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THE STARRY MESSENGER Pg 3/5 -- Standard text
Date posted: Feb 28/2012
Page Three of Five.
© 2008 Fred Brown
............................................................................................................................................
............................................................................................................................................
❱❱❱❱ NOTA BENE: This copy is in a brighter, better-readable font, and can only be read on DARK screens.
The Enhanced text copy that's readable on cyan screens is here: THE STARRY MESSENGER-- Enhanced text
Main account is here:
fwbrown61
............................................................................................................................................
|
| Page Links: ▪1▪ ▪2▪ ▪3▪ ▪4▪ ▪5▪
|
=============================================================================
Two large paws came up from underneath to glom onto her breasts. At the
same time, two strong legs wrapped around her hips. The body that pressed
against her back and tail was as naked as she was.
As sneak attacks go, this one got high marks for the sneaky part. Marines,
after all, were nothing if not well schooled in the tactic (if for other purposes).
"Houston, we have target acquisition," Allendale growled playfully in her ear,
then licked it. "Docking maneuver successfully completed."
Rashidkova giggled. "Simulated docking, anyway," she laughed. "Damn it,
you got me again! We've stopped keeping score but I know you're ahead of me."
The game was appropriately called Surprise, was probably pointless back on
Earth, but in zero-g it was possible to silently, stealthily, float right up close to
someone without being detected. And then... Gotcha!!
When both parties are without clothing at the time the game can quickly
turn into something else. Or it can turn into a nice cuddle-and-kissing session. By
definition Allendale and Rashidkova were limited to the latter. That didn't make it
any less fun.
A little maneuvering, and Rashidkova was turned around to face Allendale,
which was the right position for a different kind of docking maneuver that worked
well wherever a male and a female were. Gunnery Officer and Captain leaned
their muzzles in and kissed warmly. This scene would've lost a certain Disney
movie it's G-rating in about a picosecond.
If the most one can do with ones' partner is kiss, one might expect a high
skill level to develop. Allendale and Rashidkova were the enthusiastic proof of this
theory. A certain Collie fur and a certain wolfhound and Tauren fur were in for a
very pleasant surprise at some point, as those skills were transferred.
To be sure, some part of it was the simple fact they could both be turned
into glowing radioactive dust at a moment's notice. Just as there are few atheists
in foxholes, there are equally few celibates (at least in terms of desire).
But there was more to it than that, of course. At the moment, they were
alive, and in each other's arms, and that would do for now.
Rashidkova broke the kiss first, then just sighed and hugged him. A big male
to hug, that's what she liked, and to hug her back; Allendale fit the bill, all right.
"Can you imagine, in any other military, at any other time in history, how fast
we'd be cashiered for doing this?" she whispered.
"In any other military, at any other time in history, you'd have been male, so
it's more like how fast we'd be shot by our own troops. Moot question, though,
since very few sergeants have ever come equipped with a furry pair as nice as
yours."
Rashidkova put her paws on Allendale's shoulders and leaned away from
him. Say this much about space: you can throw away your bras, girls. Breasts
seemed made for zero-g, a fact enjoyed by just about everybody.
Breasts coated with creamy white underfur were overkill. Rashidkova
laughed as Allendale's eyes glazed over a little at the sight.
"Is it just you, or do all Marines have a boob fetish?" Rashidkova giggled.
"If y' don't have one when you enlist, Parris Island'll issue you a copy,"
Allendale quipped, holding on to her waist. Then he grinned. "'Course, after
twelve weeks of basic you've almost forgotten what they look like."
"So that was why you couldn't take your eyes off mine. Which is what got us
started, of course." Rashidkova shifted to put her legs around his hips, then
straightened up to give him a better view. "I have very much come to like you
looking at me, Allendale," she said softly. "A woman can feel greatly valued in
your gaze."
"Yeah? Lemme add to that, then," Allendale murmured. His paws came up to
her breasts, reverence in his touch. "Lookin's fun, but Ah can look and fondle at
the same time, y' know."
Rashidkova hissed with pleasure. "Ohhh yes, you surely can! They didn't
teach you how to do this in basic."
"Wall, there was that one night Peterson snuck an inflatable doll into th'
barracks," Allendale said, deadpan. "Huge knockers on it. But th' purblind fool
never thought to bring a patch kit, so that all ended rather abruptly. Since it
sounded pretty obscene deflatin' Peterson got called Fartman for the next six
weeks. Fittin' punishment, Ah always thought."
Rashidkova burst out laughing, then leaned back down and kissed him. "Hee
hee hee. Marines train for everything, don't they? Female doll, inflatable,
camouflage-green vinyl, Marine recruits, for the sexual training of. See separate
form for green patch kit, blow-outs, over-enthusiastic, for the repair of."
"Yah, let's see the Quartermaster handle that requisition," Allendale smiled.
"With our luck they'd hand us the male doll th' Navy uses."
"Oh!! Catty Marine, you are," Rashidkova gasped.
"Or the inflatable sheep th' Army uses."
But Rashidkova was laughing too hard to speak for a moment.
Her snickering ran down. "Please, I don't want to know what the air force
uses," she hiccupped, wiping a tear away. "Or I'll hurt something."
"As far as Ah know, nothing," Allendale said, his paws moving down to her
hips. "Th' flyboys are all in love with their planes. Which is, so Ah've heard, a
source of much frustration to air force wives."
"Yes, speaking of frustration," Rashidkova murmured. The position they were
in at the moment, her legs around his hips, looked like a T in the air. Her legs
tightened.
'Doing it' in zero-g was indeed a lot of fun, but it wasn't quite as easy as it
might seem. You had to think things out first; true for everything in space. You
could get hurt. Either that or something could go wrong and bring the whole
'maneuver' to a screeching halt.
The T position was one of the more basic ones and comparatively safe. As
much as Allendale and Rashidkova had become experts in not doing it, it was
enjoyable practicing the moves.
But not today. "Ah've been studyin' the drill analysis," Allendale said
quietly. "Found somethin' ominous. We may need some new tactics, and soon."
Rashidkova groaned. "Furlough, Allendale, furlough. We're on alert three, the
comps are on watch for us. Can it wait until dinner? If only to take our mind off
the food."
Allendale reached down and grabbed the compslate he'd 'parked' in mid-air
below them. There was a trick to that, to keep something from drifting off on you.
Allendale was good at it.
"Y' won't say that when Ah show you," he grunted, tapping on the
touchscreen to turn the compslate on. "We won that drill, but Ah think we got
lucky by accident." A little larger than a laptop and not half an inch thick,
Allendale could command the whole station from the compslate if he wanted to.
He blinked. "Or did Ah just invent a new Yogi-ism there?" Allendale grinned.
"You can file copyright later," Rashidkova smiled. "What have you got?"
Allendale tapped further, then held up the compslate for her to see. "Okay,
here's the event map for th' drill. We locked onto eight birds at 375 kilometers
range, projected in our aperture twenty-two seconds from that point. We
redirected Bird Six at 240 kilometers range. Bird Four calved it's pesky payload at
140 kilometers range. We were on top of that, the countermeasures comps and
the MLRS package fired our defensive spread, and we bagged th' six remaining
birds at 70 kilometers range. Beta took their long shot at 290 kilometers range
but they had plenty of time and beam to do it. We win. Right?"
"We're on furlough for three days. That's a win in my book."
"How close did we come t' losin'?"
Rashidkova paused. "My gunners intuition tells me you're about to say, too
close."
Allendale went grim. "Closer than that," he said soberly.
There was a long moment of silence between them. "This... is not a good
Christmas present you bring me, jarhead," Rashidkova finally whispered.
Allendale tapped at the compslate. "Our stroke of luck was here: when we
redirected Bird Six. We didn't hesitate, we did it fast, and we went from trackin'
and workin' on eight birds to seven. Resource load on the system dropped, which
gave the countermeasures comps the extra time and extra horsepower they
needed to deal with Bird Four better'n if we'd still been trying to handle the whole
salvo."
Rashidkova peered at the compslate. "And our targeting efficiency on the
remaining six birds was all that much better too," she murmured. "But for a few
seconds later on that redirect..."
"And life might not be so happy right now," Allendale said. "But there's
worse. Look how many missiles Bird Four dropped." He pointed at a box on the
screen.
Rashidkova gasped. "Two hundred and fifty?!! Holy shit!! The
countermeasures comps must have nearly had a coronary! Like I'm having right
now. But hold everything! Nobody's got the kind of bus technology to handle and
deploy that kind of missile load."
"Or do they?"
Rashidkova stared at Allendale. "You trying to scare me, Marine? Or are you
just trying to scare me?" she whispered.
Allendale sighed. "Either th' sadistic peckerheads in Command who wrote
that drill were just out to surprise us, by throwing up attacking technology that
don't exist, OR..."
Allendale drummed his fingers on the edge of the compslate. "Or somebody
might just have reason to think that bus technology like that is in th' works
somewhere. Soon to surprise the hell out of us for real."
"Sure surprised me," Rashidkova said flatly.
Allendale tapped on the compslate. "The coup de Gracie, however, is here.
And pretty fiendish too. Look at what the countermeasures comps did. On th' plus
side they had time to get clever."
Rashidkova took the compslate from Allendale and studied it, a frown on her
muzzle. A claw traced the shape on the screen.
"I see," she said slowly. "That is clever. Our spread of missiles, when they
detonated, would have done more than just the normal 'shield' disk of plasma in
the sky. Four lobes sticking forward, at points on the edges at north, south, east,
west. The attacking missiles were beginning to spread out, anticipating the
sunwall and trying to make it around. Those lobes would have forced them all
back towards the center. And at the center, a much thicker density of fire to
absorb all those extra missiles. I'm never going to say a bad word about IBM
Defense Systems again if their software can come up with something like this."
"How far away would that sunwall have been from us?"
Rashidkova looked again. "Oh," she said in a small voice. "Bird Four's timing,
and the speed of the attacking missiles, puts the sunwall about thirty kilometers
away. How many missiles did the MLRS get off...?"
Rashidkova tapped, then groaned. "Right. That's about eight megatons
worth of blast, at thirty kilometers range through free space. Way too close. That
attack was calculated not to get us, but to use our own defensive systems to get
us!"
Allendale ticked off fingers. "Thermal pulse would've barbecued us, physical
effects would've done damage and knocked us out of orbit--how'd y' like to take a
trip to the Moon, dear?--blast-generated electromagnetic pulse would've totally
overwhelmed the shielding and forced all the comps into safe shutdown, and if
we took less'n 300 rads of X-ray and gamma radiation it'd be a stone miracle."
Rashidkova grimaced. "Then the next salvo would sail through the big fat
hole in the line where we used to be while we're simultaneously puking our guts
out and trying to restart everything. How pleasant."
"So, you sure we won this one?"
"Less so than a minute ago."
Allendale put his paws behind his head as Rashidkova parked the compslate
beside them, then put her paws around his waist.
"This was a sacrifice win," Allendale murmured, looking out the windows in
the roof. "We killed our targets but got killed doin' so. On paper. Some kinds of
combat y' can justify this. Attacker and defender, evenly matched, trading one for
one. The war tends to go t' the side with the deepest reserves."
"Precisely the kind of battle we cannot afford to fight," Rashidkova pointed
out. "Not up here. Or allow anyone to force us into, either."
"No kiddin'," Allendale grunted. "Nuclear weapons make a hash out of those
kind of military calculations anyway; writes a factor of infinity into th' strategic
and tactical math. What the hell do reserves mean when the second y'
concentrate them to use 'em they get annihilated with the push of a button? And
so what if you've destroyed a stockpile of your enemy's bombs? Useless idea.
Gotta get them all at once, 'cause if you left even one warhead behind millions of
your people could still die. Marvellous. Shortly after World War Two there were
generals all over the planet goin' 'Oh fuck!!' as they figured out what the blasted
things really meant for the profession of arms. And everybody else."
"Oh yeah, that revelation has sure slowed things to a crawl," Rashidkova
said dryly. "Nuclear weapons are militarily useless when everybody's got them.
I'd better write that down in case I forget it."
"Apart from soldiers, who listens t' generals?" Allendale shrugged. "Even
knowing th' truth, every army on the planet, right along with the politicians, still
got suckered into the nuclear dream: more bombs makes us safer."
"So long as we all stay armed to the fangs and on five-minute alert until the
end of time," Rashidkova growled. "The dream comes with some fine print."
"And we're living in it," Allendale whispered. "Right up until the day..." He
stopped.
He had a known tendency to get very morbid about their situation.
Rashidkova knew better than to let that get some traction. And what to do about
it.
Rashidkova ran her paws up the fur of his flanks as she leaned down. A
couple of nibbles at his neck was prelude for the kind of kiss that was hot enough
to make any dog forget about nuclear war. Or, for a few minutes, his own name.
"None of the moody Marine, now," Rashidkova whispered at last, after the
kiss ended. "Won't have it on my watch. Where's all that holiday cheer you
Christians are supposed to be brimming with around this time of year? Or do I
have to get your plan out of you like this?"
Two fox paws quickly zipped back down to his waist, then claws dug in. Hard.
"WHA-HAA!!!" Allendale yipped, trying to grab at her paws. "Peace!! Ah
surrender in the face of superior firepower!! Never let 'em give y' to the women,
that's what they told me. Too late!!"
A ticklish Marine: Now there was a contradiction in terms. Giggling,
Rashidkova stopped, then gave a light tug on her line to stop the spin they'd
gotten started.
"You do have a plan, don't you?" Rashidkova purred. "You usually do."
Allendale glared. "Yeah, Ah do, but now Ah'm just tryin' to figure out how t'
work a good spanking into it."
"We'll deal with my fetishes later. Give, Marine."
=============================================================================
Page 3
<<< PREV Pg 2 First Page Pg 4 NEXT >>>
Date posted: Feb 28/2012
Page Three of Five.
© 2008 Fred Brown
............................................................................................................................................
............................................................................................................................................
❱❱❱❱ NOTA BENE: This copy is in a brighter, better-readable font, and can only be read on DARK screens.
The Enhanced text copy that's readable on cyan screens is here: THE STARRY MESSENGER-- Enhanced text
Main account is here:
fwbrown61............................................................................................................................................
|
| Page Links: ▪1▪ ▪2▪ ▪3▪ ▪4▪ ▪5▪
|
=============================================================================
Two large paws came up from underneath to glom onto her breasts. At the
same time, two strong legs wrapped around her hips. The body that pressed
against her back and tail was as naked as she was.
As sneak attacks go, this one got high marks for the sneaky part. Marines,
after all, were nothing if not well schooled in the tactic (if for other purposes).
"Houston, we have target acquisition," Allendale growled playfully in her ear,
then licked it. "Docking maneuver successfully completed."
Rashidkova giggled. "Simulated docking, anyway," she laughed. "Damn it,
you got me again! We've stopped keeping score but I know you're ahead of me."
The game was appropriately called Surprise, was probably pointless back on
Earth, but in zero-g it was possible to silently, stealthily, float right up close to
someone without being detected. And then... Gotcha!!
When both parties are without clothing at the time the game can quickly
turn into something else. Or it can turn into a nice cuddle-and-kissing session. By
definition Allendale and Rashidkova were limited to the latter. That didn't make it
any less fun.
A little maneuvering, and Rashidkova was turned around to face Allendale,
which was the right position for a different kind of docking maneuver that worked
well wherever a male and a female were. Gunnery Officer and Captain leaned
their muzzles in and kissed warmly. This scene would've lost a certain Disney
movie it's G-rating in about a picosecond.
If the most one can do with ones' partner is kiss, one might expect a high
skill level to develop. Allendale and Rashidkova were the enthusiastic proof of this
theory. A certain Collie fur and a certain wolfhound and Tauren fur were in for a
very pleasant surprise at some point, as those skills were transferred.
To be sure, some part of it was the simple fact they could both be turned
into glowing radioactive dust at a moment's notice. Just as there are few atheists
in foxholes, there are equally few celibates (at least in terms of desire).
But there was more to it than that, of course. At the moment, they were
alive, and in each other's arms, and that would do for now.
Rashidkova broke the kiss first, then just sighed and hugged him. A big male
to hug, that's what she liked, and to hug her back; Allendale fit the bill, all right.
"Can you imagine, in any other military, at any other time in history, how fast
we'd be cashiered for doing this?" she whispered.
"In any other military, at any other time in history, you'd have been male, so
it's more like how fast we'd be shot by our own troops. Moot question, though,
since very few sergeants have ever come equipped with a furry pair as nice as
yours."
Rashidkova put her paws on Allendale's shoulders and leaned away from
him. Say this much about space: you can throw away your bras, girls. Breasts
seemed made for zero-g, a fact enjoyed by just about everybody.
Breasts coated with creamy white underfur were overkill. Rashidkova
laughed as Allendale's eyes glazed over a little at the sight.
"Is it just you, or do all Marines have a boob fetish?" Rashidkova giggled.
"If y' don't have one when you enlist, Parris Island'll issue you a copy,"
Allendale quipped, holding on to her waist. Then he grinned. "'Course, after
twelve weeks of basic you've almost forgotten what they look like."
"So that was why you couldn't take your eyes off mine. Which is what got us
started, of course." Rashidkova shifted to put her legs around his hips, then
straightened up to give him a better view. "I have very much come to like you
looking at me, Allendale," she said softly. "A woman can feel greatly valued in
your gaze."
"Yeah? Lemme add to that, then," Allendale murmured. His paws came up to
her breasts, reverence in his touch. "Lookin's fun, but Ah can look and fondle at
the same time, y' know."
Rashidkova hissed with pleasure. "Ohhh yes, you surely can! They didn't
teach you how to do this in basic."
"Wall, there was that one night Peterson snuck an inflatable doll into th'
barracks," Allendale said, deadpan. "Huge knockers on it. But th' purblind fool
never thought to bring a patch kit, so that all ended rather abruptly. Since it
sounded pretty obscene deflatin' Peterson got called Fartman for the next six
weeks. Fittin' punishment, Ah always thought."
Rashidkova burst out laughing, then leaned back down and kissed him. "Hee
hee hee. Marines train for everything, don't they? Female doll, inflatable,
camouflage-green vinyl, Marine recruits, for the sexual training of. See separate
form for green patch kit, blow-outs, over-enthusiastic, for the repair of."
"Yah, let's see the Quartermaster handle that requisition," Allendale smiled.
"With our luck they'd hand us the male doll th' Navy uses."
"Oh!! Catty Marine, you are," Rashidkova gasped.
"Or the inflatable sheep th' Army uses."
But Rashidkova was laughing too hard to speak for a moment.
Her snickering ran down. "Please, I don't want to know what the air force
uses," she hiccupped, wiping a tear away. "Or I'll hurt something."
"As far as Ah know, nothing," Allendale said, his paws moving down to her
hips. "Th' flyboys are all in love with their planes. Which is, so Ah've heard, a
source of much frustration to air force wives."
"Yes, speaking of frustration," Rashidkova murmured. The position they were
in at the moment, her legs around his hips, looked like a T in the air. Her legs
tightened.
'Doing it' in zero-g was indeed a lot of fun, but it wasn't quite as easy as it
might seem. You had to think things out first; true for everything in space. You
could get hurt. Either that or something could go wrong and bring the whole
'maneuver' to a screeching halt.
The T position was one of the more basic ones and comparatively safe. As
much as Allendale and Rashidkova had become experts in not doing it, it was
enjoyable practicing the moves.
But not today. "Ah've been studyin' the drill analysis," Allendale said
quietly. "Found somethin' ominous. We may need some new tactics, and soon."
Rashidkova groaned. "Furlough, Allendale, furlough. We're on alert three, the
comps are on watch for us. Can it wait until dinner? If only to take our mind off
the food."
Allendale reached down and grabbed the compslate he'd 'parked' in mid-air
below them. There was a trick to that, to keep something from drifting off on you.
Allendale was good at it.
"Y' won't say that when Ah show you," he grunted, tapping on the
touchscreen to turn the compslate on. "We won that drill, but Ah think we got
lucky by accident." A little larger than a laptop and not half an inch thick,
Allendale could command the whole station from the compslate if he wanted to.
He blinked. "Or did Ah just invent a new Yogi-ism there?" Allendale grinned.
"You can file copyright later," Rashidkova smiled. "What have you got?"
Allendale tapped further, then held up the compslate for her to see. "Okay,
here's the event map for th' drill. We locked onto eight birds at 375 kilometers
range, projected in our aperture twenty-two seconds from that point. We
redirected Bird Six at 240 kilometers range. Bird Four calved it's pesky payload at
140 kilometers range. We were on top of that, the countermeasures comps and
the MLRS package fired our defensive spread, and we bagged th' six remaining
birds at 70 kilometers range. Beta took their long shot at 290 kilometers range
but they had plenty of time and beam to do it. We win. Right?"
"We're on furlough for three days. That's a win in my book."
"How close did we come t' losin'?"
Rashidkova paused. "My gunners intuition tells me you're about to say, too
close."
Allendale went grim. "Closer than that," he said soberly.
There was a long moment of silence between them. "This... is not a good
Christmas present you bring me, jarhead," Rashidkova finally whispered.
Allendale tapped at the compslate. "Our stroke of luck was here: when we
redirected Bird Six. We didn't hesitate, we did it fast, and we went from trackin'
and workin' on eight birds to seven. Resource load on the system dropped, which
gave the countermeasures comps the extra time and extra horsepower they
needed to deal with Bird Four better'n if we'd still been trying to handle the whole
salvo."
Rashidkova peered at the compslate. "And our targeting efficiency on the
remaining six birds was all that much better too," she murmured. "But for a few
seconds later on that redirect..."
"And life might not be so happy right now," Allendale said. "But there's
worse. Look how many missiles Bird Four dropped." He pointed at a box on the
screen.
Rashidkova gasped. "Two hundred and fifty?!! Holy shit!! The
countermeasures comps must have nearly had a coronary! Like I'm having right
now. But hold everything! Nobody's got the kind of bus technology to handle and
deploy that kind of missile load."
"Or do they?"
Rashidkova stared at Allendale. "You trying to scare me, Marine? Or are you
just trying to scare me?" she whispered.
Allendale sighed. "Either th' sadistic peckerheads in Command who wrote
that drill were just out to surprise us, by throwing up attacking technology that
don't exist, OR..."
Allendale drummed his fingers on the edge of the compslate. "Or somebody
might just have reason to think that bus technology like that is in th' works
somewhere. Soon to surprise the hell out of us for real."
"Sure surprised me," Rashidkova said flatly.
Allendale tapped on the compslate. "The coup de Gracie, however, is here.
And pretty fiendish too. Look at what the countermeasures comps did. On th' plus
side they had time to get clever."
Rashidkova took the compslate from Allendale and studied it, a frown on her
muzzle. A claw traced the shape on the screen.
"I see," she said slowly. "That is clever. Our spread of missiles, when they
detonated, would have done more than just the normal 'shield' disk of plasma in
the sky. Four lobes sticking forward, at points on the edges at north, south, east,
west. The attacking missiles were beginning to spread out, anticipating the
sunwall and trying to make it around. Those lobes would have forced them all
back towards the center. And at the center, a much thicker density of fire to
absorb all those extra missiles. I'm never going to say a bad word about IBM
Defense Systems again if their software can come up with something like this."
"How far away would that sunwall have been from us?"
Rashidkova looked again. "Oh," she said in a small voice. "Bird Four's timing,
and the speed of the attacking missiles, puts the sunwall about thirty kilometers
away. How many missiles did the MLRS get off...?"
Rashidkova tapped, then groaned. "Right. That's about eight megatons
worth of blast, at thirty kilometers range through free space. Way too close. That
attack was calculated not to get us, but to use our own defensive systems to get
us!"
Allendale ticked off fingers. "Thermal pulse would've barbecued us, physical
effects would've done damage and knocked us out of orbit--how'd y' like to take a
trip to the Moon, dear?--blast-generated electromagnetic pulse would've totally
overwhelmed the shielding and forced all the comps into safe shutdown, and if
we took less'n 300 rads of X-ray and gamma radiation it'd be a stone miracle."
Rashidkova grimaced. "Then the next salvo would sail through the big fat
hole in the line where we used to be while we're simultaneously puking our guts
out and trying to restart everything. How pleasant."
"So, you sure we won this one?"
"Less so than a minute ago."
Allendale put his paws behind his head as Rashidkova parked the compslate
beside them, then put her paws around his waist.
"This was a sacrifice win," Allendale murmured, looking out the windows in
the roof. "We killed our targets but got killed doin' so. On paper. Some kinds of
combat y' can justify this. Attacker and defender, evenly matched, trading one for
one. The war tends to go t' the side with the deepest reserves."
"Precisely the kind of battle we cannot afford to fight," Rashidkova pointed
out. "Not up here. Or allow anyone to force us into, either."
"No kiddin'," Allendale grunted. "Nuclear weapons make a hash out of those
kind of military calculations anyway; writes a factor of infinity into th' strategic
and tactical math. What the hell do reserves mean when the second y'
concentrate them to use 'em they get annihilated with the push of a button? And
so what if you've destroyed a stockpile of your enemy's bombs? Useless idea.
Gotta get them all at once, 'cause if you left even one warhead behind millions of
your people could still die. Marvellous. Shortly after World War Two there were
generals all over the planet goin' 'Oh fuck!!' as they figured out what the blasted
things really meant for the profession of arms. And everybody else."
"Oh yeah, that revelation has sure slowed things to a crawl," Rashidkova
said dryly. "Nuclear weapons are militarily useless when everybody's got them.
I'd better write that down in case I forget it."
"Apart from soldiers, who listens t' generals?" Allendale shrugged. "Even
knowing th' truth, every army on the planet, right along with the politicians, still
got suckered into the nuclear dream: more bombs makes us safer."
"So long as we all stay armed to the fangs and on five-minute alert until the
end of time," Rashidkova growled. "The dream comes with some fine print."
"And we're living in it," Allendale whispered. "Right up until the day..." He
stopped.
He had a known tendency to get very morbid about their situation.
Rashidkova knew better than to let that get some traction. And what to do about
it.
Rashidkova ran her paws up the fur of his flanks as she leaned down. A
couple of nibbles at his neck was prelude for the kind of kiss that was hot enough
to make any dog forget about nuclear war. Or, for a few minutes, his own name.
"None of the moody Marine, now," Rashidkova whispered at last, after the
kiss ended. "Won't have it on my watch. Where's all that holiday cheer you
Christians are supposed to be brimming with around this time of year? Or do I
have to get your plan out of you like this?"
Two fox paws quickly zipped back down to his waist, then claws dug in. Hard.
"WHA-HAA!!!" Allendale yipped, trying to grab at her paws. "Peace!! Ah
surrender in the face of superior firepower!! Never let 'em give y' to the women,
that's what they told me. Too late!!"
A ticklish Marine: Now there was a contradiction in terms. Giggling,
Rashidkova stopped, then gave a light tug on her line to stop the spin they'd
gotten started.
"You do have a plan, don't you?" Rashidkova purred. "You usually do."
Allendale glared. "Yeah, Ah do, but now Ah'm just tryin' to figure out how t'
work a good spanking into it."
"We'll deal with my fetishes later. Give, Marine."
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Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Dog (Other)
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