Dark Reckoning by James Axler

Collette had been very pleased when Sheffield chose her to be the new sec chief. It saved her the trouble of chilling the person chosen had it not been her. If everybody simply stayed out of her way and did as ordered, there would be a lot fewer corpses in the world.

“No, my dear, I do not dare to use the Kite,” Sheffield said reluctantly, returning to the conversation. “It might make the weather worse, and if the winds get any stronger the dish will get damaged, even though it’s already lashed down with every spare foot of chain we have. If it topples over, we’re defenseless until it’s repaired.”

“Can the dish be moved?” she asked.

What an odd question. He gestured at the shaking windows. “Not at the present, no. The mil wags can still run in this muck, but the trucks and diesels stall the moment the air filter gets clogged.”

“Machines need to breathe,” She chuckled. “I’ve always found that so amusing.”

“Have you, my dear?” the baron asked softly.

Collette smiled sweetly and nestled closer to the big man, making no verbal reply.

A sec man scraped his pipe clean with a small knife and loaded the bowl with a pinch of shagcut soaked in whiskey. “Storm ain’t slowing or stopping for awhile,” he said, holding a flame to the bowl. “Plenty of time to decide what to do next.”

“Perhaps,” Collette countered rudely. Rising from her position, she turned to the baron. “Why don’t you give me the access code for the Quonset hut and I’ll have a full inventory on the supplies done.”

“Nobody goes in there but me, or people I want in there,” he stated, partially drawing the Tekna knife. “Ask again, Collette, and I’ll slit your throat.”

Rubbing her nose, the woman smiled. “I see that you have learned from the mistakes of Silas,” she purred.

Sheffield grunted and sheathed the blade. Damn the bitch and her mind games. Always testing, always prying. Probably wanted to be baron herself someday. He’d have to watch out for that. “The whitecoat was an idiot. Burning the pollution from the land is a good plan. More crops means more people to rule. But to try and clean the land and air for the whole world? Who cares? Let them die, man and mutie.”

“Just save the women,” a sec man said with a chuckle, and the others joined the laughter.

On impulse, Sheffield grabbed his sec chief around the waist and pulled her close until warm breasts were pressed against his face.

“Sounds good,” he mumbled, biting the fabric and the soft flesh underneath. “Might as well fuck. Not much else to do, but wait.”

“Bedroom,” Collette suggested, pressing harder against the man and spreading her legs a bit to guide his free hand between her thighs.

“They can watch,” he growled, almost ripping open her shirt in his haste to expose her breasts. God, he loved those big milkers! They spilled free, and he ran rough palms over the large nipples. “Let them see how a real man does it.”

“As you wish, my lord,” she demurred, raking her nails through his hair.

Just then, a loud knock sounded at the door. Quickly, the sec men raised their blasters and assumed firing positions, as a corporal brandishing a handcannon walked across the room and threw the bolt. A blast of smoky air heralded a figure in bloody rags, the hash marks of a corporal barely visible through the layer of ash. He clutched a longblaster with a shattered stock and a badly bent barrel.

“Report,” Sheffield snapped, shoving the woman away.

“My lord, we’ve been attacked,” the corporal said without preamble, yanking the cloth from his face. “A mutie got in through the hole and aced two of us. My private and I finally stopped the thing, but we lost three men and a blaster chilling it.”

“How did this happen?” Collette demanded, tucking the loose shirt into her pants without buttoning it closed. “Asleep on duty again, eh?”

“In this storm?” the corporal snapped. “It’s the damn blasters! They jam after only a few shots. We had to take out the mutie with knives!”