Posted by Extranjero on June 04, 2007 at 11:54:16:
This begins a new story, but follows on from Doll Soldiers, Rose Warriors and Storm Sisters. Enjoy.
WAR WIDOWS (Part 1)
The reed-beds were immersed in sticky silence. The air felt thick as honey, and the morning sky was colourless with heat. There wasn’t a breath of wind to stir the thickets. Just the oily slop of water as Leilani waded thigh-deep through the reeds.
She wore a wet white loincloth but was nude apart from that, and her curvaceous figure glistened, slick with sweat. Her Filipina colouring had darkened in this climate, and her body was a lustrous golden brown. Her long dark hair was tied in a bedraggled ponytail, drawn back from features with a European cast. She had the cheekbones of an English lady; but her deep doe eyes bespoke her Asian blood.
Those eyes were narrowed now as she prowled forward. A bamboo spear was poised in her right hand. The water swirled around her thighs, and she glimpsed a fleeting movement, like a flicker of dull metal, and thrust downward with the point. Her cobra-quick reaction skewered the unsuspecting fish. She raised it, wriggling on the spear, and her full lips curved into a crooked smile.
As she freed the fish, a harsh new sound cut through the stillness. The rasping of an engine, getting louder as she turned. Leilani’s smile dissolved and she crouched lower in the water, feeling it lap around her breasts. Her sweaty grip grew tighter on the spear.
A big black plane came soaring out of nowhere – so low, it was upon her in the moment it appeared. She cringed beneath its wings and felt its shadow skim across her. Something about its outline made her fine hairs stand up stiff.
She felt the same reaction when confronted by a spider: a mixture of disgust and dread. She twisted round and watched the aircraft bank. It had two engines and two tails, with a crew nacelle between them, like the thorax of an arachnid. Her training kicked in then, and found a match.
No wonder she had felt a chill. The thing was a Black Widow, an aircraft from the Old Days which the Doll Soldiers flew now. But this one had a ragged look that wasn’t age-related. One of the ailerons was chewed, and the engine on that side was streaming smoke. The other engine coughed and spluttered thickly. The stricken Widow lumbered round. It was going to try and ditch in the lagoon.
Leilani peered between the reeds and felt her stomach knotting as a new and deeper dread took hold of her. The past she’d left behind had broken back into her idyll, snarling through its unspoilt hush and smearing it with smoke.
The black wings of the Widow bore an occult-looking seal, like an eye in a horned triangle. The same design was tattooed on her arm.
The ugly aircraft levelled off, already losing height. The pilot throttled back until the engines choked and died. Silence fell again as the plane swooped towards the water. Leilani cowered instinctively, but it belly-flopped a hundred yards offshore. The Widow bounced and kicked up spray, then slewed towards the reed-beds. It foundered in the shallows, and a wave sluiced through the reeds and spent itself.
Leilani rode the surge and waited, full of apprehension. The steaming hulk was very close. She could hear the metal creaking as it cooled. Although half-sunk, it still looked huge and horrid. Like a stamped-on giant spider that just might be still alive.
It had two cockpits, one behind the other, but she saw no movement through the splintered glass. Behind those was a streamlined dorsal turret. The four machine guns pointed skyward, knocked out of alignment by the crash.
It was almost like a gesture of surrender. Or a sign the thing was finished, like the broken mandibles of a crushed bug. She hesitated, then went wading forward. Adrenaline fizzed through her veins, but she knew she couldn’t turn her back on this.
The plane was not entirely black. The propeller cones were red, and there was something painted just behind the nose. A portrait of a woman, now awash with muddy water, like the figurehead of an ill-fated ship.
It was a contrast to the Widow’s grimness. The woman knelt, her face upturned, her body leaning back on her braced arms. Her long blonde hair still billowed in the slipstream. She wore a long-sleeved leotard with the midriff cut away. Her breasts were large and stretched the purple outfit. Despite herself, Leilani felt her mouth go dry with lust.
The title Lady in the Dark was painted with a flourish. She waded closer, spear still raised, and clambered up onto the sunken wing. There was someone in the pilot’s cockpit, dimly visible through the crazed glass. Leilani got the catch undone and raised the canopy, her muscles bulging with the effort. Then her eyes grew wide.
The pilot sagged against her straps, unconscious. She was blonde, and dressed exactly like the portrait on the nose. Right down to the red ballet slippers braced against the pedals. And she had the same impressive pair of tits.
Leilani shook off her surprise and reached into the cockpit. The girl was wearing headphones, and a stream of blood had trickled down her cheek. Leilani pulled the headset off and fumbled with the straps. She felt the yielding firmness of the pilot’s breasts.
The blonde girl murmured something as the harness was released. Leilani pulled her upright, but it was like supporting someone who was drunk. The cockpit floor was now awash. The pilot lolled against her. "Come on, girl," Leilani said. "The dark’s not going to have you – not today."
She threw a glance into the upper cockpit. It was the gunner’s station, and another girl was slumped there in her seat. This one was more conventionally attired, Leilani saw. She wore a lightweight khaki jumpsuit, tight enough to hug her ample curves. But the suit had been ripped open to reveal a bloody cleavage. The girl’s dark head was bowed in death. Beams of light spiked in through scattered bullet holes.
Leilani heaved the pilot from the cockpit and raised her in a fireman’s lift. Her muscles rippled as she took the strain. The life she led had given her the strength of a young panther. The semi-conscious blonde remained inert. Leilani clambered down into the water. She glanced towards the rear of the nacelle. There was a third compartment where the spinnerets would be, but the thing was riddled like a sieve, and the water lapping round it was stained red.
She waded back into the reeds. The black plane was still creaking, like an armoured shape about to come to life. The pilot’s bosom, pressed against her back, felt much more pleasant. She thought of Lena, back at home, and hoped her girlfriend would forgive the lapse.
The channel she was following came to a grassy hummock. Leilani shrugged the girl’s weight off and leaned her back against it for support. The pilot drooped, then caught herself and cluched Leilani’s shoulders. Her eyelids fluttered open. She had blue-green eyes. Her face was fresh and cute.
She grimaced at her rescuer, befuddled. "Who’re you?" she mumbled, still resembling a girl who’d drunk too much.
"A friend," Leilani answered. She was feeling jittery. Whoever had shot the plane up might still be pursuing it. Her gaze flicked to the pilot’s bare, flat stomach. There was no jewel in the navel, so the girl wasn’t a member of the Guard. If she had been, Leilani would have killed her. But that was nothing personal. She’d been a Guard herself, and always would be.
So this girl was a conscript: a Doll Soldier. Part of the brainwashed armies which resisted insurrection round the globe. Leilani had been there, and done that, until the spell was broken and she’d led an insurrection of her own.
Instead of dying for that, she’d been hand-picked by the Commanders, those mysterious beings which now controlled the world. Someone had once told her that they were the fallen angels who’d walked the Earth before the Flood and now reclaimed their realm. Leilani had been placed with their elite force, the Command Guard, and served their cause as best she could – until she broke away and fled once more.
"Hi," the bleary pilot said, "I’m Gemma." And then she tensed, eyes widening, as the sound of another aircraft broke the hush.
Leilani eased her down beside her, breast-deep in the water, one arm around her shoulders while her free hand gripped the spear. Not that a spear would be much help against the giant aircraft that appeared above them like a predator. It was bigger than the Widow, with a wing above the fuselage and a pair of engines slung between the two. The configuration made it look more threatening: like a buzzard with its wings spread, poised to swoop. The fuselage was shaped to land on water. There were bulging Perspex blisters on each flank. Leilani recognised it from her training. It was a Catalina flying boat.
Like the Widow, it was painted black, a shadow in the sunlight. It roared around. The two girls ducked their heads. The Catalina came in low. Its nose-gun flickered brightly, the bullets kicking fountains from the surface of the lake. The barrage ripped into the half-sunk Widow. A gout of blazing petrol billowed skyward with a whump. Leilani clung to Gemma as the blast seared through the reeds. Fires were started here and there. The Cat flew through the pall of oily smoke.
Leilani waded back along the channel with Gemma stumbling at her side. The plane came round again. She heard it throttling back and realised it was going to land. Deeper in the reeds, she turned in time to see it scud across the lake.
The Catalina cruised towards the Widow’s burning wreckage. They watched it through a haze of heat and smoke. Gemma’s plump lip trembled. "What about Marie and Lisa …?"
"I’m sorry," said Leilani, and the blonde girl looked like she was going to cry.
The flying boat had halted and sat brooding for a minute. Then a hatch was opened and a dinghy was pushed out. Four girls clambered into it and an outboard motor started. Leilani’s heart began to thud as the dinghy skirted round the sizzling hulk.
Maybe they had seen the pilot’s canopy was open. The dinghy reached the reed-beds and the girls climbed lithely out. They wore the Sea Watch uniform of blue trunks and white tee-shirts, with blue berets. All four looked young and tough. Leilani squinted through the reeds as they prepared their weapons. Sten sub-machine guns: crude enough, but deadly at close range.
"Come on," she urged Gemma. They moved on through the thick water. The channels through the reeds were like a maze. Leilani lost her bearings; there was just blank sky above them. Then she heard a wary sloshing, somewhere close.
She pushed Gemma into the reeds. The girl looked pale and frightened. Leilani didn’t blame her; she felt nauseous herself. Just ahead, the channel forked around another hummock. The stealthy sounds were coming from the right.
Leilani raised her spear and glided forward. The water barely rippled; she was good at hunting fish. Another slopping sound came from the far side of the hummock. Then silence, as the Watch girl paused. Could she hear the drubbing of Leilani’s heart?
She didn’t, and came wading round the corner. Her surly face went slack with sheer surprise. But Leilani’s gaze was focused on the heavy, rounded breasts that stretched the cotton Lycra of her tee-shirt tight. She lunged and thrust the spear down at an angle, puncturing the girl’s left breast to pierce her heart and lung. Her victim gave a startled sob, then choked in agony, dropping her sub-machine gun to claw vainly at her tits. Leilani gave the spear a twist and the girl spat liquid scarlet. But someone else was moving in. She tried to free the spear, but it was stuck.
She strained at it while the doomed girl was still squirming. Her biceps bulged. The shaft broke with a crack. The Watch girl flopped face-down into the channel. A red slick spread around her as the water bubbled and grew calm again.
Another girl came sloshing down the channel. She saw the body, checked, and raised her Sten. There was no-one else in sight. The tall reeds hemmed her in like walls. She could see the channel fork ahead. And then she glimpsed a patch of tell-tale mauve.
Gemma’s blonde hair blended with the reed-beds, but her leotard was harder to conceal. The Watch girl waded forward, taking up the trigger slack, and Leilani rose out of the water right behind her.
Before the girl could start to turn, the broken spear was jammed under her jaw. Leilani jerked it back, her muscles taut as a weight-lifter’s. The Watch girl made a gagging sound, her tongue protruding as she gaped for breath. She kicked and wriggled vainly as the pressure crushed her windpipe. Her breasts bulged through her tee-shirt, then deflated as her straining lungs collapsed.
Leilani let her slump, and grabbed the Sten as she released it. She waded back to Gemma, who was cowering in the reeds. "Let’s move, yeah?" she said tersely, but the blonde girl had gone rigid. She was staring at Leilani’s black tattoo.
"Yes," Leilani said, "I served my time with the Command Guard, but that was another life. Now move your arse."
She pulled at Gemma’s arm. The blonde girl came reluctantly. They pushed on through the labyrinth of reeds. Following a channel, they ran into a third Watch girl. Leilani got her shots in the first, breasts joggling with the recoil of the Sten. Sudden wounds popped up like poppies on the girl’s tight tee-shirt. Her own breasts quivered as she wailed and toppled back to sprawl amid the reeds.
Leilani waded past the corpse, but Gemma fell behind her, still groggy and unsteady from the crash. Leilani doubled back and draped the girl’s arm round her shoulders. "Come on," she urged. "Not far ... We’re nearly there ..."
As she spoke, the rattle of a Sten made her heart stumble. Bullets chirruped through the reeds and kicked up spurts of water in their path. Their fourth pursuer was standing on a dyke between the channels. Her sub-machine gun barked again, its flash transparent as a Bunsen flame. Leilani glimpsed her, twisted round and fired her Sten one-handed. The bullets hit the girl’s bare belly and she doubled forward with a squawk. Leilani pushed on, hauling Gemma with her, till they reached a promontory of firmer ground. Verdant trees and foliage gave them cover. The two girls slumped to earth, exhausted. Leilani kept a firm hold on her gun.
After a while, they heard the Catalina’s engines starting up. The plane took off from the lagoon and circled overhead implacably. Leilani stared up through the leaves as Gemma wheezed beside her. But the aircraft had lost track of them. It banked and headed south till silence fell.
Gemma sat up cautiously. Her large breasts heaved inside her leotard. The skintight Lycra was already drying. She brushed a hank of damp hair back. Leilani’s tight grip loosened on the Sten.
"So what did you do to piss off the Commanders?"
Gemma’s sidelong glance was almost guilty. "I don’t know who you are," she said. "Except you’re one of them …"
"I’m the girl who saved your life," Leilani told her. "But I don’t want any trouble, so perhaps I’ll leave you here."
The blonde’s face fell. "Oh, please …" She chewed her lip. "All right, I’ll trust you. You just killed four Sea Watch girls, so there can’t be much love lost ..."
Leilani waited calmly, though her feelings were in turmoil. Whatever she was going to hear, she guessed it would upturn her secret world.
"There are four of us," said Gemma. "Four Black Widows. They needed night intruders to disrupt insurgent routes and hours of rest. I guess you know that they’ve got strongholds all along the valley ..."
Leilani hadn’t realised that the war had got so close. She searched the girl’s soft face. "Who brought you in?"
"We were attached to a brigade of the Command Guard." Gemma eyed her nervously. "A bitch called Anna was in charge of it."
Leilani shrugged. The name meant nothing to her. "So let me guess. You’ve got a dirty mind."
Gemma nodded woodenly. "I guess the spell wore off. So I brought the other pilots round …"
"By sleeping with them."
Gemma’s cheeks turned pink.
Leilani smiled. She’d learned how the conditioning could fail. It might happen spontaneously – it had been that way with her. But a peak of passion, carefully timed, could throw it off as well. It seemed that Gemma had been busy in her bed.
A side-effect of brainwashing turned most Doll Soldiers gay. Leilani herself had been straight once, but the sight of Gemma proved she wasn’t now. She couldn’t help but envy the girl’s comrades. She didn’t doubt that Lena would, as well.
"So you’re flying for the rebels now?" Leilani’s tone was neutral. She’d fought for both sides in her time, and didn’t really care which one prevailed.
"Yeah," said Gemma with increasing fervour. "We can’t let those old monsters rule the world. We’ve got the Widows at a secret airstrip. I’ll make it worth your while to take me there."