Date: Wed, 17 Oct 2007 12:22:37 -0400
From: carl_mason@comcast.net
Subject: THE NEW EARTH - 4

THE NEW EARTH - 4

Copyright 2007 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or
by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written
permission of the author.  "The New Earth" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  As in
real life, however, sexual themes unfold gradually.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@comcast.net

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the
"Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive or in the left
margin of the Gay stories index.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults
and teenagers.   As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal
enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of legal age to read
such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or
if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally,
remember that maturity generally demands safe sex.


CHAPTER 4

(Revisiting Chapter 3)

Standing in the powerful spray that lashed their bodies.  Justin turned his face back
towards the Marshal and hungrily kissed him.  "I would give you a present, sir...freely,
joyfully, and with everything that I am.  Take me, please.  Mark me.  Make me yours for
as long as I may serve you."  "Justin...no...you need to rest...later," Alexios protested.
"Do this for me, Alexios.  Mark me, take me!" the youngster repeated in a strong voice.
Slowly, hesitatingly, his face tense, the great leader of the Tacians began to thrust into
the flesh of the beautiful youngster from the blue planet.  Faster...faster...gasping...
groaning in need, biting the lad's powerful traps...stiffening with passion...faster...
deeper...DEEPER - until with a great roar the Tacian came.  Reaching around the boy's
body, he grasped his rock-hard flesh.  With a sharp cry of release, Justin pumped his
essence into his master's hand and slumped back into his protecting arms.

(Continuing Our Story:  We Fly Against Canmuto!)

There was no way on God's green earth that Justin would have wanted to be anywhere
other than where he was.  Nevertheless, on rare occasion, he did experience a certain
sense of deja vu.  Take, for instance, one of the favorite songs of the Tacians on board
- men and boys, those of different services, and even officers as well as the those in the
ranks.  It reminded him of nothing other than a German Luftwaffe [Air Force] song of
World War II:  "Wir fliegen gegen England und mit uns fliegt der Tod." [We fly against
England and Death flies with us.]  You heard it in the mess halls, in the passageways,
in the showers...everywhere!  Now, of course, the words were "We fly against
Canmuto!", but the feeling was much the same - and the original melody ran eerily
through his head.  Something of a history buff, however untutored, Justin wondered
how that war might have been different had the Nazis won the "Battle of Britain".

After about three Earth days, Justin began to feel that his worries might be for naught.
Fast, heavily armed Allied light cruisers hunted in packs throughout the galaxy.  Most of
those Canmuton ships that had escaped the disaster off Neptune were discovered and
eliminated.  Further, the battered remnants of squadrons from Attia and Serium had
been openly berthed in their space ports and made no move to sortie even when
provoked.  As a matter of fact, not one missile was flung at them from heavy defensive
batteries on either planet.  The only missiles they had to contend with came from
Canmuto itself!  The Allied High Command quickly made a decision.  They had another
target in their sights, and Canmuto's vassals would have to wait their turn!

When Canmuton authorities disdainfully refused calls to free Terrans enslaved during
their long control over the planet, they made a second decision.  Although some Allied
military leaders (including Field Marshal Alexios) demurred, the decision was made to
subject the enemy to a casmitic bombardment of its cities and military facilities.
Perhaps the easy victory of the Allied space forces had filled the majority with
unjustified overconfidence.  Perhaps it was a matter of a widespread desire for
revenge.  The truth was that Canmuto was a populous planet that maintained large
forces under arms.  With their cities in smoking ruins, the minority believed that
whatever chance existed for a less bloody outcome would be lost forever.  The
aggressive Canmutons, soldier and civilian alike, would fight to the death.

Attempting to get all Allied members in agreement, only one city was selected for the
first casmitic attack: Canmuto's second city, the center of its air and space commands
and the planet's most heavily industrialized center.  Subsequently, after a four-hour
warning, casmitic missiles were launched from the Star Cruiser Baltimore.  The city,
including its military targets, was totally destroyed.  Again, the Canmutons curtly
rejected the demand that all Terran slaves be freed.  The second attack, with no further
warnings, removed all major cities and military targets.  There were secondary effects
from the mass bombing, e.g., two volcanoes opened on the continent and massive
earthquakes made the rocky land even more impassible in many areas.

With Canmuton space under its control and with most of its missile defense system
destroyed, two of the three troop transports were brought closer to the planet.  Field
Marshal Alexios, the commander of both the Allied marine and heavy infantry forces
made ready for an invasion.  After constant begging and implicit threats to return to his
Terran regiment, his adjutant was given permission to fight with the Tacian forces...at
least for a few days.  Landings would be attempted on both Canmuto's single continent
and one large island, a land mass considerably smaller than Earth's.  (Tens of
thousands of Canmuton citizens lived and worked on thousands of specks of land in the
seas.  For the time being, the invasion would not specifically target them.)

An ardent if untrained student of Earth's military history, his young adjutant was of
considerable assistance.  For instance, he remembered reading books stolen from the
libraries that told of the terrible battles American marines had to fight on Saipan and Iwo
Jima.  He warned Alexios about the types of fixed emplacements that the Allied forces
were likely to face in a rocky land and by a foe that had time to prepare.  To his credit,
Alexios listened and saved lives.  All in all, however, the invaders landed with the
expectation that the defeated Canmutons would put up a token defense - an "exercise
in honor," if you will - and then quickly lay down their weapons.  Nothing could have
been further from the truth...as 66,203 Allied deaths over five weeks of heavy fighting
attested!  Approximately 50,000 of the nearly 250,000 Terrans who worked on Canmuto
as slave labor lived through these terrible days to be returned home.  After 250 years of
captivity, however, they and their offspring had been reduced to little more than "hewers
of wood and drawers of water" - if, that is, as rumor had it, they hadn't been raised
simply as part of the food supply.   Though never counted officially, the Canmuton
losses (military and civilian) must have been several times greater.  Observers noted
that the population of this planet was only a shadow of its pre-war self for a good half
century.

(. . . And Death Flies with Us)

The shape of the terrible battles...the terrible bloodletting...that would ensue was clear
from the day of the first landings.  Justin landed in the second wave with his marine
cadets on the southern end of the planet.  They were immediately attacked by
sophisticated warplanes that appeared out of nowhere and caused heavy casualties.  It
took most of the day for fighters from the Fleet Carrier Lexington to restore complete
control of the skies over the beaches.  The land had been so torn up by the
earthquakes that the effect of their remote-controlled tanks and other armored vehicles
was minimized.  As Justin had feared, every turn saw a new fortified position and every
hill became the site of a fierce battle.  At the close of the first day, the squad with which
Justin was fighting had only moved seven miles inland from the beaches - and had
sustained 45% casualties!

On the first night, Justin's sergeant tapped him and two experienced cadets to
reconnoiter the valley immediately before them.  It would provide their first objective in
the morning - and not one officer seemed to like the lay of the land.  They hadn't moved
twenty yards into an area of high grass before one of the cadets was killed by a
sharpshooter.  As they worked their way out of the grass and began climbing a low,
rocky hill, a Canmuton patrol discovered them.  The second cadet tried to use a
fragmentation grenade, but one of the patrol killed him before he could remove the pin.
It appeared that more that a "few days" would pass before the Field Marshal regained
the services of his adjutant.

Suddenly, the three Canmuton soldiers dropped like stones, their weapons clattering
down the rocky slope.  A grim-faced Sergeant crawled up beside the shaken youngster
and whispered, "Ok, Justy, we know most of what we came to learn.  Let's get our butts
out of here."  Clearly, they had been dogging the recon patrol's footsteps in an effort to
get a better fix on the enemy's defensive status.  Noticing the NCO's strange,
somewhat box-like weapon, Justin asked what it was.  "Something new," the Sarge
grunted. "Fries their brains... Common!  Let's move it!"

After another week of violent skirmishes, the Allied forces gradually closed in on
Forscher's Ridge, a long line of dark, jagged hills that stood between them and the
ruined Canmuton capital.  The island offensive was drawing to a close; the assault in
the northern section of the one good-sized landmass was going well and promises were
already being heard about soon beginning to "mop up".  Thus, the area immediately
ahead was important, for it was not only the Canmutons' last serious redoubt, but the
center of their religion.  Officers were promising the boys a hot time...and making sure
they prepared thoroughly.

(Forscher's Ridge)

The Allied offensive quickly ground to a halt in the hills known as "Forscher's Ridge".
There were many factors:  1) The enemy fought ferociously for every square inch of
ground, ground that was often "sacred" to them.  2) One of the planet's major
earthquake faults that ran directly along the line of hills had reduced the entire region to
a mass of tumbled rock.  The few roads that had crossed the area, for instance, were
simply...gone.  Even pre-attack artillery barrages and heavy bombing simply chewed
the area up a bit more.  In no sector did they appear to markedly reduce the
underground fortifications that in some cases had been prepared years earlier.  Further,
their armor was of absolutely no use in this terrain.  3) The Canmuton weather turned
particularly dark and dank.  This particular area was often cloaked in thick, swirling
mists that reduced visibility worse than a London fog.

Justin was involved in an action that gave some promise of clearing one of the lower
hills, thus giving their light artillery a better firing field.  As he and a buddy checked out
that which appeared to be a simple break in the rock wall caused by a stream, they
suddenly found themselves staring down the barrels of automatic weapons held by
several ill-tempered Canmuton civilians.  They were promptly searched, hurried to a
cave that appeared to be deep in the hill, and turned over to a military officer.  The
major, who turned out to be in the intelligence service, began to ask a host of rapid-fire
questions as the two weary cadets attempted to stand at attention before him.  After a
long period of this treatment, Justin's buddy lost his balance and fell to his knees.
Brusquely ordered to regain his footing, he swore at the officer.  Without the slightest
change in expression, the officer drew his service weapon and killed the brawny
youngster.  "You will notice, Earthman," the Major said, "what happens to those who do
not obey promptly, completely, and without incident.  Follow my orders and you MIGHT
live.  Disregard them and you will SURELY die."

That night under guard, Justin walked through long underground tunnels for what he
took to be hours.  Eventually, his captor and he reached a large underground chamber
carved out of solid rock.  There, sitting on stone benches, he waited nervously with
several other prisoners to learn his fate.  When a strangely dressed official arrived, he
ordered the captives to strip.  They were then taken to an area of separate cells where
they were caged and well fed.  After a solid breakfast, he was taken to a room in the
same underground complex.  After Terran slaves had removed the small amount of
stubble that remained on his body below the eyes, he was taken to a cavern that
contained an immense Turkish bath and allowed to soak in the warm, mineral waters
for some time.  Again, not one word was spoken by the Terran slave who brought him
to another room, motioned for him to climb up on a thick slab of stone, and gave him a
superb warm oil massage.  As he left, a black-hooded figure entered the room,
approached the stone, and stood over the youngster.

"You may call me 'Abbot Kol', Justin," the figure said seriously.  "Thank you, Abbot Kol,"
the youth replied politely.  "You will be here for some time, but do not fear.  You will be
well cared for," the abbot continued.  Justin nodded his head in acknowledgment.  "You
will be fed well and allowed to exercise several times a day," the hooded figure added.
"And what of the war?" the young cadet asked.  In a kindly voice, the abbot simply said,
"That does not concern us here, my son.  Banish it from your mind and be at peace."
With that he blessed the boy with incense and departed.

For several days - the lad gradually lost track of how many - Justin's hours were spent
in eating well, if alone, and vigorously exercising in a room that contained the latest
equipment, as well as some machines he had never seen before.  He incorporated
several of these in his exercise regimen.  At the close of each day, he soaked in the
great Bath and was then oiled by a slave.  After supper, the Abbot would enter his
room, light incense in a brazier, and pray silently by his side.  In all truth, Justin felt
great.  He had almost completely regained his peak physical condition and, perhaps for
the first time in his young life, his mind was at peace.  He began to wonder if there was
something here...in this place...known by the kindly abbot...that he should know and,
perhaps, follow.  One evening he asked the hooded figure about his religion.  "Our
religion is peace," the abbot murmured.  "One day you will know the Spirit of Peace,
even as He knows you.  For today, simply lie back on your bed, breath deeply, enjoy
the glories of youth, and allow the desire to control your world to fade away."  With that,
he rose from his knees and softly stroked Justin's brow as the boy breathed deeply of
the incense and willed that control of his body and mind slip from his fingers.

Some evenings later, instead of leaving his room, the abbot draped his body in a
brilliant white cloak with trim and decorations of pure gold.  They then joined a
procession of hooded figures that, wreathed in incense, processed as they chanted a
magnificent melody, and bowed as they reached each of many statues that occupied
niches in the corridor's stone walls.  In due course, they reached a large, circular room,
lighted by flaring torches, whose several levels of stone benches looked down on a
platform that held nothing other than a stone throne and an ornately decorated stone
slab.  Braziers throughout the room held smoking incense.  All of the benches were
occupied by hooded figures, each of whom was attended by a beautifully built naked
young Terran.  As the abbot's procession entered the chamber, a new chant began,
their voices rising gloriously towards the vaulted ceiling.  Reaching the platform, the
monks in the procession knelt in a semicircle in back of the throne.  As Justin was
directed to stand in front of him, the abbot swirled the cloak from his body and bowed
deeply before him.  He was then directed to stand at the side of the throne as the priest
ascended and sat down.  It was a glorious scene, and he had never felt better
physically or psychologically as he stood proudly in the flaring light.  Feeling one of the
abbot's hands rest on his shoulder, he looked up at him and smiled warmly.

With a sudden blast of sound from several long, magnificently twisted horns, probably
taken from animals, another figure accompanied by two priests entered the chamber.
Due to the flaring light and the swirling smoke from the burning incense, it was difficult
to make them out, but Justin was finally able to identify the middle figure.  Naked,
strongly built with a glorious torso, prominent genitals and long, muscular legs, the
young lad was one of the prisoners whom he had briefly seen on the night that they had
been turned over to the priests.  He moved smoothly, though he appeared to be lightly
drugged.  Approaching the altar, he climbed onto the highly polished stone and lay
peacefully.  The two monks approached the throne, bowed low, one extending his arms
for the abbot, one for Justin, and guided them over to the altar.  After praying, the abbot
began to run his hands sensually over the boy's body.  At first, there was no movement
other than the peaceful rise and fall of his chest.  Gradually, of course, the youngster
became aroused.  As his thick, perfectly straight cock rose until it pointed towards the
ceiling, a stir ran through the room as the monks began caressing the genitals of their
charges.  When most of the slaves had erected, the abbot chanted a prayer, took a
long, curiously shaped knife from one of the monks, and plunged it into the chest of
recumbent youth.  Masking his cry, the monks took up the chant as the abbot ran the
two razor-sharp, scissor-like blades from his pubic mound to the top of his chest.
Reaching into his open chest, he grasped the still beating heart, cut it loose from the
body, and held it high in the air.  Excited - indeed, he was hard erect despite almost
fainting - Justin felt strangely distant from the scene in front of him.  Indeed, he
somehow shared in the euphoria of the surrounding monks who raised their voices in
triumphal song as they brought their charges to orgasm.  As a thick moan of release
broke out, Justin fell to his knees beside the abbot and placed his bloody hand atop his
head.  The youth remembered the abbot rubbing the blood of the sacrifice over his
body, as he remembered cumming spontaneously, but he remembered nothing more
until morning.  He awoke to find the abbot ready to spoon a thick and fragrant soup into
his mouth.  "Take ye the soup of peace," the hooded one chanted before giving him a
taste of the delicious broth and meat, and leaving the room.

Justin never saw the abbot or his fellow monks again.  That night Tacian soldiers broke
into the underground sanctuary and freed many Terran and Tacian prisoners despite
violent opposition.  As he was being tenderly carried away by his Tacian buddies from
the Orestes, noting how good the fresh air smelled, he heard great explosions behind
him and surmised that the temple was no more.  During the days that followed, he
learned that the last enemy strongholds had been wiped out on the day he was freed.
Five weeks of death and destruction...  What lie ahead?


(To Be Continued)