The Heartstone Saga

the back of Milly’s hand as she continued to massage her breasts together, her actions filling the apartment with the slick sound of flesh and sex as she languished in his cum.
Stolen or not, the moment was one that he would never forget.

Chapter 7: Reconnaissance
After three days of driving them flat out, Tristan and his crew had gotten free of the oppressive and almost judgmentally massive cedar trees, slowing down their reckless flight only when they got into tighter undergrowth and much smaller pines.
He and his crew were seasoned pros, so even taking turns carrying the heavy boxes with their payday in them, they kept a steady pace.
And less of the former prisoners than he expected needed to be disciplined as Carl was driving them onwards pretty well without much help.
Tristan found it remarkable at first just how far and fast the freed men were willing to run, but then he had to acknowledge that if he’d spent who knows how many years swinging a pick in a dig-site he’d be pretty keen for a jog himself.
No one else’s limbs had gotten confused as to which way they were supposed to bend, so Tristan was at last convinced they had shaken off whatever had twisted the former prisoner into a pretzel.
Unfortunately two others had to be left behind as they went.
They were simply unable to match the headlong pace, and had sadly come down with a severe case of being shot in the face by Tristan, but at least they weren’t going to be telling anyone anything.
And just to be on the safe side when they set up their camp for the night the cautious crook also had his men break open one of the crates to prepare a nasty surprise for anyone thinking to attack them.
But various murderous precautions aside, no matter how far or fast they travelled the assorted band of smugglers, murderers, and rapists were still human.
And no human alive could match the stamina and the loping strides of a battle-hungry Amazon war-party.
So while the exhausted mob rested in a clearing, a number of unfriendly eyes were watching from the trees, counting and measuring the strength of their forces.
A few hours later, when night fell, they were deciding amongst themselves what to do about it.
“If we attack tonight while they are sleeping we will have the advantage.” Sila insisted.
The Troglodyte had lost more than most to the scum in the clearing, so she and her sisters were eager to repay that debt with blood.
“They aren’t all sleeping.” One of the more level-headed Amazons warned; “They’ve posted many sentries, since early in the evening. Whoever is leading them is no fool.”
“Tristan.” Alcaia spoke the name like a curse as she held her hands palm up, fingers curled like claws; “His name is Tristan Grove and with these hands I will kill him.”
The Amazons were sympathetic, remembering well the sight of their warleader and her wife intimately bathing the man in question.
“They have also set up a strange weapon on one side of their camp.” The Amazon continued; “I’ve not seen its like before but it must be important as they dug up the ground and moved some brush to form a crude barrier around it.”
“Describe it to me.” Adrian Shaw instructed with brow furrowed.
As a highly trained member of the ordinance disposal division of the Aegis, he knew every piece of lost-tech weaponry by sight.
“It is longer and larger than a blaster, with a narrow barrel and two sticks of metal jutting out of the bottom of it to support the end off the ground.”
He listened intently, and when she finished he groaned and nodded.
“A bipod. Which means they have a gatling. Shit.”
“It is one weapon.” Sila said flatly.
“Yes, and if we formed a line for the one using it, he could sweep it around and kill every one of us in the span of a few second.”
As he spoke he held up his fist and turned in a slow circle, jerking his arm rapidly to indicate the weapon’s recoil.
The Trog bristled at his words and the threatening gesture with a sharp hiss, but didn’t argue.
“How do we counter it, Adrian?” Alcaia asked.
He ran his hand through his shaggy hair in agitation, absently longing for the days when Cheri and her scissors would keep it under control.
“The protocol would normally be to use a combination of strobes and stinger gas to force them to abandon it. But without my gear…” Clutching at the side of his skull he wracked his brain for a solution, but was coming up short; “Charging it is suicide. Even with those Vohan-shield things, if the guy aiming it focuses fire he will tear them apart one by one. If we aren’t careful this will turn into a bloodbath.”
Sila’s tongue darting out briefly, belying her impatience.
“Then, what do you suggest sssoftskin?” She demanded.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as his eyes squinted closed, struggling to find a way to keep the bloodthirsty girls from getting themselves killed.
After months of pain and mourning and anger, it was hard for him to be the voice of reason, but how to de-escalate a situation was one of the components of Aegis training and he was reminded of it now when faced with so many angry monster girls.
As much as he wanted justice for his Truffle and his team, he didn’t want it to come at the cost of the lives of the Trogs or Alcaia and her people.
He stared at the diagram, something tickling at him as he did.
“Why did they set it up way over there?”
He was more asking himself, but he got an answer from one of the Amazons that had helped to draw the map.
“The prisoners and the ones that deceived