A Meeting of Military Minds

Inside the American M10-A10 presidential battle tank, Bush, Cheney and the two soldiers stared, wide-eyed, at the main monitor and held their collective breath. The low-frequency drone of the approaching Hun-Vee’s electric motors was growing in volume. Bush closed his eyes and awaited impact; he anticipated the sound of metal being twisted and mangled, the jolt of the tank as it was being crushed.
But nothing happened. Bush slowly opened his eyes as it dawned on him that the sound of the electric motors was now coming from directly above them.

*

On the bridge of the royal Hun-Vee, a bluish light shone from the control panels and mixed with the weak, fading daylight that managed to enter through the portholes, dimly illuminating the entire room. It was surprisingly quiet, the electric engines operating relatively silently for powering such a huge vehicle. Nine hundred warriors wo-manned the rolling fortress, which was divided into fourteen decks. Other than the male servants, all of whom were castrated, there were no men on board.
Nitra Khan and her ministress of war, Boota Bleeda, belly-laughed and shrieked in delight. “Nice driving, Zenturia Gota!” Khan complimented the helms-Hun.
“Now the president will be in the right mood for negotiating,” commented Bleeda. “Shall we head down to the conference room, my queen?” These women spoke Hunzanian to one another, a mixture of ancient Scythian and modern Spanish.
Khan and Bleeda took the elevator down to the sixth deck of the Hun-Vee, where they entered a conference room.
Khan sat down on her ancient, stone throne and began to mentally prepare herself for the very important negotiation that was about to take place. She closed her eyes and reflected on the fact that her own female ancestors had removed this very throne from the court of Attila the Hun more than sixteen hundred years earlier. She drew strength from the fact that those She-Hun women, her direct genetic ancestors, had killed that great barbarian when he was at the height of his reign of terror. She drew additional strength from the hatred that she felt toward Negon Bush, the man who had forced her to have nonconsensual sex ten years earlier as part of a cease-fire agreement reached between her mother and the American president after the underground city of Hunzania had been surrounded by American troops. She breathed deeply several times, finally arriving at a sharpened state of mind.

*

The Hun-Vee had ground to a halt.
“God damn, that was close! What the hell happened?” yelled Bush inside the tank, to no one in particular. Under his breath, Bush immediately pleaded, “Sorry, my Lord, God, for using your sacred name in vain and for mentioning the lair of Lucifer.” He shot a glance upward.
“I don’t know, sir, but it seems that the Hun-Vee is somehow now directly over us,” answered Yee, looking all around him. There was an eerie, expectant silence.
Cheney stood up and opened the hatch, peering outside the tank; he was looking up at the underside of the Hun-Vee. “A very well-executed maneuver, Nitra,” he muttered.
There was a clearance of nearly ten feet between the belly of the She-Hun battle colossus and the top of the American tank.
Just then, a large door slid open in the chitin plates of the Hun-Vee, and four She-Hun warriors stared down at the vice president.
“Beem,” Bush called to Cheney, who was still standing in the hatch of the Abrams tank, “come back down here.” Cheney descended the short ladder and stood to the side, so that Negon Bush could climb up and have a look at their situation for himself. The president looked up and out from the access hatch, squinting. The storm blowing sand and rain into his face and eyes, he made out the square opening above him, filled with the faces of the four helmeted warriors in black fighting gear staring down at him. They lowered a ladder down to the roof of the Abrams and motioned for him to climb up and into their vehicle.
Bush looked down into the tank, saying, “Ling and Yee stay here. Maximum alert. Beem, you come with me.”
The president and his general climbed up the ladder. As Bush arrived at the opening into the Hun-Vee, the She-Huns grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up into the giant vehicle.
“Don’t touch me; I’m the President of the United States of America!”
The female warriors continued to womanhandle Bush, pulling him aside and grabbing Cheney as well. They removed the small pulse pistols from both men, as well as the devices they wore on their wrists.
“Damn you! Give me back my MFD!” Bush shouted, indignant.
“Later. When you leave,” said the tallest of the warriors in a thick Hunzanian accent, a cross between a Mexican and a deep southern. “Our queen, Nitra Khan, awaits you both.”
Cheney noted that these She-Hun soldiers were young, twenty years old at the most. All four were taller than he and Bush. Their features were noticeably Asian, apart from the bright blue eyes and the long blond hair, which, braided into a shoulder-length ponytail, stuck out of a hole in the back of the helmet. Each of the woman warriors carried a replica of the late 20th-century Samopal PP-93 submachine gun slung over her shoulder. Although Cheney was himself a battle seasoned soldier, he felt uneasy in the presence of these incredibly attractive, powerfully-built women.
The royal guard detail led the American dignitaries down a brightly illuminated hallway, whose floor, ceiling and walls were constructed of processed avocactus plant fiber. After walking for thirty seconds in silence, they all stepped into an elevator and went up.
Most battle Hun-Vees had between four and seven decks; Nitra Khan’s royal Hun-Vee consisted of fourteen. The hydrogen tanks, fuel-cells and electric motors were located on the lower decks. Daily operations, everyday life activities and official government business were carried out on the upper decks.
In the elevator, Bush and Cheney were crushed between the four young Hunzanians. They smelled of avocactus powder mixed with sweat.
Ah, the aromas of cinnamon and lemon,  thought Bush. She-Hun perfume. How exotic!  He inhaled the smell deeply, smiling. He was very high on black ice and was finally feeling relaxed, looking forward to seeing Nitra Khan. She was unique: a worthy military opponent and the best dominatrix he had ever submitted to.
Since Khan had become queen five years earlier, the frequent secret meetings in the desert – a mixture of high-level politics, big business and submissive sex – always proved to be exhilarating for the president.
Essentially, Negon Bush and Beem Cheney did not concern themselves with the state of the American nation. All was well for these two men as long as the She-Hun oil wells kept bubbling black gold for export to them and the profits kept rolling in after the sale of it and other commodities to the American public through their many private corporations. Their contentment was also dependent on extremely active sex lives.