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Mark read the email again, for the thousandth time. Still he teared up. That was the last email he got from his wife, the last email he would ever get from her. The last reminder of his wife.

Mark put those thoughts out of his mind as an alert popped up. "Connect. 1003Z" Almost time for today's update. He brought up the comms app. "No signal." As expected, the tablet was in a CON enclosure, commonly called a "condom" (or "CON-dom"). It made using the tablet about as much fun as a fucking with a condom on. A causal onlooker might think the tablet was in an anti-static bag, the CON-dom was translucent pink. The CON-dom was higher tech than that, it was a radar absorbing stealth enclosure, reducing the content's radar cross section to almost nothing.

That was important when the enemy was out looking for him. But also someone, somewhere was thanking God most sincerely that the CON enclosures also reduced the dampening field, so the contents would continue to work, despite the enemy's best efforts. That dampening field was why he was here in the middle of God forsaken nowhere, wearing the silly suit, paddling a fucking canoe. It was his mission to take out the field generator. The CON-dom also blocked any comm signal, so he was going to have to unzip the bag to make the connection. Then hope the field didn't kill the tablet before it finished.

He looked up. He revised his opinion, maybe God hadn't forsaken this part of the world. The view was incongruously serene as the sun rose over the hill opposite. There was no wind, the lake was a mirror reflecting the blue sky, scattered clouds and fringe of trees. Claire would love it here …. Except Claire was dead.

Back to reality, it was almost time to connect. The tablet's timer counted down, he unzipped the top of the CON-dom and pointed in the indicated direction. "Signal acquired.” The tablet had found the signal from the XES-3 spaceplane making a hyperbolic orbit just above the atmosphere. It was getting in and out as fast as possible, before the enemy noticed it. That was serving as comm relay. "Downloading …. Done." He quickly zipped up the top of the bag, then crawled into the underbrush. Then, he waited. Had they noticed? Had they got a fix on him?

If they had, they'd be coming looking for him, his best defense was to be invisible. Invisible to their sensors, they relied to much on their sensor and didn't bother to use their eyes. He had nothing which would show up on their sensors, the only metal he had was the tablet, shielded in the CON-dom. Even his side arm was plastic, its barrel was ceramic wrapped in carbon fiber. It worked, but the barrel would wear out. The barrel was also fragile so he had a couple of spares, just in case. The bullets again, were ceramic and the casings were plastic, formed from the propellant.

Even if they looked, they might not see him, the suit he hated so much might just save his life. It looked like more underbrush. In another place, it would be called a ghillie suit, the army had a much less romantic name for it. The high tech fabric it was made from was fire retardant, bullet resistant and reduced his IR signature. However, as he lay there, no one came looking, but still he lay there.

After half an hour, he considered it safe. He looked at the tablet, wrapped in its enclosure, and found the details. There were updated reconnaissance photos, best guess diagrams, and observed schedules. The enemy were creatures of habit. Mark fervently hoped that was to be their undoing. To his training, it was a big mistake on their part. Either they didn't know any better, or they weren't expecting an attack. The latter option was best case for Mark.
The plan now was to wait. He would cross the lake near sunset, lie low overnight on the island, then make his move at dawn. So now he just got to lie there and day dream. Or really dream, any sleep he could get would be a bonus.

His mind drifted, back to the last time he saw Claire. He was now a full lieutenant. His mission had gone well, he was furloughed so he could get to see her for once. He had barely seen her for a total of two months in the two years they had been married. He couldn't even tell her of the missions which kept them apart. She didn't complain. She met him at arrivals at the airport; she was waving a small stars and stripes. That's not what got his attention. When she ran up to him, jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. That got his attention. Then amid the kisses, she whispered in his ear. “I'm fertile, I want you to fuck me." That really got his attention.

They made haste to get out of the terminal building to the curb, where their car was just pulling up. Mark put his bags in the trunk as Claire climbed inside. Mark climbed in beside Claire, and the car started for home as Mark looked across at Claire. She was discarding her yellow sundress onto the floor of the car on top of her panties. She was naked. She lay back and opened her arms and legs. "Fuck me, please." Mark looked around nervously, he noted the windows were in privacy mode, so no one could see them. Being a soldier, following orders came naturally to him, his orders were clear.

He unzipped himself and took his position between her legs. He slid into Claire; she sighed contentedly. This wasn't going to last long, not after three and a half months apart. Mark looked down at the woman he loved in the throes of passion; he loved her now more than ever. She came, Mark's heart melted, and he shot his load into Claire. Sinking to his knees, he rested on Claire briefly, before rolling over onto the seat.

He looked lovingly over at Claire; expression was returning to her face. She opened her eyes, looked over at Mark, and smiled. Mark's heart melted again. She wiggled around, so her butt was resting on Mark's thigh. With a sigh, she explained, "This'll keep it where it’s needed." Meaning elevating her butt would keep his come against her cervix so she could conceive. The with a grin, she added, "It would help if I came again. That's good for conception."

Mark considered the situation, going down on her would get her off like a rocket, but in the car there wasn't the space for that, not without disturbing her. Resigned that he couldn't go down her, he held her knees and gently separated her legs. With one hand he massaged her clit with his thumb. With his other hand, he reached over to her boobs. He couldn't reach to use his mouth on her small, exquisitely shaped, perky, boobs either. Another disappointment. He cupped her boob and rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger. She moaned loudly at that.

He made to stick his fingers in her pussy, but she moaned, "No, no, leave it." She didn't want to disturb his cum. He continued his assault on her nipple and clit, she moaned, louder and louder. Then went rigid, she was coming. Her thighs clamped around his hand and her back arched. Then, she relaxed. Mark smiled at Claire as she recovered. She opened her eyes, stretched languidly, then smiled at Mark. Mark melted again: he loved her so much. She said, "God, you're good. I can't wait for your tongue. I love you."

Reflexively, he said, "I love you too." But, he really meant it, more than he ever had.

"I'd love to reward you." That was how she referred to blowjobs, "I'd love to taste your come, but you should come in here." She pointed to her pussy. "You can fuck me whenever you want, soldier-boy."

Mark was digging the conceiving. Claire was usually horny, on the rare occasions when he was home. But this was even better. He could even live without getting a blowjob.

They lay in each other's arms for the rest of the journey home, temporarily sated. The car arrived at their home and parked in the garage. He climbed out and held out his hand to Claire. When she emerged, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her gently down on the bed, removed his pants and shorts, undid the buttons on his shirt and lay down with her. She snuggled into his chest hair and sighed deeply.

They lay unmoving for quite some time, just existing in each other's love. It was Claire who broke the silence, "Time for operation boner, soldier-boy." 'Operation boner' was their name for one of their games, riffing off of Mark's soldiering skills. He had to lie down, not moving or making a sound, like on an op except he was on his back. She would try to provoke him into moving, or breaking his silence. Usually, both of them would get off. It was childish, but Mark didn't mind.

Claire had been called 'bossy', Mark would not argue with that. Though he might have said, 'strong willed' if asked. Mark was happy to go along with her: he was easy going and patient. Those were traits which served him well in his professional life, as well as his personal life.

She moved down so she could get to his dick. She licked off the drying remains of his and her juices. "Mmm." Appreciating the taste. Then, she added, "No coming now." She glared at him reprovingly.

"Uh-huh." Technically the vocalization was against the rules, but these were extraordinary circumstances.

He was growing hard, she grasped his dick and inhaled the head. Her tongue swirled around the head, tasting more of their combined juices. Mark wanted to moan his approval, but he kept quiet.

She let him out of her mouth with a pop! Mark groaned inwardly, but kept outwardly quiet and still. "Sorry, love, it’s for a good cause." Referring to her quest for conception. She crawled up towards his head, looked down at him, "I shouldn't come like this either." She said, as she mounted his face. Her resolve on that point sounded weak.

The rules of the game allowed his tongue to move. He did his best, running his tongue up and down her lips, and around her clit. She squirmed and shuddered, Mark thought she was going to come soon. This would be when he'd go for the clit. He was debating what he was supposed to do now, when she lifted herself off him.

Panting and sweating, she moved down to impale herself on his dick. "Now, when you come, you've got to be on top of me." Usually, she'd just ride him until he came, but for conception she wanted him on top to keep his come where it was needed. She rode his dick, soon she was coming, she'd been really wound up. She collapsed onto her hands and knees and shuddered with incomprehensible moans.

A brief pause, still impaled she continued riding him. Now, it was his turn, he was getting close. He needed to make his move and abandon the game. He moved, he put his hands on her shoulders. With a guttural grunt, "Uhh!" He flipped them both over, so he was now on top of her, she still impaled on his dick. He pumped hard and fast into her, then his rhythm broke as he came. He stiffened up, then slowly collapsed onto the bed, he managed to roll over and not land on top of Claire.

He felt Claire moving and looked over at her, she was arranging the pillows under her butt. She looked at him with a big grin, "You know what I need." Indicating down to her pussy. Still recovering from his exertions, his love spurred him to make a heroic effort to move down between her legs. He didn't asses his mission competence very high, but Claire didn't mind. She got off like a rocket as he'd predicted.

He crawled back up the bed, and took her in his arms for them both to recover. Eventually she spoke, "God I missed that. Thank you, I love you." His heart hadn't had a chance to solidify since earlier, and the rest of him joined it by melting all over the bed. At least, that's what it felt like to Mark. He'd never felt more content, more at peace than he did at that moment.

Over the next three days, he faithfully executed her orders to fuck her whenever he wanted. He made sure to want a lot, these were mission parameters he could get behind. She counted fourteen loads deposited in her pussy. For most of them he came with him on top, he tried to make sure she came. Even if she did or not, he was prompted to go down on her. Good for conception or not, they both got off on it. Claire physically with another orgasm, Mark more spiritually. He couldn't refuse his love anything, he didn't want to refuse her. Some fucks were in the doggy position, Claire would leave her butt sticking up in the air. They made a game of Mark attacking her with fingers and tongue, while she couldn't move. With her face in the pillows, she was unusually quiet during these games.

On the morning of the third day, after the fourteenth load, she lay in his arms, the world was at peace. The peace locally was shattered by his phone, it was his C.O. He had new orders. He didn't know it just then, but peace had been shattered globally as well. He headed straight to the airport and got on a midday plane.

A tearful Claire climbed in the car with Mark, as it set out for the airport. She knelt on the floor and unzipped his fly. "I can't let you go, without rewarding you once." And rewarded he was. He'd been flagging some after all the sex of the past few days, it took him most of the forty-five minutes it took to get to the airport for him to finally come. It was quite a send off, he though of it often in the days to come.

Back at his base he was apprised of the situation. There had been landings in remote parts of Canada and Alaska. “Most probably of extraterrestrial origin.” There were similar reports from various other countries around the world. Reconnaissance flights had been sent by the US and Canadian governments, but contact had been lost with the planes. They were presumed down. Mark's unit was tasked with reconnoitering the Alaska site on foot, but Mark was attached to the Canadian's operation as an observer. He observed the operation from the forward base, one hundred miles from the landing site.

He was brought back to the present by the unearthly shape of a skimmer flying low over the lake. It was black and menacing, looking like nothing on Earth. A scorpion on its back was the closest anyone had come to describing it. It flew low enough that ground effects kicked up a wake across the lake, giving them their nickname. They had an official codename of Macaque, but were usually called skimmers. The M in "Macaque" signified "miscellaneous", or that no one knew what role they took.

Apart from the whoosh of the disturbed water, it flew eerily silently towards the hill on the island. It flew straight and unwavering towards the hill, then disappeared, leaving only hill side. Mark got a fix on that bearing, that was his way in. The hidden entrance to the enemy facility. He entered the bearing onto the tablet, it marked the probable location on the map.

That done, Mark went back to waiting, and dreaming. He remembered the opening of hostilities. There was a commotion in the officer's club; the TV switched onto a live feed from New York. Black shapes swirling around the Empire State building. The shapes were indistinct, puzzling. Now we know, the enemy's stealth technology made them hard to see. Now we know, they were the attack ships, now codenamed Baboon (the B classing it as a "bomber"). Then, they appeared as specters from a nightmare.

They'd gotten the media's attention; they were live on national TV. The Baboons did their thing. They broke the swirling pattern and headed directly away from the building directly towards the news trucks which had gathered. As the cameras were concentrating on the spectral shapes, the 22nd floor of the Empire State building erupted in clouds of smoke. The cameras quickly refocussed their attention on the building as so slowly it collapsed down on itself. Those old enough to remember said it looked like the towers coming down on 9/11. Mark wasn't old enough to remember that, except in videos. The cameras saw an expanding front of dust coming towards them, then went black.

In the studio, the anchors were shocked speechless. Then, they were prompted as more pictures were coming in. The screen cut to a concert in a park, the Brooklyn bridge in the background. Macaque skimmers were making their eery way down the East River. You could make out the shape of the skimmers, but it was nothing you recognized. They flew under the bridge, they looped up and around the bridge deck. Having made a complete loop, they broke formation, and flew off in different directions, one directly towards the camera. Again in their wake there was a cloud of smoke, and the bridge majestically collapsed into the river.

These would be images no one forgot, if the power hadn’t gone out. The first indication of that was an aerial shot of the Baboons swirling around Lady Liberty. It took some kind of balls to cover an air war from a news chopper, but the enemy left the choppers alone. The enemy wanted the coverage. There was excitement as the shot focussed in on the distance as a flight of F-43 fighters came in on an attack vector from out at sea. The Enterprise was off New York, out of Norfolk, on its way to maneuvers in the Atlantic. It made the first military response, and the last.

The camera focussed on the F-43’s streaking low across the bay. There was a barely perceptible wobble from the planes, then their engines cut, they tumbled into the water. Splash! There was no ejection, no parachutes. No visible shots had been fired. The camera then focussed on Manhattan as the lights slowly went out as the sun set. Block by block from the Battery up, Manhattan went dark. The diagonal slash of Broadway kept light momentarily longer than the blocks around it, but that too faded. Then, the camera went black.

Now we know, this was the dampening field. Having made a point with the high profile attacks, the enemy then shut down civilization. Within the dampening field, technology did not work. Electricity did not work and with it went civilization. First, the lights went out, then choppers and planes fell from the sky. Then, the studios stopped broadcasting. Left in the dark people panicked. Without the crutch of technology, you could not live in a big city. There was chaos and mass migration to the country. Millions died in that chaos as the dampening field spread all over the US. Millions more would die of starvation as the infrastructure collapsed.

The government tried to put emergency procedures in place, but with communications now limited to the speed of a horse. It was an impossible job to govern. It was an impossible job to produce the food needed to support the population.

That afternoon Mark had gotten that final email from Claire, with the result of his furlough. The euphoria of that message lasted the few hours until that final broadcast. Then, it was replaced with the agony of not knowing. Was she alive? Was she dead? Those thoughts were largely displaced by practical matters. How to stay alive. How to strike back at this enemy.

The base organized itself, as the military will do, and waited for orders, as the military will do. The base took any civilians who passed under its protection. It organized farms to grow food for the base and the civilians. Then it waited.

Two months later there was a commotion as an unknown unit of soldiers arrived on horseback. They had the correct recognition codewords, and they had orders. Very few people knew what happened next, Mark was one with a need to know. He found out that they brought the CON material. Select equipment was wrapped in it and it started working again. The equipment selected was the fiber optic communications terminal. The light in the fibers was not affected by the dampening field, but the equipment to interface it to the base electronics was. So with a terminal hooked up, the base was back on the net again.

The government was slowly rebuilding the net with the fiber lines and shielded terminals. Once communication was established, there was some hope of governing. The existence of the new net was a closely guarded secret. Having any communication at all was an advantage they didn’t want to let on to the enemy about. Mark was told only after the fear of God was put into him, complete with two loaded and cocked side arms pointed at him to enforce the point. Never let on the net existed. The existence of the net was codenamed “Ultra” by someone with a keen sense of history. Even the codename was not to be uttered except to those cleared to know.

One thing knowing of the existence of the net did, was allow Mark to be told Claire’s death. She was listed on the official casualty sheets. The government, as always, was trying to keep records, even amid the chaos. With Mark cleared for the Ultra secret, he could now be told. He couldn’t let on that he knew though, that would betray that he knew something he couldn’t otherwise know. His determination to strike back at the enemy only increased with the news. He didn't care if he forfeit his life, he just wanted to strike at them.

Mark’s unit was again tasked with approaching the landing sites, this time with a view to destroying the dampening field generators. There had been no contact with any government in Canada about the mission on Canadian soil: this was a unilateral action on the US’ part. Countries hardly mattered with civilization torn apart. Now, he was lying on a lake shore, waiting to put the plan into action. He briefly considered if today being 9/11 was a good omen, but he put that thought away.

He dozed. He dreamed, dreams filled with the faces of the dead and dying, among them Claire. He jerked awake, that dream again, he hated that dream, except it was the only time he got to see Claire.

It was getting dark, time to make his move. He crawled forward and into the moored canoe. To the army, it was a “low radar cross section canoe.” To anyone else, the manufacturer’s plate had said, “Wooden Canoe Company, Silver Solo”, before the plate was ripped off because it was metal. The rest of the canoe was wood, a pleasant reddish toned wood, when you weren’t worrying about an alien unleashing death in an unknown manner on you. Mark pushed off from the shore and paddled steadily and deliberately across the lake. Trying to make as minimal disturbance as possible.

He heard a whoosh behind him, a skimmer heading his way. He froze, the skimmer passed by, the wake rocking the canoe. They couldn’t even see a guy paddling a canoe across the lake to kill them. There was something screwed up in their perceptions, something he was thankful for. Again, he got a bearing on the skimmer as it disappeared into the hillside. The bearing was again entered into his tablet, he had a good fix on the entrance now.

He finally made the shore he was headed for. The gibbous Moon, just poking above the hill, provided enough light to see what he was doing. He dragged the canoe on shore and hid it in the underbrush. He dropped a pin on the tablet's map so he could find it again. He hoped he’d be able to find it again, the tablet had been without a GPS signal since the checkin that morning and was navigating inertially. The inertial navigation hadn’t been designed to run so long between GPS fixes. At least the GPS was still working, the dampening field didn't reach into orbit. He found a position at the edge of the trees where he could observe the entrance and melted into the underbrush.

Again, he got to just wait. Anyone in the forces was used to waiting. Some said it was the brass’ favorite order, “Wait!” But, Mark was using all his training to be less observable. He moved only slowly and deliberately. He hardly breathed, his heart rate was way down. Again he day dreamed, and really dreamed.

This time the thoughts and dreams were the good ones. Of when he’d met Claire. It was veteran's day; he was in the ROTC then. He'd been training and was still wearing his camo. He was in the local burger joint. He'd just gotten his burger and was going to sit down when he heard a wolf whistle behind him. He turned around, a girl was sitting there ogling him. "Excuse me, miss."

"Come sit with me." She replied.

She looked kinda young, so he asked, "Won't your parents mind?"

She scowled, "Exactly how old do you think I am?"

"About 14 or 15." She was short, she had a girlish face, her complexion was very fair, she wore no makeup, her blond hair was pulled back into a pony tail.

"Well, I'm twenty-two and I'm a graduate student. If you come join me, I might just forgive you for that." Mark knew when he was outflanked, he sat down with her. "Claire." She said, holding out her hand. "And thank you for your service."

"Mark." He was interested in the girl, but his conscience wouldn't let him take undue credit. "And I haven't done much service yet, I'm in the ROTC."

"Well, thanks anyway, thank you for your commitment to service. How's that?" He agreed that was reasonable. They talked, they got on well. Claire did most of the talking. Among other things, she complained she was always getting carded. Mark didn't say that he could see why.

They were finishing up their meals, Mark was considering if he should ask about sharing contacts, when she said, "I'd like to reward you for your future service." She leaned across the table, Mark was expecting a kiss on the cheek, but she whispered in his ear, "How'd you like a blowjob?"

His military training taught him to have flexible responses to unexpected circumstances. "I'm sure I'd like it very much, but could I see some ID first?"

"You're carding me?" More than a hint of annoyance in her tone.

"I'm afraid so." As much as he liked the idea, if she were as young as she looked, he couldn't do that. Not only wouldn't his conscience have let him, the consequences of getting caught were dire.

"Fine." She got out her ID, and was indeed twenty-two. He also noted the birthday, last name, and her address. Valuable intelligence. He nodded that he was satisfied. She said, "Lets walk to my place, it's not far."

"We could take my truck."

She agreed, and they walked out to the parking lot. They got to Mark's truck, and she asked incredulously, "You drive?" The truck was almost an antique, it was manual drive only. The truck was his project, he practiced debugging the electronics. It often needed his help.

"Sure I drive," He played it cool, but he'd been one of only about five in his high school class who got their license. "get in." He didn't offer to help her up into the cabin, too dangerous to recognize to her diminutive stature.

Claire looked dubiously at the truck, but clambered up into the passenger seat.

She edged herself into the middle seat, and snuggled up to Mark. Her hand went down to his fly, Mark found he was holding his breath when the action stopped as she asked in a puzzled voice. "Where's the privacy button?"

"There isn't one. The driver has to always be able to see the road."

"Well, keep your eyes on the road and drive to my place." She commanded. Mark was happy to comply. He wanted to floor it, to hasten his reward, but drove just like all the other cars on the road instead, carefully and deliberately, like an AI. It was much too slow for him. Even so, she gripped his arm signaling her apprehension at having a human driver.

Mark delivered them both safely to her apartment complex, her grip relaxed only when he switched the engine off. Then, she jumped out of the truck and called after her "Come on." As she bounded up the stairs. He followed at a trot, easily keeping up with her.

Inside the apartment, she turned and barked, "Ten-Hut!" Sounding just like a drill sergeant.

Reflexively, Mark assumed the attention position. Then realised that Claire had cracked up, she was doubled up in her laughter. Mark decided his best strategy was to play the situation straight. He said nothing and kept the attention position as best he could. Claire calmed down, contemplated Mark quizzically, then said, "OK, soldier-boy, we'll do it your way." Then barked, "Puh-Raid! Huss!" At least that what it sounded like, Mark smartly snapped his left foot into the parade rest position.

Claire chuckled, "Very good soldier-boy." The added, "At ease." Mark relaxed his stance and looked down at Claire as she looked up at him with a calculating expression on her face. She stood off to the side and barked, "Eyes! Right!" His head snapped to look at Claire. She walked to the center of the room, Mark followed her movements as he should.

As she walked, she peeled off her tee-shirt. In the center of the room, she stood topless. Mark took in the view, she was short, but well proportioned and toned. Her boobs we small and perky, Mark's mouth watered at the thought of them. She popped the button on her jeans, then pulled them down over her butt. Her panties came with them, leaving her entirely naked, once she kicked them off. Her bottom half was just as mouth watering as the top. Athletic, and proportionately long, shapely legs came together at her pussy lightly covered in blond hair, making her look almost hairless.

Mark mentally checked that he had actually checked her ID, because she looked even younger now she was blatantly naked. Mark's hard on was straining his camo pants. She stepped up to him, and asked, "Why aren't you saluting, soldier-boy?"

Mark managed a plausible, "You aren't in uniform, mam."

She chuckled, cupped his crotch, and said, "I see you are saluting, very good soldier-boy." She then undid the buttons and pulled his pants down as she sank to her knees. The pants couldn't go past his knees in his position, but it didn't matter.

She grasped his shaft halfway down and moved her hand to expose the head. She licked up and down the shaft and around the head. Then her mouth pooped over the head and sucked. Mark fought the urge to moan, and for his knees to buckle. He barely managed to stay in the at ease position. Claire stopped what she was doing and looked up at Mark, puzzled. Then she said, "OK, at rest, soldier-boy." 'At rest' allows a soldier to talk, 'at ease', they must be silent.

Mark relaxed some more, sighed heavily and exclaimed, "Shit! That's amazing." Then moaned. Claire, satisfied at his positive reaction went back to the sucking. More lips around his shaft, her tongue swirling around his head, her hand jacking his shaft. He moaned, some incoherent, some encouraging but barely coherent. "Oh yeah." "Fuck, yeah." "Yeah, that."

Mark somehow managed to stay upright. He took it as a challenge to stand there and not break his parade stance. He was never one to shirk a challenge — he could be bullheaded once he'd made up his mind. He used all his determination to stay upright, while Claire continued her work. He could feel the end coming, he was going to come. "Yeah, that's it." She redoubled her efforts and rapidly jacked his shaft while her lips worked on his head. That was enough, he started coming. He closed his eyes and moaned loudly, as all that determination shot out of his dick.

He found he was still standing, he didn't know how. Looking down, Claire was kneeling, his softening dick still in her hand. She was smiling, grinning. "Impressive, soldier-boy." He didn't know if that was for standing up, his moans, volume of come or something else. She didn't elaborate.

Barely able to keep upright, he considered his options. "May I return the compliment, mam?" That was about as good as he could manage. The manual didn't cover this situation, it probably forbade it.

She rose to her feet, at her full height, she almost looked him in the chest. "Sure, soldier-boy." He kicked off his pants and shorts, then he reached under her arms with one hand and reached down to her thighs with the other and picked her off the floor. It was hardly any effort, she really was small. She "Ohh"ed and grabbed him around the neck.

"Where's the bedroom?"

"That-a-way." He followed her direction and carried her into the bedroom. At the foot of the bed, he gently laid her down, with her legs dangling over the end. He knelt at her feet and gently separated her knees. There was a very ready looking pussy. The sparse light hair was lightly sprinkled with dew. Her outer lips were open revealing her inner treasures. Her clit was poking out of its hood.

She looked really ready, but he started slowly. He ran his tongue gently up her lips, she shuddered and moaned, barely more coherent than Mark had been. "Yes, that, … oh God, … yes." He attacked a little harder, but tried to delay the inevitable by avoiding her clit. Too soon, she was straining, and her moans were almost screams. He kissed the clit, drew it into his lips and sucked on it while flipping it with his tongue. She went rigid, her back arched off the bed as her screams and moans echoed around the room. Then, she relaxed back onto the bed.

Mark climbed onto the bed and took her limp form in his arms. He lay on his back and held her. As he watched, expression returned to her face, it became a broad smile. She buried is face in his camo shirt, the only clothing he had left. She hugged him. "God you're good, can I keep you?"

Mark smiled remembering that. She did get to keep him. He moved in with her. A few months later, they married ahead of his graduation. They expected to be apart some after Mark joined up. They were right.

He was awake. Where was he? A brief confusion as he remembered his situation. He looked at the tablet. 0959Z. It would be dawn soon. The sky was showing a deep dark blue, confirming it would be dawn soon. The moon had set a few hours earlier as he was sleeping. Time to make his move.

There were trees about 100 meters distance, more cover. He had to cross open ground to reach them. He crawled forward onto the open ground, slowly, so he wouldn’t be noticed. It took him roughly fifteen minutes to gain the relative safety of the trees. Then, he moved along the tree-line towards where the skimmers came and went.

The tree cover ended about 25 meters from the position he was aiming for, so again he crawled. Then, it went black. He was on a hard smooth surface. He didn’t think he’d blacked out. He slowly and deliberately got out the tablet, then put it in night vision mode. The image would be bad, from inside the CON-dom, but he’d be able to see something.

“Hanger.” Was his first thought. He was in a large smooth walled cavern. There were several skimmers parked to one side, one Baboon and one larger ship of unknown configuration. He focussed in on the larger ship, intel was his number one priority. This was valuable intel. He then focussed on the Baboon, there were very few images of a Baboon without its stealth cloak up, so again, valuable intel. Finally, the skimmers, they were a well-known configuration, but not often seen still, or at such close range.

He looked around, the lower part of his body was not there. He reached back, his hand disappeared. There was a definite interface there. He moved back, when his head crossed the interface he could see the grass outside, with just a hillside in front of him. The illusion of terrain was expected, now he had confirmation of that. He gathered more images of crossing the interface, more intel.

He crawled through the interface and observed with the tablet again. He made for the wall opposite the parked ships. Standing up he again scanned the hanger. There was a passageway leading off the back corner, he made for that. The passageway was a smooth ovoid, about 2 meters high and four wide. That made him nervous, no wall to hug. He readied his side arm for a quick draw, drew a breath and started down the passage.

He had walked for a few minutes past some smaller side tunnels when he heard a noise. He froze. Carefully, he tried to tuck himself out of the way in the “corner” of the passage. He readied his side arm, already fitted with the suppressor. The noise was a rhythmic clicking/rustling sound. An odd rhythm. He observed the direction of the noise with the night vision. From around a bend in the passage emerged, something.

His mind said, “Caterpillar.” It looked like a giant caterpillar, walking upright on six of its hind legs. Its “face” had two enormous eyes, the size of saucers. The six walking legs were making the rhythmic sound. The body was segmented, it was reminiscent of the shape of the ships.

The "caterpillar" walked on by him, either ignoring him, or not seeing him. That in itself was a puzzle, but was typical of the enemy. This was going to be really valuable intel, the first pictures of the enemy itself. He debated going back to make sure this intel was uploaded, but decided to push on. He was glad he did, as just around the bend was a cluster “rooms”. Small smooth walled caverns off of the passage way.

There were more caterpillars in one room, clustered around something. There was an amorphous mass of shapes in the middle of the room. The caterpillars were either sleeping on them, or hunched over them studying them intently. He had no idea of caterpillar body language. He guessed "control room”, one of the targets he was to look for. In the next room there were no caterpillars, but the large blob things in the middle of the room were humming softly. “Power supply” was his guess. In another room, he guessed “ray domes”.

Those were the targets he was to identify and disable for his secondary mission: Destroy the dampening field generators. Hoping his guesses were right, he laid charges on the power supply and ray dome things. The time was now 1017Z, his scheduled connect was in 23 minutes. So he set the detonators to 25 min. He hoped the non metallic, purely chemical detonators were that accurate.

He didn’t think he could enter the control room without being seen, even by the enemy’s low standard for observation. So he shaped the charges into a cylinder, stuck a detonator into the end then rolled them across the floor to come to rest at the base of what he hoped were control consoles.

Now, he beat a hasty retreat. Hasty in the manner of a man trying not to be seen, knowing that several kilos of high explosive were armed behind him, with detonators of unknown reliability. He got back to the hanger without further incident, got to the interface, and crawled out into the grassland beyond. It was getting light now, the sun was just about rising. He crawled to the tree-line, then made ready to connect.

The timer counted down, then he unzipped the bag. "Signal acquired …. Uploading …. Done.” His primary mission was now fulfilled, and the secondary mission became primary. He’d just zipped up the CON-dom when a gout of flame erupted from the direction of the hidden entrance, and a compression wave knocked him flat. Somewhere in his consciousness he recognized that, that was more than a few kilos of high explosive.

He lay face down, trying to gather his wits. He made a personal inventory, he still had all his limbs, and they all were working. Next he needed to know if the dampening field was still in effect. The only way to do that was to take the tablet out of the CON-dom and risk it failing. He did that, the tablet continued to work. He signaled the forward base, and got a response. He sent the message. “Larger than expected explosion at enemy installation. Unknown damage to installation. Coordinates to follow.” He followed with the coordinates of the entrance.

The reply came back, "Acknowledged. Hold Position. Relief on route." The army did love telling him to wait. About 45 minutes later he heard the muted whomp-whomp of a flight of four UH-82 choppers. They circled the clearing in front of him, then two of them landed. Each disgorged a squad which took up defensive positions around the clearing. The two choppers quickly took off and two more landed, the two squads unloaded, and advanced on the entrance to the enemy installation. The choppers took off behind them.

The second two squads disappeared into the hidden entrance. Nothing obviously happened for some time, then a message came through on his tablet. "Recognition green. Evac on chopper." A chopper landed in the clear area. Mark switched the tablet to recognition mode: green. Then, he slowly got up, and emerged from the trees. He was holding the tablet up, it was flashing green as the recognition signal.

He made it to the chopper, hands reached out and helped him up. "Welcome aboard sir." The occupant indicated he should sit and handed him a headset. Then he shut the door, took the pilot's seat, and the chopper flew up into the air. "We should be at forward base in forty minutes, sir." Mark indicated his thanks to the pilot, then was asleep.

They got to the forward base. There was a lot more activity than the last time Mark saw it. Now, the dampening field was gone, they were uncrating more equipment. All the equipment had been laboriously transported by steam train, and then by mule train from the railhead. The equipment had included the four choppers which had been in crates the previous time he saw them. Mark was thoroughly debriefed, though the surroundings were incongruous, the tent was a most unmilitary delicate pink on the inside. More of the CON material.

Finally, he was left alone and he could get back to his quarters. Finally alone, he broke down in tears. He finally allowed himself to grieve for Claire. These past months he'd been so focussed on the mission, he hadn't had that luxury.


Afterword.

The operation to disable the dampening field generators was the start of a long process or restoring normality to the world. The intelligence gathered at the two installations allowed counter measures to be developed. The remaining generators around the world we similarly disabled.

The intelligence gathered also explained the behavior of the enemy. The landings were an advanced force, to soften up the Earth in preparation for a full scale invasion to come later. It had been remarkably successful, just the dampening field alone had shattered civilization and reduced the effectiveness of the armies of the world.

The anatomy of the enemy was also studied. They dwelled underground and saw in infrared. The ghillie suit Mark was wearing, fortuitously, made him almost invisible to them.

For his part, Mark was awarded a medal. He never found anything which could fill the void left by Claire in his soul though, until, ….

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