punched into the flesh.
Still staggering, she raised her gun one-handed. A crushing pain was spreading through her chest. The advancing Guard was just a blur, but then her gun flamed twice. Julie gave a winded grunt as a second bullet thwacked into her breast. Then she groaned through gritted teeth as the third shot sizzled through her other tit. She crumpled back into the grass, her once-cute face now twisted woefully. Striding up, the Guard put one more round into her body. Julie bounced against the dirt, her bladder squirting pee into her thong.
Watching from her cockpit, Rachel smiled and clicked her tongue. “And that’s what you get for running after men ...”
* * *
They could hear the battle raging on the far side of the ridge. The thud of rotors echoed round the hills. One of the gunships windmilled up, then sank from view again. Leilani saw more gouts of dirty smoke.
The big troop-jeep in which she sat went jouncing down the road, towards the still distracted Citadel. It was a canvas-backed Black Boar, which had met them at a copse two miles away. A cold-eyed Guard was driving it. One of Leilani’s own. The jolt of the betrayal had left her reeling.
She was sitting in the front seat now, her safety-belt strapped tight. The driver had put her shades back on and drove impassively. Sareeya and her four Assassins waited in the back. A curved knife rested on Leilani’s neck.
“Just six of you?” she muttered, staring forward. “I hope you know you haven’t got a prayer ...”
“On the contrary,” Sareeya murmured in her ear. “The power of the Ancient Ones is travelling with us.”
Leilani swallowed nervously, and felt the blade against her tender skin. The Citadel loomed over them. Sporadic gunfire crackled on the ridge. The driver turned away from the pitched battle, and motored up towards the waiting gate.