WARNING; This story has some graphic sexual content, language, and violence.



Part I

Sergeant Major Mikayla “Kayla” Mack (ret.) had made 27 Tactical Orbit-to-Surface Deployments (TOSD); tossed off the boat” the marines called it.  She was eighth on the all-time list.  Tech-implants, zero.  None.  She was pure-bred , womb-born, unaugmented human.  No one without cyber-augmentation had orbit jumped more than 5 times.

She was a goddamn marvel.

Then why am I shaking?

Stupid question.   She knew.  The hyper-line hook-up had caught her off guard.  He had touched some serious stuff way, way down.  Kayla hadn’t felt anything like that for years.  She avoided it.  She hadn’t had a real lover since … since Caleb.  Still stung to think of him.

She took a deep breath.

Struggle … yes, claw all the way back to calm … all the way back.  She’d get there.  Always did.

She could feel the hook-up’s breath on her neck … the sensation lingered. She tried to recall his name.  Yes, she remembered; Xyphos; a take on the Spartan blades.  Kayla liked it; it said a lot about the man, or so she expected.  But he wasn’t anything like she’d imagined at all; he wasn’t like anybody.  Kayla knew why she had acted the way she did with him; she wasn’t ready for that kind of … experience; to feel that deeply.  She wished, for the first time in ages, that she could just …

Stop it.  Its gone.

She could have kept up with the surgeries, and eventually could’ve had a useable prosthetic implanted, but she had spurned the idea.  They could grow her flesh back—if only in thick keloid layers—but they couldn’t replace her sensory nerves, not on the scale and scope as she required.  If she couldn’t feel it, why fucking have it?  That’s what she always told herself.

But not anymore.  This Xyphos character; he’d really got her jump-jets juiced, hadn’t he?

Yes … that’s why you’re shaking … that’s why you’re afraid.

Fuck off.

But she was afraid.  Shit … been decades since anything had made Kayla Mack feel real fear.

In ’78, SgtMaj Mack and her Company had shipped out from the Marine base on Jupiter’s Galilean moon, Ganymede, with orders to quell a corporate civil war on Titan; Saturn’s largest moon.  Though the situation reports she received on the conflict were hundreds of pages long—she could thank the fucking lawyers for that!—the situation was simple; Titan was a mining moon, and one of the mining corporations was feeling like a big kid on campus and claim jumping other finds; basically, starting fights.  The ISDC (Inner Systems Democratic Commonwealth) had sent warnings to no avail.  Sometimes these big fucking corporations thought they were even bigger than they were; bigger, say, than the Marine Corps of the ISDC.

Well, the little brats were in for it now.  Daddy had gotten impatient and sent the arbiter down to separate the children, and instill the fear of harsh discipline in them.  Wouldn’t take the Marines too long; the Private Security Force Limitations Act of ’52, and its subsequent addendums, ensured that no private individual or organization could have too large of a security force.  It also limited the overall arsenal in terms of number of weapons that could be employed, and what type. Daddy didn’t like the kids to have guns as big as his, or more of them.

The trip from Ganymede to Titan was about 680 million kilometers, and took the Light Cruiser ISS Valiant just under three months.  They got a geo-synch-lock over the gigantic moon on December 6th, right over the prime hot spot of the conflict.  Kayla had made a point of telling her marines, while they got wired into their battle-armor; “If you lazy fuck-nuts can remember how to fight, we can get these ‘Suit’ bitches brought to heel, and get our asses back to Terra Firma in time for Christmas.”

Caleb led the cheers.  He had always liked her laconic battle speeches.

Caleb…  God, the trip from Ganymede had been sweet.  They had been growing closer, but something had happened on that trip to bring them closer than Kayla ever imagined she would be with a man.

Kayla had been tougher than anyone she knew for just about fucking ever.  Her father, the war hero–the legendary Marine–had made certain of that by making Kayla ten times as tough as anything with a swinging dick in the field.  Like the ancient Spartan agoge, her upbringing ensured that she would never be dominated.  This philosophy was adhered to in more than just her soldierly life.  Kayla Mack ate and crapped confidence and control.  It was no façade.  She had yet to meet a man in her adulthood who she couldn’t fucking rip apart in a far fight.  Was she biggest? No, thought she was a big woman.  Was she the strongest?  No.  Thought she was unnaturally powerful.  Was she the smartest?  Yes, you bet your fucking life she was.  That, and here father drilling her since before she could even walk, made her the toughest two-legged creature in the solar system.

She didn’t praise her father for this and thank him for her adamantine will and her indomitable spirit.  She knew the truth regardless of what he had always said on the talk shows when she’d be decorated with another medal.  He didn’t drill, and savage her from infancy to mold her into the ideal soldier for the Corps.  He did it to her for one reason, and one reason only; to punish her for killing her mother at birth.  Dad would never have a son, and would never have his wife again because of her, so he beat her and burned her and savaged her in ways no daughter should be subjected to by a father.

“Stop your fucking crying.  What do you think is going to happen when you’re captured by the enemy?  Do you think they’re going to give you a fucking teddy bear and sing you a lullaby?  No!  They’re going to try to break you.  They’re going to rape you.  So you stop that crying, and take it!”  She was twelve, and she was captured by the enemy; he was the enemy, and no, that fucker never broke her.

So it was no fucking surprise that when it came to fucking, Kayla liked it rough; rougher, it turned out, than most of the boys.  Sometimes a real swaggering SpecOps stud would make his way to her bed, thinking of what he was going to do to the poster girl of the Marine Corps.  Never went that way for them.  When she was done, they weren’t coming back.  Kayla was just fine with that.  She had no need for love, and no interest in it.  She was a decorated soldier with a celeb-stat rating higher than most SenseNet stars; all she needed was to fix, fuck, or fight; the latter was her preference.

Then came Staff Sergeant Caleb Cross.  Right from the word ‘Go’ he was different.  He showed her respect, but not overt admiration or awe like so many of these pukes did.  He was tall, and fit, and beautiful—beautiful?—yes, beautiful; Caleb was too pretty to be a marine, and too badass to be anything else.  Within several months, Caleb had already shown he was an exception NCO, and once he acclimated to his Sergeant Major’s way of doing things he was the best damn soldier she ever had.

They made short work of covering the ground between them, and in no time were spending what time they could together; professionally or otherwise.  It was not an easy thing to find the time or occasion to tear your clothes off, and get sweaty.  The Corps was not too keen on the idea of inter-company sexual liaising.  But she was Kayla fucking Mack, so it wasn’t like a shit-ton would come of it if word did get out, but Kayla hesitated to close the deal anyway.  It took her a while to realize why.

It was simple really; She didn’t want to be disappointed.  So far he was perfect.  She didn’t want to have such a high opinion of him—higher than she’d had everyone she ever knew, save; her father, and herself—only to have him be just a man; another discouraging man.

Once Kayla admitted that to herself, she felt a lot of anxiety on the matter go away, she put getting Caleb butt-ass naked in her quarters a top priority.  It didn’t take long, and it wasn’t disappointing … it was miraculous.  Just as with everything else, they were a perfect match.  His stamina was phenomenal, and he was brutal in wresting control from her when he wanted it, just as she was with him.  In other words; he knew when to give and just how much—Kayla wanted resistance—and he knew how to take—Kayla wanted him to push the limits when he wanted something—and lastly; he had a big beautiful cock.  God she loved it!  It was perfect; size, shape, appearance, and it was his!  Whenever they took leave together, planets and moons were thrown off their axis from the gravity of their passion.

It had been just over a year since StSgt Caleb Cross had stepped out of that docking bay to report to duty.  He had been at her right side ever since.

She threw him a hand signal—awkwardly done in the Battle-Armor—that said ‘You’re mine tonight!’  He replied with, ‘I’m always yours.’

She smiled in a way she couldn’t remember ever having done, as the green ‘Ready Lights’ started spinning.

Once the marines were mounted up in their Battle-Armor, and given the green light, they were hoisted by the deployment cranes in a singular synchronized mechanical motion, and loaded for deployment.

Kayla couldn’t help herself; she waved to the man she thought she was unbelievably falling in love with, as the hoists took them down.

When the deployment bay doors open, all 500 of Kayla’s marines were face down in two rows of 250, looking from the belly of the orbiting Valiant at the glory that was Titan.

26 jumps before Titan, and Kayla never ceased to marvel at it.  It was the only thing in her life that stirred her passion, except Caleb, who was hanging in his hoist to her right.

The checklist was complete.  The ‘Stand By’ indicator in their helmets vanished.  The countdown began.  This was where being a ACD Marine was both the most fun thing in the universe, and the most terrifying.

“…three, two, one … deploy, deploy, deploy.”

The hoist released, and gravity took hold, and down they went; tos’d off the boat and plummeting down onto Saturn’s enormous moon, and into the final battle of the Titan Corporate Conflicts; it was Kayla’s 27th drop.




Continued in Part II…


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