The BLTS Archive - Dove
seventh in the Riding The Tick series
by RSchultz (cousindream@aol.com)

---

Spoilers: Set in the period when Natasha Yar was a Starfleet Cadet,
before her service on the ENTERPRISE.

Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Paramount and whoever owns Paramount
today. I am not depriving you guys of any money, believe me. Don't
sue. This story belongs to me under common-law copyright. Apx. 9400
words long. Written Jan. 2001 for the Femme Fuh-Q Fest. From there, to
be archived at the ASCEM. May be archived elsewhere, though I hope for
notification.

Beta work provided by the ever-gracious T'Lin.

Warning!!! This story has within it depictions of consensual sex
between adult (fictional) women, men and women, and scenes of violence
and war. The language and scenes may be a bit rough in spots. If any
of this bothers you, please go elsewhere. If anything of this variety
of TrekSmut herein is illegal in your country or locale, please go
away. All underage people should not be here. Go read a G story
somewhere else.

---

My helmet was on and the visor was down and plugged into my neck.
Computer sketched an overlay in front of my eyes, helping me keep
track of all unfriendlies in an eight hundred meter circle.

I was lying on a field of grass. It was taller than my head, when I
laid down in it. It was green, and looked like grass, and didn't smell
too bad. So I accepted it as grass.

The breeze was freshening from behind me, from approximately seven
o'clock. The morning sun was to my right, visibility was unlimited in
a sky that appeared normally blue.

The sun was as close to Sol Prime as it was possible to get, and last
night we'd seen a large gibbous moon. The gravity well was stronger,
but we'd been here twelve days now, and I'd adjusted to that.
Turkana's sun had more of a mellow yellow tone.

On this continental piedmont there had recently been a season of
rains. You could tell by how mushy the ground was. Black dirt, full of
life, good farming soil. I'd call the landscape lush. It was late
spring here. Much of Turkana had never gotten this much rainfall.
Humidity was high, letting you sweat easy.

There were frigid zones and tropical jungles on this planet. Normal.
There had been little pressure to migrate to the more unpleasant
habitable areas. Thus far. Population was slight and almost entirely
Terran stock.

I recognized where I was. Again. And I couldn't do a thing about it.

I was in Hell.

We were the Three Furies back then. The three Ladies Of Fate. Megara,
Tschierophone and Antigone. We were three turreted air-effect scouts
armored with a thin shell of collapsed neutronium. AFV's, armored
fighting vehicles. We were armed with Plasma rifles, as well as Pogo
and Sunday close-in anti-air defense missiles. Our quick-fires were a
tri-barrel turret-mounted FePlus gun. A DxG machine-gun mounted in the
glacis for the driver, and a Brno wafer gun for the assistant driver
with two thousand wafers for it. We had a large range of capsulated
AA, AP and AT missiles mounted on hardened sites on our sides. I
carried a DxG machine gun. We were death to our enemies.

As back-up the Troop had a single long barrel model 97 howitzer on a
heavy-duty Steyr air effect chassis. It sat about one thousand yards
to my direct rear. Two-thirds the weight at War Load on the Steyr was
munitions, and it could empty itself in less than twenty minutes. It
was all the artillery we needed.

We had paused on the outskirts of this little ville. Town. On the far
side Legion Satellite, or LegSats, had located six batteries of
autofed 'Rebel' Indig Arty. Earlier they had attempted a stonk on us
by firing all barrels at each of our scouts in turn. Maybe thinking
massed fire could overwhelm our defenses. I mean, we were just three
scout cars with a single howitzer barrel, right? The FePlus under
computer control had swept them out of the sky during their long arc's
towards their enemy, us. Then the 97 started counter-battery fire.

Legion had updated us on the smoking ruins their batteries now
consisted of. Give them an hour or so and they could probably put
together a new battery out of the wreckage.

Maybe this was the end of a long road for them. Maybe they were tired
of a long retreat. A continent gives you plenty of room to retreat in.
But you get tired of retreating. Maybe they had thought here was as
good a place to die as any other. Better them than me.

Maybe their commanders and politico's understood this pinprick
crossroads was the end of the line. We didn't seem like much, but we'd
moved five hundred and fifty kilometers last night and we blocked the
way to the west. Looming behind us, the low mountains created a spine
that divided the continent. They could continue their little
turf-wars, but this war was over. We were proof of that, for there was
no way for them to get past us and into the West.

How did the war start? Who cared? We said. They said. They did this.
We did that. War.

Then one side spends the credit to hire Falkhyn's Legion and here I
am. The three Furies and the Legion. Me. Just another butt-plate
mercenary in Harm's Way. Creating Hell on a planetary surface.

LegionSats had a display for us of their developing and continuous
movements. All we had to do was call down our Representative Displays
on the helmet visors to see the bigger picture. Our scout gave us a
better display because it concentrated on the more immediate area,
including the hundred and ninety skirmishers trying to edge up on our
individual scout vehicle. Little red dots, indicating live hostiles.
Every fifth man and woman probably carrying an armor-buster of some
kind. They had to get closer to pierce our armor.

Not going to happen. We were Megara.

We knew where they were. They knew where we were. We had a nice tight
line, facing the town. About eight hundred meters apart, and the 97
about a thousand meters back. No one was going to leave that town
while we were here.

Diagonal to our position four worn-out ridges provided cover for a
large mass of mixed vehicles. Maybe two hundred assorted military,
including Indig armor units, half of them air-effect. With under a
thousand civilian vehicles being used as transport, some towing
heavier weaponry in the form of Bouncers and other missile-layers
bought off-planet. Most of the 'Rebel' government was on one or
another of the civilian vehicles. They were all headed our way.

I'd heard over LegionSats their Thorium reserves were on some of the
vehicles. I wouldn't mind a few bars of that myself. Could get a lot
of Latinium with one of those.

The war was over, the 'Rebel' army was finished, and the 'Righteous
Cause' was alles kaput. They just didn't know that yet.

Yeah, we were arrogant and cocky. We'd already rehearsed this part in
a dozen previous wars on a dozen other planets.

Gully began firing Plasma bursts into the assault columns and
formations back of the skirmishers, with the 97 throwing in
coordinated bursts of canister.

Time to deal with the skirmishers. I'd tongued down the visor display
so that I knew where each of the hostiles was trying to creep up on
us. I was outside cover for the scout. My wife inside fed in
positioning to the scout computer. Then told it to fire three rounds
by the FePlus each into every second hostile within eight hundred
meters. That rattled them, as each target turned a blue for wounded ,
then black for dead.

Then the scout did half the remainder, working from left to right,
again mostly head shots. There were about a dozen in a swale,
protected from direct fire, so we called in the 97 howitzer. It fired
one canister which split into 144 bomblets at 48 meters height, each
of which split into four irregular bomblets at 24 meters. Then into
little items the size of your little fingernail. Suddenly that swale
was full of pieces of chemically pure iron wire, about eight million
of them. Even the grass was cut down to the ground.

We had beaten ground between each scout, and to our flanks. Each of us
fired a few side mortars, clearing the area all around us with similar
canisters. So much for the skirmishers. We were professionals. Plasma
kept arcing high to splash down in our front, mostly kilometers back
now.

Now two of our sides Space Freighters made their appearance.

The first one came in at three o'clock, diving in through the
atmosphere at about two hundred and eighty kilometers up. It was tough
on the freighter, there was a lot of air resistance to overcome even
at that altitude. Where its pod cargo bays had been, large box-like
things were attached. Its eight converted cargo bays each released a
Package at that height, then clawed for their more customary
environment of Space. Four minutes later the second one came in at
over two hundred ten kilometers, at nine o'clock. It loosed its six
packages and also returned to space.

The packages fell for many minutes before their computers broke them
up into eight smaller packages each, then sub-divided them again and
again. Eventually thousands of millions of bomblets, covering an area
about five by three kilometers, decided it was time to explode.

Twelve minutes later we Commed an armistice request from whatever
surviving remnants constituted the 'Rebel' government. Most of them
had to be dead or WIA by now. Under orders, a surrender was
counter-proposed. They accepted. They were told to surrender to one of
the scouts in their front. Us.

In fifteen minutes they'd found a working vehicle on the fringe of
what had once been a town. Maybe one in four of ninety thousand armed
men and women survived the air raid. There was a lot of stuff burning
in the beaten area. We saw the vehicle coming up the road, a big white
cloth attached to a post in it's side. It stopped, uneasy about
proceeding closer.

Legion told Tiptoe to do the honors as Megara was the closest scout to
their surrender vehicle. She swung out the side hatch, arrogant little
dyke that she was. She was swaggering as she bully-walked over to me
as I got up.

God, she had a nice smile! I tilted her helmet up to give her a kiss.
She smelled of gunpowder, propellants, spent plasma, sweat, fear, rot,
adrenaline, decay and lubricants. Underneath there was probably a
little musk. It's always a big relief and boost to find you've made it
through another damned brushfire war.

She gave me her helmet and put on her little billed cap. Then her
corncob pipe. As she didn't smoke, it was just something she put in
her mouth to look different.

"You cover my ass like always, Tasha. You do a good job and I'll cover
your ass tonight. Hey, maybe we can souvenir us something interesting
to drink or enjoy."

"I'd rather get my grimy paws on one of those bars of Thorium," I
said. "With something like that, you can buy anything you want."

Tiptoe gave me a nice pat on my big fat ass, prompting the kind of
smile only a wife would give to her spouse. Then I watched her saunter
the two hundred meters to the surrender vehicle. For a small woman she
had a great body. It always made me happy to see her enjoying herself.

By the time she made it to their vehicle, every damned Pogo and Sunday
started firing. I looked at the trails left by our anti-air missiles,
then realized the other two scouts were also firing their own AA
missiles. Plasma went on auto-fire, firing just over the heads of the
surrender team. One burst of red rushing into a spot low in the sky,
after another. I could hear the chugs as the 97 pumped canister into
the same region of the sky. If there were Indigs downrange of all this
fire, it was their unlucky day.

Then I saw the first one. Enemy bombers, jet craft, obsolete, but fast
and staying below the heights of trees, hiding in the smoke and skree.
Their counter-measures must have momentarily fooled our satellites.
Now they were jinking all over the sky. Then I saw another and
another, sneaking through the smoke of the town and between the
ridges.

"NOnononononono!" I screamed, hoping anew each time I saw a black dot
go down. Screaming when another took it's place. The sky was full of
trails, bursts, planes going down under our concentrated fire. They
must have taken off from a concealed base only kilometers away, and
they were sending every plane they had against us. Maybe some weren't
even armed. It was a wholesale suicide mission. I was running, my
machine gun cradled in my arms, running for Tiptoe, thinking this
goddamned fucking shitheel war was OVER, goddammit to hell you
motherfucking suicidal bastards, sonsofbitches, it's goddamned OVER!

I didn't see it happen in slow motion like they do in the holovids and
dramas. It happened in less than an instant. I saw one of the Sunday's
plummet back, almost straight down, to nail the big Delta bomber that
got closest to us. It hit the plane behind the cockpit, blowing it in
half. Both halves were going at near Mach 3 at the time, and they
continued to arch through the sky.

This was when the Dove always came.

At a distance it appeared to be a normal T-Dove, white feathers and
all. Just a little dove, fluttering towards me. I could see its wings
beat as it flew straight towards me, closer and closer. As it came
nearer, its size became more obvious. It was a half-meter, no two
meters in the wingspan ... NO! NO! It must span six meters from one
wingtip to another.

It looked less and less like a Dove as it got closer. It had claws on
the leading edges of its wings. I could see the mouthful of sharp
ivory teeth, it was drooling as it barreled down at me. I stopped
running, falling prone in a textbook shoot. I worked the lever once to
make sure it was copasetic, then began laying round after round into
the breast of the murderous Dove.

I could see hits, the bullets chewing the feathers into a red plane of
chopped flesh. Round after round, and still it came at me. Ignoring
the rounds I sawed back and forth across its immense body. Each beat
of its giant wings sprayed blood in a wide arc. It came closer and
closer until I saw its head twist and its jaws gape as it plummeted
towards me.

Knowing it was a dream was for daytime, and the comforting light of
day. In the middle of the night, it was no dream.


The screaming was what finally drove me awake. My screaming.

It was one of the worst attacks to date. I started coming out of it
with my throat hurting, my knee killing me, and possibly bones broken
in my hand. Geordi was trying to wrap me in the big issue blankets
when I began looking around.

His left ear looked mashed, and I knew I had done that. Blood dripping
off his chin, his first concern was me. Poor Geordi, the best he could
do for a girlfriend was a dyke, and a crazy one at that. She was
someone who woke up screaming, and who then proceeded to inflict
serious bodily harm on him.

Mustafha and Penrod had their heads though the door, making sure both
of us had survived another attack. They were pushed out of the way by
The Buzzsaw.

Doctor Kate Pulaski came inside, all business and efficiency and an
arrogance a kilometer wide. God, I hated to see her here. There was
going to be another damned official report in my record jacket, and I
wondered how many more of them it would take to wash me out of the
Academy?

At least all my grades were in the green zone. Mostly thanks to
Geordi. And his were superb. Another year and a half, just 18-T
months, that's all I asked for.

I didn't protest when The Buzzsaw hypoed her patented happy-time shit
in me. I was going to feel like holy hell come morning, thanks to the
combination of my nightmare and her mind-juice. But I already knew The
Buzzsaw was going to do what she wanted to and that was all there was
to it. No arguments would sway her, no logic, no pleas.

Having had my episode, I knew I was good for some days and nights
before the event could come on me again. Nope. Protocols called for
giving me a shot of whatever she wanted to give me.

I don't think she liked me, but then I didn't like her either. But
then there weren't many at the Academy who cared for her. Her life had
gone on wonderfully by treating the rules as writ from Jehowa or
Allah, so it would continue on that way. If she could have, I think
she'd have complained about who we slept with or loved.

The Buzzsaw would have REALLY loved me in Pyotr Pervyi School. I had a
new couple of metronfanuschka's every weekend, back there in Moskva.
Lots of plump girls there who thought my version of Lithuanian was
unique and charming.

I'd faced people trying to kill me before, and emotionless machines. I
was learning more and more how to cope with Starfleet rules and
regulations and the Academy. How do you fight ghosts? How do you fight
a rulebook when it's incarnated in the soul of a bitch like The
Buzzsaw?

Geordi rolled me back to bed, after everyone had left. The Buzzsaw had
fixed his ear and my knuckles. You always felt like she was doing you
a giant favor if she performed the duties she was paid and
commissioned for.

Geordi was a good heart. I was out a class earlier than him tomorrow,
I'll try to make it up to him with a nice meal and a hug and some sex.
Monte's still had that lamb stew. That'd be nice.

Saturday I see the Doctor again.

---

A voice, the Doctor's smooth voice asked me to remember that night.
That last night. What did Tiptoe and do that last night?


We had a little game we played sometimes, me and Tiptoe. We'd be keyed
up, of course, every new campaign did that. For days or months or
weeks we'd be waiting for that jangly moment when we'd have to drop
into the full and fruity dill. Before that and after that we'd wait.

Sometimes the waiting consisted of moving hard and fast, like we were
now. The hatches were unbuttoned, and warm night air was pouring
through the Scout. It was dusty and insect-laden air, but it was
different from the smell of old Plasma and burning lubricants and
sweat we bathed in every day. Besides, a little spray kept the insects
off. Mostly. Some of them always had to come bite you even if it
killed them.

We had a long run ahead of us. Other troops in the squadron were
racing for their own pinpoints through the night. We had ours. We were
almost entirely overland, excepting a few lakes and rivers that gave
us a momentary ride without bumps and slews. Air Effect Armor can give
you a smooth ride, but not at night and not at fifty to sixty clicks
an hour over planetary surface.

When Tiptoe booted down the full display, it brought me out of my
stupor. She punched her command chair back into the wall and crawled
over to me. It felt good to feel her alongside me, our bodies
touching, but without passion distracting us. Just enjoying a moment
of peace, lying on four spread ponchos, my body idly wondering if it
was going to have fun.

She sat on her haunches, here in the battle compartment. She was
short, she could do that. I kept bumping head and other parts on the
weaponry and ammo and turret chair. First we kissed. Then I stretched
as hard as I could while my wife fondled my own larger breasts. She
hummed a little phrase while she licked my face. "Tasha Tasha Tasha
Tasha Tasha, oh my sweet Tasha," she crooned.

Then she leaned over and keyed the compartment curtain closed. I saw
Kebnebe's gold teeth flash in his black face before it went all the
way over. Gully and Kebnebe would bear with us, like always. We were
Megara, and we were together. They were busy driving, anyway. And
neither one of us felt like allowing them into our marriage. No more
Lift-Off fun, guys. See our wedding rings?

That was the unsaid part. Marrying Tiptoe had meant neither one of us
would be available to the men anymore. Kebnebe tried hardest not to
let it bother him, but we'd known each other for a long time. He was
the only living member of this Scout to pre-date my arrival in it, and
my joining the Legion.

Tiptoe put her body next to mine again, touching my lips, letting her
breasts brush mine. That was all the signal I needed, to know she
wanted my sore and smelly body. She kissed my smile, letting her hand
find my arm and side and belly. She pulled my jumper shirt out of my
pants so she could touch my belly with her fingernails.

Tiptoe was a woman who knew how to touch, how to tease with her
fingertips.

She helped me out of my jumper, then my bra. Then those fingers again,
those nails scratching almost unfelt. Other women had liked my
breasts, they'd lick and nibble and kiss. Tiptoe used her fingers.
Touching, lifting, pinching as I rolled on my back. Always those
fingers. My aureole never got big and hard like some women, just my
nipples. Other women grew knobs on the end of their breasts, or looked
inflamed. With me it was just my nipples and a growing wad of hardness
deeper in my breasts.

Now she was mauling my breasts, rubbing my nips, rolling them between
thumb and finger, squeezing the hardening ball in my breasts. Always
with her hands. She massaged them forever and forever, working me,
teasing me, enjoying me.

Then she bent to kiss and to suck and bite and to chew. I knew I was
puffed out, my lips were swollen, they had to be, my groin was
tingling, hot, I had to put a hand down my pants to massage, to
comfort, to irritate where I was swollen.

A pair of fingers dipped inside me, and I brought them out for Tiptoe
to suck on. Two tiny penis' they felt like in a mouth, I knew because
I put fingers inside myself again, this time for me to suck. I groaned
for the taste, I groaned for the chewing Tiptoe gave my hardening
flesh back of my nipples. I groaned as her one hand unbuckled my belt
as my hand helped her. I groaned when I lifted my hips so my pants
were worked below my hips. I groaned when Tiptoe began to fondle my
soft mound, my hair, my divide.

Now it was her fingers in me, now it was her fingers that brought out
my wetness for each of us to suckle.

My legs were still tightly bound by my pants, but Tiptoe found it
wasn't so difficult to worm her hand between my thighs.

Then, as I squirmed under her fingers. As I fed myself to her fingers
probing me. As I held her hand, as I held her arm. As I panted and was
transfixed by her eyes. As my eyes began to close and my spring wound
tighter and tighter as I got wetter and hotter...

Then she told me; "Not yet."

I gasped into her face, I shook as I tried to hold myself back. I
needed my come, I was going to break if I didn't get it, she COULDN'T
bring me this far and ... No. Nononono ...

"Kiss me, bitch. Tell me I'm your top, tell me, tell me now. Who's
your top, Tasha, who's the one who loves you, who's the one who takes
care of you, who loves you, Baby? Me, that's who. I'll always take
care of you, Baby, Doll, just hold on a little bit more, I'll take
care of you ..."

Then her hand dipped and her hand forced itself into me. My thighs
were pressed, forced together, it was so tight, I could only shake.
Then three, four fingers were in me. She curved her hand and her
fingers searched for my firespot, geespot, and found it. My fingers
were rubbing my clit all over the place as she probed me so
wonderfully and I knew I was wet with sweat in my chest.

I milked her fingers, I rode them, I could feel them slishy inside me,
my long muscles trying to draw her in, clasping, tightening on her
fingers. My opening flexed non-stop and I know I shouted something.
She kept her fingers in me, her hand in me.

"It's okay, Doll, do it now, do it for me, show me how much you love
me. Come for me, come for me good."

I gripped her wrist hard enough to raise bruises, and I came for my
Baby. Oh, did I come! It had been prolonged, my coming, it had been
extended by Tiptoe for me, with me. Oh, it was good!

She held me, then gave me a clean rag to lay in my crotch. We restored
my appearance, we put my clothes back on. For now, the cloth would
absorb my moisture. I'd pull it out later and dispose it. It would
have been better if I could have stripped nude, but that was
impossible. A trooper never takes his or her boots off more than one
at a time. You can fight nude, so long as your boots are on. I did so
once. But you need your boots to get around when you're in the dill.
You never take both boots off at the same time in a war zone.

We checked on our progress and condition, talking with Gully and
Kebnebe. then with LegionSats. I poked my head out the squirrel port
on the right hatch and Tiptoe rotated the turret three times with her
head sticking out the top. I tickled her on her thighs when she sat in
the command chair, then again on her side. She cussed me out, and I
chuckled.

Then she was done with her personal check. The grenade screen went
back on the hatches, and she dived on me as the chair rotated around.
We struggled, giggling, then we were back on the poncho's and Tiptoe
lay panting. Waiting for me to love her. Knowing I was going to tease
her just like she had me.

Knowing I would take her small breasts in my mouth and work each one
in turn with tongue and teeth and lips. Knowing I would find her
firespot and withdraw, find it again, withdraw, until she was begging
me for her come. You tease, you get teased.

Once we got her bra off I idly circled each big lovely nip and tweaked
it, loving the way her aureole's grew and hardened. Enjoying her.
Looking into her eyes and seeing adoration. Becoming short of breath,
becoming tight in my groin, becoming more in love with her with each
passing day.

At least I remembered to key the curtain closed again.

---

"After you and your wife made love, what else did you do? Scout
Vehicle 'Megara' traveled all night then? What did you and Tiptoe do
next, Tasha?"

"We put the AFV on autopilot for a few minutes, then Tiptoe and I took
the places of Gully and Kebnebe. They squeezed past us, one at a time,
and I slapped Kebnebe's hands as he groped my breasts during our
exchange of places. Tiptoe was always pissed at changeover because she
got rubbed in places and knew I did too. It was something taken for
granted in the AFV's with mixed gender crews. Which was all of them.

Besides which Kebnebe had once or twice known me a lot more intimately
than a passing grope. He gave me a kiss on the hip as I passed.

Tiptoe, she didn't mind so much at a personal level. She'd done Gully
and Kebnebe before, herself, it was part of the Lift-Off celebrations.
So had I. Didn't bother me much. Gully and Kebnebe were family. No, it
was the dom thing, being the top in a femme-femme marriage. Tiptoe
felt she should be protecting me from that sort of thing.

While they were getting some sleep we ran the checklist, starting with
making sure all possible signals could mate with our brains through
the neck-jacks. We B.S.'ed Legion a few times through one of the
satellites. Then we talked to Tschierophone and Antigone, and Ba'al,
the howitzer AFV following us as part of our troop.

From all indices the Schwerpunkt had been entirely successful this
afternoon. Yesterday. The Legion was now running at top speed
regarding road conditions, and the hostile front around 'our'
beachhead had totally collapsed. Already their eastern seaboard was
surrendering en masse and singly. Even our Contractors and 'Allies'
were moving for once without making reams of 'Plans' first.

A quiet night for us now. Excepting small parties of Indigs moving on
the road net, we had this part of the continent to ourselves. We both
kept our neckjack's in and our visors down, monitoring all activity
around us.

Troop One ran into an extended armored column and we heard the noise
to our left. The Indigs probably never got to fire a shell at our
Scout's as they swept through their column. We mangled their force
badly. The smoke rose kilometers into the night air, and Indig Comm
traffic spiked sharply. With our visors down and on first sensitivity,
we could see the smoke clearly.

When shift changed, we traded places again with Gully and Kebnebe. He
gave me a fondle on my ass this time and ignored Tiptoe's face. Don't
get excited, Li'l Bit, I thought. Only one gets me where it counts is
you. You my baby, and only you. We went to sleep against each other as
the Rhad fusion power plant behind us drove us steadily west.

---

"What did you and Tiptoe do in the morning? Was there any trouble? Any
premonitions of trouble?"

There was a prairie west of the target ville, town. Maybe 8,000
people. The Troop jockeyed for optimal fire control points, making
little changes in their positioning. Traffic was beginning to clog the
streets, backing up as we shot up the heads of a few advance columns.
A small group of local militia formed up in the square and began to
stumble into being an armed military presence. Really bad timing. A
few Plasma bursts and the square changed into a mangled burning wrack,
with a large column of smoke blowing to our right. I could write a
class paper on all the different ways a town could burn.

I swung out the side hatch of "Megara" as we settled to the ground.
Tiptoe and I refilled the side missile pockets where necessary, and
then Tiptoe went back inside to take command Comm in the turret seat.
I went four meters to the side and lay myself and my DxG
Machinesgewehar, my machine gun, down in the grass. I was outside
immediate response and that made me the one most likely to get chewed
on badly in a serious battle. We weren't counting on one. This group
of Willies should be easy.

My helmet was on and the visor was down and plugged into my neck. A
sketchy overlay showed in front of my eyes, keeping track of all the
unfriendlies in a several hundred meter circle.

I was lying in a field of grass...

---

Geordi was waiting for me when I came back from counseling, his new
visor gleaming in the interior light. Whatever had happened must have
really showed on my face, because he rose and folded me in his arms.
Geordi would never be graceful with women, but sometimes his instincts
were right. This time he took me to bed, partially undressed me and
himself, and crawled in with me where I could cling to him.

Eventually I cried myself out. Then I loosely folded against him,
stuck a thumb in my mouth and went to sleep. He was gone when I woke
up, but there were noises at the door. He was in his pants when he
came back, looking down at me. At times I wondered what exactly he saw
through that VISOR of his. Most men and a few women thought I was
beautiful. No brag. I knew what I looked like from the outside. Now
that the scars were off, thanks to the Fleet Medicos. Doctor Buzzsaw
had never touched me for that.

I'd wondered before if she wanted me, too? There was more than a
little dyke in that bitch. She'd make a very nasty butch top. The kind
into lots of pain.

I knew what little peace it gave me to be beautiful, for all the fact
I enjoyed it. What did Geordi see?

"Another spell?" he quietly asked, bringing me back to the present.
Meaning while I had been in my counseling session. I nodded yes,
getting up and sitting lotus on the bed.

"Absolutely full blown with all flares up and bells on. I hope it
scared the hell out of him, because it scared the hell out of me."

Geordi sat on the bed with me, idly laying one strong hand on my
thigh. Trying to look in my eyes. It must be a human instinct, I heard
even the blind do it, look into people's eyes.

"First time I ever did that at one of my sessions. At least Doctor
Buzzsaw wasn't there to give me another damned shot. Allah, I hate
those shots. My classroom comprehension always goes down the dumper
when I get hypoed with her crud."

After that I crawled over to him and pulled him down to lay with me. I
shook a little and he rubbed my back. I shook some more and he started
telling me a few of the things he had said or heard this week. How he
always bragged to the other guys about me. How smart I was. Gossip.
How that bitch Lani said I was dumb as a rock in Quadratics and
Anti-Matter Math. So he told how I'd asked Professor Nulyecka if
Daystrom's Bonding was universal, didn't it mean a normal nucleus
could exist with five levels of existence?

Trust Geordi to remember the one time when my dumb questions had been
exactly right. I'd re-invented the basis for anti-spin emissions
counting from the same formula that that Android Data did five years
ago. Lucky hit. Geordi knew how to put a smile on my face sometimes.

"What was that at the door?" I finally asked. "Did you get us
something to eat out again?" He had. The Latvian place that delivered.
The delivery girl was the babydyke with the shaved head and the two
eyes tattooed onto the back of her skull. She'd asked if I was okay
and he said I was sleeping. The first time me and that delivery grrl
ever met, she asked what I was doing with a man. Sometimes us Sisters
can spot each other a kilometer away.

I hated cooking, and I could never seem to get the completed items
quite right, dialing off the replicator. I loved Terran chicken eggs,
though. There must be a thousand omelet recipes.

We ate our meat-stew pies in bed, then we shook the sheets for crumbs.
We got to wrestling while doing that and he got a reaction to my body.
We snuggled, working our clothes off while remaining in bed. He laid
the VISOR on the nightstand and proceeded to crawl all over me,
tickling and licking. I really liked tickling, especially the kind
that mellowed into sex. I took him in my mouth, then he got me off
with his mouth. We were, for this moment in time, family. We napped,
ignoring our homework for the moment.

---

I woke up first, warm on the side against him. When I looked at him
like this, I always wound up playing with his penis. Not rough, just
inspecting it. He wasn't sure why his parents had circumcised him. I
was glad, though. He was cleaner that way.

He mumbled awake, rolling to hold me. I reached for him again,
prompting him to start his damned giggling again. Just like a girl,
only different. It was too bad he was so shy, lots of women would
enjoy his ability to giggle and be non-serious.

He smiled and felt my face as he got hard for me.

"Geordi, baby," I whispered, "do you want to try that anal thing
again? Maybe we can get it so you'd enjoy it more, I've had a few
ideas. Want to try it again?"

Having good sex in the ass meant you had to plan it like a military
campaign. I had to make sure nothing was going to short-circuit our
fun. We had to get plenty of lubricant. I mean, I should be able to
enjoy this too, right?

First I rolled him around the bed a few times, having fun with him.
Using my teeth and tongue on him a lot. Fitting myself on him and
letting his meat grow accustomed to being in something nice and warm
and wet and slishy tight. Me. That solved the problem of Geordi's
rising to the occasion.

Then there was positioning. Me on my hands and knees on the bed was
probably optimal. This placed my butt at pretty much the same height
as Geordi's stiff member.

Geordi had sprayed his nice male thing with a protective sheath. Then
he used a lot of sex Kreme on my tight puckered little hole.

LOTS of kreme. It was important that I not be hurt, before I could
think about enjoying myself. Like I said, like planning a military
campaign.

I stared at my hot little addition to our little sex playlet. A big
shining red dildo, pretty and anatomically correct. From experience I
knew it stretched better than a quarter meter long. It was waiting for
the right moment. Another lovely gift to the Federation by the
magicians at Risa. I knew I was wet just thinking of how I was going
to use it.

I could feel him poking the backs of my thighs now. His fingers kept
circling on my body, those fingernails keeping my skin awake at a high
pitch. I looked underneath myself, seeing the gray flash of the
sheath, seeing the wetness of its gleaming. He kept poking, entering
me twice in my other hole. I was tempted to do it that way, but I'd
committed myself, and I was determined to go through with it.

Then he was in me, his black meat was in my ass. I gasped, mouth wide
open, I shook, fighting the feeling that I had to run and reach the
dumper. My fingers clawed the sheets.

Geordi paused, easing himself deeper inside me, I could feel him
slipping in. There was still fire there. All I had to do was say his
name, and Geordi pulled out to swab my hole with more Kreme. Himself
as well. Then let me feel him poking at my ass cheeks.

He was in, just like that. All the way in, I could feel every
millimeter slide past my stretched opening into my gut. We both
paused. Then he withdrew, then forward....

Always his fingernails were touching me, making me aware of more of me
than my opened ass. When he bent forward to work my breasts, I felt
them turn into rocks behind my nipples. Immediately. Hard.

He was grunting, we were both sweating, him standing behind me and
doing his Geordi dance. Standing, he always lifted one foot, then the
other. It wasn't feeling too bad, it was nice he kept touching and
trailing those fingernails like he did. Now for MY fun part.

The large bright red dildo was in my hands after I eased down to where
my head and shoulders supported me. A twist and it began to hum and
buzz, thrilling my fingers. More twisting, and its vibrations and tone
were higher in pitch. I savored what else it could, would do later.

One hand went back to play with myself. The sparks flamed immediately,
and I knew I could come that way. But my plans were for something
better. I put the dildo in my mouth, wetting it, enjoying the cherry
flavor of my sex toy. Loving it.

Then I took my toy to my groin. Letting the vibrations penetrate my
clit, my petals, tease the opening of my sex. With Geordi's steady
intrusion in my ass it felt really really hot, and I could tell lube
was unnecessary for this.

Finally I rammed it in myself. It slid immediately deep within me, not
a pause, no resistance, my body was hoping and waiting for it.

Geordi immediately let out a howl, for the buzzing toy could be felt
by his stiff maleness right through the thin layers of my female flesh
separating them. He cried out, and I smiled as I wriggled that lovely
toy inside myself. Deliberately massaging Geordi through my own body.
Oh, it felt so good, it felt such fun. I had to giggle to feel the
vibrations teasing him while deep in my guts. He pulled in and out,
and all the time I kept massaging him/me with the toy. Then I started
giggling loud from it all.

The best part was the way we were both quickly giggling, laughing,
indulging ourselves in sensations, having fun. I was close, very
close, and I presumed Geordi wasn't very far away from a climax
either. With both hands I rotated both rings of the dildo against each
other. The dildo immediately sent it's spray of filaments from the
base to seat itself on/in my groin. It was there to stay now. With the
buzzing vibrating faux-penis end still inside me.

I found the node and brought it into it's last stage of active life.
It began contracting and lengthening inside me. It began imitating the
motions of a man inside me. Every time it pushed, it strained it's
seating on me, pulling at my sex, groin, love bead, feeling like a
hand was pulling at my sex as it traveled up and down inside me.
Goodgoodgoodgood.

Every time it contracted, it also pulled at me. I could feel myself
building fast, the clockwork winding tighter in my belly, my skin
getting more aware, hot, ticklish, tingly. Oh, it was soooo gooood!
And every time it filled me, it rubbed strongly against Geordi still
pumping inside my heinie hole.

He began groaning, crying weak grunts, scratching my butt cheeks,
holding me tight by the hips so that I couldn't get away.

"A second, just a second," I mumbled back at him. "Oooh, Geordi, doll,
oh, I'm ... Go ahead, oh, it's so good." He came first, but I wasn't
long after him. I was chewing the sheets for this one.

I managed to wave a hand at him over my back, and he pulled out,
letting me collapse to my side on the bed. I missed the controls a few
times before I could turn off the stretching mode, letting it rest in
my melted down body. Then the retraction of the plastic film back into
the body of the dildo. Then I could withdraw it. I know only the
SexPadd's use phrases like soaked, but that was what I was, once the
cork had been removed.

He smiled when I told how wet I was, so I lay back and spread 'em so
he might enjoy me also. I sucked on the dildo, getting every gram of
taste off while Geordi made my groin purr with happy.

Then I twisted around and pulled off the sprayed-on sheath. He was wet
inside it, and I cleaned him as well as I could. Made him purr with
happy too. It had been my best sex in my rear ever. If only he could
conquer his shyness. Well, he was as he was, and so was I.

We snuggled a bit, me licking his nipples. He was such a sweetheart,
but we had homework to do.

We put on our sweats then. Always time to do our homework. It had been
fun. But there's always homework at the Academy. Weekends are just
periods when you might be able to catch up on it. Sometimes. Geordi
had a wonderful habit of making me nibble at problems until something
he said would make me understand it.

We'd take a break, talk about things. I'd sometimes sleep at my desk,
PADDs sliding to the rug. We'd rehearse laws and factors and
properties and anomalies. He'd listen to me explain inorganic
chemistry and transporter protocols.

We'd survived the Academy because we each covered the other's
weaknesses. But after we called it quits, gave up the grind, then we
made it a point to relax.

Mostly I'd lean against the transparent aluminum windows. Geordi had
this genuine wooden stiff-back chair, and he'd lean back in it until
his head touched the window ledge. He'd take off his VISOR with a sigh
and I'd run my fingers through his tightly curled hair. Scratch it,
pet his head, just being friendly.

For all the unending pressures of the Academy, I felt more at rest now
than I'd ever done. For the first time in my life I had a home. For
the first time in Geordi's life he had a woman. I'd been his first,
and we'd always have that.

So many lights across the bay. All those communities together here, a
small metropolis, one of the last on Terra. No four-hundred story
arcologies here. Earthquake zone. Everyone got well and truly scared
after the '44.

I'd watch the flitters and shuttles, and the ground vehicles beyond
the limits of the Academy. I'd think about who lived in those
groupings of lights. All those women.

One of the huddles of light's near Oakland was Sappho. It had once
been called Berkley, just like there once was a prison for men on Gaia
Island. All those women out there. Some areas you could stay in for
days and never see a male. Lesbians from a hundred different planetary
races were out there. From a quarter of a Galaxy. No one was quite
sure why it had turned out this way. Everyone had a theory, but no one
had the facts, the truth.

And here I was with a blind man named LaForge. I had to smile at it.
Fate, God, has one hell of a sense of humor. Jehowa. Whatever.

Of course Geordi was graduating in less than six months, and he'd be
off to a very responsible post on a big ship. He wanted one of the big
ones. Maybe we'd see each other again some time. Meet in some space
station on the far frontier. Without him now ... I could make it
through the Academy now. I would.

If only I could stop having those nightmares.

---

"Tasha, could you tell me what you did that morning?"

"Tasha, could you tell me about Tiptoe again?"

"Tasha, what happened that morning?"

"I could see the big Delta bomber when it got hit. I could see the
cockpit lift as it was torn from the rest of the jet. A little pimple
on a flattened triangle, that was all it was. I could see it dip and
separate, the plane disintegrating as flame grew out of it. I could
see it separating, turning end for end. It was still doing Mach 3,
though, so it continued flying through the air. Then fire started to
spill onto the ground..."

---

"Tasha," a quiet voice, calm, "we have parts of the jet flying through
the air. It was exploding and it was burning. It was dying. Tasha ...
what happened to the wreckage of the airplane?"

"The little Dove first appeared, it's wings beating as it flew towards
me. It kept getting larger."

"Tasha. Stop. Look at me. Look directly at me. Look. Now then, think
very carefully and tell me what happened to that flying wreckage. The
plane was hit and it was disintegrating. It was very fiery, wasn't it?
What happened to that plane, that fire?"

"The Dove grew larger as it came closer and I fell to the ground. I
armed my machine gun and began to fire on it...."

"Tasha....what happened to that plane?"

"I fired and I fired and it would not stop...."

"Tasha...."

"I saw a missile come straight down to hit the big Delta bomber back
of the cockpit, it seemed to lift that before the rest of the plane
began to explode."

"Tasha..." The Betazoid was on his knees in front of me. He held my
chin with one hand and slapped me hard enough with his other to make
me see sparks and stop. I know blood flowed because I tasted it in my
mouth afterwards. His hand held my face and he asked me another
question.

"Tasha ... what happened to Tiptoe? What happened to your wife? WHERE
IS SHE?"

"She walked slowly to the truce vehicle, the surrender vehicle, still
with that cocky walk, the pipe in her mouth."

"Tasha. Tell me what happened to Tiptoe? Tell me, please tell me,
however you can. What happened to her?"

"I could see the hit back of the cockpit, and I was hating that plane
and the people who'd sent it, hating, wishing them all dead, because
the war was over, and they were still trying to kill us. I was hating
them so much, so very much."

"Tasha. Where did the wreckage land?"

It landed all over the damned place. It landed on the surrender
vehicle. It fell in massive flaming chunks all over. Fire and burning
aviation spirit and warload and ammunition and it fell right on the
vehicle carrying their surrender officers. It skipped across the
field, tumbling, fire spreading, explosions within the fire,
splashings and leaps of fire. There was fire everywhere, the whole
goddamned field was burning and exploding. The vehicle was burning, it
disappeared in fire, and the people. Were." I stopped.

"Tasha. What people were burning? Which people?"

"There was fire everywhere, everything was on fire. The wet grass, the
vehicle that had held their surrender officers. Everyone.

"Everyone.

"Everyone.

"Everyone." I could not speak.

"Tasha?" A silence, then in a soft and fragile voice: "What happened
to Tiptoe?"

"I love you, Tiptoe. I love you." Speaking from a great hollow room.
My hand moving in the air.

I hope I'll never be able to scream like that again.

---

"THE FLAMES! THE FLAMES! SHE WAS BURNING!"

We lay on the floor together for a long time after that. The sun
journeyed downward through the windows, and I eventually needed water,
we both did. He held me. He sang me a Betazoid lullaby about the Bela
Bird who stole the babies sleep away, then brought it back again. It
was easier concentrating on the words than the flipping dioramas that
circled endlessly through my mind.

The fire. Engulfing everyone there. Pieces of plane bowling over the
surrender vehicle. Burning aviation spirit rolling across the prairie
like water in flood. Bombs exploding sending fountains of fire into
the air. The scattering and swamping of everyone by that vehicle in a
tidal bore of fire. Fire. Fire. Fire.

---

We were sitting side by side on his couch, me collapsed against him.
Trying to get beyond the images of flame.

"Tasha, sweetheart, dear woman ... We have to finish this. Now."

I didn't know what he was talking about. I kept seeing the fire
everywhere.

"What about the Dove, Tasha? Where did the Dove come from?"

"The Dove came out from the fire. It was born in the fire, that's why
it was so beautiful, that's why it was so horrible, why it scared me
so." Whispers in a cool office.

"Tasha. Where did the Dove come from?"

"Out of the center of the fire it came roaring at me. Roaring, the
roaring was so loud, loud enough to hide the screaming."

"What was the Dove?"

"Fire roars, it was so loud, louder than the firing around me...."

"What was the Dove?"

"It grew bigger as it flew towards me, it's wings roared at me."

"What was the Dove?"

"The roaring was so loud, so loud, it drowned the screams."

"Who was the Dove?" Loud in the silence.

"So loud, so loud, and it wouldn't stop."

"Tasha ... who was the Dove? Was the Dove burning?"

"How the fuck should I know who the Dove was?" I screamed back.

"WHO WAS THE DOVE, TASHA?" he screamed back. I'd never heard the
Counselor scream before.

"She must have been screaming, or trying to, all that fire...."

Gently again, I could barely hear him as he held me tight. "Tasha, oh
my child, my sweet child. Who was screaming? Who did you see in that
Dove?"

"The Dove."

"What happened to the Dove? Tell me, Tasha. Was the Dove the one
screaming?"

"The Dove."

"What happened to Tiptoe? Tell me, Tasha."

"The Dove. She was burning." A bare whisper.

"What? Tell me again."

"She was burning. The Dove was burning."

His mouth was on my ear. "What did you do? What did you do to ... No,
make that what did you do FOR Tiptoe? I forgive you, Tasha, but you've
got to tell me."

"She was burning. Her entire body was a mass of flames and her arms
were windmilling and she was screaming inside and her lungs were full
of flame and she was burning and I loved her and I couldn't let her
die like that, you see that, don't you? I couldn't let my baby die
like that, I had to stop it."

"What did you do for Tiptoe, Tasha? She was your wife, your love. What
was your last act of love? What was your final gift to her? Tell me,
Tasha. What last gift could you possibly give her?"

"I SHOT HER! I SHOT HER AND I KEPT SHOOTING HER UNTIL MY MACHINEGUN
WAS EMPTY!"

Silence reproached me, her silence. Silence excepting my breaths and
my shudders and the fluid washing down my face from my eyes and nose
and mouth. My words were badly slurred.

"She was burning, I had to do it, I had to, don't you see? I couldn't
let her continue in that pain, not for a second more. I had to. I had
to. I had to. I had to. I had to."

"Tasha," gentle strong hands, "She forgives you, and she thanks you.
She really does forgive you, you know, and so do I."

I was on my hands and knees on the floor and the Counselor was beside
me. His hand gripped my shoulder. I crossed myself and began to say
the words clearly. Maybe it was because I hadn't confessed for years
that I said them.

"Father-Mother, forgive me, for I have sinned."

---

I spent the night sleeping on the Counselor's couch, with an issue
blanket over me. The morning after that, Geordi came to get me, to
help me home. We stopped someplace first, a place of worship. I needed
to finish this, to lay my guilt down and forget it, as much as I
could. Patterns. Learned as a child in this case, but a pattern
allowing relief. Geordi helped me all the way to the curtained booth.
Afterwards we went home and made senseless animal sex, all glands and
cries, lacking love, needing love.

I never had another nightmare about the Dove.

---

continued in the eighth story in the Riding The Tick series 'The Summons'