Chapter 3: Chapter 28.3

“Sergeant!” I yelled, ducking behind a wall of sandbags just an eruption of dirt from an enemy laser blast rained down on us. “Sergeant Mia, where in blazes are you?”

“Here, Lieutenant knob shiner!”

I turned. The Sergeant had a bewildered look on her face, but training had compelled her to stand at stiff attention and salute me smartly. I resisted the urge to glance down—and not just because the heat of the day had left the poor woman so sweaty she almost looked fresh from a swim, plastering her uniform to her body—but I knew from experience that her second button would be holding on for dear life. Some of the boys had started a betting pool as to when the thing would finally give it up, but of course, as an officer, I had refrained from participating.

Not that I had put a stop to it, either. The boys down in requisitions really did need to start finding some better fitting uniforms for the ladies. For some reason, my particular unit had recently begun attracting some rather well-endowed women.

“Sergeant, high-command has finally grown a pair,” I informed her grimly. “Send the word down. We charge at noon. Come hell or high-water, we must retake the White House. With any luck, the President will still be in there. And alive.”

“Yes… sir?” she replied hesitantly before casting a glance over our sand barrier.

I did not blame her. There were no less than three of those giant pink pyramids hovering over Washington, blasting indiscriminately, and two of the smaller ones had landed atop the capital building. Knowing my luck—and high-command’s spineless hesitation—I had to assume the aliens had already set up fortifications in there, though as of yet, none of us had laid eyes on the bastards.

“Corporal!” the Sergeant shouted. Curiously, she seemed to have startled herself in having done so.

“Here, sir!” another woman shouted, saluting the two of us. I did not recognize her, but that was not all that surprising. Her platoon must have recently been folded into ours. This war had not been kind on our numbers.

She was fairly short, and like most of the rest of the newer additions, she had a dynamite body—though not quite to the Sergeant’s standards. Still, it was hardly surprising; military service will do that to a person. Her face was angelic—delicate and set with soft angles—yet framed by a pair of thick horns that had curled around the side of her head and up along her jaw to end in a pair of sharp points just about even with her eye-line. Coupled with her pixie-cut blue hair, she was rather striking. Although, like the Sergeant, she seemed completely bewildered.

I frowned. Did the whole platoon just get summoned from their beds?

“Corporal Gyx!” Mia shouted, though there was a bit of a strangled edge to her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh… just… following orders. Sir?” Gyx replied hesitantly. Then a moment later, she leaned a bit closer to the Sergeant, “He got knocked out outside a safe zone, and some of us decided we would pop in for a bit of fun. But… what is going on? And who are you supposed to be? You look like—”

I cleared my throat deliberately. This was no time for idle gossip.

Both of the girls immediately stiffened. But then a moment later, the Sergeant’s button twanged and ricocheted off of the Corporal’s helmet.

“Fuck! F-fucking shit-pile raper! Experimental ass bucket of a—”

I clicked my tongue, ignoring the rest of the Sergeant’s tantrum. Barely even a week. I guess that means Private Jenson is looking at a nice little payday. If he was still alive by the end of it.

“Corporal, you have your orders!” Mia shouted finally, and somewhat unwillingly. “Ready the men!”

The Corporal saluted and hurried away, though a few steps later she paused and cast a befuddled look at us. Mia shrugged but then her left arm lifted, pointing off to the southern line. A second later, she turned to stare at her finger.

I sighed as the unfamiliar NCO wandered uncertainly in the direction Mia had indicated. “Sergeant, once this is all over, remind me to begin a troop review. Discipline seems to be slipping lately.”

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“Yes, sir,” she replied absently.

Another blast rocked us off of our feet, and while I clutched my helmet securely to my head, the Sergeant fell into my arms where she instinctively clutched at me. I tried to pull away at first as my rank required, but then our eyes locked.

She had such beautiful eyes, I realized. Icy blue and rimmed in a hypnotic red, they seemed to almost pulsate with desire—though it could have been simple fear. Somewhat rattled by our closeness, the Sergeant settled her ill-fitting helmet back over her head, but then a long lock of her red-black hair escaped its confines. With a gentle touch, I ran a finger over her cheek, tucking the lock behind her pointed ear.

She sucked in a breath at the contact, her lips parting ever so slightly, and I could not help but notice the soft swell of her bosom pressed against me, her delicate, almost fragile waist, the warmth of her breath tickling my beard.

And as my hands settled onto her hips, she stretched forward, drawing closer and closer to my lips.

“Lieutenant!” another of the soldiers called, and the two of us straightened instantly, each taking a half-step away from the other. It would not do for an officer to be caught out with a subordinate, especially on the battlefield.

Right about then, the soldier rounded the corner, and saluted the pair of us smartly. “Private First-Class Hwx reporting, sir!” She blinked a few times, and a moment later, her hand fell unprompted away from her forehead.

Then a knowing smirk curled her lips.

I scowled. Yet again, I recognized this one neither by sight nor name. And what had she said her name was? It had sounded like ‘Hewks.’ Like Gyx, she was stunningly beautiful though on the shorter side. Still, the pair of long and straight horns jutting out of her admittedly nicely-styled shoulder-length hair more than made up for it.

But that hardly mattered. She had not been called out of attention, and her perfectly coiffed hair had left her battlefield-required helmet nowhere in sight.

“Hello, Hwx… I see you’re here too,” the Sergeant growled, doubtlessly upset at the interruption. I knew I was. “What have you to report?”

“What? Oh, uh…” Casually, she jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “The men are lined up… or something.”

The Sergeant’s eyes flashed in fury, finally having had enough of the soldier’s attitude.

“Private, you cock-sucking man mattress!” she barked, stalking toward the girl. “Were you born a pucking pile of slack-ass or did you have to work on it? Or maybe we need to haul your worthless carcass to the infirmary to get your ears checked! You might have picked up some motherfucking third world parasite that likes to whisper ‘at ease’ into the skulls of no-account cum stains just to spike my blood pressure!”

Private Hwk’s eyes started to widen in shock at the dressing down. Although, even I had to admit, the Sergeant was starting to get a little carried away. Now was not the time for such boot camp antics.

“Get the fuck out of my face, you fish-faced guppy! And find whatever shit house you lost your helmet in, or so help me, I’ll rip your moldy tits off and spare the rest of the world the displeasure of having to look at them!”

Hwk snapped into another salute and shouted, “Sir, yes sir!” Then she scurried off.

“Damned lazy-ass cunts,” Mia growled before turning back to me. Then a stunned expression overcame her features and her jaw fell open. “What in the…?”