THE NEW EARTH - 5
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 5
(Revisiting Chapter 4)
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?
(Continuing Our Story: The Price of Victory)
In the light of late afternoon, four buddies hiked along a country road. (To his great displeasure, Tycho had drawn guard duty!) Had it not been for the somewhat alien light of the Canmuton "sun," Justin would have felt right at home. They were quite safe, for NO ONE seemed to have the taste for more killing...at least for the moment. Besides, a guy just had to get some exercise! As they walked along - kicking at an occasional stone, jumping up and grabbing an occasional leaf from an overhanging branch, suddenly goosing a friend and quickly sprinting ahead to avoid retaliation - Justin's Tacian buddies caught him up on the campaign after he had been captured.
"You don't know what you missed!" Eros exclaimed loudly. "Before we were through, it was hand-to-hand on Forscher's Ridge, as well as in most other places on this damned planet! The casualties were frightening...on both sides. And when that third volcano blew..." Tarshi, usually the gung ho marine in the pack, said solemnly, "You have to wonder if it was worth it...at such a price." Trudging down the single street of a tiny country village, they fell silent. Most dwellings were shuttered against them. Passing the last house, Damian commented on the numbers of orphans they saw everywhere... increasingly tragic in view of the vast numbers of adults slain. All agreed that "leaving them at the side of the road" was one of the hardest things they were forced to do. Justin growled that he was going to serve as an erastes when his service ended. Throwing a stone at a large black bird, Tarshi muttered that he hoped to get married, but wondered if they authorities would create some homes for these kids.
There were, of course, the continuing disagreements about the indiscriminate use of casmitic weapons in the campaign - both among the military and at home. A minority still maintained that it had lengthened it and much increased its bitterness. In truth, however, when that which had been a rumor was established as fact, the minority grew considerably smaller. Namely, it was discovered that half of all newborns among the Terran captives were raised for food - and that the tongues of ALL Terran births were automatically removed. While never announced, this had been the policy for all two hundred years of Earth's subjugation. No high-ranking Canmuton officials were alive to deny the evidence preserved in documents and offered by countless observers. As noted previously, nearly fifty thousand of the 250,000 Terran captives on Canmuto at the time of the invasion lived through the conflict and were repatriated to Earth. This included only a handful of infants and young children. Most of the captives, even young men in their early 20s, were totally unfit for military service.
(The Case of Attia)
With Canmuto - or at least what was left of it - under control, the eyes of the Allied High Command turned to the vassal states of Attia and Serium. Typical of most bodies in this part of the galaxy, Attia - closer to Canmuto - was a desert planet. (Canmuto was probably the most well-off of the group, for it did have water and some soil, however rocky.) The former Tacian ambassador to Attia suggested that it had become a planet of intergalactic traders, for its own resources could barely support the life that was there. He also said that it had always been dependent on trade with Canmuto for its existence.
The Canmuton action hadn't even ended when feelers began to be received from several sources on Attia. For instance, they pointed out that they had left the conflict after the Battle of the Moons - that their openly moored ships kept in their slips, as well as the absence of an aggressive missile defense, established their good intentions.
At the time that those messages were received, there was no proof that they came from Attian leaders and, besides, the Allied forces were still engaged. They were not answered, though patrols were increased over the planet. As soon as the High Command issued word that the Canmuton action had been concluded, however, Allied representatives were promptly invited by the Attian High Council to a meeting in their capital city. There they would have full and unrestricted access to Terran captives. To quote the Attian authorities, "Hopefully, in a comfortable, collegial, and receptive atmosphere, they would be able to forge mutually beneficial agreements."
The Allied representatives included the Field Marshal (as Chairperson), Admiral Sir John Jeffers, Commandant of the Allied Forces at the Battle of the Moons), Dr. Heinz (Heinrich) P. Braun (President of the Terran Federation), and Kanta Lo (Former Tacian Ambassador to Attia). To keep the party manageable, they were restricted to one assistant each. Justin could hardly believe his good fortune when the Field Marshal said that he needed his Adjutant at his side. They were met personally at the Attian capital's spaceport by Attianmeur VII (Seznich [Prince] of Attia), his Foreign Minister, and his Minister of Economics. No military personnel were in the welcoming party. All were dressed in flowing white robes considerably more comfortable in the heat and brilliant sun than the western dress of the Allied delegation. Comfortable air cars quickly transported the party to the Royal Palace and Government Center some distance outside the small city. Though Justin's face was plastered against the car window the whole way, he didn't see much of the countryside. Dr. Braun smiled and commented that it looked much like Morocco. The Field Marshal's Adjutant nodded seriously and thanked him with one of his patented grins. Looking at the young man with a perfectly straight face, the Field Marshal simply winked. His boy was already learning the ways of diplomacy!
Justin was quite taken with the Palace as the air cars landed softly in a great courtyard. Flowers were everywhere; naked slaves - most Terran, all handsome and magnificently built - quickly moved them into a building of great arches, open hallways, and bright colors. The thick walls kept the hot dessert air at bay, though, overall, there was a feeling of lightness and air. In accord with the Prince's wishes that they have a period to freshen up and relax, they were shown immediately to their rooms. Rooms - ha! They were shown to suites suitable for royalty. Justin was himself quartered in a suite of three rooms that was connected to the Field Marshal's small palace! As he entered his quarters, smiling slaves took his small case and immediately began to unpack his clothing and supplies. A beautiful young man of perhaps sixteen or seventeen, naked, evidently in charge of his personal staff, knelt before him and asked if he might "prepare a bath for the Master". Somewhat dazed, Justin nodded his assent, upon which he was led into the smallest of his three rooms. Richly tiled, a small pool stood at the very center, surrounded by flowers growing in great jardinieres and lighted by an overhead window. Four absolutely stunning young boys began to remove his clothes. When he was naked, they helped him into the pool of warm, scented water and began to use their hands to wash his body with a liquid soap of the same exquisite fragrance. As Justin began to moan and tremble with pleasure, they laughed happily and even played a few games with their fingers on his skin. (This was stopped quickly by their supervisor who clapped his hands and fixed them with a steely glare.) "Who are you?" Justin asked the young ones.
"I'm Robby," a cute redhead giggled, and "I'm Pat," another cutie cut in. Robby proceeded to introduce Iggy and Jason, the remaining members of the pool crew, each as perfect as the others. Noticing that Justin was beginning to "react" to their attentions, Robby said, "Oops! It's time for your massage, Master. Thank you, Master." Holding his hands, all four made their way over to the side of the pool and helped him climb out. Gregg, the Head Boy, and Steve, another handsome and well-built late teen, were waiting with enormous towels with which they thoroughly dried him. When they were finished, Gregg bowed and, eyes cast down, asked if he might have the pleasure of massaging the Master. Believe that the next half hour defied description! The only problem - if, indeed, there was one - is that it left him horny as a Billy Goat and hot for action. Had he only known that all he had to do was to ask!
Returning to his luxuriously appointed sitting room, he found another young slave - perhaps fourteen or fifteen - waiting for him, kneeling, and holding a silver tray laden with small snacks. Several kinds of fruit juice were also available on a side table. He was so taken with the lad that he actually circled him. From every angle, he was exquisite: a sturdy body, approximately 5'5" in height, a head of soft hair so golden that it reminded him of the ripe wheat on his father's farm, unblemished skin already stretched tightly over his muscular frame...so fair that it could only be possessed by a blond. His relatively thick torso was surmounted by excellent shoulders; his well- developed cock lay partially erect between muscled thighs. Even slightly flushed, the stunning beauty of his features was only approached by a very few of the greatest statues of the Classic Age.
The lad trembled when Justin accepted a few of the tidbits from the tray. "Why are you shaking, buddy?" the Marshal's brown-haired adjutant asked. "You're in no danger from me." In a somewhat breathless voice, the youngster answered, "Oh, Master, I don't fear you. It's just on this planet where all my friends are manly and beautiful, I've never seen anyone to equal you!" Pausing for a moment, his face turned even redder as he added, "I beg your forgiveness, Master, for being so forward, but I watched you as you were being bathed and massaged with oil. Now I see you right before me. I like your voice...and the way you look at me." His voice trailed off in confusion... Seeing his eyes begin to tear, Justin took his tray and laid it down on the table. Kneeling down he placed his hand on the youth's rounded shoulder and in a low voice asked, "Did you ever consider that you might have the same effect on me? You, my young friend, are absolutely...spectacular." "Thank you, Master," the boy replied. (Pause.) "You say, 'my young friend'. Could we be friends?" "I hope so," Justin whispered. "I'm Justin, by the way...and you are?" "I'm Danny, Master." With that exchange, the youth finally relaxed...slightly...and they began a more informal conversation about life in the Great Palace of Attia.
"So Gregg leaves tomorrow and Steve takes over as Head Boy. Where's Gregg going?" "No one knows for sure, Master, but the Chamberlain says that he's going to a far better place with cool breezes, water, and no sandstorms. Everyone goes when they're seventeen. I'm fourteen...fifteen in five months," he added with a note of pride in his voice. "All you boys are Terrans, like me?" Justin asked. "Yes, Master...for your pleasure - except Iggy, but he came from Mithros. That was an Earth colony before the damned Canmutons came. Sorry Master..." Justin ruffled the youngster's hair and asked, "You don't like the Canmutons, Danny?" "No, SIR!" the blond-haired one responded. "Who'd like people who kill captives and eat them?" "Yeah," Justin said under his breath. "Who'd like people like that?" Just before the sound of a gong was heard, Danny added, "Iggy was sure lucky that the Seznich saw him and bought him!"
"Sorry, Master, but that was the signal that the Seznich awaits you and your friends in the Great Library. After I've helped you dress, I'll show you the way." Red-faced, the boy rose, his cock still at half mast. Justin gave him a hand and allowed the lad to haul him to his feet. "Pretty good, muscles!" Justin chuckled, swinging the boy towards him. As their naked bodies came together, Justin felt the lad's cock snap hard erect between his thighs. He rubbed his shoulders and his back for a moment before bending down and kissing him. "You'll come back?" Danny murmured tearfully. Embracing the sobbing youngster, Justin said simply, "Yes, my new friend, I'm coming back."
Approaching the library, Justin encountered the Marshal who appeared to be finishing a deep conversation with the Seznich's Minister of Economics. He quickly entered the richly paneled room to be joined by Alexios only minutes later. They only had a moment, for the Prince was already to be seen at the door, laughing with the former Tacian Ambassador, Kanta Lo. "Something is terribly wrong here, sir," he whispered. "You may be right, Justin, but be very, very careful," the Field Marshal responded. "Never forget that we are on a diplomatic mission with thousands of lives at stake. Also, however, gracious our host, we are somewhat outnumbered on this planet." Justin nodded as the Prince walked into the room. Dressed in rich robes of white, royal blue, and gold, he made his way between the comfortable chairs that were drawn up so that each person could see the others, shaking hands, exchanging a word or two with the participants, pausing for a good minute when he reached the Marshal, and then moving to his chair.
"Good evening, gentlemen," the Seznich said cordially. "Welcome to my home. I trust that you have already sampled a few of its pleasures." Restrained chuckles met his wit- laced greeting. "Good. Before we move on to dinner, I thought it might be useful to have a relatively brief, informal conversation. I am hoping that each of us might succinctly raise questions and pose problems that he feels we must address if our efforts are to bear success. For instance, I would suggest that we must bear in mind that further bloodshed is simply impossible to contemplate." The Field Marshal suggested that necessary changes in galactic conditions demanded that Attia's economic stability be protected - and so it went around the room. Increasingly irritated that little attention was being given to the condition of the Terran slaves, Justin departed from the diplomatic caution that had characterized earlier remarks. Rather, he asked the Seznich directly if he would comment briefly on the captives' condition and care - and, more inflammatorily, if they were being treated as they had been on Canmuto. The Seznich stiffened, his face darkened, and he began to rise, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Quickly Alexios rose and begged the Prince's understanding. His adjutant had been captured in the fighting completed recently and was being prepared for sacrifice. In fact, he (the Marshal) had been told that the white cloak signaled the youth was next in line. Further, the Terran Federation had unimpeachable evidence that fifty percent of Terran births were being raised for food and that all captive Terrans were mutilated. He had to admit that if he were young and passionate, he might have difficulty in retaining a... 'balanced' outlook on matters before them.
The Allied Chairperson's comments barely assuaged the Prince's anger, though he did take his hand off his sword. Nevertheless, as he paced back and forth, he loudly rejected the thought that ANYONE could believe that he or his people would resort to such barbarity. Flushing deeper, he wondered if any State represented in the room was without serious problems. On Attia, the population could not increase because of its limited resources for sustaining life. An impressive number of adult slaves were preserved due to their being needed to handle cargo and other processes connected with their trade. When one retired or died, he was replaced. Flawless infants in a group that bred heavily were taken into the Palace and had a good life. True, the population had to be controlled, but to think that they would mutilate and consume their captives was...impossible! Far better to be humanely euthanized at birth, at 17, or when no longer able to contribute to the general good. Running out of adrenalin, the Seznich suddenly seemed to realize what he was saying, blanched, and ground to a heavy halt. His dinner guests could scarcely believe what they were hearing. Indeed, it was improbable that any of them could easily digest the festive meal that awaited.
It was nearly midnight when a worried Alexios saw Justin to his door. "It's impossible, my love, to know how this will work out. Be on your guard until we know," he counseled. Entering a pitch-black room, Justin took about four steps before he partially stumbled over a figure sound asleep on the carpet. Kneeling down, he groped around until he felt a muscular young man who was just shaking himself awake. "Oh, Master," Danny said with so much joy that it almost illuminated the room, "You did come back! I didn't hurt you, lying here? I just wasn't going to miss you if...when you returned." With a small growl deep in his throat, Justin simply picked up the golden-haired youth and carried him into his bedroom.
About to leave for breakfast fairly early in the morning, Justin looked down on the superb creature who was still sound asleep in the middle of his completely destroyed bed. He sniffed at the raunchy odors that rose from the disheveled bedding. With a laugh, he admitted to himself that they hadn't had much sleep. In fact, there had been something of a contest to see who could wear whom out first. Obviously, he had won...but not by much. Quietly closing the door behind him, he hadn't gone far before someone softly called his name. Turning around, he saw the Prince, hurrying to catch up with him. "Your Highness," he said, bowing slightly.
"Mr. Lawrence," the Seznich replied, puffing slightly. "I'm glad I caught you before breakfast. I owe you an apology, sir. My behavior last night towards you was inexcusable. Further, I brought into question successfully completing a treaty that is vitally important to my people." "Ahhh, your Highness," the young soldier responded, somewhat taken by surprise. "I think my boss, the Field Marshal, disagrees about whose behavior was 'inexcusable'. I can only accept your generous words and promise to do everything in my power to make sure we reach the agreement we all desire."
"I do agree that words without action are empty," the Prince continued as color came back into his face. "Please accept two small gifts to seal my words. Have I heard correctly that you are much taken with the slave 'Danny' and he with you?" Somewhat shamefaced, Justin nodded affirmatively whereupon the Seznich handed him a small rolled parchment document. "You have discerning taste for so young a man," he murmured with a soft smile. "The slave is yours." He continued, "Also, I grant you one wish. If it be within my power, it will be yours." "Majesty..." Justin choked, the breath knocked completely out of him. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart. My wish? I should be delighted if you would not send Gregg away for a few days." "Ha!" the Prince exclaimed. "You Terrans! I am not surprised. (Pause.) Consider it done. Ah, politics...the art of the possible," he added lightly. "I fear this will not be the only change around here, but as they say, 'The only constant is change itself'. If you decide not to come downstairs for breakfast, by the way, just ring. My personal chef will prepare something suitable...for the two of you." Justin had bowed again - even lower this time - and slipped back into his room before he realized the import of the Prince's last words.
(To Be Continued)