THE NEW EARTH - 4
Copyright 2007 by Carl Mason
All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. "The New Earth" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, however, sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@comcast.net
If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive or in the left margin of the Gay stories index.
This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands safe sex.
CHAPTER 4
(Revisiting Chapter 3)
Standing in the powerful spray that lashed their bodies. Justin turned his face back towards the Marshal and hungrily kissed him. "I would give you a present, sir...freely, joyfully, and with everything that I am. Take me, please. Mark me. Make me yours for as long as I may serve you." "Justin...no...you need to rest...later," Alexios protested. "Do this for me, Alexios. Mark me, take me!" the youngster repeated in a strong voice. Slowly, hesitatingly, his face tense, the great leader of the Tacians began to thrust into the flesh of the beautiful youngster from the blue planet. Faster...faster...gasping... groaning in need, biting the lad's powerful traps...stiffening with passion...faster... deeper...DEEPER - until with a great roar the Tacian came. Reaching around the boy's body, he grasped his rock-hard flesh. With a sharp cry of release, Justin pumped his essence into his master's hand and slumped back into his protecting arms.
(Continuing Our Story: We Fly Against Canmuto!)
There was no way on God's green earth that Justin would have wanted to be anywhere other than where he was. Nevertheless, on rare occasion, he did experience a certain sense of deja vu. Take, for instance, one of the favorite songs of the Tacians on board - men and boys, those of different services, and even officers as well as the those in the ranks. It reminded him of nothing other than a German Luftwaffe [Air Force] song of World War II: "Wir fliegen gegen England und mit uns fliegt der Tod." [We fly against England and Death flies with us.] You heard it in the mess halls, in the passageways, in the showers...everywhere! Now, of course, the words were "We fly against Canmuto!", but the feeling was much the same - and the original melody ran eerily through his head. Something of a history buff, however untutored, Justin wondered how that war might have been different had the Nazis won the "Battle of Britain".
After about three Earth days, Justin began to feel that his worries might be for naught. Fast, heavily armed Allied light cruisers hunted in packs throughout the galaxy. Most of those Canmuton ships that had escaped the disaster off Neptune were discovered and eliminated. Further, the battered remnants of squadrons from Attia and Serium had been openly berthed in their space ports and made no move to sortie even when provoked. As a matter of fact, not one missile was flung at them from heavy defensive batteries on either planet. The only missiles they had to contend with came from Canmuto itself! The Allied High Command quickly made a decision. They had another target in their sights, and Canmuto's vassals would have to wait their turn!
When Canmuton authorities disdainfully refused calls to free Terrans enslaved during their long control over the planet, they made a second decision. Although some Allied military leaders (including Field Marshal Alexios) demurred, the decision was made to subject the enemy to a casmitic bombardment of its cities and military facilities. Perhaps the easy victory of the Allied space forces had filled the majority with unjustified overconfidence. Perhaps it was a matter of a widespread desire for revenge. The truth was that Canmuto was a populous planet that maintained large forces under arms. With their cities in smoking ruins, the minority believed that whatever chance existed for a less bloody outcome would be lost forever. The aggressive Canmutons, soldier and civilian alike, would fight to the death.
Attempting to get all Allied members in agreement, only one city was selected for the first casmitic attack: Canmuto's second city, the center of its air and space commands and the planet's most heavily industrialized center. Subsequently, after a four-hour warning, casmitic missiles were launched from the Star Cruiser Baltimore. The city, including its military targets, was totally destroyed. Again, the Canmutons curtly rejected the demand that all Terran slaves be freed. The second attack, with no further warnings, removed all major cities and military targets. There were secondary effects from the mass bombing, e.g., two volcanoes opened on the continent and massive earthquakes made the rocky land even more impassible in many areas.
With Canmuton space under its control and with most of its missile defense system destroyed, two of the three troop transports were brought closer to the planet. Field Marshal Alexios, the commander of both the Allied marine and heavy infantry forces made ready for an invasion. After constant begging and implicit threats to return to his Terran regiment, his adjutant was given permission to fight with the Tacian forces...at least for a few days. Landings would be attempted on both Canmuto's single continent and one large island, a land mass considerably smaller than Earth's. (Tens of thousands of Canmuton citizens lived and worked on thousands of specks of land in the seas. For the time being, the invasion would not specifically target them.)
An ardent if untrained student of Earth's military history, his young adjutant was of considerable assistance. For instance, he remembered reading books stolen from the libraries that told of the terrible battles American marines had to fight on Saipan and Iwo Jima. He warned Alexios about the types of fixed emplacements that the Allied forces were likely to face in a rocky land and by a foe that had time to prepare. To his credit, Alexios listened and saved lives. All in all, however, the invaders landed with the expectation that the defeated Canmutons would put up a token defense - an "exercise in honor," if you will - and then quickly lay down their weapons. Nothing could have been further from the truth...as 66,203 Allied deaths over five weeks of heavy fighting attested! Approximately 50,000 of the nearly 250,000 Terrans who worked on Canmuto as slave labor lived through these terrible days to be returned home. After 250 years of captivity, however, they and their offspring had been reduced to little more than "hewers of wood and drawers of water" - if, that is, as rumor had it, they hadn't been raised simply as part of the food supply. Though never counted officially, the Canmuton losses (military and civilian) must have been several times greater. Observers noted that the population of this planet was only a shadow of its pre-war self for a good half century.
(. . . And Death Flies with Us)
The shape of the terrible battles...the terrible bloodletting...that would ensue was clear from the day of the first landings. Justin landed in the second wave with his marine cadets on the southern end of the planet. They were immediately attacked by sophisticated warplanes that appeared out of nowhere and caused heavy casualties. It took most of the day for fighters from the Fleet Carrier Lexington to restore complete control of the skies over the beaches. The land had been so torn up by the earthquakes that the effect of their remote-controlled tanks and other armored vehicles was minimized. As Justin had feared, every turn saw a new fortified position and every hill became the site of a fierce battle. At the close of the first day, the squad with which Justin was fighting had only moved seven miles inland from the beaches - and had sustained 45% casualties!
On the first night, Justin's sergeant tapped him and two experienced cadets to reconnoiter the valley immediately before them. It would provide their first objective in the morning - and not one officer seemed to like the lay of the land. They hadn't moved twenty yards into an area of high grass before one of the cadets was killed by a sharpshooter. As they worked their way out of the grass and began climbing a low, rocky hill, a Canmuton patrol discovered them. The second cadet tried to use a fragmentation grenade, but one of the patrol killed him before he could remove the pin. It appeared that more that a "few days" would pass before the Field Marshal regained the services of his adjutant.
Suddenly, the three Canmuton soldiers dropped like stones, their weapons clattering down the rocky slope. A grim-faced Sergeant crawled up beside the shaken youngster and whispered, "Ok, Justy, we know most of what we came to learn. Let's get our butts out of here." Clearly, they had been dogging the recon patrol's footsteps in an effort to get a better fix on the enemy's defensive status. Noticing the NCO's strange, somewhat box-like weapon, Justin asked what it was. "Something new," the Sarge grunted. "Fries their brains... Common! Let's move it!"
After another week of violent skirmishes, the Allied forces gradually closed in on Forscher's Ridge, a long line of dark, jagged hills that stood between them and the ruined Canmuton capital. The island offensive was drawing to a close; the assault in the northern section of the one good-sized landmass was going well and promises were already being heard about soon beginning to "mop up". Thus, the area immediately ahead was important, for it was not only the Canmutons' last serious redoubt, but the center of their religion. Officers were promising the boys a hot time...and making sure they prepared thoroughly.
(Forscher's Ridge)
The Allied offensive quickly ground to a halt in the hills known as "Forscher's Ridge". There were many factors: 1) The enemy fought ferociously for every square inch of ground, ground that was often "sacred" to them. 2) One of the planet's major earthquake faults that ran directly along the line of hills had reduced the entire region to a mass of tumbled rock. The few roads that had crossed the area, for instance, were simply...gone. Even pre-attack artillery barrages and heavy bombing simply chewed the area up a bit more. In no sector did they appear to markedly reduce the underground fortifications that in some cases had been prepared years earlier. Further, their armor was of absolutely no use in this terrain. 3) The Canmuton weather turned particularly dark and dank. This particular area was often cloaked in thick, swirling mists that reduced visibility worse than a London fog.
Justin was involved in an action that gave some promise of clearing one of the lower hills, thus giving their light artillery a better firing field. As he and a buddy checked out that which appeared to be a simple break in the rock wall caused by a stream, they suddenly found themselves staring down the barrels of automatic weapons held by several ill-tempered Canmuton civilians. They were promptly searched, hurried to a cave that appeared to be deep in the hill, and turned over to a military officer. The major, who turned out to be in the intelligence service, began to ask a host of rapid-fire questions as the two weary cadets attempted to stand at attention before him. After a long period of this treatment, Justin's buddy lost his balance and fell to his knees. Brusquely ordered to regain his footing, he swore at the officer. Without the slightest change in expression, the officer drew his service weapon and killed the brawny youngster. "You will notice, Earthman," the Major said, "what happens to those who do not obey promptly, completely, and without incident. Follow my orders and you MIGHT live. Disregard them and you will SURELY die."
That night under guard, Justin walked through long underground tunnels for what he took to be hours. Eventually, his captor and he reached a large underground chamber carved out of solid rock. There, sitting on stone benches, he waited nervously with several other prisoners to learn his fate. When a strangely dressed official arrived, he ordered the captives to strip. They were then taken to an area of separate cells where they were caged and well fed. After a solid breakfast, he was taken to a room in the same underground complex. After Terran slaves had removed the small amount of stubble that remained on his body below the eyes, he was taken to a cavern that contained an immense Turkish bath and allowed to soak in the warm, mineral waters for some time. Again, not one word was spoken by the Terran slave who brought him to another room, motioned for him to climb up on a thick slab of stone, and gave him a superb warm oil massage. As he left, a black-hooded figure entered the room, approached the stone, and stood over the youngster.
"You may call me 'Abbot Kol', Justin," the figure said seriously. "Thank you, Abbot Kol," the youth replied politely. "You will be here for some time, but do not fear. You will be well cared for," the abbot continued. Justin nodded his head in acknowledgment. "You will be fed well and allowed to exercise several times a day," the hooded figure added. "And what of the war?" the young cadet asked. In a kindly voice, the abbot simply said, "That does not concern us here, my son. Banish it from your mind and be at peace." With that he blessed the boy with incense and departed.
For several days - the lad gradually lost track of how many - Justin's hours were spent in eating well, if alone, and vigorously exercising in a room that contained the latest equipment, as well as some machines he had never seen before. He incorporated several of these in his exercise regimen. At the close of each day, he soaked in the great Bath and was then oiled by a slave. After supper, the Abbot would enter his room, light incense in a brazier, and pray silently by his side. In all truth, Justin felt great. He had almost completely regained his peak physical condition and, perhaps for the first time in his young life, his mind was at peace. He began to wonder if there was something here...in this place...known by the kindly abbot...that he should know and, perhaps, follow. One evening he asked the hooded figure about his religion. "Our religion is peace," the abbot murmured. "One day you will know the Spirit of Peace, even as He knows you. For today, simply lie back on your bed, breath deeply, enjoy the glories of youth, and allow the desire to control your world to fade away." With that, he rose from his knees and softly stroked Justin's brow as the boy breathed deeply of the incense and willed that control of his body and mind slip from his fingers.
Some evenings later, instead of leaving his room, the abbot draped his body in a brilliant white cloak with trim and decorations of pure gold. They then joined a procession of hooded figures that, wreathed in incense, processed as they chanted a magnificent melody, and bowed as they reached each of many statues that occupied niches in the corridor's stone walls. In due course, they reached a large, circular room, lighted by flaring torches, whose several levels of stone benches looked down on a platform that held nothing other than a stone throne and an ornately decorated stone slab. Braziers throughout the room held smoking incense. All of the benches were occupied by hooded figures, each of whom was attended by a beautifully built naked young Terran. As the abbot's procession entered the chamber, a new chant began, their voices rising gloriously towards the vaulted ceiling. Reaching the platform, the monks in the procession knelt in a semicircle in back of the throne. As Justin was directed to stand in front of him, the abbot swirled the cloak from his body and bowed deeply before him. He was then directed to stand at the side of the throne as the priest ascended and sat down. It was a glorious scene, and he had never felt better physically or psychologically as he stood proudly in the flaring light. Feeling one of the abbot's hands rest on his shoulder, he looked up at him and smiled warmly.
With a sudden blast of sound from several long, magnificently twisted horns, probably taken from animals, another figure accompanied by two priests entered the chamber. Due to the flaring light and the swirling smoke from the burning incense, it was difficult to make them out, but Justin was finally able to identify the middle figure. Naked, strongly built with a glorious torso, prominent genitals and long, muscular legs, the young lad was one of the prisoners whom he had briefly seen on the night that they had been turned over to the priests. He moved smoothly, though he appeared to be lightly drugged. Approaching the altar, he climbed onto the highly polished stone and lay peacefully. The two monks approached the throne, bowed low, one extending his arms for the abbot, one for Justin, and guided them over to the altar. After praying, the abbot began to run his hands sensually over the boy's body. At first, there was no movement other than the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. Gradually, of course, the youngster became aroused. As his thick, perfectly straight cock rose until it pointed towards the ceiling, a stir ran through the room as the monks began caressing the genitals of their charges. When most of the slaves had erected, the abbot chanted a prayer, took a long, curiously shaped knife from one of the monks, and plunged it into the chest of recumbent youth. Masking his cry, the monks took up the chant as the abbot ran the two razor-sharp, scissor-like blades from his pubic mound to the top of his chest. Reaching into his open chest, he grasped the still beating heart, cut it loose from the body, and held it high in the air. Excited - indeed, he was hard erect despite almost fainting - Justin felt strangely distant from the scene in front of him. Indeed, he somehow shared in the euphoria of the surrounding monks who raised their voices in triumphal song as they brought their charges to orgasm. As a thick moan of release broke out, Justin fell to his knees beside the abbot and placed his bloody hand atop his head. The youth remembered the abbot rubbing the blood of the sacrifice over his body, as he remembered cumming spontaneously, but he remembered nothing more until morning. He awoke to find the abbot ready to spoon a thick and fragrant soup into his mouth. "Take ye the soup of peace," the hooded one chanted before giving him a taste of the delicious broth and meat, and leaving the room.
Justin never saw the abbot or his fellow monks again. That night Tacian soldiers broke into the underground sanctuary and freed many Terran and Tacian prisoners despite violent opposition. As he was being tenderly carried away by his Tacian buddies from the Orestes, noting how good the fresh air smelled, he heard great explosions behind him and surmised that the temple was no more. During the days that followed, he learned that the last enemy strongholds had been wiped out on the day he was freed. Five weeks of death and destruction... What lie ahead?
(To Be Continued)