The Cresperian Alliance (27 page)

"I have read some about this on the computer,” Piki admitted, a mixture of reluctance and curiosity on her face, “but I still do not understand how you would get me ‘ready’ so that it does not hurt, Bang-bang. I love you, too. But I do not want to be hurt—especially by you."

"Piki,” Bang explained, growing desperate, afraid of being rejected, “when we sit on the couch and kiss and cuddle and caress, do you feel anything... there?"

A faint tinge of color suffused her tan cheeks. “Yes,” she confessed in a whisper. “It gets... hot, and... and yes, it gets wet. And I think... I think it... swells?"

"Good,” Bang said, smiling. “That's how I get you ready. And I can do other things, too. Kissing your body in special places, and stroking you... there. And when you're wet enough, you'll be ready, and it'll feel good. No pain at all."

"Show me,” Piki demanded.

"What—NOW?!"

"Yes."

"How... how far do you want...?"

"Until I am ready,” Piki said calmly. “Then I will tell you if I wish to marry or not."

"This is gonna kill me, you know that?” Bang grumbled, moving to the couch and taking her in his arms.

"But you will not hurt me, just because of your desire."

"No."

"Very well."

Bang's lips came down on Piki's, and Piki yielded to him, trusting him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he deepened the kiss, even as his hands gently roved her body, stroking gently. “Tell me when you want more,” he murmured into her mouth.

"All right. More."

Bang chuckled, then tugged her blouse from her trousers and began stroking her bare skin. Piki sighed. “I like that."

"Good. That's the point."

"More skin."

"Take off your shirt, then."

Piki unbuttoned her blouse, and Bang tried to hide his start of surprise: Like most of the Crispy females, she had no need of a bra, so she didn't bother with one, and he hadn't considered the fact. Her upper body was now clad only in the metallic armbands all Crispies wore, containing their personal defensive equipment. “Oh dear God,” he whispered. “Piki, you're gorgeous."

Piki blushed delicately. “You like the way I look?"

"I love the way you look.” Bang took her into his arms and let his hands skim over her torso. His lips wandered from her mouth and trailed down her neck.

"Ohhh,” she sighed. Then, when his fingers slid over her breast, “OH!"

"Mm-hm,” Bang murmured against her throat. “That's one of those special places. More?"

"Oh, yes."

So Bang fondled her breasts tenderly, then bent his head and kissed each aroused nipple, to Piki's delight. “This is... I had forgotten the Prime Minister did... he bit them,” she managed to get out.

"Aw,” Bang said sadly. “But not like this, I bet.” And very gently, he nibbled at her nipples. Piki gasped in delight.

"No. Not like this. Don't... don't stop."

"Okay."

By this time Piki's back was arched over Bang's forearm. He rested on that elbow, their bodies lying along the sofa, and let his free hand drift lower, across her belly, until he cupped her through her trousers. He could feel the warmth, and began a gentle, circular rubbing. His reward was a soft moan of pleasure.

"Bang-bang,” Piki panted, “you... you are so gentle... not rough..."

"That's the way it's supposed to be, when you love someone. You treasure them. You don't treat them like objects."

"I... this..."

"You're wet, aren't you?"

"Yes..."

"Good.” Carefully, Bang unfastened the fly of Piki's trousers. “Is this okay?"

"Yes. What are you going to do?"

"Just more rubbing."

"All right."

Bang continued to rub through her panties, then slid his hand inside them, locating the slit containing her treasures.
Wow, is she ever wet,
he realized.
Maybe I can do what I'd hoped, then.

He found her nub and stroked it, and she groaned. All the while he hadn't stopped sucking, kissing, and nibbling on her nipples, which were swollen and rosy. Slowly his fingers stroked deeper and deeper, and finally his fingertip entered her. Piki wriggled in his arms, then instinctively pushed down. Suddenly his index finger was inside her and she was writhing in his arms.

"Bang-bang!” she cried. “Oh! I never knew! I...” She clutched at him, and he returned his mouth to hers, kissing deeply, as his fingers taught her the sensitive places “there."

Her fingers dug into his muscular back, and she arched hard, screaming his name. Bang watched with a smile as the beautiful face contorted in the ultimate pleasure, then slowed his caresses as she relaxed, finally sliding his hand out of her panties and resting it lightly on her belly.

"Did you like that?” he asked after a few minutes.

"Oh... yes...” Piki murmured languorously. “That was wonderful."

"Then imagine my ‘bang-bang,'” he grinned as copper eyes opened, “doing the same thing, the same way."

Her dark orange eyes grew round. “And that is sex in a loving marriage?"

"Yes."

"Edward Bangler?” Piki asked, and Bang wondered at the formality.

"Yes?"

"I should love to be Mrs. Edward Bangler,” Piki declared with finality.

Bang grinned and held her tight as they kissed once more.

"Well...” Sandra Fellowes admitted, rather more quietly than usual, “they do seem to be a very vengeful and hostile species, those Snappers. But,” she amended, before anyone could react, “I still believe they can be reasoned with."

The Cabinet, advisors, and allied nations had broken temporarily for a respite from the horror of what they'd just seen, and to allow the Washington group to have lunch. But Waterman looked around the room at pale countenances, and somehow he doubted that anyone had actually eaten. The group had just reconvened in order to decide what to do.

"And if we get half a chance to do so, you can, Sandra,” Robertson, the vice president, agreed, shooting Waterman a sidelong glance. “But in the meantime we've got to look at prying their grip loose from Cresperia."

"Agreed,” several voices on the communications links said.

"It is a matter of honor for Germany,” the German defense minister declared. “We were the instigators of similar horrors once. As our friend in Israel said so eloquently, ‘Never again.’ Whether anyone else assists or no, our starships will go to support Cresperia. We will not sit idly by and watch."

"You will have help,” the Israeli general noted.

"Indeed,” an English voice spoke.

"I think there's no longer any question regarding a joint Earth force, ladies and gentlemen,” Waterman declared. “What we need to know is how best to do it. What kind of hard data do we have on the Snapper weapons?"

"Well,” Terhune said, “if Caleb is back on the horn, he's probably the best qualified among us to tell us the results of the analyses."

"I am,” Washington's voice could be heard. Moments later the video screen flickered back to life, to show the dark-skinned general sitting alone in the SFREC video room. “Data analysis indicates what we suspected: that the Snapper shields are basically the same as the Crispies’ normal quantum shielding; our new, upgraded shielding is vastly superior. Their lasers are the same as our human lasers—they're basically a ramped up continuous wave chemical laser. So we know how to handle those.” He picked up a clipboard from somewhere off camera and flipped through it. “That green beam of theirs? It's actually a kind of plasma pulse weapon. It's green because it's causing the oxygen in Cresperia's atmosphere to fluoresce, like an aurora. Think of something like our anti-personnel Pulsed Energy Projectiles scaled up to planetary levels. It's not quite the same, but reasonably analogous."

"What's a pulsed energy projectile?” a curious Fellowes asked.

"Well, Sandra,” Terhune explained, “like Caleb said, we use them as anti-personnel weapons. They COULD be scaled up to be deadly, but we haven't done that. Our versions are intended not to harm, merely to, say, disperse a hostile crowd. Stop a riot. Things like that. We'd usually rather do that than have to get into a lethal firefight. Contrary to what you've always thought, we really don't want to get into a big fight if we can help it. Anyway, our PEP systems emit an infrared laser pulse, which creates a rapidly expanding plasma when meeting the target. The resulting sound, shock and electromagnetic waves stun the target and cause pain and temporary paralysis. The typical reaction upon would be combatants after the shock wears off is to get the hell out in a hurry. Evidently when you scale it up as large as the Snappers have, it does a helluva lot more than that."

"Evidently,” Fellowes murmured, taking in the explanation.

"What else do we have on them?” Robertson wanted to know.

"Well, standard disintegrators work on ‘em really nicely, regardless,” Caleb continued. “So I suspect our upgrades will be pretty damn effective. Also we have information that the Crispies took our active camo suits and did some modifications of their own."

"How so?” Salter asked.

"They took the material and wrapped their orbital defense platforms in it. Works pretty damn well in the space environment from all accounts, and was simpler than outfitting the platforms with invisibility."

"So the Snappers can't spot it?” Waterman sat up straight, intent on the answer.

"Evidently not until they're right on it, and even then they gotta be looking,” Caleb responded. “And by that time, they're in range of the disintegrator."

"Hot damn,” Salter noted with glee. “Get that on every new platform and sensor we send up."

"Yes sir,” Bannerman, Salter's aide, replied, taking notes.

"All right,” Waterman took control, “how long will it take us to organize and mount an expeditionary force to Cresperia?"

The Joint Chiefs put their heads together with the Secretary of Defense. Murmuring could be heard on the audio to the other defense ministries. Fellowes simply sat silently, watching and listening—for once, Waterman thought.

Finally the Joint Chiefs came up for air. Singletary motioned deferral to Salter, who turned to address the President.

"Not less than one week, sir,” he announced. “Possibly closer to ten days. We still have some retrofitting to do, and there's coordination between allies..."

"NATO defers to Admiral Terhune as Fleet Commander In Chief,” the Belgian minister announced. “Stand by; NATO adjuncts are being polled."

"Standing by,” Salter murmured.

Waterman noted Fellowes suddenly ready to explode to say something, and he didn't have to guess to know what it was. “Yes, Sandra, you and your team can go along on the flagship and attempt negotiation."

"Good!” Fellowes practically burst out.

"NATO adjuncts are in unanimous agreement,” the Belgian minister informed them. “Admiral Terhune shall be the Earth fleet's commander in chief."

Terhune bowed to the camera. “Thank you for your trust."

"It only makes sense,” the Belgian replied. “You have had more experience."

Waterman clapped his hands together. “Then let's get this show on the road. You have one week, ladies and gentlemen, to get your shit together and get into space, pointed at Cresperia."

"Yes SIR,” the chorus of comments responded.

Two days later, during which time Bang moved his belongings into Piki's much larger apartment, U. S. Space Marine Gunnery Sergeant Edward Bangler and Cresperian platoon adjunct Piki Burroughs were wed in a small ceremony in the Enclave's chapel. John and Sira Tomlinson stood for them, and Peter Murphy and Karen Townshend, Piki's partners in captivity, were among the guests. The groom wore his mess dress uniform, and the bride wore the same gown she'd worn as a bridesmaid, save that she held white roses mingled with the tiger lilies.

Despite the intent of having a small wedding, the entire White Horse platoon was present, as well as Colonel Chadwick. General Washington even managed to get away from his duties for a few minutes to attend the short ceremony.

Once the chaplain pronounced them husband and wife, they kissed, then turned, beaming, and ran the gauntlet of arched swords. There was a brief reception, consisting of wedding cake and champagne; a few toasts, the tossing of the bouquet and the launching of the bride's garter. Karen Townshend caught the former, and Peter Murphy the latter. They gave each other a sidelong look; neither had realized their very private affair was known.

Then the couple went back to their apartment for a week of leave time.

"They make a cute couple,” Jeri told Kyle, watching the bridal couple leave. “And they're obviously just as head over heels as we are. Who'd have guessed humans and Crispies would make such wonderful mates?"

"Oh, haven't you heard, honey?” Kyle remarked, faux innocence in his eyes. “There aren't any human-Crispy couples. I'm not human anymore. Neither is Bangler. Or Tomlinson, or Chung..."

"Pssht,” Jeri waved a dismissive hand. “Don't even bother with that idiot. Besides, she unwittingly did us a favor. Given my original form, and Piki's firsthand experience, it's patently obvious we COULDN'T have mated without somebody changing physiology. And THAT,” she pointed out, “is now a classified bit of information."

"And she thought she was only insulting us,” Kyle agreed.

The couple laughed quietly together.

The newlywed couple took their time. They kissed, cuddled, and fondled on the sofa, and Bang's jacket and shirt were discarded in short order. Piki's dress slithered to the floor. Dress shoes got inadvertently shoved under the sofa. Socks and trousers were cast aside. Then Bang picked up his bride and carried her to the bed. There, he laid her down and gently removed her panties, meeting her eyes to ensure he saw no fear.

But to his surprise, she reached out and tugged his boxers down, exposing his excitement over their upcoming joining. His boxers slid to the floor and he stepped out of them, as unexpectedly, Piki gently and affectionately patted his aroused manhood.

"You are handsome like this, Bang-bang,” she declared. “Not like the Prime Minister. He was fat and flabby and...” she shook her head. “It would have taken me a long time to fix that, for he loved to eat and drink, and was continually undoing all we had done. He was not appealing. Not like you. Come here.” Piki held out her arms, and Bang went into them.