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Walls of Rust

Peace above all

Serene guidance

Regulus

Long live our lord!

_-_English translation of the Regulian Imperial Anthem

“Kurwa!"

I screamed out in joy as Lazsh pounded me from behind. I was shocked when his cock first came out of its sheathe to find that the rumors were true: Lacertans, at least the kind Lazsh belonged to, had a bifurcated penis. I was even more surprised when it was able to fit inside my ass with minimal struggle, though, of course it helped that Lazsh was not exactly a gentle lover and began without so much as waiting for me to get ready. It hurt a little, but I soon put the pain behind me when the rough head of his cock slammed against my prostate.

“I'm going to..."

Lazsh didn't stop his thrusting, but removed one of his blue-scaled hands from my shoulder. I heard his tongue swipe at his palm and then he reached down and rubbed his slick saliva over my cock. A tingling sensation ran through it and I felt my orgasm delay.

Not only does he have a date rape drug in his saliva, it's also a numbing agent. It's like the Lacertans were made for sex. Physically at least, emotionally…

His claw wrapped around the back of my neck, tightening and breaking the skin. He slammed my face into the floor of the Hauler, thrusting harder and harder into my rear. I felt the horn on the end of his snout brush against my short hair, followed by a wet and then numb sensation as his tongue ran down my skin.

“Taste good..." Lazsh grunted.

Lazsh shuddered and I felt his warm semen fill my ass. I gasped as both heads spurted and then were suddenly pulled out. His grip released, dropping me face-down onto the ground as his heads dripped cum on my naked back.

My cock was still hard and the numbing agent was wearing off.

“Okay, now..."

“We fucked," Lazsh said, rubbing his rough, scaled palm across my back. I turned my head back just in time to see him hop off the back of the Hauler. He tossed a filthy towel back, landing perfectly on my back.

Emotionally, they're alien. Alien beyond understanding.

“Do tell us all about it!" Yaleen whispered excitedly, her wet nose poking against my ear. Even over the roar of the engine, I could her the thump-thump of her bushy tail pounding against the flatbed of the Hauler.

“We fucked," Lazsh said, not taking his eyes off of the road. For a long time, it had been nothing but wilderness trails formed by tires, but now we were followed an honest to God dirt road. We were nearing civilization, or what passed for it on Planet.

“Humans don't discuss stuff like this," I said, pushing her red and cream muzzle out of my face. I was still thinking about what she did in the camp and was disturbed. Could that happen to me? What if someone from Earth who knew me was arrested and put here? If their memories weren't fully wiped, what if they recognized me and said hello? Would I end up like that Vulpeculan?

“Well, Vulpeculans do!" she wrinkled her black nose for emphasis. “When you can smell sex on someone and who they had sex with, we tend to be a bit more open to discussion!"

“Well, we don't. And neither do Lacertans, right?" I peered towards Lazsh. His light-blue face was locked forward and his claws keeping the wheel steady.

“We fucked," he said.

“If you tell me, I'll give you an interesting story in return," she whispered slyly.

“No, no more story exchanges. Not after the last time!"

“Lazsh," she said, pointing a gloved finger at our driver. “Tell us a sex story!"

To my surprise, Lazsh actually responded, “I caught a Vulpeculan trying to rob my camp once."

He paused and didn't show any sign of continuing. Yaleen looked to the road, concerned that he might have gotten distracted by something but, having seen nothing, went back to the lizard.

“And?"

“We fucked. I let him go."

“Nevermind! I can tell how it went anyway!" Yaleen sulked before suddenly darting her face to my ear, giving me a start as her cold nose pressed against my skin, “He was a selfish lover, wasn't he?"

Annoyed, I snapped, “Why don't you fuck him and find out?"

“No," Lazsh said bluntly, “She's royalty. Treat her with respect."

“That's it!" I shouted, huddling up in my jacket and leaning against the side of the door. “I'm taking a nap."

“It was a joke," Lazsh replied deadpan.

My head impacted against the dashboard, forcing me awake as pain exploded in my skull. Before my vision could come back to me, I started fishing around for me gun.

“It's okay," Lazsh said, wrapping his clawed hand around my hand, which was thankfully mostly healed at this point so it didn't hurt. “It was a joke."

I felt like clocking the blue dinosaur across the snout for introducing me to Lacertan humor, but I was just getting over the injury from the last time I did that and knowing my luck, I'd gash my fist against his nose-horn. Also, I was distracted by a vision on the horizon.

At the bottom of the hill we were on and at the end of the dirt road: a circle of reddish metal walls around a community of ramshackle houses made of wood with chimneys billowing out thick smoke. By the gates of the walls were groups of travelers and trucks clamoring to get in. It could only be Rust.

The cities walls warned of the true, invisible wall around the city: pockets of anomalies that rusted anything iron that passed through them instantly. As a result, the walls didn't need to be particularly strong (Though beyond the rusty facade, they did have solid, wooden support walls.) as, unless you were lucky enough to have a weapon that was 100% free of iron, you'd have to charge the walls with wooden swords and the people beyond the walls were armed just fine.

There were pockets free of the anomalies, including the gate. If you had enough time, patience, and bits of metal to test the air with, you could bypass the anomalies.

Or you could just go through the front door like a decent person and not get a lead bullet through the skull. This was the path we decided to take, though not without some resistance.

“We're going to the Catacombs," Lazsh said as we coasted down the hill.

“Yes, we are. But first, we need to get supplies in Rust. It's the last town before we get there and it might be a good chance to rest," I said, rubbing at the bruise on my head.

Lazsh slammed on the brakes once again, but I saw it coming and held my hand out, stopping myself from bashing my skull again.

“What now? Another joke?"

“No," Lazsh said, turning his head to face me, green eyes flashing with reptilian anger. “You will go in, buy what you need, and come out immediately."

“It might take all day and I'm sure they close the gates at night. I might have to stay overnight."

Lazsh hissed lowly, “Yaleen cannot enter or she will be kidnapped."

“They can try!" she snorted behind us.

“We can't leave her alone."

A sharp, strange clicking noise tapped inside Lazsh's maw, “We will camp in the wilderness. You will go in. If you don't come back tomorrow, I will kill her and then find you."

All of the banter we had shared, all of the stories we told, even the sex, all of these things led me to forget just what Lazsh was here for. He wasn't here to be our friend, he was here on business and if we interfered with it he was going to begin collecting on the debt I owed.

Still, it was chilling to hear him say it out loud and with the same deadpan voice he projected when telling what he thought was a joke.

“If you so much as touch Yaleen..."

“I don't care," Lazsh interrupted. “Come back and she will be fine. Or we can go straight to the Catacombs."

We needed supplies. As much food, water, and bullets we could carry in the Hauler. Once we reached the Catacombs, we could end up getting stuck or even pinned down by bandits in a fire-fight. And who knows who long it'd take us to find, let alone excavate the damned tunnel?

Perhaps Lazsh didn't care about the Catacombs. Perhaps Sirth made it clear he'd prefer him to take me as collateral as soon as the first major obstacle in the Catacombs came up. If that was the case, I might be lucky that he was even giving me this option.

“Lovely," Yaleen broke in. “A cold night in the woods with a cold-blooded monster."

“I can tell you how it went with him," Lazsh said, motioning his horn in my direction. If he was joking, Lacertan humor was still too subtle for me to understand.

“How exciting!" Yaleen grinned, stepping out of the flatbed and taking bundles of camping gear. “It might be fun, not having Mr. Wetfur around."

“The fuck does that mean?" I demanded, shifting into the driver's seat as Lazsh made his way out.

“You're serious and you rain on our party," she said with an arrogant swish of her tail.

“More than him?" I said, pointing at the blue lizard.

Yaleen raised a claw to her lip, green eyes shifting, “If he doesn't kill me, perhaps."

A thump on the truck gave me a start. The source of it was Lazsh slapping the side and giving me the silent go ahead.

I kicked the truck into gear and rolled towards the gate and away from my increasingly irritating companions, worried they would start discussing my bedroom performance with Lazsh, complete with giggles and shrill laughter.

My God. They're having a slumber party.

The image of Lazsh and Yaleen both in pink pajamas having a pillow fight and playing Truth or Dare, which would inevitably result in Lazsh calling Truth and telling Yaleen all about how I suggested we finally settle the debt and I began stroking his thighs and then, as Lazsh would say, we fucked, followed by Yaleen laughing like a hyena; it was degrading me, of course, but the image was funny, I had to admit.

I kept the truck on the dirt road as tight as possible, for fear of getting an inch of it into the rust anomalies. Out of curiosity, I grabbed a piece of scrap metal from an old haul job and tossed it over the passenger seat and out the window. Before it hit the ground, I saw it turn from gray to blood red in an instant, then it shattered upon impact. The stories were true.

Now, I wasn't a biologist, far from it, but I knew iron was a big part of human blood. I knew that we had both un-oxygenated and oxygenated blood in separate parts of the body and that when the blood becomes oxygenated, it sort of rusts. I was not sure if the anomaly effected our blood, nor did I know what consequences there would be if every blood cell got oxygenated at once, but I decided never to cross the anomaly, even if I was naked.

The smell of rusted iron hit me as I stopped behind the convoy of trucks lined up at the gates. All manner of aliens were lounging about, waiting for the guards to check their vehicles: there was a pack of Lupiads immediately in front of me, all varying shades of gray and white, save for one that had a dark gray pelt with a solid black muzzle, his tail was solid day with the occasional black stripe mixed in with a jet tip. His eyes were blue, rare for a Lupiad and his jowls were looser than normal members of his species, almost like he was a wolfdog. Could Sirians and Lupiads interbreed? If so, the result was rather handsome and my stomach went aflutter a bit when his icy eyes passed over me.

There was also a pair of striped Regulians resting outside their truck while a tiny Vulpeculan took out their cargo for the Sirian guards, perhaps fitting for the job, they looked like bloodhounds; for them to inspect. Wasn't any question which one of that trio was the prison bitch.

“Alright," a miserable looking brown Procyonid stepped in front of me. A jumpsuit with bright yellow letters announcing that he was “Security," covered up his striped pelt and he held a clipboard with a piece of paper on it. Compensating for his lack of armor and an immediate weapon was an automatic rifle that I did not recognize, slung over his shoulder. He wrinkled his short muzzle at me. “What's your business in Rust?"

“Stopping off for supplies on the way to the Catacombs."

“Another one," he sighed, slapping his clipboard against his hip. “What are you offering?"

“Offering?"

“A bribe!"

It may be shocking to hear this, but Planet's governance was a little corrupt. That tended to happen when every settlement is effectively taken over by gangs as soon as it becomes remotely successful. Mixed in with the fact that there's no official currency and guards tend to openly ask for bribes without repercussion. The gangs don't care if their lower ranking men take small gifts and it's not like the real prison guards, the Regulian military, gives a shit about us so long as we don't attempt to build a rocket and escape.

This is a prison, not an ideal society.

“Well, how about this?" I said smoothly, pulling out the rifle Gretho had left with us. It was solid black and made of some advanced polymer. There were bullets loaded into it, but I didn't know how many, about five I guess. I was able to remove the magazine, but I couldn't remove the bullets from it, but I saw they had a very strange shape, with a round, wide head, similar to a mushroom. The head was still narrower than the barrel of the gun, but I hadn't mustered up the courage to try firing it. I didn't want to break it.

“The fuck is this?"

“A rifle. Took it from some Regulian psycho."

“I know it's a rifle!" he said, holding his hands out, refusing to touch it. “What model?"

“Don't know. Don't even know who made it," I began to scan the side of it for a serial number, no matter what language it was in. “But I'm..."

I was cut off by a piercing bang and I caught a glimpse of the Pryconid with a red hole in the chest of his jumpsuit. I beat his body to the dirt, taking cover behind the hauler.

A klaxon rang out and the trucks in front of us rushed the gates, which were now closing as the guards panicked. Some people left their trucks behind, like the Regulians and their Vulpeculan, and ran through the gate. Others, like the Lupiads, were not so lucky, they tried to make a run for it, but the gates slammed in their faces and they were caught outside along with me and the two bloodhound-like Sirians, who were now in firing positions behind some abandoned vehicles.

And me, being at the very back of the convoy line, was now on the front-line of the battle.

Cursing, I peeked my head around the corner of my Hauler.

Pouring down the hills several hundred meters away, were about six jeeps loaded up with aliens armed to to teeth. They were still far away, but two of the trucks had people with rifles leaning out of it and based on the dead Procyonid behind me, I had reason to believe they had a sharp eye. I had even more reason when a bullet ricocheted off the fender with a scream, inches away from my face.

“Kurwa!" I screamed, going back into hiding. That was too close, way too close. These weren't your average bandits, these were professional gangsters and they wanted more than just a supply raid. They were after Rust itself.

And I was stuck with no choice but to fight.

“FIRE AND ADVANCE!"

Hails of gunfire rang out from behind me. I covered my head and looked back to see the two Sirians marching forward, firing two sidearms off in the distance blindly. In their other paw, they held two large, metal rectangular devices.

One of them shoved me out of the way, sandwiching me between them behind the Hauler. The other took out his automatic rifle and began firing, while the other ran forward, clutching the device in both hands.

A heavy paw wrapped around my chest, pulling me from the Hauler. I spun around to find a pair of blue eyes staring at me from behind a broad, black muzzle.

“Come on, human!" he growled, grabbing me by the wrist.

I kept my head down as he guided me, keeping my grip on the rifle. I looked behind once and saw the guard placing the device on the ground. It sprang open into a long strip and spikes retracted along it. Spike strips.

The mutt threw me behind his pack's truck and I fell backwards into a white-furred Lupiad's bare chest, who snarled angrily and shoved me back, glowering over me with dominance in his eyes.

“That was foolish, half-breed," the white one growled, staring down at my savior with angry amber eyes.

“Had to do it, was the right thing to do," the mutt said, jowls lifting in a smile as he pinched my cheek with two claws. “Besides, he's too handsome to die."

I couldn't help but blush, but I quickly remembered where we were and readied my rifle. I nodded at the mutt and he nodded back. His white-furred friend snorted with contempt, aimed his steel needler and fired it past the truck, the light clicks of it barely audible over the explosions of conventional bullets.

“What's you name?" the mutt said between firing off bursts from an automatic rifle.

“Pawel Lis, you?"

“Dondrae!" he barked back. He pulled a magazine out from a pouch attached to the chest of his green camouflaged fatigues he was wearing and slammed it into his rifle. “If we survive this, you owe me a drink!"

“Deal!"

“You'll owe all of us, lesser," the white Lupiad bared his teeth at me for a split second. I didn't take it personally, it was just how Lupiads were, their religion was hierarchy itself and they loved establishing a strict, inflexible pecking order. Perfectly nice so long as you knew you were lesser or greater than them and they were in agreement. Buying them a round of drinks was less humiliating than fighting over who was stronger or, what the stories say the ancient Lupiads did, engage in wrestling followed by sodomy to show dominance.

Not that I would object if Dondrae were to push me down and show me who was in charge. I was tempted to do the same to him if he didn't.

But this was no time to think about that, there would be time for that later.

I stood up, resting the rifle atop of the roof of their truck and aimed. There was a jeep about one hundred meters away, closing in on us. One of them, a black Vulpeculan, was leaning out the side of the truck, aiming their rifle to the right at some unseen target. I lined up the sights, a strange triangular sight, and fired.

I expected to hit him. It was a clean shot. I also believed it was a possibility that I could miss. Either one of these, I would have expected and been unsurprised by.

What I did not expect was to see the Vulpeculan's chest burst in a small, fiery explosion. The fire was large enough that it spread to the driver's fur, prompting him to leap out of the vehicle which spun out of control, flipping over before it even reached the spike strips and rolled violently to the right of us. The brown body of the truck instantly turned red and the engine went silent as it flew through the anomaly. No one popped out of the vehicle, whether it was due to the fire, the crash, or my theory about the anomaly, I did not know.

Piercing howls rang out beside me as Dondrae slapped me on the back. Even the white Lupiad was singing my praises into the air. I was distracted and a sitting duck, but Dondrae yanked me back under.

“What the hell kind of gun is that!?" Dondrae shouted.

“Give it to me, lesser, now!" The white Lupiad's brief moment of praise faded and his lips were peeled back, revealing his sharp ivories. I shouldered the rifle, the barrel nearly close enough to poke him in the chest, letting him know that I'm crazy enough to take us both down just to spite him.

“Not now, Chief!" Dondrae barked.

The Chief growled lowly at Dondrae, but turned back to the fight, firing off his needler once again in silence.

“Don't mind the Chief," Dondrae said, hopping up to fire a three round burst. “Why don't you give them another taste?"

I planted my free palm on top of the roof of the car, bracing myself to leap out of cover. I peered through the side windows, trying to get an idea of where they were coming from. My prayers were answered when a truck veered parallel from our cover and parked. The tires were shredded from the spike strips and the passengers disembarked through the doors on the opposite side. I could have tried to shoot through the windows, but the truck looked military issue, Regulian, and the windows were probably bullet-proof. The bullets I had in this rifle were clearly explosive, but I didn't know how much piercing power they had and I only had a few bullets left.

I soon found out how good their bullets were at piercing when a slug flew through the window, shattering it. Safety glass apparently was not invented when this truck was, because several small shards flew against my face when I recoiled, cutting my cheek up. I didn't feel any pain, but I closed one eye and then the other. I could still see out of both. That was enough.

Shoving the rifle through the now empty window, I took a quick aim and fired. Instantly, the quarter-panel on the rear exploded into shrapnel blown into all directions from a burst of flame.

This was the best gun I'd ever fired in my life. The awe of seeing a quarterpanel get disintegrated was short-lived, but a few seconds later the joy returned. Some chunk of the bullet must have gotten into the fuel tank because smoke started billowing out, lightly at first, then thicker and thicker until orange flames flickered out from the engine.

An Equuleian was the first to run out from the cover. I fired a snap shot and his leg exploded with a horrific crack that was louder than the gun itself. He wasn't going anywhere.

Other aliens emerged from the truck, but they were cut down from the bullets and needles from the guards and Lupiads.

But then, over the cries of pain and the piercing gunshots, came a noise far more chilling.

The Imperial Regulian Anthem.

When you heard this on Planet, you dropped your weapons and hit the deck. If you didn't do this, someone would drop you, even if they had to tear out your throat to do it. This was no exception and I fell face-first to the ground and put my hands on my head.

Like clockwork, a duo of jet-copters armed with missiles, gatling guns, and a laser cannon, flew over the horizon. I lowered my head for it was bad luck to stare at them for too long. Eventually, the sound of jet exhaust remained static and it was clear they were hovering over the battlefield.

We didn't know why they did these patrols. Perhaps they were just keeping an eye on the prisoners, maybe it was what they did for fun, or maybe, just maybe we were all part of a big social experiment. One thing we did know was that if you dared stand up, or God forbid, fired a shot at them; they'd start using us as target practice.

But all we had to do was stay silent and stay on the ground. We'd be okay. We'd be okay.

BANG!

Fear welled up in my stomach. Someone fired a gun. It must have been the raiders, they were losing for sure and he must have fired out of spite. If they couldn't take Rust, they'd destroy it. The fool, the ungodly fool.

The silence was deafening. Even the roars of the jet-copter engines seemed to silence. I didn't dare move, not that it would have mattered at this point. If they wanted to kill us, they would and there was nothing we could do.

“Come on!"

It Dondrae, grabbing me by the scruff of my jacket and forcing me under the truck with him and the Chief. There was barely enough room for us and Dondrae's strong chest was atop me, pinning me down. For a moment, I forgot about the imminent danger and my heart skipped as the handsome alien held me tight.

“Life is always worth fighting for, even if it's pointless!" Dondrae said. It was the last thing I heard before the roar of the gatling guns erupted.

I caught a glimpse of clumps of dirt and metal flying up before I covered my head. I felt something wet and warm brush up against my cheek. Dondrae's muzzle was buried against me as he took cover. I took a whiff of his scent, musky and manly, before I focused all my attention on praying to God for deliverance.

Imagine a world of nothing but darkness and explosions. That was my world. At any moment a spray of bullets should tear me to shreds. The Regulians could decide to launch their missiles and I wouldn't even notice until I reached Heaven or Hell. And imagine all of this, all of these horrors and realize that you have no control over anything.

That is true terror.

Explosions screamed and shrapnel whistled. Atop the rattling of the guns came metal shattering and thumping on the truck. Any moment now, a bullet could go through the truck body.

But it didn't.

The roar of the cannons stopped, leaving nothing but silence and the ringing of my ears. I couldn't hear the jets anymore, but I was too afraid to move for fear that they would return.

It was Dondrae who moved first, nuzzling his nose against the side of my cheek before carefully inching out from under the truck. His tail brushed against my face as he left the cover.

“They're gone," he said, voice echoing like he was at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

“They're gone!"

Carefully, I crawled out, as did the Chief who briefly flashed his fangs at me. I emerged, finding a world that was unfamiliar.

The dirt road was now indistinguishable from the grasslands surrounding it. All of them were pummeled into piles of dirt. Bodies were lying all around, two of the Chief's pack were lying behind us, chest shredded into pulp. The trucks were all riddled with bullets and their tires flattened.

And my Hauler was no exception.

I ran to my truck, passing one of the Sirian guards and flew into the driver's seat. I turned the key and it wheezed impotently.

“Kurwa! Fuck!"

Punching the wheel, I hit the ignition again and again. Screaming as the engine coughed.

“Hey!" someone thumped their fist against my window

I turned to face the guard with a snarl.

“Cool it!" he growled, baring his fangs. “We've all lost something today."

Sighing, I planted my head on the wheel, “I'm sorry."

“There's a dealer with a mechanic just past the gate on the right. You'd better go there if you want to beat the rush."

The guard looked around, sniffing at the air. Aside from the Lupiads and the guard, there didn't look to be anyone else moving around, “Well, maybe there's not gonna be a rush. But we'll keep an eye on your truck."

Silently, I stepped out of the truck. I leaned the rifle against my shoulder, not wanting to leave it behind after it revealed itself to be the best gun in the universe. I made sure my Beretta was loaded, just in case I ran into trouble in the town, and left my truck behind.

I hadn't even looked at the town since emerging from cover. The walls were still intact, aside from small chunks and bullet holes riddling it. If the bandits wanted Rust to burn out of spite, they failed. I guess we had the Regulians to thank, for showing some measure of restraint and not launching their incendiary missiles to burn us all alive.

Passing Dondrae, I nodded at him and he nodded back with a quick wink and a smile. He returned to scavenging their cargo and part of me wished to invite him along, but he was busy and, despite his smile, probably mourning the loss of his friends. Chief was attending to an injured Lupiad, cleaning a wound with his tongue.

With a rumble, the rusted gates of Rust creaked open. Flakes of metal dust flickered in the air as the rows of wooden shacks beyond revealed themselves.

Gritting my teeth, I passed through the gate.