novelraw Chapter 158: Passing out
Chapter 158: Passing out
I give him a quick salute, pleased that it is becoming more natural, and walk back into my dorm to coordinate things with Vage.
Vage is not ecstatic about accepting any more humans aboard her ship, but she recognizes the necessity. The reluctance in her eyes had been clear earlier, a faint tightening around her mouth as she calculated supplies, space, and risk, weighing them against the fragile lives depending on her decision. Somehow, she even convinces the other ships’ captains to split up the load among all of the vessels. I can only imagine the arguments that must have taken place across encrypted channels, the clipped tones of authority, the eventual grudging agreement when logic overcame pride.
Thirty minutes later, I step outside and am surprised to find that the retired Sergeant Major has done an excellent job of forming everyone into orderly lines. The early morning air is cool against my skin, carrying the faint scent of damp pavement and exhaust fumes. Silence falls as I emerge, and I feel the pressure of all those eyes on me. It presses in from every direction, thick and expectant, as though the air itself has weight.
"Sergeant Major," I call the older gentleman over to me, "did this group grow while I was gone?"
"Yes, sir. There were a few blue falcons who abandoned us, but a number of them made some calls after your speech, and then a whole lot more started showing up." Headlights sweep across us, briefly washing the lines of people in pale yellow light before sliding away again, and I glance toward the packed parking lot. Engines idle. Doors slam. "Heh, some are still arriving."
"Blue falcon?" I ask, confused by the term, lowering my voice slightly as though the phrase itself might carry unintended weight.
"It stands for ’buddy fucker,’ sir," the grizzled man laughs, a rough, gravelly sound that seems at odds with the discipline of the formation, and I join him, the shared humor easing some of the tension coiled in my chest.
I look out over the crowd and see that Tina, Stephanie, Stacy, Dennis, Mary, and Rose are helping line people up in formation. They move with purpose, gesturing, guiding, quietly correcting posture and spacing. There is something grounding about seeing familiar faces in positions of responsibility. It steadies me.
"I noticed you trust that group, so I put them in leadership positions," Wilson tells me as he notices my glance. His eyes are sharp despite his age, assessing, always evaluating.
I look down at the man and feel grateful that he is here. The steadiness of his presence feels like an anchor dropped into turbulent water.
A large van pulls up, tires crunching softly over loose gravel, and a group of men and two women step out. Some of them are dressed in old green camouflage, the fabric worn and faded from years of use, and each has a rifle slung over one shoulder. The metal catches the light as they move. Wilson walks over to greet them, then brings them to me with a brisk efficiency that suggests long habit.
"These pieces of chicken shit used to work for me," the older man says, and I know he is using the insult affectionately. "With your permission, sir, I’d like to put them in charge of a few squads."
I nod, indicating that I have no problem with that. The responsibility is spreading outward now, branching like veins from a heart. They turn to walk away, but not before I hear one of the women ask, "Working for kid officers again, huh? At least this one’s cute."
"Careful, Simpson. He may look young, but that kid knows how to handle power. I’ll tell you what he did earlier once we get settled." They move out of hearing range, their voices blending into the low murmur of the assembled crowd.
It takes nearly another thirty minutes before I decide that we need to get started. The sky has begun to lighten faintly at the horizon, a subtle shift from deep indigo to muted gray. Anyone else who shows up will have to watch from the sidelines. We cannot keep waiting forever while the clock continues its indifferent march forward.
Wilson returns control of the formation to me, and I face them. Rows upon rows of faces stare back, some frightened, some determined, some still skeptical. The enormity of what I am about to attempt settles over me like a heavy cloak.
"I’m about to make some changes in you." There is a loud, collective gasp as a flash of light erupts behind me, bright and sudden, casting elongated shadows across the pavement. My sister has just arrived. I do not even turn to look at her, able to sense her through my switches, the awareness of her presence humming at the edge of my consciousness. "I am going to make you smarter, faster, stronger, and increase your muscle memory."
’Are you up to doing all that?’ Loveth asks. ’There are a lot of people here.’ Her mental voice carries concern, but also faith.
’I will have to be, if the plan is going to work,’ I respond, and she takes my hand. The warmth of her fingers threads into mine, grounding me. Immediately, I feel my ability expand, even if only minimally compared to when we are—
’Focus, little brother. We can do that later.’
Damn my broadcasting mind! The faint ripple of embarrassed awareness moves through me, but there is no time to dwell on it.
"Vage, the healing light, please?" Just like that, I feel myself being energized. It is as if liquid sunlight pours through my veins, bright and invigorating. Too late, I remember the changes Leslie made in the light, and I grow a raging erection. The reaction is immediate and impossible to ignore, heat surging downward with humiliating intensity. With my size, there is no hiding it, and I receive no shortage of stares directed at my midsection. A few whispers ripple through the lines. Everyone else is gasping at the light surrounding me, with no apparent source, their awe momentarily overpowering their curiosity.
Without waiting any longer, I begin forming the switches, making each individual switch cover the entire group. I picture them like intricate webs of luminous threads, weaving outward from my mind and settling over every person present. The strain on my mind is immense, a throbbing pressure building behind my eyes, but at least I am not trying to change their very nature. Even so, by the time I am finished, the edges of my vision blur and darken. I find myself on my back, my head cradled in my sister’s lap. Her fingers brush through my hair in slow, soothing strokes. Before I black out, I notice one other thing.
My sister is completely nude.
The image burns into my fading awareness, stark and vivid against the dimming world.
⸻
A warm, pleasant feeling brings me slowly awake, like sunlight creeping through the gaps of a curtain on a tranquil morning. At first, I relish the softness enveloping me, the sensations wrapping around me like a familiar blanket, cocooning me in comfort. But the moment I hear the unmistakable sound of slurping, I suddenly spring to full awareness, my body tingling with an electrifying shock of reality coupled with unbridled pleasure. It’s not often one wakes up to such surprising sensations, and as I look down, there is no mistaking Leslie’s silky black hair bobbing rhythmically in my lap, sending a rush of excitement through me.
"About time you came to," a voice—specifically, the mental voice of the Asian woman—chimes in through the nanites that connect us, seamlessly transmitting her delightful teasing to my mind.
"What? Aren’t you supposed to be training everyone in martial arts?" I manage to say, though my thoughts feel thick, almost like they are wrapped in cotton. It’s a testament to how hard I played the last training session and how utterly drained I am after all the group switches we executed.
"I created a self-teaching program that is playing on all of the ships," she informs me, her tone matter-of-fact but laced with a hint of pride. "I cannot be everywhere at once. Two people abandoned us after tackling the painstaking process of adjusting to the nanites. The rest are learning exceptionally fast, thanks to you. They should all be proficient by the end of tomorrow."
I shake my head in disbelief, only to moan softly as Leslie does something especially tantalizing with her agile tongue around my sensitive rim. The revelation of losing only two members out of our group feels like a small victory amidst a journey that has been fraught with challenges and tribulations.
"How many do we actually have?" I continue to speak out loud, the curiosity getting the better of me.
"Two hundred twenty-two," she informs me, and my jaw drops in astonishment. That many? My mind reels at the sheer volume of people we’re working with.
"Now do you want to keep asking questions, or take care of this erection you have had ever since you came aboard?" Her probing question is emphasized by the teasing touch of her teeth against sensitive skin, propelling me further into a heady mixture of arousal and exhilaration.