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Message-ID: <42595asstr$1053695404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Vulgar Argot" <VulgarArgotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
Subject: {ASSM} Treaty Troops, Part 1
Date: Fri, 23 May 2003 09:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Treaty Troops, Part 1
by Vulgar Argot
(Tags moved to bottom to avoid spoilerage)

CALUM: ALLEMAGNE, NY

Calum scowled as the bus slowed to a stop. The clearly recogizable scent of
tear gas was present in the air, but not heavy. He estimated that the
protests were farther uptown, probably on the Avenue of Heroes. Even before
the destruction of Chicago, the protests had never gotten so large that they
would spread down to the quiet suburbs of Allemagne.

"What is it?" asked Colleen, sitting next to him and straining her neck to
see.

Calum walked up to right behind the white line, looking out over the
driver's shoulder. The driver looked up at him, "Can you see anything? I
can't see a damned thing."

Calum squinted, staring up the street. Then, he pointed, "There's a large
group of people coming down Thompson. They're probably fleeing the
protests." He stared a little harder, "It looks like some of them were
gassed. They're probably protestors."

"Goddamned protesters," said the driver. "They won't be satisfied until
Denver gets nuked, will they?"

Calum didn't bother to point out that the Qiin didn't use nuclear weapons to
destroy a city and didn't care about protests as long as they got their
Treaty Troops. The driver probably knew both of those facts. The only
countries the Qiin had punished were those that refused to fulfill their
obligations under the San Antonio Treaty. Instead, he went back to his seat.

"Some protesters are coming down Thompson," he told Colleen. "They're
completely disorganized and fleeing. I don't think we have anything to worry
about."

Colleen nodded. A few people around them gave uneasy whispers. While school
buses had never been targetted by protesters, other buses had. Just last
month, a commuter bus in Los Angeles had been bombed, killing more than two
dozen people.

"I didn't know there were any protests scheduled for today," said Colleen.

"I don't think there were," said Calum. "That's probably why they got
gassed. Mayor Riley has no sense of humor about unscheduled protests."

"They should just shoot the fuckers," opined Greg Fairchild. "They're a
bunch of fucking idiots." His comment was met with a few cheers, hoots and
hollers. Then, he glared at Calum, "Don't you think so, peacenik?"

Calum sighed. The nuanced subtleties of political discourse were rarely
appreciated at any level in this country. High school would hardly prove an
exception. Rather than arguing, he said, "Fairchild, you'd better hope they
don't start shooting people for being idiots. You'd be the first one up
against the wall."

Greg glowered at him as the bus erupted in laughter. Calum thought that he
might have started a fistfight right there. But, Greg just muttered,
"fucking peacenik" and made a clear show of ignoring Calum. That suited
Calum just fine.

By the time the bus got to Calum's stop, it was at least forty minutes late.
Calum bolted up the walk. Colleen looked at him, "Wait up."

Calum turned to face her, a puzzled look on his face.

"Do you have to pee or something?" Colleen asked.

"No," said Calum, "I just want to get the mail before my mother gets home."

Colleen smiled. Calum loved the way her smile showed off her dimples. She
asked, "Still waiting for college acceptance letters?"

"Something like that," said Calum.

Colleen's eyes widened, "You're not worried about the exclusion test, are
you? You're much too smart to fail that."

"No," said Calum, "I'm sure I aced it. What about you, Cat?"

"It was a piece of cake," said Colleen. "Do you think anybody at school
failed?"

Calum shook his head, "Something like nineteen out of twenty people who fail
the exclusion exam are from the worst funded schools in America. Besides,
after four years of preparing for them, who the hell is going to fail?"

"Eighty thousand seven hundred sixty-nine students this year," said Colleen.

"You memorized the number?" asked Calum.

"It's on all the protest literature," said Colleen, shrugging. "It seems
like an awful lot."

Calum asked, "Are you worried about Kyle?"

Colleen slapped him on the shoulder, "You're awful. Kyle's not that stupid."

"I don't know," said Calum. "I heard it takes him half an hour to make
Minute Rice."

Colleen slapped his shoulder again, "That has got to be the oldest joke on
the planet."

"Sorry," said Calum. "I haven't had time to work on my material."

Colleen laughed, "Well, stop studying so hard and come up with some new
jokes."

As they walked up to his house, Calum saw his mother's car in the driveway.
As casually as he could, he strolled up the front porch, opening the black
steel mailbox next to the door. It was empty.

The front door swung open violently. His mother stood there with a yellow
envelope in her hand, waving it at him, "I assume you were looking for
this."

Calum's spine stiffened. He could see the Qiin script on the back of the
envelope, "That was addressed to me," he said woodenly. "You shouldn't have
opened it."

His mother stormed inside, envelope still in her hand. Calum followed her.
He was barely inside when she whirled on him, "You volunteered? Calum, how
could you?"

"Do you really want to know," asked Calum, "or do you just want to yell at
me?"

"Your father will never forgive you," said his mother.

"I don't need his forgiveness," said Calum calmly.

His mother looked desperate, "We can't tell him you volunteered. He'd disown
you. We'll tell him you failed the exclusion test."

"Mother, please," said Calum.

"We'll tell him you were chosen by lottery, then," said his mother, nearly
hysterical now.

"I won't do that," said Calum. "He's paranoid enough about the Qiin as it
is. Invariably, he'll decide I was targetted for being his son and make a
federal case out of it. If it gets out that I volunteered then, it will make
a fool out of him."

"The status of treaty troops is not a matter of public record," his mother
said weakly.

"No," said Calum, taking his mother by the shoulders and kissing her
forehead, "but that information has been leaked before. Right now, he'll
only be mad at me. And, I'll be far, far away. If you lie to him about this,
he'll be mad at you too and you'll have to deal with it."

His mother hugged him tight. She said, "You're going to get yourself
killed."

"There's always a chance," said Calum.

"A chance?" asked his mother, pulling away from him, "We send over a hundred
thousand Americans every year and get less than four thousand back."

Calum nodded, "I know that, but the war was worse when the troops that are
coming back now left."

"So the Qiin say," his mother said bitterly.

"Come on," said Calum. "You sound like Dad now. If the Qiin have ever lied
to us, we've never caught them."

"Why?" asked his mother. "You had such a bright future. Why would you
volunteer?"

Calum laughed bitterly, "In the ten years since troops started coming back,
what would you say the unemployment rate among veterans is?"

"You're doing this for a job?" his mother asked incredulously.

Calum shook his head, "Let me ask it another way. How many Fortune 500 CEOs
are veterans? How many congressmen? Can you name me the last major advance
humanity has made that didn't come from a veteran or from the Qiin
themselves?"

His mother shook her head. It was an old argument, one she had always stayed
out of. Calum drove his point home, "We're an endangered species."

His mother sighed, "I've heard these arguments before. Your father has too.
He's not going to buy them any more now than he has before."

"I don't expect him to," said Calum. "I have to go pack."

"Pack?" asked his mother. "You're not leaving tonight, are you?"

"You know what's going to happen," said Calum. "Dad will throw me out. If he
doesn't, he'll spend his time making me miserable until I do leave."

"I won't let him," said Calum's mother defensively.

"Mom," said Calum patiently, "don't fight with him--not for my sake."

"You won't even finish high school?" his mother asked.

Calum shook his head, "Compared to what the Qiin can teach me, high school
is a joke." After thinking for a moment, he said, "Strike that. High school
is a joke. All they teach anymore is how to pass the exclusion exam. If we
lose this war, the Mondaki will reduce this planet to ashes and we send the
three percent of our students too stupid to pass the exam to fight."

Calum would have gone on, but the front door banged open and his father came
in, tears streaming down his red face. Instead, he took the letter from his
mother's hand, "Take care of your husband. It looks like he's been gassed
again. I'll go pack."

It didn't take long for Calum to pack. He would be picking up a transport
later that night. The Qiin would provide him with uniforms, food, anything
he needed. He collected a few items of sentimental value, his note tablet, a
jacket in case it got cold while he was in transit, and his VR rig. The last
he would send back to his parents before he shipped out. It was only to keep
him amused in transit.

Picking up the little, red duffel bag in one hand and the letter in the
other, Calum went back downstairs. He didn't bother to look back as he
turned the light off.

Downstairs, his father was sitting on the couch and wiping off his face with
a rag. Calum stood in front of him.

"Dad," he said, holding out the letter, "I have to go."

His father looked up, horrified realization on his face, "They picked you in
the lottery?" he asked.

Calum shook his head, "I volunteered." His father started to speak, but he
held his hand up, "Please, Dad. I've got my acceptance letter. I'm leaving
tonight. You can scream and tell me how I'm a traitor to humanity for doing
this or you can sit there silently watching me go. But, the end result is
going to be the same."

"Tell them you made a mistake," said Calum's father. "Tell them you didn't
mean to volunteer."

Calum shook his head, "It doesn't work that way and you know it."

His father glared at him silently for a long time. Finally, he said, "You're
determined to do this?" Calum nodded.

"Well," he said, not losing the glare, "if you're determined, there's not a
goddamned thing I can do to stop you."

Calum nodded, "You could wish me a safe return."

"I hope you die before you become a murderer," his father said. His mother
blanched.

Calum's smile was sad, but gentle, "Yes. You probably do. Good luck with
your protests. I hope you don't get Denver obliterated." Then, he was out
the door. A few steps down the path, his mother caught up with him, catching
him by the arm.

"Please," said Calum, emotion finally welling up inside of him, "don't make
this any harder than it has to be."

His mother glared angrily at him, "So, what was your plan? If you'd gotten
this envelope before I got home, would I have just found you gone? Would you
have even left a note?"

"Mom," said Calum patiently, "you know better than that. I just didn't want
you to learn this way. I would have stayed long enough to tell you."

His mother's expression softened a little, "Come home safe," she said.

Calum turned and hugged her with one arm, "I will if I can."

"I could call for a taxi to take you to the bus station," said his mother.
"You could wait here that long at least."

Calum kissed the top of her head, "I'd rather walk. I want to see the
neighborhood one last time." Before his mother could come up with any more
objections, he walked up the path and over the hill.

He had one more stop to make before going. He hadn't made a lot of friends
in his three years living in the suburbs of Memorial City, but there was one
he had to say goodbye to.

When he knocked on the door, he stared carefully at the woman who answered
it, "Carrie?" he asked.

"No," said the woman. The voice gave it away, "You're here to see Colleen?"

"Yes, Mrs. Telluride," said Calum. Colleen's mother looked nearly identical
to her daughters. Of course, they were her clones and women didn't look that
different at forty than they did at eighteen any more.

"She's down in the gazebo, I think," said Mrs. Telluride. "She was muttering
something about not wanting to lose the light."

"Thank you, Mrs. Telluride," said Calum. "If I don't see you again, I'd like
to say good bye. I'm shipping out for the war tonight."

"Oh," said Mrs. Telluride, her face falling. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Calum did not bother to correct her misunderstanding, "Thank you, Mrs.
Telluride."

He approached the gazebo so quietly that Colleen did not hear him approach.
She was painting a landscape that was an amalgamation of the actual view
from the gazebo and something either remembered or imagined.

Not wanting to startle her while she was actually painting, Calum waited
until she was applying paint to her brush.

"Cat," he said quietly.

She spun around, "Calum, you startled me." Then, she looked down at his
duffel bag, "Are you taking a trip somewhere?"

Calum nodded. Before he could formulate an answer, she looked at his other
hand. Dropping her palette and brush, she said, "Oh, Calum. You
volunteered?"

"I...uh, yeah," said Calum, "How did you know?"

Colleen sat down heavily on the bench that ran around the outer edge of the
structure, "Well, I know you're too smart to fail the test. And less than
three thousand people a year get picked by lottery. Besides, I sort of
suspected you were considering it."

"You did?" asked Calum, surprised.

Colleen nodded, "The way you talk about the veterans, I knew you wanted to
be one. Are you leaving tonight?"

Calum nodded, "I just wanted to come and say goodbye before I did. My
parents can tell everyone else."

Colleen stood up, "Take a walk with me, please."

"I should really get going," said Calum, "Even by Qiin transport, it's a
five-hour flight to Rio."

"Humor me," said Colleen. She was already down the steps and headed along
the horse path that led off of her family's property. Calum had no choice
but to follow or lose sight of her.

She didn't speak until they were well away from the house. When he tried to,
she just looked at him, willing him to silence. She turned off of the horse
trail onto a footpath, then off of the footpath onto what might have been a
deer run or just a random gap in the density of the forest. After about
fifteen minutes of walking, they came to a stream. Colleen leaned back
against a glacial irregular.

"This is my alone place," she said. "You've asked me where it was when I
mentioned it before. I thought you might like to see it before you left."

Calum looked around. This was genuine forest, not terraformed and put
through accelerated growth. It was too irregular for that. It had been here
before the Qiin came, by the looks of it, a long time before.

"It's very beautiful, Cat," said Calum. "I see why you didn't want to
share."

"I didn't want to share," said Colleen, "because I wanted somewhere that
nobody could find me, not even you."

"I'll be back in thirty years," said Calum. "You might have wanted to keep
it a secret."

"Thirty years," said Colleen wistfully, "What about us?"

"Us?" asked Calum. "You have other friends. Someone else will take my place.
And, I'll be back in thirty years."

"I'll wait," said Colleen.

"For what?" asked Callum, genuinely puzzled.

Colleen didn't answer in words. Instead, she reached up and undid the top
button on her starched, white blouse. Callum was so stunned that she was
working on the third button before he reached out to take her hands in his
own.

"Cat," he asked, "what on Earth are you doing?"

She looked up at him, her emerald green eyes holding his transfixed, "Isn't
this what you do to send a hero off to war?"

Callum tried to laugh, "If you're his girlfriend, yes. But, this isn't us.
We've always been friends."

She nodded, "I know. But, I want to do this. I just always figured that, one
day, we would..."

"What day?" asked Calum a little bit exasperated and flustered, "Cat, I
asked you out at least a half dozen times. I tried to kiss you and you
punched me in the ribs."

"We were fourteen," said Colleen. "You startled me."

Letting go of one of her hands, he reached up and pet her hair. Thick, lush,
and coppery, it cascaded down her back. He said gently, "Cat, in three
years, I've watched you go through eight boyfriends. I was your best friend
through all of it. This is the first time you've given me any indication
that you wanted more."

Colleen nodded, "I know. I've been very stupid. I always imagined that we
would be married one day. But, I didn't want to tell you that because I
thought you would insist we start dating right then and there. And, I wasn't
ready to be with just one person for the rest of my life."

Letting go of her, Calum walked around to where he could lean on the rock
next to her, fighting not to stumble at the weight of her pronouncement. He
really hadn't had a clue.

"Now you tell me this?" he croaked. "Cat, I can't tell the Qiin that I
changed my mind and stay. It doesn't work that way."

"I know," said Colleen quietly, coming around the rock to face him. "I don't
want you to stay. I want to say goodbye properly. I can't make up for being
so foolish, but I can send you off like a hero and wait for you to come
back." She was unbuttoning her blouse again.

Calum said, "I'll be gone thirty years, if I come back at all. You'll be
almost fifty by then. You can't promise to wait for me."

Colleen had tears in her eyes now, "I can too. Look at my mother. She's
forty-five years old and people still can't tell us apart. My grandfather is
117 and in better shape than he was at fifty. Why shouldn't I wait until I'm
forty-eight to marry the man I..." the word died on her tongue.

"The man you what?" asked Calum. "This is your last chance to say it, Cat."

She looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears, "The man I love, dammit.
Calum, I've been so stupid."

Calum gathered her into his arms, hugging her. He chuckled against the top
of her head, "Cat, you have the worst fucking timing."

"I know," said Colleen. "I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't not tell you."

Calum pet her hair, "I always thought that if, just once, you told me you
loved me this way, I could die a happy man."

She punched him in the ribs, "Don't you dare."

Calum let out a whoosh of air, "That's the same place you punched me when I
tried to kiss you."

Colleen leaned her head back, "Well, then. This time we got the punching out
of the way first."

Calum wanted to protest. He knew how crazy this was, but couldn't come up
with anything to say that wasn't painfully obvious in the time between the
offer being made and when his inaction would become a rejection. He reached
up, entwining his fingers in her crowning glory, then lowered his mouth to
hers. Colleen let out a gasp as his lips touched hers. He kissed her gently
at first, his tongue barely entering her mouth. But, she reached up,
wrapping a hand around the back of his head, pulling his head down against
hers. The kiss intensified. Colleen moaned, low in her throat. Calum did not
realize that Colleen's free hand had undone the top two buttons of his shirt
until she broke from his mouth to kiss his chest.

Using the hand still buried in her hair, Calum pulled her away from his
chest long enough to gasp, "What about Kyle?"

Colleen wrapped her arms around his waist, "Oh, Calum," she said, "Kyle
likes you well enough, but I really don't think he's going to give you a
sendoff like this. Maybe a handjob, tops."

"No," said Calum, "I mean how the hell can you wait for me if you already
have a boyfriend when I'm leaving."

"Calum," said Colleen, sounding like she was tutoring a particularly dense
student, "I'm not going to be celibate for thirty years. For God's sake, I
haven't been celibate for thirty days since I was fourteen. Besides, I
expect you'll take a war wife."

"At least one," acknowledged Calum.

Colleen laughed, "If you want more, you'll have to make at least Sergeant."

Calum nodded, "War brides are the farthest thing from my mind today. I just
want to survive long enough to be a veteran."

Colleen said, "This is a very selfish thing you're doing."

Calum laughed, "I'm glad somebody finally understands that."

Colleen took his hand, leading him upstream, "Come on. I want to show you
what else I love about this place." She led Calum to a clearing, easily a
hundred feet square, the floor of which was completely covered with a thick,
springy green moss. Letting go of his hand, she lay down on her back in the
middle of the open space.

"Wow," said Calum, "it matches your eyes...and your bra."

"And sets off my hair beautifully," said Colleen. "You should see me laid
out naked on it."

Calum knelt down next to her, "I thought you said this was your alone
place?"

Colleen nodded, "Can't a girl get naked and roll around on a thick, fluffy
bed of moss all by herself?"

"I suppose," said Calum uncertainly. Then, he smiled, "You really are crazy,
Cat. Do you know that?"

Colleen nodded, "I know. That's why we're such a good match." She sat up,
wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, "I've always wondered what it
would be like to roll around in this moss with someone else. Do you think
you'd like to show me?"

He kissed her passionately. There was no gentleness or uncertainty this
time. He was fierce. Colleen clung to him. When the kiss ended, he said, "Do
something for me first."

"What?" asked Colleen.

"Strip," said Calum.

Colleen laughed, "I was going to do that anyway. You should have asked for
more."

Calum shook his head, "No. I want you to strip and lie down on the moss for
me. Fan your hair out behind your head. One of the few things the veterans
have revealed about their training is that they wind up with perfect eidetic
and photographic memory and can remember every detail of their lives, even
from before their training. I want to remember you like that."

Colleen's eyes glistened like she was going to start crying again. Instead,
she nodded and swallowed hard, then sat up, stripping off her blouse. Calum
rose and stood just outside the clearing, watching her. Next, she stripped
off her plaid skirt. Her panties were of the same silky green material as
her bra. She leaned down and undid the buckles on her patent-leather shoes,
sliding off first them, then the plain white socks underneath.

As she reached for the clasp on her bra, Calum said, "Stop." She froze. "Lie
down," he said. I'd like to remember you like this, too."

Colleen said, "You're going to have to rehook me, then." Then, she walked
over to him, turning her back and lifting her hair. Calum redid the hook to
her bra.

Smoothly, she lay herself back on the moss, "If I'd known you had such a
deeply kinky side, I might not have been able to wait," she said. "May I
continue undressing?"

Calum said, "Turn yourself clockwise a little. All I can see is your knees
and your face."

Colleen did as she was told. Calum looked down at her, drinking in every
detail. Colleen watched him expectantly. Finally, he said, "You may
continue."

Colleen undid her bra, tossing it in the general direction of where she had
piled her skirt and blouse. Her breasts were high and firm, not typical for
a girl her age. The year they had been born, a particular 36C was very
popular among parents who were undergoing baby design therapy, which nearly
all of their classmates' parents were. With a flush of embarassment, Calum
remembered that he was looking at breasts that were probably identical to
her mother and sister's. Her nipples were light pink and might have been
invisible against her skin if she weren't lightly freckled all over her
body, including her breasts. As he was taking in these details, Colleen was
already squirming out of her panties and tossing them over towards her bra.

Calum stood over her, drinking in ever detail of pale, freckled skin,
emerald green eyes, rich red hair on forest green moss. When he had it all
committed to memory, he frowned.

"What?" asked Colleen.

"Something's wrong," said Calum.

"What?" repeated Colleen, a slight edge of apprehension in her voice.

"You look unnatural with your legs closed," said Calum. "I feel like I'm
staring at your sister."

Colleen shot him a look of mock hatred, "For that comment, I should send you
to war with blue balls."

"Open your legs," ordered Calum. "No. Less than that. About forty-five
degrees. Good. Now, close your eyes." When she had, Calum dropped to his
knees, stripped off his shirt, and crept silently across the moss,
positioning his head between her thighs. He waited until the silence had
gone on so long that she called out to him before darting his tongue inside
of her. Colleen squealed and tried to pull away. Calum caught her hips in
his hands, pinning her in place while he let his tongue explore the inside
of her at his liesure. Colleen moaned and tried to buck against him, but he
held her firmly to the ground, his tongue plunging as deeply inside of her
as it would go before pulling back and focusing on licking her clit, up and
down in a long, langorous motion. Colleen shuddered violently. She was
already soaking wet. Calum held her there, whimpering and squirming as he
reveled in giving her pleasure. Her hands alternately pressed his head
deeper between her thighs and tried to pull him away as he threatened to
give her more pleasure than she could stand.

Finally, when her pleading for mercy had subsided into general whimpering,
he let him mouth glide up her body, laying kisses on her belly and sternum,
then slowly kissing and licking each nipple in turn while she urgently undid
his belt and finished stripping him naked. By the time he lay atop her,
kissing her mouth, his rock hard organ was pressed against her belly.

Colleen looked up at Calum, love clear in her eyes, "You're trying to kill
me, aren't you?"

Calum laughed, "I wouldn't dream of it. I just want you to have something to
remember me by while you're waiting."

Colleen nodded, "I want you to have something to remember me by, too." She
reached up and undid the thin gold chain around her neck, "This cross was my
grandmother's. She didn't accept me at first because the Pope said clones
had no souls. When she did accept me, she gave this one to me and another
one just like it to my sister." She fastened it around Calum's neck, "I want
you to wear it until you come back. I know neither one of us believes in
what it represents, but..."

Calum leaned down and kissed her firmly again on the mouth. Colleen moaned
in pleasure underneath him.

"Make love to me," Colleen begged.

Calum obliged, sliding all the way inside of her. Colleen lifted her hips to
be entered, then rocked back and forth with him in a steady motion. She
seemed to be trembling on the edge of orgasm as soon as he was inside. The
first one rocked her body before Calum even found his rhythm. She dug her
fingernails into his buttocks as her body quaked beneath him. The slight
pain was enough to strip away his self control completely. He doubled and
redoubled his pace, pounding away at her savagely until the intensity of his
own desire caused him to slow down in alarm. When he did, Colleen locked her
arms around the small of his back and her feet underneath his buttocks and
drove him forward, giving him an animal sound of warning that threatened
dire consequences if he let up his pace. He pinned her with his hips, then
grabbed her elbows, forcing her hands apart and over her head where he
captured her wrists with one hand, his other reaching down and fondling her
breast as he rammed into her.

Colleen cried out his name again and again. He called out "Cat," his pet
name for her, taken from the initials "Colleen Anne Telluride." She cried
out that she loved him. He fucked her harder when she did, then whispered
the same sentiment in her ear.

He held out for as long as he could, savoring the moment, knowing it was the
last time they would spend together for a long time, knowing too that he
would play back these moments in his memory many, many times in the future.
But, eventually, the pleasure and the intensity became too much for him to
bear. He buried himself as deeply inside of her as he could get before his
world exploded into a cascade of pleasure and release.

"Oh, God," whispered Colleen, "Oh, Calum. I'm sorry."

"For what?" asked Calum.

"I think...I know, rather, that I activated during that," said Colleen. "I
didn't mean to. It just happened. I wasn't thinking straight."

"How?" asked Calum. "I thought your mother was sterile."

Colleen nodded, "She is. That's why she had clones instead of children. But,
that wasn't genetic. It was the product of a childhood illness. Heather and
I could always have children if we wanted to."

"Do you want to?" asked Calum.

Colleen nodded, "No. Not in general. I did it by mistake. I don't regret it,
though. I don't want to have a baby, but I do want to have your baby. And,
even with all the Qiin medicine, forty-eight is too late to be doing that. I
never would have done it on purpose without your permission, though. I
didn't even realize I was doing the exercise until it was too late."

"You may not be pregnant, Cat," said Calum. "The exercises aren't perfect."

Colleen nodded, "No, but they're close to it. If I did wrong, I'll take the
pill and make it go away. It's not too late."

Calum hugged her, "No. Not if you don't want to."

Colleen was crying, "Oh, thank you, Calum," she whispered. "My family will
take good care of him. My mother was talking about having a gender-swapped
clone this year. I think she'll like this much better."

Calum didn't say anything for such a long time that Colleen raised herself
up on her elbows, "You're sure you're not mad?"

"No," said Calum, "I swear I'm not. I'm honored that you want to have my
baby. I'm just overwhelmed by the enormity of everything that you've given
me today. Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to make love to you?"

"Since the day you met me?" Colleen asked.

"No," said Calum, "As I recall, the first few months I knew you, I thought
you were a brat and wanted to choke you. But, it wasn't long after I first
met you. The night I tried to kiss you, I knew I loved you."

"Oh, Calum," whispered Colleen. "You've been my best friend for so long, I'm
going to miss you terribly."

Calum nodded, not saying anything.

When they finally gathered their clothes and walked up the path, the sun was
already starting to set. Somehow, they had spent more than three hours
together in the woods. By unspoken consent, they walked, Colleen nestled
under Calum's arm, all the way to the bus station together. They held each
other until the last possible moment. Calum felt like, if he had let her,
Colleen would have boarded the bus and gone all the way to Newark with him.

Calum didn't bother to hook up his VR rig during the trip, preferring to sit
and stare dreamily out the window. As they got closer to New York City, the
air started to fill with Qiin transports and lifters. The new skyline was
already starting to take shape. Calum tried to imagine what it would have
been like to live in a city of ten million people and be told that they had
forty-eight hours to evacuate before it was levelled. That had been the
Qiin's humane response to American unwillingness to provide treaty troops
ten years into the occupation. The Americans had responded to the leveling
of New York by launching a second war against the Qiin. Even with the
technology the Qiin had shared with humanity, that war was over in a matter
of weeks and Chicago, the capital at that time, obliterated without warning
as punishment.

If protesters like Calum's father had their way, Denver would eventually
face the same fate as Chicago. Calum hoped it wouldn't come to that.

                            -=-

NARIKO: SHINJUKU DISTRICT, TOKYO, JAPAN

Nariko always hated the Shomben Yokosho, but especially at night. The
cluster of ramshackle huts and restaurants crouched at the based of the
towering Odakyu department store were a favorite gathering point for
low-level salarymen, too poor to eat in a proper restaurant, but still
better than Nariko and her father because they worked in the towering silver
office buildings of the Shinjuku and her father was a lowly sushi chef in
one of the restaurants that barely stood along the narrow walkways of the
charmingly named "Piss Alley."

As she stepped out of Shinjuku station, Nariko got a double nostril full of
the Shomben Yokosho. Despite its name, it smelled like nothing so much as
stale, spilled beer, raw fish, and unwashed salarymen. Nariko gave the
latter a wide berth. It was early enough yet that they were probably still
working up the courage to go to the strip clubs and hostess bars of
Kabukicho, which made them less dangerous than if they were on their way
back. Still, a girl Nariko's age was in constant danger of being pinched,
groped, or worse if she let them get too close.

Inside her father's restaurant, the air was smoky enough to make Nariko's
eyes water. Her father always claimed that this was caused by the grill chef
not keeping his work area clean enough, but the smoke had a faintly chemical
tang to it, suggesting that most of it came from the heating unit below the
grill.

As she entered the restaurant, Nariko could see a few of the patrons
watching her carefully, probably calculating how to get their hands on her.
Not all salarymen were chikan, of course, but a disproportinately large
number seemed to be drawn from the same social strata as those who sat in
her father's restaurant drinking cheap beer and complaining about their
jobs, their bosses, their wives, and generally everything else about their
lives.

As one particularly burly salaryman staggered into her path, Nariko raised
her arm, waving it to the sushi station, "Papa-san," she called. The
salaryman looked startled and staggered back the way he had come.

When she got to her father's station, he was glowering at her, "Nariko," he
said, "I told you never to come here. I have work to do."

"Papa-san," said Nariko, "It's mother. She's had some trouble with the baby
and had to go to the hospital."

Her father's scowl became more pronounced, "I can't afford another
hysterical incident. She will..."

"No, Papa," said Nariko, "she was bleeding very badly. I could see it
through her clothes. You have to come."

Her father looked around, "I cannot come. There is no one to cover my
station. If I leave, I will be fired."

Nariko took his hand, trying to pull him away from his station, "Papa, you
have to come. She is very sick and she might lose the baby."

Her father jerked his hand away from Nariko. She fell backwards, sprawling
against the back wall of the restaurant, making the structure shake. The
salarymen clustered around her father's station laughed and pointed.

"I cannot," her father shouted. "Go home to your mother. Tell her I will be
there when I can."

Nariko grabbed his wrist again. Her father raised his free hand to hit her.
Nariko dimly realized that his breath smelt strongly of saki. He often came
home from work drunk, but it had never occurred to her that he did his work
that way. She let go of him and picked up one of the small filleting knives
he used for more delicate work, wielding it in front of herself, trained on
her father's midsection.

Her father stared at her, incredulity and remorse mixing on his face.
Wearily, he said, "Go to your mother. I will be there when I can."

Nariko turned and fled the restaurant, barely able to see the Shomben
Yokosho through her tears. By the time she was descending the stairs into
Shinjuku Station, she was able to calm down a little, enough to slow down,
take deep, gasping breaths, and wipe the hair out of her eyes. As she did
so, she realized that she was still holding the small filleting knife in her
hand. She slipped it into her purse. Her father would need it back to do his
work.

As she stood on the platform waiting for the JR Yamanote Line, Nariko saw
the burly salaryman who had blocked her way descend into the station. He
glanced over at her, then turned away, talking to someone behind him.

Nariko's heart sank. Was he following her? She had seen no flash of
recognition in his eyes, so he might just be heading home. But, Nariko had
gotten a strong sense in the restaurant that he was chikan--the sort of man
who would touch girls on the subway without permission.

When the train pulled in, Nariko noticed with relief that it was mostly
empty. If the big man decided to come after her, she could just run. She'd
had to deal with chikan at rush hour, anonymous men sticking their hands up
her skirt when everyone was so packed in that all she could do was grit her
teeth and bear it.

She took a seat near the door that would open onto the station, towards the
front of the car. Finally able to stop running, she reflected on the
evening. She had been angry at her father for not coming immediately to her
mother's side, but he needed that job to pay for the new baby. And, perhaps,
Nariko had not properly described the amount of blood she had seen soaked
through her mother's clothes or how the woman had been almost incoherent as
Nariko helped her get into the ambulance.

There had been so much blood that Nariko had not believed the baby could
possibly be alive, but the paramedic had assured her that they still heard a
fetal heartbeat and the doctor would probably attempt a live delivery. Her
mother was only a month into the third trimester but such things were not
unheard of.

Suddenly, Nariko realized that there was a hand on her thigh. She reached
down and tried to slap it away, but it didn't move. She looked up, alarmed.
Most chikan were only after the most timid girls, the ones who would quietly
endure whatever was done to them. A slap or, in more extreme cases, grabbing
an offending wrist, holding it up in the air, and shouting, "Is this your
hand?" was enough to deter all but the most determined of perverts. She'd
only had to do the latter once and wound up feeling as embarassed as her
attacker probably had.

The hand slid up under her skirt. Nariko looked up in alarm. She was alone
on the train with a half-dozen men. One was sitting on either side of her. A
third was standing right in front of her, despite the fact that there were
plenty of empty seats. Looking up, she realized it was the salaryman who had
followed her out of her father's restaurant.

Nariko knew she was in real trouble now. She wasn't dealing with a single
chikan, but a team of them. She'd heard of such things, but thought they
were a product of the overactive imaginations of her classmates, since none
would admit to ever having encountered one.

In spite of the embarassment she knew it would cause, Nariko reached up to
push against the man's belly in front of her, shouting, "Stop it." There
were three other men on the train who might come to her aid.

Of the three men not directly involved in her assault, one had already been
watching intently. One now started to stare openly. The third looked up,
glared at her in annoyance, and went back to his newspaper.

Starting to panic, Nariko began to struggle in ernest now. The original hand
was pressed against her panties. The man on her left was trying to unbutton
her shirt. Strong hands held her in place, pulling her wrists down.

One hand came down on her purse. In spite of the fact that she had been
horrified of the idea of ever using it on someone, Nariko had pepper spray
in there somewhere. As the man on her left brought out a small pair of
scissors to cut her panties free, she clicked the purse open and began to
feel through it with her fingers.

Scissors? Nariko realized that these men had planned their molestation well
in advance. This made her angrier than she could ever remember being. This
was a sport to them. The man who had been watching openly the whole time
stood up now, lifting his satchel and Nariko realized that there was a hole
cut in the side and a camera behind it. He was filming this.

Nariko stopped struggling agaist her captors. They were obviously physically
much stronger than her. She kept complaining loudly as they undid her top
and pulled off her bra, but her complaints just seemed to egg them on. So,
she suffered silently as they groped and fondled her, not giving them the
satisfaction.

She knew she would have only one chance to break free and waited for the
train to pull into a station while she continued to search for her pepper
spray. She'd never used it, so it was probably all the way down in the
bottom. She hadn't taken it out at some point and not put it back, had she?

Her search was hampered by the fact that she kept pricking herself with the
little filleting knife she'd thrown in on top of her purse. She considered
using it to fight back, but knew that she would get into far more trouble
than her molesters if she cut them.

Then, the big salaryman started to undo his belt and Nariko realized that
these men were worse than just chikan. They were going to rape her if she
let them. Her anger and panic tightened into a hard knot of calm purpose as
she wrapped her fingers around the knife handle, relaxed, and waited.

The big man dropped his pants and thrust towards Nariko's face. She looked
up into his hard, angry eyes and reached for him, wrapping her hand around
his half-hard manhood. As she did so, the man on her left released her wrist
to push her head forward.

When he did, she pulled the knife out of her purse, swinging it upward and
driving up between the big man's legs and into his perineum, midway between
his balls and his asshole. She did it so smoothly that the other men didn't
realize anything was wrong until she withdrew the knife and the big man
collapsed backwards, holding his groin.

The man on her left tried to grab her wrist. She jumped up, standing over
the man she had stabbed and drew the blade across her attacker's throat. A
satisfying spray of blood spattered Nariko and the wall behind her before
she turned on the third man. He had his hands up defensively, protecting his
face and throat. This left his belly exposed and Nariko took advantage of
it, burying the blade up to the handle and twisting it. The man tumbled
backwards, taking the blade with him.

It was over in a few seconds. Nariko realized with horror that she'd
forgotten the camera man and was now unarmed. She turned to face him,
bringing up her arms defensively, but he had already fled to the next car as
had the other observers.

When the police found her, Nariko was kneeling in a widening pool of blood
between her victims, crying. She had not even bothered to try to cover
herself up.

Nariko's trial promised to become a focus of international attention. Within
three days of her attack, the media had focused on it as symbolic of any
number of problems with the role of women in modern Japan. When the man
whose throat she'd slit died of his wounds, the interest doubled.

When Nariko's lawyer suggested that she could volunteer as a treaty troop
instead of being put on trial for murder, the government was more than happy
to comply.

                            -=-

CRAIG: GREENWOOD VILLAGE, COLORADO

"Come on baby," pleaded Craig as Sandra pushed his hand away from her breast
for the third or fourth time that night, "have a heart. I'm going off to
war."

Sandra pushed his hands off of her completely, rising from the broken couch
Craig had found somewhere and dragged into his parents basement in an
attempt to make it appear more furnished.

"Man," she said, "I still don't understand how you could be so stupid as to
fail the exclusion exam. A monkey could have passed that test."

Craig stood up, following her and making monkey noises. His shoulders were
hunched, his arms held out slightly akimbo, and he really did look like a
monkey. Sandra started to giggle.

Standing up, Craig refilled both glasses from the wine bottle and handed
Sandra hers, "Come on, baby," he slurred. "It's a celebration. I'm going to
be a superhero."

Sandra took her glass reluctantly, frowning at it, "Craig, you're just
trying to get me drunk so that I'll sleep with you again. I told you that
was over. I'm with Carl now."

"I know," said Craig. "Carl's my friend. I wouldn't want to take you away
from him, even if he did the same to me. I just thought you might want to
say goodbye properly. I'll probably die out there. Wouldn't you like to be
the last piece I ever got?"

Sandra sighed, "You're pathetic."

"I know, baby," said Craig, his voice wheedling now as he stood behind her,
"but, why did you come if you didn't want to see me off?"

Sandra sighed again, gulping her wine, then said, "Carl can't know."

Craig shrugged, "How could he? I'm getting on a bus this weekend and, even
if I survive, it'll be thirty years before I come back." He put his glass
down on the rickety table and kissed the intersection between Sandra's neck
and shoulder.

Sandra glanced at her watch, "We can't take too long. I've got to be home
for dinner by seven."

Craig was already sliding down the straps of Sandra's tank top, "Plenty of
time," he muttered.

Sandra finished her wine before turning to put the glass down. Craig undid
her bra, letting her breasts fall free. He lowered his head, licking and
sucking them hungrily before leading her back to the couch. He had her pants
undone even before she was lying down.

"Careful," Sandra said, "there's a broken spring in this damned couch. I had
a sore spot in my back for like a week the last time we did this down here."

Craig nodded, stripping Sandra naked and laying her clothes on the wobbly
table. He stripped himself naked as well, lying down on top of her. His hand
went down between her legs. She spread them a little, sighing in seeming
contentment.

Craig laughed as he stroked her, "You wanted this all along, didn't you?"

Sandra nodded, "I came down here, didn't I? I didn't think you were going to
read me Shakespeare."

Craig pulled his hand away and entered her. Sandra adjusted her hips to make
insertion easier. The first few thrusts were uncomfortable and slow as she
got wet enough for him to glide in and out. Once she was, he immediately
increased the tempo. Sandra gasped underneath him. Craig didn't really have
any technique, but he did have enthusiasm and youth.

After ten minutes of thrusting, Sandra began to come. By that point, Craig
was battering her like a savage. No one would ever mistake what he was doing
for lovemaking, but it was an impressive display of fucking. Sandra held
firmly onto the small of his back as he pounded away at her, slaking his
lust. That her pleasure was incidental to him made it no less intense.

Eventually, Sandra began to realize two things. The first was that the
broken spring was right in the middle of her back. The second was that Craig
was deliberately taking his time, trying to make her late for dinner. Sandra
tried to urge him forward, but he maintained his pace, grinning wickedly at
her.

"Craig," pleaded Sandra, "hurry up. I have to go."

Craig nodded and pulled out of her. Taking one shoulder, he flipped her over
on her stomach. Sandra realized what he was doing a moment too late. Her
eyes widened and she tried to scramble away as he battered into her from
behind. Her muscles clamped down on him, allowing only partial entry.

"Craig," she begged, "I told you. I don't do that."

"Just this once," he whispered. His voice was pleading, but he didn't relent
in his assault, entering her a centimeter at a time. "Nobody has to know."

Sandra considered her options. She could maybe fight him off and have a big
screaming match, sure to bring his parents downstairs and make her very late
getting home. Then, his parents would know what happened. So would hers.
Invariably, that meant that Carl would find out. It would be a whole lot of
trouble she didn't need. Reluctantly, she unclenched her muscles, letting
him get inside of her.

"Oh, fuck," she shouted. "Craig, that hurts."

Craig said, "I'll go slow."

"No," said Sandra, "hurry up. I don't have time for you to go slow."

It hurt so much that it made Sandra's head ache and bile rise in her throat.
She thrust back against it anyway, urging Craig to finish more quickly. When
he finally came inside of her, she collapsed in exhaustion and relief. He
leaned down and kissed the back of her head.

"Thanks, baby," he said. "You were great."

Sandra lay there for a while until she was sure he was far enough along in
dressing that he would leave before she was fully dressed. Then, she dressed
quickly. He was standing at the bottom of the stairway that led up into the
house when he turned around and asked her, "Are you going to wish me luck?"

Sandra rehooked her bra, "Good luck," she said, mustering as much sarcasm as
she could manage, "I hope you come back safely."

                            -=-

LARA: DECATEUR, ILLINOIS

Lara sighed contentedly as Sterling made love to her. The house was
completely silent except for the pitter patter of rain against the roof and
windows. She wished this could last forever and knew it couldn't. Knowing
this might well be the last time they ever did this made her lovemaking all
the more urgent. But, Sterling kept his nice, easy pace. He had always been
extremely gentle with her, having met her shortly after the destruction of
Chicago when she was still deeply in mourning. He had taken her in, never
making demands.

She had still been fifteen the first time they made love, six months after
moving into his house. He was twice her age, but that sort of thing didn't
matter so much anymore. However much she might have hated the Qiin, she had
to admit that their contributions to human medicine had been a gift beyond
measure. Sterling had just turned fifty and looked like a man of twenty-five
would have before the invasion. At thirty-four, Lara could still pass for
eighteen if she were so inclined.

The first time they'd made love, Sterling had been so sweet, gentle, and
tenative. Lara had been grateful that he showed her such consideration.
Later, she would realize that he always made love like that, patient and in
control without ever giving in to his lust or losing control. Usually, Lara
loved to be taken like that. It made her feel worshipped and revered.
Sometimes, it made her antsy and frustrated and gave her the inexplicable
urge to punch Sterling in the face. She'd never told him that. She knew what
he would do. He would give her that hurt look he always got when she said
something that wounded him and tell her he had to consider what she had
said. Then, he would never bring it up again.

Lara had been his wife for more than fifteen years now, but in many ways, St
erling was still an enigma to her. He was a man of deep convictions and
passions, but so gentle and caring with the people he loved. He came inside
of her now with a contented sigh. Lara held her arms around him, gripping
him to her as he shuddered to a halt. He rolled over, taking her with him.
Lara was small enough that she could lay on top of his broad chest without
hurting him.

After lying there silently, he said, "You don't have to do this, you know. I
have other people who are willing to make the sacrifice."

Lara shook her head. This wasn't the first time he had tried to dissuade
her, "I owe the Qiin for killing my father," she said quietly. "Besides, no
one will ever question your loyalty to the cause when you can say you let
your own wife go into the belly of the beast to do what needed to be done."

Sterling scowled irritably, "If it were only for my reputation, I would
never let you do this."

Lara kissed his chest, "You can't stop me, my sweet. Tomorrow, I'm going in
to the recruiting center and signing up to be a levy in the treaty troops. I
have to do it this year or I'll be too old for them to accept me. I hope I'm
doing it with your support and blessing."

Sterling made his pained face and Lara knew that she'd hurt his feelings
somehow. Still, the pain didn't touch his voice. He just said, "Of course.
I'll support you in whatever you do. I'm just going to miss you terribly."

Lara nodded. She wished she could tell him it wasn't a death sentence. But,
they both knew it was. She listened to his heartbeat and the pattering of
the rain on the window.

"I should get dressed," said Lara, "It's a long way to Springfield."

Sterling kissed her, "Can you stay long enough to do this one more time?"

Lara laughed, "All right. Will you do something for me?"

Sterling looked up at her questioningly. She said, "Be fierce with me."

Sterling rolled over, taking her with him so that she was pressed beneath
him. He kissed her mouth, raking his teeth over her lower lip, holding it
between them while his hands squeezed and fondled her breasts. Lara
undulated underneath him, her hips rising and falling as if he were already
inside of her. She loved the feeling of his weight resting on her. His arms
wrapped around her waist, lifting her up against him. Her legs spread to
welcome him, even though she knew it was much too soon for him to go again.

For a long time, they cuddled, kissed, and fondled each other until she felt
Sterling stirring once more against her. He was more intense this time than
she could remember him being, but he wasn't fierce. When he entered her, he
was calm and in control, just going a little bit faster than usual.
Frustrated, she wrapped her arms around his neck, arched up, and bit him
hard on the earlobe.

He yelped in pain and shrank out of her. Looking down at her, the hurt came
back into his eyes, "What did you do that for?"

She kissed him on the cheek and forehead, "Oh, Sterling, baby. I'm so sorry.
I just thought it might drive you on a little, make you fierce. You're
always so...controlled. Just once, I wanted to see you..." She let her words
trail off as the pain in his eyes deepened.

Sterling got off of Lara, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to
her. He said gravely, "I hate getting out of control, Lara. I never want to
be that way with you."

Lara nodded, holding back tears. She hated to hurt him like this.
Wordlessly, she slid out of bed and got in the shower. She washed herself
efficiently, dressing carefully for the trip. She'd already packed before
they got into bed.

Sterling was up and moving around. He had the gentle, understanding look
back on his face. If Lara didn't bring up what had just happened, he
wouldn't either.

Once dressed, she took a last look around. Sterling said, "I'll call a car
for you."

"Thank you," said Lara quietly.

After Sterling got off the phone, he said to her, "Once you get inside, take
your time. Don't kill the first high-ranking officer you get a shot at. You
may get away with one or two, but they'll catch you eventually. Bide your
time. Eventually, you'll get a chance to take out a cluster of them. If you
don't have to blow yourself up in the process, don't. But..." he looked at
her, love and pain mingling in his eyes.

"I'll do what I have to do," said Lara. "What do you think the odds are that
I'll be able to get near the top guy?"

"I'm not even sure there is a top guy," said Sterling. "I've heard of
officers going as high as the sixteenth rank. They still serve on the front.
Their whole organization is built like resistance cells above a certain
level. Each soldier deals with a very small portion of the hierarchy."

"I know," said Lara. She leaned forward and kissed Sterling, "I love you,
old man. Don't ever forget that."

"I love you too, little girl," he answered. "Let's go sit on the porch and
wait for your car."

Treaty Troops, Part 1
by Vulgar Argot
(SF, MF, rom, MMMF, rape, NC, oral, anal, mild D/s)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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