Planetary Agents 1: The Fast Furrier Transform free porn video

PLANETARY AGENTS 1: The Fast Furrier Transform By Babs Yerunkle ************************************************* SUMMARY: Welcome to the world of galactic travel and super science. In this world of miracles, our hero is an fat, aging loser. (Engaging premise, isn't it?) He tries to kill himself, and apparently can't even succeed in that. Instead, he stumbles into a web of evil bad guys and sexy super spies. On the down side, he eventually gets infected with the evil serum of monstrous mutation. On the up side, he gets to have some whoopee before he mutates into a slug (or whatever). The end is happy (gasp!). Low on realism, heavy on idealized wish fulfillment. (Sorry, no "furry" content, the title is just a math joke.) WARNING: Contains transgender themes, explicit sex, violence, bad words, and sloppy writing. No real people or deep characterization here, just bubble-headed sex 'n' violence in a thin candy coating. Don't read this if you are under 18 or over IQ 110. Not as funny as this intro might indicate. See bottom for copyright and distribution. ************************************************* It was time to die. For once, I'd finally done work that was absolutely flawless. I'd handled all the loose ends. Not that there was anything to handle in regards to family or friends. Perhaps family or friends would have kept me from reaching this state. Unfortunately, there wasn't a single person in the galaxy who would miss a lonely middle-aged man with a slight talent for data retrieval and a fondness for mystery and romance novels. Hah. As if those had ever served a purpose in my meaningless life. Another hurdle had been quitting my job. They'd cashed me out with a modest bonus and expressed a professional regret at my departure, but no real person ever noticed. No going-away lunch, no hearty clap on the back. Not even a "We'll miss you, Joshua." My life and personality were bland and gray, noticed by no one, touching no one. My end would be spectacular. Not showy, I didn't need that. If I planned correctly, no one would even know I was gone. My disappearance would be traceless, just as my life had been. But it would be meaningful to me. A supremely special moment. Perhaps that's an ironic way to view your own death, but I had to work to make something of this, or even *I* wouldn't have noticed. At least, that's how I felt now. It only took me a week to find a black market source for Dissolve, the ultimate nano-killer. It was the perfect murder agent: quick, silent, and traceless. The victim died in seconds. Within a minute, the body dissolved into biological precursors, and within ten minutes, those were gone. After an hour, the nano agents self-destructed as well. Possession of Dissolve was an instant death sentence, but I have a talent for finding data and people that prefer to be hidden. With the last step in place, I'd purchased my ticket to Permafrost, "Ski lodge to the stars." The low population density suited my feelings. It has been amusing for a day, rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful, the ultra-beautiful, and the supremely confident. Some few of them (either rich or powerful, I presume) looked as pudgy and boring as I did. I'd kept it up for a day, buoyed by the artificial excitement generated by my Great Plan. But as always, depression came crashing down. I spent the last of my credit buying cross-country skis and a modest camping setup. The sight I'd chosen was spectacular. I'd inflated the four-man tent under a thick snow bank, overhung by huge blue conifers. The setting was pristine and undisturbed. And since I'd carefully chosen biodegradable camping gear (and thoughtfully purchased a misting unit filled with the proper enzymes), it would fade away without a trace before the next big thaw. Not a single trace or clue would remain. After setting the site up, I had taken the activation nanos. Like any cellular nanotechnology, Dissolve was useless unless the subject had been fully dosed with Activator units. Every target cell had to be primed and ready. I'd chosen full-spectrum Activators, for every single cell in my damned, hated body. Another restricted item, but hardly in the league of Dissolve. The Activator was actually considered part of the elegance of the murder weapon. Aside from a tiny pinprick as the initial units were delivered, there were no symptoms. They took a day to fully replicate throughout the body, but after that, both the killer and victim could ingest a Dissolve-treated meal or beverage, and only the "Activated" victim would succumb. It had been an interesting thought, as I struggled to sleep last night. And now, I had one final morning. One last hour of contemplation before my contemplation ended forever. On the floor rested a small (carefully sealed) unbreakable vial holding the Dissolve. The enzyme mister was in place. I could set it off just before drinking the vile vial. I stood and dressed one last time. My clothes could use a washing, but somehow that didn't seem too important. There was even room to stand fully upright inside my spacious four-man tent. I pulled on my camouflage-white ski outfit and stepped outside for one last look at the universe. After so many years of contemplating my end, it felt oddly energizing to finally be here. I had done it. I was teetering on the brink of my personal oblivion. I would watch the sun one last time and take my final breath of clean air. ***** Strapping the skis back on, I felt both clumsy and hungry. I hadn't brought food. Just as well, I thought. It lent a certain edge to the morning. Outside, the world was covered in gloomy white. The snow would have sparkled under a clear sky, but it lay like icy death under this gray overcast. I slowly skied the kilometer to the edge of the canyon. This was the spectacular view I would take to my grave. I was on the west rim of the Permafrost Slash, a glacial crack one kilometer wide and three deep. Stretching only 500 kilometers long it didn't stand up to the Mariner Valley on Mars, but it did make the so called "Grand Canyon" look pathetic. And sunrise shining on the east cliff wall should be a spectacular end to an unspectacular life. Except that it was overcast today. And foggy. And, as my spirits lowered even further, snow began to fall. Not a light beautiful Christmas dusting, but a cold, sleety snow, driven by wind. Well, if I'd had any second thoughts, they were gone now. I gave one last look, searching for something, anything that might make me change my mind, but there was nothing. I began to turn back towards my camp, when a flash lit up the canyon. A second later, I was knocked to the ground by the concussive blast of an explosion. Six seconds after that, the echo returned off the far canyon wall. My camp! If those idiots knocked more snow down, it would take all day to get back into my tent. Then there was a streak of light to my right, as the idiots in question turned into flaming wreckage. In the snow, I couldn't see anything more than a glow of light, but I could tell that it had impacted just a few hundred feet away. This was *not* working out according to plan. With a weary sigh, I began to ski toward the impact. I really ought to help the poor idiot drivers before I took care of my own selfish needs. Hmm, perhaps I would even start a legend. The mysterious stranger who appeared out of nowhere, saved lives, and then vanished again without a trace. Maybe my life could leave some tiny mark after all. The snow was coming down thicker as I poled up over the rise. I could see pieces of metal steaming in the snow. Even with the weather, I could see the crumpled yellow frame of a skyspeeder coupe. I moved closer, and almost immediately found a frail form half-buried in the snow. She was beautiful, there was no doubt of that. About sixteen years old, with pure black hair cut in a short cap that matched her delicate elfin features . Her high-fashion pink ski-suit may not have been as well insulated as mine, but it showed off her figure and made her particularly obvious in the snow. She was surprisingly well developed for such a slender frame. Unbelievably, despite the artistic rips here and their in her suit, I couldn't see a scratch on her. Some people are just born with a charmed life. I pulled her, breathing but unconscious, from the snow bank, then I headed for the crumpled skyspeeder. What had caused the explosion? It was hard to short out an electron bank. Maybe the idle rich used jet fuel to power their speeders, unlike normal peons. But there was no evidence of fire. It sure *looked* like an electron-bank short, given the scorch marks on the speeder body. I moved around to the far side and stuck my ski poles in the ground. Unclipping my skis, I prepared to climb onto the body, when two things happened. First, the teenaged girl sat up. Fast recovery time, I suppose. Second, the passenger window popped open, and the girl's companion began to pull himself out of the wreckage. I prepared to clamber onto the speeder body to help him out. It was hardly an act of heroism. With the electron bank already gone, there was little chance of further explosions. The man in the speeder, a blond weightlifter who looked like he had an IQ of about 60, looked up and noticed the girl. "Finally got you, bitch!" he shouted. "I'd like to see you get out of THIS one!" And with that, he pulled up an absolutely HUGE laser pistol. This wasn't one of those semi-automatic jobs you see in the high-class detective dramas. This was an ugly cannon. It wasn't the type you would try to hide under a dress jacket, it's the type you'd give to cheap thugs. While I stood in shock, the muscle-bound bastard pulled the thing up with both hands and leveled it at the girl. From the corner of my eye, it looked like she made an impossible jump, but thug-ugly tracked her smoothly and while I watched in frozen horror, he squeezed the trigger. A bolt of lethal blue light snapped out, connecting the two of them for a split instant. With a CRACK! of energy, the beam snapped out of his gun and pierced her cleanly through the sternum. She was thrown backward by the blast to impact against a tree with a sickening wet sound. I don't quite understand what happened then. I suppose my ski pole must have been still within reach. It seemed like the world was covered in a dim red mist. I remember swinging at his hand with all my fury-enhanced strength. Ugly seemed surprised as the gun was smashed away. I know he didn't expect to find himself falling under the insane fury of a middle-aged clerk. Looking back on it, he should have killed me, too. He was at least fifteen centimeters taller than I was. And while he outweighed me, it probably mattered even more that his weight was in muscle, rather than fat. But somehow, surprise, my sudden fury, and man's oldest weapon the club must have made the difference. My second bash took him below the chin, and as he scrambled to pull himself out of the wreckage, I whipped at him again and again, slashing him in the face, throat, arms, and chest. Then he was free and he began to grab at me, crushing, squeezing, and clawing huge gashes on my hands and arms. But as I struck at him in blind fury, he seemed to run out of steam, and simply collapsed into the snow. I was impressed by my fighting prowess until I rolled him over. One of my first slashes had caught his jugular. He'd bled to death while fighting me. I staggered over to the dead girl in the snow. I honestly couldn't tell whether I was crying or just gasping for breath as I recovered from the fight. My heart felt a tightness that was completely unfamiliar. She'd been so beautiful and so young. I carefully closed her eyes and rearranged her limbs in a semblance of tranquility. Her blood soaked into the ground, mingling with mine. I felt oddly close to her, as I never had with any girl in my life. How tragic that I had wanted to end my life while she had wanted to live. I wished that we could trade places, that I could give my life to restore hers. I was still sitting there, head bowed, when I heard the low key vibrations of an AG drive cycling down behind me. I turned, expecting friends of the weightlifter to come pouring out, but it was a blonde woman. She saw the dead girl stretched out at my knees and stifled a scream, then came running forward. As if a large crater in the center of the chest didn't matter, she felt for a pulse, then checked the girl's forehead, feeling for temperature, I suppose. Oddly, she sighed in relief. Reaching behind her back, she pulled out something that looked like a megaphone. "You'll want to step back," she said. "It puts out a hefty dose of radio waves at this setting." I nodded as if I understood, and moved back toward the 'speeder. The blond held the megaphone trigger down and proceeded to wave it over the girl, as if she were spraying from an invisible hose, concentrating particularly on the head and torso. "Thank God. She's stable now, but we have to get her out of this snow." She had her back to me, and when she turned around, she wasn't holding the megaphone any more, but a sleek and efficient plasma pistol which was solidly centered on my chest. "Okay, start talking." My eyes felt like they grew about three sizes larger and my mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. Somehow, reading mystery novels had never quite conveyed this feeling of immediacy. "No, no, no, no," I stammered. "You've got it wrong. They crashed. She was thrown clear. Ugly here," I slowly inclined my head toward the body, "got her as she was standing up." She looked at the girl, covered with blood, her outfit shredded from the accident, then looked at me, clawed and beaten and bleeding. "I'm sure it took two of you to hold her down," she said, her voice taking on a chill that was far colder than the growing blizzard. Looking at the dead girl, life at that moment seemed too tragically unfair for words. She was so beautiful, and she died for it. And this woman was about to gun me down for being part of the attack squad. I suddenly remembered my plans for this morning. Hell, my spectacular anonymous exit was already ruined. If I'm going to die, why not at the hands of a beautiful woman? Ignoring her gun completely, I turned and picked up my ski pole. A plasma bolt stuck the ground at my feet. "Hold it!" I ignored her and plucked up the ski pole, waving the bloody tip toward her. I was about to explain, when a plasma bolt shot past my ear. "Drop it!" I did, then wondered at myself. Maybe she'd shoot me if I rushed her... But maybe she'd just wound me. Maybe she'd suffer the guilt when she found out I wasn't really involved. Maybe this was all just a stupid idea. I slowly fell to my knees. "Look," I said, my voice suddenly shaky, "it's a ski pole. I didn't come here in the skyspeeder. My skis are right over there. Ugly there didn't have a mark on him until after he shot your friend. I kind of went berserk. I think I meant to kill him, but I ..." What? What was there to add? She saw the bloody tip of my ski pole, the skis, slowly looked at the patterns of blood and footprints. Lowering the gun slightly, she walked forward and put one boot toe under the weightlifter and flipped him on his back. I saw now the ugly gash at his throat, and how, aside from scratches, I'd done relatively little other damage to him. "Oh... crap! Look, I'm sorry!" She quickly stashed the gun inside her jacket. "Damn. You saved her life! I'm so sorry!" In another moment, she joined me on my knees and wrapped her arms around me in a hug that was more than forgiving. I was thrown from one shock to another. I'd never been particularly successful with women. Now, my face was buried in a wonderfully fragrant cloud of honey-gold hair. Her jacket had fallen open, and I was acutely conscious of her magnificent breasts pressed into my shoulder. I realized that my cheek was pressed against her neck, which also smelled heavenly. I would have stayed like that for another hour, but she pulled back and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Part of my mind sang. A kiss! Another part moaned. On the cheek. A third part wondered at the emotional volatility of a woman that was shooting at me in one moment, and kissing me the next. She stood, and I watched her legs go up and up and up. Remarkably small torso for that length of leg. "Amber Trin," she said, holding a hand out for me. "Joshua Brocklan," I said, pulling myself up. My weight didn't seem to budge her at all. She was stronger than she looked. She turned her eyes toward me, wonderfully large and moist orbs of astonishing depth. They were a deep cerulean blue. "My friend is Crys. Crystal Macintyre. We have to move her to someplace protected. Do you have a camp nearby?" I nodded, mutely. Still looking into her eyes. How had I found the courage to look this stunning creature directly in the eyes? "Um... where is it?" "Oh, uh," I came back to myself and looked quickly at my feet. "It's about a kilometer farther in. Can't we take her out in your skycar?" I looked over and realized it was just a cycle. A bright yellow AG cycle, big enough for one, or perhaps two if they were very friendly. I shrugged. "Wouldn't it be easier if you just went back and notified the authorities. They'll be able to bring a --" a hearse, I almost said, "-an ambulance. I'm sorry, but the wait isn't going to do any further harm to her." "No! She's not --" Not dead? Beg to differ, beautiful. The poor girl's heart had been exploded. "I can't do that. Won't you help me?" She looked at me again with those wonderfully expressive eyes. How could I refuse? I shrugged. "We'll need a sledge to drag her." It's not like I had any better plans, after all. We salvaged some rope out of the crashed skyspeeder and Amber used her pistol to clip off and then trim some longer branches. We stripped Ugly's body, using his pants and shirt as webbing for the sledge. Amber hefted his body up like he weighed nothing, then carried (!) him to the nearby ledge and threw him over. Then, she carefully loaded the dead girl onto the sledge, and my skis and poles onto her cycle. While I slowly tromped through the snow dragging the sledge, she hovered behind me, wiping the tracks with an evergreen branch. Not that it would matter with the snowfall we were having, but she seemed determined to take every precaution possible to avoid detection. The slow march took most of the morning. When we got to my camp, it was exactly as I had set it up. There was no sign at all of my tent. I'd memorized the position of the trees, and with a little digging I had the entrance uncovered. Amber's eyebrows arched beautifully upward but she said nothing. Inside, I quickly pocketed the vial of Dissolve. I moved the enzyme mister unobtrusively into the corner. Amber dragged her former friend inside, sledge and all. Fortunately, we all fit inside the four man tent. "Cozy." She said. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect." She fiddled with the little electron-power heater I'd brought, turning it up. It was fully charged, so it would be good for at least another month at low power. "Okay," she said. "Help me get her clothes off." My jaw dropped. I looked at her in... shock? Disgust? Complete lack of comprehension? I'm not sure what. "We have to get her inside your sleeping bag. The insulation will work better if we get her out of these wet clothes. We need to wrap her up as tightly as possible, since we may have to leave her for a week or two." "...Amber? She's...dead." I tried to put it gently, but hell, I'd just spent most of the morning dragging a corpse. "No she's not!" Amber almost screamed it at me. "She's SUSPENDED. I have her in bio-stasis. If we can keep her cool but above freezing, she won't suffer any deterioration for several weeks. That's plenty of time to get her to... someplace that can help." "Amber, let it go. I saw the wound. Maybe the best hospital could have saved her in the first few seconds, but she was in the snow for minutes before you got there. And real bio-stasis takes an entire medical pod. I'm sorry. Whatever you gave her, it wasn't enough. There's nothing left." I reached my arm out to, I don't know, to comfort her I suppose, but I dropped it again awkwardly. "You don't-- she--" In frustration, Amber reached inside her jacket and pulled out a slim leather display pad. I felt a moment of surreal dej vu. This was a scene that was overused in the mystery novels I used to read. With a slow movement that echoed that of a hundred other sidekicks-dragged-into-mystery, I turned the pad toward me. "Amber Elizabeth Trin, Planetary Alliance, Special Agent," it read. There was her portrait, rotating behind the words, her height, weight, biometric values scrolling down one side, and the novaburst tastefully in the far background. I looked at the dead girl. "And she...?" "My partner." My eyes began to fill with tears. The girl had seemed so perfect, so full of life, so sparkling and wonderful in the seconds before life was snuffed out. But somehow, miraculously, she could still be saved. Some miracle from the Planetary Alliance secret labs had saved her. I felt the tears running down my cheek. "You believe me now?" I nodded, mutely. "The problem is, they'll be looking for her. I'm surprised they gave us the morning. This hiding spot is perfect, absolutely perfect," Amber rubbed her hands together in crafty plotting, but then gave me a sideways glance, probably wondering about my strange camp. With a shake of her head she returned to the main topic. "I have no idea what they're up to, but they're definitely trying to capture her. And it seems to be *her*, not me. This is definitely a well-concealed camp, but a good scan would find it. Depth radar, to spot the pocket in the snow, or a scan for the power source of the heater. And Crystal's utterly helpless." She shook her head again in thought. "Somehow, we have to make sure that they never think to look for her. But they've already tracked us to the lodge, and they must know she was with Hamron. The skyspeeder will be easy to find but they may not find his body..." As she thought, we peeled the pink snowsuit off Crys. I would have been repulsed by the task with a dead body, but somehow, knowing that she was alive somehow but in biostasis made a big difference. I suppose that undressing an incredibly sexy young girl would have been an erotic event, if it hadn't been for the bloody crater that gaped obscenely in her chest. Instead of erotic, all I could feel was a powerful empathy for the injured person I was working on. I tried to be as gentle as possible, as we slipped her into my sleeping bag. I *did* notice that the girl was too young to have developed pubic hair. I didn't mean to be a pervert, but it was kind of hard to miss. And a bit surprising, since the rest of her body seemed plenty well developed. Also, I found it slightly revolting that our law enforcement agencies were accepting kids that young. Maybe she shaved. Which led to other thoughts that began disgusting stirrings, deep inside me. I had no desire to be a necrophiliac. Amber was holding up the pink snowsuit. "It *might* work. It might lead them away, at least. If we could draw them away so that they never thought to search, she'd be perfectly safe." She moved over to the heater and adjusted it to low, then turned toward me, biting her lip. "I have no right to ask this. You've already done more than your share, but will you help me?" She had a pleading look in those magnificently expressive eyes. Her breast heaved slightly. "Please?" How could I refuse that? "Of course," I replied gallantly. "Anything at all." "Great!" she exclaimed, holding up the pink snowsuit. "Then get into this!" "Um..." I mentally slapped myself in the forehead, hard. "It's a little small for me." "Stretch fabric!" "It's ripped." "So?" "I'm neither the proper size nor shape," I pointed out. "Look," she explained, patiently. "I'll carry you back to our lodge on my skycycle. You'll have to hold on tight, since there's not much room. I'll be protecting you from the wind, and from direct observation. And if we keep moving fast, all people will notice is that you're a person dressed in pink. They'll think it's her." In an undertone, she added, "no one else on the planet has such atrocious taste in colors." I rolled my eyes and shrugged. "I suppose..." With a squeal, she had her arms around my neck and was kissing me hard on the lips. My body went limp (well, most of it) while I savored the exquisite sensation. Oh yes, for this I would do anything. After a blissful moment I was released, then Amber thrust the pink fabric forward. "Don't watch," I told her, trying to sound stern. She turned around with a laugh. I quickly stripped off my jacket and outer outfit, and began the painful exercise of pulling on a suit that was about twenty sizes too small. Sure, the fabric stretched, but not easily. Fortunately, it didn't rip easily either. The torso was too small, so my shoulders and crotch were being severely pinched (it bothered me a hell of a lot more in the crotch). The arms and legs were long enough, but not wide enough. It stretched to my ankles and wrists and fit like a tourniquet. The final result nicely highlighted every bit of flab and excess flesh I possessed, while still looking completely absurd. Imagine Santa in red longjohns sized for an elf. Well, perhaps I wasn't quite Santa-shape, but I felt like it in this outfit. "Okay." Amber turned around and looked. Her mouth started to twitch. She covered it with her hand, and finally gave up and just guffawed. "Yeah, yeah," I said tiredly. "Let's get moving." So much for my chances at playing the romantic lead. Her eyes filled with sympathy, and she gave me another quick peck on the cheek. "You are so sweet," she said. "I promise to make this up to you later." That was something, at least. With that thought circling the inside of my head, we zipped the tent closed, knocked more snow down on top of it, and took off on her little skycycle. I had to wrap my arms around her, just under her breasts. I could feel them jiggling slightly, as she steered and accelerated. She leveled off at treetop height, then headed south at about 100 kilometers an hour. I tried to ignore the wind cutting into my face and through the holes in the suit. The scrapes and bruises I'd taken that morning were beginning to make themselves felt in a big way. Instead, I thought about the wonderful woman I was holding. How old was she? She looked and acted like she was in her early twenties, but with special agents, who could tell? The Planetary Alliance labs were rumored to be at least a hundred years in advance of any commercial research. There'd been more than one story that they'd discovered anti-aging treatments, and more. The few non-human races more advanced than mankind had made some significant contributions to the Alliance, but they seemed to have no interest in commercial gain. Particularly the Logarans. That brought me up short. Could she be...? We'd found plenty of humanoid species, but nothing that would pass as human on even a cursory inspection, with the exception of the Logarans. The Logarans were seemingly identical to humans unless you performed a full medical scan. There had also been Logarans that were seemingly identical to Kref, Brillum, Ronolars, and Frund. Which left everyone with the understanding that we had no idea what Logarans *really* looked like, and that they had a science which was far beyond ours. A science that could come up with things like a biostasis ray. And now that I thought about it, where *had* she stashed that device? It had been the size and shape of a megaphone, and I'd assumed she'd put it inside her coat, but I had a very tight hold around Amber right now and I couldn't feel any strange lumps in there. Just a pair of soft mounds, tempting my fingers upward. Controlling my twitching fingers, I tried to ignore the fact that I was starting to lose feeling in my arms and legs and concentrated on my current line of thought. There was a few distinguishing characteristics that Logarans usually displayed. They were very physically attractive with perfectly developed bodies. That suited both Amber and Crys. They were incredibly strong and resilient and highly adaptable to different environments. They seemed immune to most diseases. Some had slightly oversized incisors, either upper or lower, and some were reputed to have a greatly enhanced sex drive. Oh, how I wished! Fortunately, it was getting easier to keep my treacherous fingers under control as they turned numb. Suddenly, we were there. We sped over a rise and ahead of us was the five-building complex that housed the Nuevo Matterhorn Lodge. "Hold on!" Amber called back, then pulled a couple of quick turns, putting us briefly in sight of the main lift lines, before we spun around to the back side of the residential wing. She settled the cycle on the private balcony of a top-floor suite, parking next to another 'cycle already waiting there. "Mission accomplished!" she said with a triumphant grin, pressing her palm to the lock. "Let's get you inside, and take care of those wounds." She slid the door open and we tumbled inside. Well, her metaphorically, and me rather literally. My legs couldn't hold my weight any more. One look at my pale white hands and she realized what the tourniquet effect was doing to me. She quickly unzipped the suit and helped peel it off of me. "I hope it wasn't too cold in front," she said, eyeing the gaping bloody hole in the chest. "Not at all, but you're going to need a new jacket. I was pressed pretty tightly against you." She gave a tight-lipped smile at that, and I noticed two small incisors poking enchantingly over her lower lip. Little love fangs, I thought. I smiled in return. "I'm afraid this is the first time I've met a Logaran." "Not really," she smiled, "since --" Her face went blank as she suddenly realized what she was admitting. "Since your friend Crys is one, too," I finished for her. Her face took on a bemused, calculating look. "You are a bit too smart for your own good, Mr. Brocklan." "Please, call me Joshua." "Joshua, then." She gave a little come-hither smile and said, "I think it's past time that I attend to your wounds. Lay down on the bed." The suite had only a single emperor-sized bed. I briefly thought of carnal bliss, but realized she had more of Florence Nightingale in mind. I briefly looked down at my flabby, pot-bellied body, scraped and bruised, and turned away from her before she could see my self- loathing. I lay down on the bed, trying to conceal my physical reactions toward her. "Joshua..." Her expression seemed almost tender, before she turned to go into the bathroom. She came back out with a washcloth an a small first aide box. I raised myself on one arm, but gasped at the pins and needles that shot through me. Circulation was only slowly returning. "Hush. Lay down." She began to dab at me with the cloth. "Joshua, exactly what happened this morning?" "Hmmm. Well..." I described the flash at the Permafrost Slash, then the explosion, seeing the crash scene. I described finding her friend, the wreckage, and Ugly using his pistol. "At the time, I didn't believe the leap I saw her make. I guess I understand now." Amber nodded, and sprayed some derma-seal on the cut she'd just cleaned. I described the rage that came over me, and lashing out in blind fury. I described the fight, and the end, and then straightening her friend in the snow. "In retrospect, that was pretty stupid, attacking Ugly like that. He could have broken me in half." Amber nodded. "Yes, he could. He had more than just bulk, he had the scars for engineered muscle enhancements. He might have been as strong as I am." My eyes widened a bit at that. What was that supposed to mean? Just how strong was she? "What an idiot," I said, turning my head away from her. I felt a delicate hand on my cheek. She turned my head back toward her, and then lowered herself, to kiss me full and deeply on the lips. "A brave and noble idiot." I couldn't help reacting to that. I was lying on her bed, clad only in my underwear, and the rising I felt was more than obvious. "Ooh," she breathed, "so you're not made of stone. Or perhaps... you are." "Amber, please." I rose to my arms, pulling away from her. "No, I owe you. Remember? I promised to make it worth your while." I turned away and shook my head. "This isn't right. Look at me, Amber. Look at my face, my body. I'm nothing." I felt the blackness rising up inside me. "I'm a middle aged man, for God's sake. Maybe for you this could be an innocent romp, but not for me. It would be much more.... Much more. And tomorrow, when we go our separate ways, I wouldn't be able to stand it." So? A part of me wondered. Why not go out with a *bang*? Isn't a death over unrequited love better than a death due to being terminally pathetic? "Joshua," she said, her hand coming over my shoulder, "I didn't *always* look like this. Back with... my own people... I was rather plain. Extremely plain. And as for you being middle aged, youngster, have no worries about that." "I'm afraid...." Could I admit it? Could I be honest? "Women have never shown me much attention. And now, a stunningly beautiful one is trying to seduce me. I afraid that I might, kind of, how can I say it? Fixate on you." "Love?" She sat up, blinking. "Wait, are you saying that you've never... and you're afraid if we did then you would fall hopelessly in love with me?" I felt a grimace of misery on my face. "Oh, Joshua, you say the most surprising, SWEETEST things! Believe me, we've learned to see more than a person's surface." She used her delicate vice-like hands to force my face toward hers. "If no one's seen your true worth before now, it's their loss." She stared into my eyes. "But it won't be mine." She suddenly sat back on the bed, looking absolutely devilish. Her little fangs poked out over her lower lip as she smiled in deliciously seductive evil. "Let's see now, how to handle you? First, I think, I'll have to get your main hang-up out of the way. Then with the rush out of the way, a little recovery will give us time to really take our time and make it all the sweeter. Then dinner, and then something a bit more hedonistic." I simply stared at her in shock. She stood up. "Now, watch closely." She languidly unzipped her ski outfit, exposing first the lacy white cups of her bra, then pulling the zipper past the lacy mystery of her panties, all the way down to her ankle. She looked flexible enough to put her hands flat on the floor, without bending her knees in the slightest. "Joshua? Help me pull this off?" Mesmerized, I rose to help her slip out of the outfit. In slow wonder I traced my hand on her flawless shoulder, tracing down toward her breast. She reached behind her back, arching her chest toward me, before the bra snapped free and slid off. I stared at her nipples, stroking them, watching them stiffen. Her hands moved down my sides, slipping my underwear off. "You *are* eager, aren't you? Perhaps you could return the favor?" It took me a moment to understand, then I reluctantly moved my hands from her breasts, down the muscles of her belly. There wasn't a gram of fat on her -- well, certainly not on her belly. I pulled the lacy straps of her panties down, and they fell to the ground. I realized then that she was completely hairless. Aside from her eyelashes, eyebrows, and the rich mane of golden hair that fell to her waist, there wasn't a single hair anywhere on her body. I could see her mysterious feminine slit, and as I slipped my fingers downward I could feel the moisture within her. As I touched her, she seemed to quiver and pressed herself up against me. "Joshua," she gasped, "I accelerated my response. I need you inside me NOW." With irresistible force, she pulled me toward the bed. She toppled backward, opening her legs wide. I had a glimpse of wonders only fantasized at, then I was on top of her, thrusting toward her. Miraculously, I penetrated, finding her on my first try. I slipped inside her, feeling her around me. It was unbelievably intense. "Yes!" she gasped, then groaned. "Maybe a little too much acceleration. I'm sorry, Joshua, I can't hold on much longer!" With that, she began gasping and crying out. I could feel her around me, squeezing as I pushed in and out of her. Her arms gripped me hard enough to almost hurt, but not so hard that I had to stop moving. With each thrust she cried again in pleasure. I felt a buildup within me, growing, growing, and then I exploded too, thrusting and pumping, emptying myself deep inside her until the sensation was too intense and I had to stop moving. In a moment, I collapsed on top of her. Then, thinking better of crushing her under my weight, I rolled to the side. "Aw, you pulled out." I looked over at her. Eyes half closed, she had a dreamy smile on her face. Sweat (my sweat) glistened on her face, on her breasts, on her belly. Juices and strange fluids dribbled out of the wonderful, mysterious feminine slit between her legs. "You were fabulous, lover." Lover? That was such a wonderful word to hear. I knew then that I was in love, deeply and irrevocably in love with my Amber, my not quite human Amber. My gift of the gods Amber. I was completely spent, and totally in love. "Now then," she said, popping up to rest on one arm, "I think it's time for another go, but more leisurely." She began to trace a finger over my body -- across my chest, down an arm, up and down my leg. "You just lie there, lover, while I get you back in the mood." I couldn't speak for the wonder that enveloped me. Hmmm, I thought in bemusement, it's a good thing I didn't kill myself this morning. "I guess it's true about Logarans having an enhanced sex drive." "Mmmm. You'll have to meet my nympho roommate some time when she's more alive." Slowly, the touch of Amber's delicate hands, the kiss of her lips, and the perfection of her body brought me out of my torpor. This time, she helped show me how to touch her. She showed me what felt good to her, and what was too rough. She touched my body everywhere, letting me know how much she loved to look at me (flaws, flab, and all). In turn, she let me touch, taste, examine and explore the wonderful playground that was her body. Finally, when we were both reaching that stage of desperate impatience, she rolled me on my back and straddled me. Lowering herself down on my penis. I watched in disbelief as I slid inside her body. INSIDE her. Then we moved slowly together in the ancient rhythm, while I stroked her face and arms and breasts, and she rode up and down on me. This time, the build up was slower, but at least as satisfying. As I felt her inner contractions begin to squeeze me, I watched in surprise as her nipples swelled to stand rock hard erect. Then her moans and contractions drove me beyond observation, as I was swamped by my own sensations. This time, I was exhausted. I fell asleep with her spread eagle on top of me, me still inside her. ***** "Wake up, lover. It's time for the next step in my plan." I muzzily rose to one elbow, shouldering aside sheets and blankets. She'd woken me again in the middle of the night for another go. I felt utterly drained, and gave a satisfied smirk in recollection of just HOW I had been drained. "What time is it?" "Four AM," she replied, far too cheerfully. "If I'm going to keep you around, you're going to have to become part of the plan." The downside of that threat didn't send the stab of fear I'd expected. Somehow, after our magnificent lovemaking, I had come to believe that she really did want to keep me around. "Anything, my love," I told her sincerely. "Absolutely anything." "Gooood." She smiled, wickedly. "Then up and dressed. We have to take you to the beauty salon, and then clothes shopping." "Uh..." I blinked, clearing the last of the sleep from my eyes. "Beauty salon?" Amber nodded. "Your hair's long enough to get it cut into Crys's style. We'll have to dye it, of course. I don't suppose you have a makeup implant?" I shook my head. "Uh, Amber, love..." I climbed out of bed, looking down at myself. "I don't think I'll *ever* make a very convincing Crys. She's only, what 157, 158 centimeters? I'm fifteen to twenty centimeters taller than her, and probably at least 40 kilos heavier." "She's 154 centimeters, and 47 kilos. I know it's a stretch, but our pursuers are too close to finding us. We need to draw them in another direction and hopefully they'll only see you from a distance. Anything we can do to improve that will help. Now, first..." She dragged me into the finest shower I had ever had in my life (and the first one with her, not coincidentally), wrapped me in a white lodge-supplied robe, then we were out the door and down the hall to the beauty salon. "Nobody's up at this hour," she explained, "so we can use the automated services." After palming open the door, she sat me in a big beauty-salon barber chair, then lowered a stylist cone over my head. I heard her pecking out instructions on the pad behind me, then the cone set to work with its tiny manipulator fingers: testing, cutting, dyeing, and whatever else those things do. Amber, meanwhile was coming up with an applicator for a makeup mask. "Take a deep breath," she said, then pressed the giant catcher's mitt applicator firmly over my face. I felt adhesive sticking to my skin, pores, everywhere. I wondered how I could sweat through the damn thing. But maybe that was half the point. Just as I was needing to take a breath, Amber pulled the applicator away. "Great. Another few minutes and your hair will be done. Let's see..." she picked out a small compact unit, the control for the makeup overlay. "Done." She pulled the cone up and spun me around. "What do you think?" It was Crys's hairstyle all right. Black hair, tight cropped, rounded and tapered in an obviously feminine style, emphasizing the graceful length of the neck. It looked fine for a girl. On me it looked ludicrous. From a distance... I thought it would still look ludicrous. "Okay, one quick stop to pick up some clothes and we'll go back to the room for room service." Down the hall from the salon was a package pickup from the weaver. Amber picked up all six boxes in the chute, then hurried us back to the room, my arms full of packages. "Okay, let's give this a whirl," she said, dumping her trove on the messy bed. She had a huge array of tasteless clothes -- oversized pink ski suits, white calf-high boots, matching gloves, tinted goggles, and a large utilitarian bra (without a trace of lace). "Right. Bra first," she said, looking at me. I raised my eyebrows. "You must be kidding." "Not about this, lover." She seductively sashayed toward me, holding the fabric monstrosity in one dainty hand. Well, I *had* said "anything." I let her strap it on me, and adjust the fit. She stuffed the inside with panties from her underwear drawer. "Think of me in there, touching you like this." She wiggled her tongue at me seductively. "Sorry," I said. "It's hard to feel aroused in this costume. And it may be a while before I can... you know." She pouted at that, then handed me the ski-suit. "Hey," I said, putting it on. "Won't they be suspicious when they notice that you've ordered these things in size jumbo extra-large?" "I made sure to use the privacy wipe. They may have the basic transaction, but there will be no details on size or color." I nodded, finally settling the outfit in place. It felt fairly normal, aside from the strange chest protrusions. And when I looked in the mirror, the sight was absurd. I saw myself staring back at me, but I had a teen-girl haircut, an ugly pink ski suit, and a pair of fake boobs. I sighed. "Okay, so what's the plan?" Amber frowned. "Okay, maybe we need a little more work." She sat down at the terminal and pulled up shopping services. After punching in several orders, she came back to me. "Let's try round two. Take the snowsuit back off." The new packages (delivered by automatic courier cart) had a frightening collection. First, Amber gave me a collection of pills to swallow. I briefly wondered, but I'd been planning to kill myself only yesterday. Why worry about health risks now? I swallowed them, then looked at her in inquiry. "A diuretic and fast-acting laxative. We'll take off what weight we can get to quickly." I sighed. This sounded idiotic. "Okay, put this on first." It was half swimsuit, half lingerie. "What is it?" "A corset girdle combination unit. It's probably a size or two too small for you, but we'll make do with what we can. But you're going to thank me for that laxative in about a half an hour." It seemed my humiliation knew no bounds. Still, this woman had slept with me. She had made love to me. I was completely and utterly in love with her. And she wanted me dressed in absurd joke clothing. Well, why not? How was I supposed to know what was normal? Maybe this was why I hadn't had luck with women before. (No, I wasn't stupid enough to really believe that, but I wasn't questioning things too closely right then, either.) Amber helped me struggle into the chest/waist constrictor torture device. It laced up like a high-top shoe. As she began tightening the laces, Amber would place a beautiful bare foot against my spine and PULL until I couldn't breathe any more. Then she'd work on other laces. Then she'd come back to the first. On the one hand, I was being suffocated. On the other hand, every time she tightened it, she hugged me (which I couldn't feel) and kissed me deeply (which I *could* feel). After an eternity, I had perfect posture, a much narrower waist, and lungs that were totally exhaled. Amber stuffed my bra cups full of panties again, then held up the pink snowsuit. I climbed into it with her help and she zipped me up. We regarded ourselves in the mirror. Better, but still silly. Instead of much shorter than her, I was taller. My shoulders were a bit too wide, and I definitely had a man's face. "Damn," she said. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this." She returned to the terminal and punched another code in. "I'll be back in about a half-hour." "Where are you going?" "You'll see. You'd better stay here. That laxative should kick in soon." "Wait!" I shouted, before she could leave. "Unzip me." "Oh yeah." She let me out of the snowsuit, but not out of the corset/girdle. And sure enough, I was already feeling rumblings. I raced to the toilet as she headed out the door. After thirty solid minutes of that, I was starting to feel better. I could even inhale now. The tiniest gasp, but it was something. Actually, it was probably my imagination, but I was trying to be optimistic. I heard the door open and got up to see Amber striding back in, but very changed. Now she had a black skull-cap of hair, too. Her waist-length hair was gone, replaced by the short trim that Crystal had favored. "Your hair!" Amber pulled a wig out. "Right here. At least, a reasonable facsimile. Since Crystal's so small and slight, I'll play her, and we'll make you up to look like me." This time I was sure she'd gone daft. But she pulled out a pink snowsuit sized for her and slipped into it. Then she opened her compact and adjusted the controls. As the makeup implant changed the coloring of her face, the difference was dramatic. I looked at her. She wasn't Crystal, she had neither the facial bone structure nor the elfin wispiness, but from a distance it might work. Her makeup was both complex and subtle, and served to give the appearance of a completely different facial structure. It was an odd effect up close, but as I stepped back to the far end of the room, the difference was dramatic. Now she put the wig on me and pulled open another box for me. It had a nice white snowsuit. She also stuffed my corset bra more. A lot more. "There, now look at us." "I look like an idiot," I said. "I've still got a man's face." "We'll use the makeup implant to tone that down. But look, I think I make a passable Crys, from a distance. And in this pink, they can't miss me. You're white because we want to de-emphasize you. Between those artificial curves, the bulk of the snowsuit, and that wig, I think you're okay." "Maybe," I admitted, reluctantly. There was a troublesome rumbling inside me. "Quick! Unzip me again." When I came back out to get re-zipped, Amber had already packed most of our gear on the cycles on the balcony. "Okay, let's see what we can do for your makeup." She pulled out my compact and began making mysterious adjustments. "Well, I certainly don't wear lipstick that color, but it may help the overall effect." She muttered more while making manipulations on the tiny controls. I felt nothing, but I new the makeup overlay mask was changing colors on me. There was a knock on the door. "Room service." Amber looked at me. "Did you call room service?" she whispered. I shook my head, "no." She motioned to the cycles on the balcony, and we slipped outside. "Time to go!" We started the quiet anti-grav engines and floated up off the balcony. Just then, someone lost patience and kicked in the room's door. I took off. Amber lingered for a moment (giving them a good look, I figured out later), then followed me. "Shit! There they go!" I smiled and paused to put on yellow goggles. Amber stopped and stared at me. "What are you waiting for? GO!" I didn't understand, until an orange plasma bolt came screaming past my shoulder. Then I understood plenty. I gunned the engine and took off like a rocket. I hadn't used a skycycle before, so this was an interesting learning experience. We accelerated up to over 100 kilometers per hour and shot straight out, heading for a peak to the northeast. I could see the rosy clouds of dawn appearing, off to my right. The goggles kept my eyes from being blasted by the wind, and the snowsuit did a good job keeping me warm. My face stung and gradually turned numb, but it was better than being shot. The other odd thing was the huge drag of "my" hair. At a hundred kilometers an hour, my huge wig trailed behind me like a windsock. It was a constant drag on my head and neck, and I felt it anew every time I turned my head. I quickly got used to the odd padding in my suit -- the ride and the view were the main attention getters, but I couldn't forget my big hair. The ride was wild and fast. I think sitting unprotected on a small scooter as we skimmed over the rough rock outcroppings helped to add to my sense of speed. I kept my maneuvering simple: no fast turns, no sudden maneuvers. This thing didn't even have seatbelts. But as soon as we slipped through the peak, Amber pulled up in a hover and waved me over. "Ever done skycycles before?" I shook my head. "Exhilarating, isn't it?" "My entire face has gone numb, and I'm getting a stiff neck from all this hair." "Okay, land." While we were on the ground, Amber tucked the hair into the back of my suit. It was a chilly surprise, but probably worth it if we were going to be traveling much more. She also showed me how to set up the hood and facemask of the suit, and snap them into the goggles. "But remember to pull that off and pull out your hair when we stop," she said. "That's the main element of this disguise. I've got an idea for something better, tonight." Oh, joy. "Now that we're out of sight, though, I want to shoot off to the southwest. Crystal got some coordinates that sounded suspicious. This was supposed to be a vacation, but it's obviously turned into much more. I want to take a closer look, and do it in private." "So we fly over at maximum speed?" I asked. "Partially. We'll get some altitude and speed for the next hour or two. Then we can pick up lunch, and take a slower trip in through the trees until we approach the spot. I'd like to slip in without being seen." That sounded good to me, so we buttoned up and went back to cruising. Fortunately, the earlier laxative and diuretic seemed to be out of my system. Without the stinging sensation on my face, my attention focused on my next-largest pain: the suffocating constriction around my middle. The squishing of my rib cage wasn't that bad by now. I could only inhale in small little gasps, but with the frosty chill in the air here I wasn't eager to be sucking in huge lungfulls of air anyway. It was the pinch around my waist that was the main problem. Let me be honest. I have quite a bit of excess flesh, shall we say, in the belly region. That was now being squeezed away, the way you might squeeze the middle of a toothpaste tube. The fat and muscle couldn't move far. Which left only the intestines to begin oozing upward and downward. At least, I think that's what was happening. In any case, it was a distinctly nauseating feeling. When Amber finally called a lunch break, I was eager to stretch my legs but less eager for food. We came to a hover, then slowly dropped beneath the canopy of covering evergreens. Everblues, I suppose, was closer to the truth. The conifers here had a distinct bluish color. Our cycles settled about two feet into the powder snow, and Amber leapt off to give a set of beautifully limber stretches. I hobbled off like an old man in drag, and gradually tried to push my spine back into shape. I'd been riding hunched forward all day. "Check the back seat of your cycle," she said. "There should be some heat'n'eat meal packs in there." Still feeling stiff, I unlatched my seat and lifted it to find a small cache of meals and other supplies. I pulled the self-heating tab on mine and offered the others to Amber. "Where are you going?" "Nature's call," I answered. "Even after your morning treatment, I've still got some fluids left in me." "Need help?" "No thanks. I'll give you a call, if I do." It was suddenly very strange to be walking around in heeled boots with the corset-girdle on me. I'd thrown back the hood and pulled out my "hair," running my fingers through it. My front end pushed oddly forward, so that when I unzipped the whole front of the suit and stood pointing against a tree, looking down I couldn't see myself. I could only see the corset cups filled with panties. Amber had exaggerated her own figure, trying to make the disguise more convincing from a distance. I wondered if women were ever able to look at their own laps, once they had gotten a figure. It was an odd thought. I finished up and shook myself off blindly, then zipped the suit closed back up to my neck. By the time I'd gotten back, Amber had brushed the snow off a fallen log. "Come join me," she said, patting the log next to where she was sitting. "How are you doing?" "I've been better," I said. "I can hardly breathe from the tightness of this corset, I can't see my own lap, my back may never forgive me, and I'm severely nauseous from the way my guts are being squeezed." Amber took a bit of her steaming stew. "But fun, right?" She had a point. At the moment, killing myself was hardly at the top of my priority list. This was certainly a big step up from where I'd been yesterday. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." I sat down and opened my hot soup. "So," I mumbled around a wonderfully warm bit of broth, "when do we reach this mystery location?" "Probably about another hour. It isn't far, but I want to take things slowly. We'll go the rest of the way at low speed, just above ground level." I nodded. "Any idea what we'll find?" "I have some wild ideas, but nothing I want to mention out loud. Just be *very* cautious." She paused for a moment, mulling things over. "You might want to stay here. I'd like your help this evening, when we slip into the next lodge. I want to continue the masquerade. But I'm hoping they won't even spot me at the site here. You could stay behind. It might be a lot safer." I had to laugh at that. I'd been trying to kill myself. Right now, in my pocket, I still held an unbreakable vial of Dissolve. I could do away with myself at a moment's notice, and I would be no worse off than I'd been yesterday morning. Somehow the danger didn't feel very important. "I'm not worried about that," I said. "I'm coming with you." "Well, I appreciate it, but I hope you don't end up regretting it. Don't kill yourself going noble on me. You need to understand that the danger is very real." I gave her an ironic smile. "Noble? Hardly. I think apathetic would be closer to the truth. But let's just say that I accept that it's dangerous, but I'm not really very concerned." She studied me for a moment. "Anything you want to talk about?" "No, not really." We ate in uncomfortable silence for another few minutes. I wanted to hear her musical voice again, so I tried a new topic. "How long do you think we can keep up this disguise-at-a-distance going?" "Well, we'll see. The longer the better. And if we can, I want *us* to be the ones who dissolve it. Suddenly Crystal will just mysteriously vanish, far away from Nuevo Matterhorn. But today was a rush job. I think I can do a lot better tonight. I've been thinking it over. First we'll work on your voice --" "How are you going to manage that?" "Electronics, of course. If you know how, you can rewire a phone voice scrambler to create a fairly good pitch altering unit." "Yeah," I said. "That might be better than having me walk around with your megaphone in front of my mouth." "Megaphone?" "That gizmo you used on your partner yesterday." "Oh, this." She unzipped her snowsuit and reached inside. I swear, it was a skintight suit and there wasn't a spare centimeter of space inside it, but she reached in and pulled out her megaphone device. "It's a radio signaler, not a megaphone. See? No microphone." She tossed it to me. I looked at the back. Sure enough, there were only two buttons: "stasis" and "active." "You ought to be more careful with this thing," I said. "If I were really out to get you, I could hit you with the stasis ray and you'd be helpless." "Sorry. Won't work against me. Just Crystal. It has to do with being at the proper stage of your life cycle." "Oh. Well, you warned me about the danger of high-powered waves. Can I use this thing as a weapon?" Amber shook her head. "Not really. It might warm you up a bit, but that's about all. Still, it's not something you mess with, if you're planning to have kids." "Oh. But anyway, do you really think we can carry off this disguise?" Amber leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "Actually, yes! Listen, I've been thinking. You're no good at all as Crystal. Too tall, too big. You're closer as me, but not really there yet." "You don't have to convince me. I see a *world* of difference." "So here's what we do: we use the salon to disguise you to look like someone completely different. New hair, new skin, some smart body wrap. You won't look like Crystal, but you will look like someone disguised to look like an older woman." "I suppose." It didn't make a lot of sense to me. If they knew we were disguised, would they think to look through the disguise to spot that I was in another disguise, or would they think I was Amber, trying to throw them off by having a disguise-inside-a-disguise. I just didn't know enough about how spies thought. I idly looked at the megaphone as I thought. I aimed it at my hand and pressed the 'active' button. As Amber predicted, it was warm. The thing didn't aim very well, because I felt my whole body flush with heat, but that was all. "Hey! Don't play with that!" She grabbed it back, then stashed it once more inside her suit. There was definitely no way that could have been possible. "Sorry, I didn't think it would cause any harm. And how do you DO that?" "Well it might signal our position. And what are you talking about?" "How do you stash it inside your suit. Where did it go?" "It's... collapsible." "Uh huh." Okay, *don't* tell me. "Well, frankly, I don't quite understand your plan. It seems kind of complicated, but I guess I can see why. I'm certainly not convincing as either you or Crystal, and anything that confuses our foes.... I guess what I'm saying is, I'm willing. I don't care about the danger. I can't recommend the comfort, and the embarrassment factor is way up there, but count me in. I'll go along with whatever you come up with." Amber nodded, then leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you, Joshua. It will really help." We crumpled and stowed our meal packs (always pack out your waste), then we settled back onto the cycles and lifted into the air about a meter off the ground. Amber led the way forward, at a much slower pace. Between the hot meal and slow movement, I was much warmer than I'd been during the morning. I left my hood down and my 'hair' out. It took a lot more skill to fly between the trees than it had taken to shoot through the open sky. I concentrated on negotiating the twists and turns while Amber picked out a slow path. Suddenly she halted, then, with a shushing gesture, dropped silently to the ground. I followed, peering ahead. There was nothing I could see. Amber climbed off the cycle and then dropped to her belly, crawling up the slight rise ahead of us. I tried to imitate her, poking my head around. "Radio fence," she whispered. "I felt the first few fringes." I was wondering how you could feel radio waves, but as I stretched my hand forward around the tree trunk, I felt a sort of pulsing, throbbing sensation. Huh! Must be a pretty powerful transmitter. Odd that they hadn't put out more heat, or melted the snow. Amber silently handed me the binoculars (where'd she get those?) and I took a look down the slope ahead of us. The first thing I noticed was the brass-colored poles at the bottom of the slope a hundred meters ahead of us. Obviously the 'radio fence.' Dogs patrolled the fence area, never straying more than about fifty meters from the fence zone. Nasty dogs. Looked like a cross between huskies and Dobermans. Ugly dogs. Shaggy black fur, with mean beady little eyes. Fortunately, the wind was blowing from them to us. They wouldn't smell us. Beyond that there was more movement, but I couldn't see much, since the trees were so thick. "I need to get closer," she whispered. "You game?" I nodded. We both squirmed back over the slight hill, then did our best to come around the far side of the hill. We'd be lower down, with hopefully a better view up a shallow gully, but still downwind of the dogs. That took almost an hour in the thick snow. This time, we could see several squat concrete buildings. Only one story high, everything had a dusting of snow over it. The trees were growing around and through the serpentine buildings, their branches forming a further screen. Amber peered through the binoculars, then handed them too me while she used a small camera. The place looked like a minimum security prison, but the guards were wearing anti-bacterial suits (probably not too hot in this weather), and the prisoners were something out of a freak show. One had shoulders and arms like an ape. I mean, literally. Another had something wrong with his hands. They looked mo