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Sappho Chapter 1 I lurched into consciousness under a sea of flashing red alarms. As the hibernation pod rushed me back to life, my brain overcame its torpor at the emergency rate, which is to say, pretty slow. Awareness evolved gradually as the pumps replaced the thin preservative in my veins with blood; uncritical observation of the pretty, pretty lights above me became curiosity, then unease before finally resolving in horror as I realized the crisis in my ship. When the pod allowed me, I punched the big red emergency button over my head and rolled painfully to the floor, naked and coughing like hell to remove the fluid in my lungs. "Damn it!" I croaked, unused to speaking after years of dormancy. I fell on the deck twice on the slippery substance before managing to haul myself into the command chair. The readouts didn't look good. The hyperdrive unit that had pushed me along at a tolerable 5C was down. With fingers still sticky, I started the diagnostics. "Vicky, what happened?" "David," came the soft, calm voice of my ship's artificial intelligence, "if you are asking me what kind of failure the ship is experiencing, then the answer is more efficiently communicated through the readouts on the main control panel. Is your sight impaired?" "I can see! What I meant was, what were the immediate events prior to the hyperdrive failure?" "At the moment of failure, all nodes and systems were functioning within design parameters and I detected no hyperspace events that might have forced a reemergence into normal space." So, it was an unanticipated internal failure. I tried to relax as I watched the diagnostics progress. "Vicky, where the hell are we?" "Please refine parameters, David. The answer might be anywhere from a colloquial, 'a long way from anywhere' to..." There is no use getting annoyed at an AI: it is invariably your fault - especially as she tends to learn and take on part of her personality from her scout. "Percentage of distance covered to destination - round to nearest percent." "We are 62% of the way to Sigma 5F-A4-G2, David." A long way from anywhere was accurate. I was chronologically, if not physically, a little over seven years older and about thirty-five light years from Earth. They say that the separation hits hardest a few minutes after you wake up. So far it wasn't anything I hadn't expected. My younger brother was now physically older than me and my ex- girlfriend, Gail, was almost surely married and a mother by now. It was the return that I dreaded. My parents would likely be dead and any friends I had would be strangers. The console image shifted, the main part becoming a schematic with the flashing red symbol for catastrophic failure located definitively over the hyperdrive controls. I took a deep breath. 'This is what I've trained for,' I reminded myself. I wasn't an expert on hyperdrive control systems, but I didn't need to be. There were spare parts aboard. There were training manuals and procedures for nearly every conceivable problem. I would make repairs and would be on my way eventually. I shut all systems down except for life support and took a shower, singing a rowdy song that was popular nearly a decade ago. An exasperating month later, I was ready to concede defeat. "Damn!" I hurled the offending manual against the bulkhead and held my head in my hands. I'd followed the procedures and troubleshooting flowcharts; I'd watched the disk, "Drive Control Failure," where an attractive redhead in a wonderfully clean blue form-fitting repair suit explains in dulcet tones how it all works and the visual procedures to fix it. I liked redheads, but after the tenth viewing, I hated her and especially those who designed my scout craft. It was obvious that they had never thought the single, simple, solid-state part with a hairline crack running through the primary and back-up circuitry could ever fail. It wasn't much, but there were no spare parts for it and I couldn't repair it. Without it, I could only continue into the great unknown very slowly. Disgusted and resigned, I leaned back and considered my options. There was no turning back. I was far from any of the few shipping lanes. I didn't have the incredible quantities of fuel the old sub-light ships carried to boost to a high percentage of C; by the time I arrived at the nearest known civilization, several hundred years later, my hibernation pod would have failed. Other than drifting into near- certain oblivion or spacing myself, there was only one real choice. I could continue to do what I had come to space to do; explore, continue the quest to rediscover the old colonies, the planets mankind had settled in a mad rush to avoid a nearly species-ending plague a thousand years before. It would almost certainly be my last expedition, and a hell of a lot slower than planned, but at least I would go out with a purpose. "Vicky?" "Yes, David?" "Vicky, what 'G' class stars with planetary systems are within ship's range?" "Assuming you want to be alive when you get there, David, there are three." The consol image changed to a three-dimensional star chart with three bright blue highlighted dots. "Vicky, I'm making an assumption that a colony ship passed through here and colonized one of those systems. I need to know the probabilities." "Parameters, David?" "Access records of early colony ships. Extend an expanding 10 degree cone outwards from Earth with our location in the center." "Done." "According to the colony records, how many ships are unaccounted for that left for star systems within this cone?" "Two, David. The third settled the colony at Summer." "The primary star systems for each were unviable. They both must have moved off to second or even third choices." "If they survived, yes, David. Sigma 5F-A4-G2 was a strong second choice for the colony ship from Miami of the old United States, the Hurricane. David, it's very unlikely that the Hurricane chose any of the three star systems shown on the map. If they survived to arrive at their first choice, their position and level of sensor technology would have made our original destination a strong logical second choice for them - over 90%." "Yes, of course. That's why we were headed there. But what about the last ship?" "The Outreach from Toronto. Assuming they survived to arrive at their original destination, their second choice would have been far less clear: seven star systems with possibilities ranging from 6% to 15%." "Vicky, assuming their second choice was also non-viable, compute probabilities from each of the seven to one of the three star systems available to us." "If the Outreach selected Ypsilon 3J-B2-G3 as their second start system, a 12% possibility, their third star system might have been one of the three 'G' class systems we can reach. I estimate a 15% possibility for the three combined, all of them being roughly equally attractive. It gives each of the three systems a .6% probability that Outreach might have explored it. David, I must warn you, this is based on a string of assumptions. The actual probability that Outreach survived, found a viable world in one of these systems and established a colony there is closer to .3%." "Better than the alternative," I muttered. "What else can you tell me about the Outreach?" "Very little, David. As you know, records of the colony ships are scattered and vague - often deliberately so - as billions desperately sought passage aboard the ships to avoid the plague. We know that it had the standard colony configuration of equipment, plants, animals, and bacteria, and was led by a Captain Hattie George." "Vicky, give me a close-up of each star system." "Yes, David." Three pictures appeared: two standard 'G' class stars alone and bright, and a nebula composed of two opposing reddish-pink disks glowing softly from the 'G' class star in the middle; it caught my eye, shining like a lantern suspended in the midst of an endless night. "That's where we're going," I said, pointing to the nebula, aware that it might well be the last important decision I'd ever make. "Your wish is my command. Why did you choose that star system?" I grinned ruefully, knowing what a tenuous thing my choice was based upon. "It's beautiful; it stands out like a beacon in the dark. And Hattie George is a woman's name. All things being equal, a woman might have chosen it." "David, we have no way to know that she had anything to do with any decision to go anywhere. Logically speaking, it would have been the Science Officer, although the probabilities are that the decision was made by a group of non-specialized politicians." "You're probably right, but I still choose the nebula. Call it a hunch." "Yes, David. Your choice is a hunch. I'll have to shut down to save power. I won't be able to activate life support and revive you until we get close enough to use the solar collectors and recharge." "I understand, Vicky. Set course." There was no reason in delaying it. After making my final log entries and setting the almost certainly useless buoy to broadcast my distress signal and course, I removed my clothes, folding them carefully before placing them in the command chair, wrinkles being tough to get rid of after decades. Just before lying down, I said, "Whatever happens, Vicky, I'm proud to be your partner." "As am I, David," came the soft, warm voice. "Sleep well." My last clear thoughts before I sealed the pod wondered if I would awaken. Although I would stay physically twenty-five, the trip would last more than forty years, a long time for hibernation. I attached the IV's and sucked in the nasty-tasting, slimy substance that would preserve me. Then I drifted off into a dreamless slumber. Some unknown time later, I opened my eyes in fluids and looked around. I saw movement and, not thinking clearly yet, I waved at it. Whatever it was went away and I remember feeling vaguely disappointed. Later, as my brain recovered a little more, I noticed things: the lights were strange, brighter and placed in a row, rather than diffuse, as the lights in the control room were. I turned my head, expecting to see the command chair and station. Slow surprise replaced lackluster stupidity; they weren't there! Fighting through the mind-fog, I watched for other signs. One approached. Unless it moved on wheels, it was a young woman with a blond ponytail in her late twenties holding a notebook. She peered at me through the clear plastic and made a few notations. When she looked again, I grinned. I heard her scream through the fluid in my ears as she abandoned the notebook into the air and ran from the room. I relaxed, ecstatic to be alive. I was saved. Although her reaction to my awakening was a bit extreme, she was human, and damned pretty, too. She returned quickly between two large, tough-looking women in loose black uniforms holding some sort of old-style gun - a short, stocky weapon with a long magazine. About that time the pod finished my revival and exhausted the fluids through the base. Whoever had moved me from my ship had only brought the upper part of the unit because the floor filled with smelly, slimy, sticky preservative, forcing the women to back-up hurriedly. As it emptied, I sat up and pushed the top to the side. I struggled to my knees and fought to become an air-breather again, painfully retching the fluids from my lungs. Still heaving, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. One of the soldiers brought up her gun and the big hole of the barrel pointed at my head. "By the Goddess!" she breathed, her eyes wide. "It's a living man." I shook my arm awkwardly to stop her from firing, but I couldn't say a damn thing, not with my lungs straining for air. The blonde placed a hand on the soldier's weapon and shook her head cautiously, watching me keenly the whole time. "Don't shoot it! It seems a rather puny example; I doubt that it's powerful enough to threaten us." She took in the mess on the floor and waved her hand behind her at the guards still backing up. "Don't worry about the chemicals. This is just a preservative, probably much like the founders used." She stared at me with fascination and distaste, not very surprising with me slimy, naked, and puking. Her pronoun usage bothered me. Still, I was thrilled to be alive and among humans. They had to have been one of the original lost colonies; their dialect had shifted from the ancient standard, but was still barely understandable. I finally managed a decent breath and faced her. "Hello! My name is..." The scientist's open-mouthed stare made me feel like I was on the wrong side of the bars in a zoo. "The old reports are true," she said. "It speaks with a lower voice." I tried to smile. The other soldier pointed at me, her visage one of hate and disdain. "Look at it," she growled. "It's pretending to smile!" She brought her weapon to bear on me as well. 'This is going way too far!' I spread my hands in the universal gesture of peace. "Whoa, what's this? My name is David Bates. I'm from Earth. I mean you no harm!" They stood, stunned, apparently, that I had articulated a few simple phrases. The scientist spoke softly to one of the soldiers. "Patricia, bring Directress Tyrona Malefic. Speak to no one about this." "Yes, Joanne!" She gulped and left hurriedly. Joanne crossed her arms and regarded me with narrowed eyes. "What are you?" I was frankly pissed at my treatment, but my scout training kicked-in to calm me down. Different societies reacted differently to the unexpected. Besides, guns and narrowed eyes is not the best audience for voicing grievances. "I'm a scout from Earth sent to discover lost colonies. You must know this; if I'm here you have my ship. Look, do you mind if I take a shower, and could you get me some clothes?" She still glared at me, but it's hard to stay angry faced with reasonable requests. "The Directress will decide. You will remain under guard until we decide what to do with you. You have much to answer for." "Are you charging me with a crime?" I exclaimed in disbelief. "Look, I appreciate that you rescued me, but..." She interrupted me coolly. "What are you dietary requirements?" "What?" She spoke very slowly. "What do you eat, man?" The derision in her voice on the last word brought me up short. There were a few worlds where women ruled, but I'd never heard of one where they hated men. "I eat what you eat. We are both human, you know." She clearly wanted to respond, but bit back whatever she was going to say. A moment later, a stunning woman in her early thirties marched through the main door flanked by two guards. Her bearing was imperious, and her black eyes regarded me coldly under furrowed brows. Setting aside her appraisal of me as if I was something to be crushed underfoot, she was extremely attractive in a black skirt and jacket, set with pink military-style epaulets, and shiny, black leather boots that graced calves having the fortune to be attached to magnificent thighs. In fact, there was very little about her that was less than phenomenal. Her breasts were huge, but despite their obvious mass, seemingly defied physical laws, hanging like proud globes that surely strained at their black lace restraints, barely visible under a white silk blouse. On anyone else, those mammaries would have looked out of place, but being well over six feet tall, she also had proportional girth. A chest and arms a wrestler might envy, although feminized - smooth, flowing steel under a layer of softness - narrowed spectacularly to a trim, flat waist then filled out once again to hips and thighs that might wrap around and crush all but the greatest heroes during an easily imagined orgasm of mythic scale. I was certainly not that hero. At just under 180 cm and about 73 kg, I would have been slim had it not been for the added muscle produced by long hours of weight training that had allowed me to compete in sports with larger men. And yet it mattered little what I thought: little David, so long inactive in preservative, ignored all reason and chose that moment to manifest itself under her lip-quivering disgust. Cursing my libido and the side effect of the pod that exacerbated it, I tried to cover myself, but if there was a way to do it gracefully I wasn't aware of it. "Hello, Directress, my name is David Bates. Please pay no attention to what's happening. It's just that you're very attractive." My smile didn't have the effect I'd hoped for. "It's not my fault." I smiled uneasily. Her gaze barely rose from my midsection. She made an odd sign in the air - a sort of inverted triangle. "By Aphrodite's breasts! The stories are true!" She broke her gaze from me to whip her head towards the scientist. "Clean it up and test it, Dr. Minkster! I want to know exactly what it's capable of." She turned and strode away, leaving me with Joanne. I looked at her warily. She grinned back unpleasantly. And so began my nightmare. For the next two weeks, they poked and prodded me unmercifully. I was given a battery of tests, both mental and physical. Except to explain the tests or to direct me on some task, nobody was allowed to speak with me. Some of the guards beat me with rubber sticks in places designed to cause pain or embarrassment, but no permanent wounds. Even through the pounding I was surprised at their ferocity. One of the larger guards with dyed fiery red hair even moaned when she struck, screaming "rapist!" "animal!" and "man!" During the beatings, her face took on a disturbing countenance, a religious fervor that was frankly scary. None of the other guards were quite so brutal, so I thought she must have been the extreme. It came to a head when Joanne saw me wince during an agility test and had me remove the ridiculous gray prison dress I'd been forced to wear. The black and blue stripes on my back, chest, and buttocks were clear enough. She glared at me with hands on hips. "Why didn't you tell me they were beating you?" she demanded. I looked at her curiously. I wasn't sure if she were angry with me for not telling her, or with the guards. Regardless, she was very pretty when she was angry. "You didn't know? I thought it was just part of your test." Her face reddened and she bit her tongue on a retort. "It is not," she said finally. "Describe the guards who beat you." One of them was half of the pair guarding me in the room. From her position in front of me and slightly to the right, I could see her turn white. Seeing an opportunity for some moral superiority, I said, "I'd rather not. They beat me because they think I'm an animal. The responsibility lies with those who taught them that. It would be enough for it to stop." She blinked. I thought I saw something in those intense blue orbs, so pretty in the florescent lights - perhaps an element of doubt or embarrassment. Regardless, the beatings ceased. Not everyone was unfriendly, but wariness was everywhere, as if I might commit some insane, violent act at any time. I went along with it, cooperating at every phase. I knew they would eventually have to stop; at some time, things would have to change. I had just finished a test for Joanne, a test of agility, and I could tell I had done very well; Joanne was shaking her head. I grinned. "I should do well at this, Joanne. I played soccer in college. This is very similar to some of the exercises I used to do." She muttered something below her breath - some reference to the "Pumas," whatever they were. She regarded me and sighed. "That was the last battery of tests I had. You're different than what I expected." It was as big an admission of humanity as I'd had from anyone on the planet so far. "You know, if you would just let me access my scout, I could prove I'm not the beast everyone thinks I am. It contains almost the sum total of human knowledge in its database, but you won't get it without me. The craft is keyed only to me, and from what I've seen of your technology, you won't be able to crack it. Even the hyperdrive is designed to be tamper-proof. It would destroy itself if you examined it too closely." "So you have claimed." I smiled. "I'd be glad to help. In the meantime I'll probably be around." "I probably won't see you again. You will see someone tomorrow, a psychiatrist. You'll be in her care." I nodded sadly. Despite the experience, I had grown to like her. "If I never see you again, Joanne, then goodbye. I can't say the tests were pleasant, in fact, they weren't, but you were always fair. I wish you well." A guard bent to reattach the hobbles while the other stood back and covered me with her gun. "David." I looked up. It was the first time she had addressed me by name. "I wish you well." She turned away immediately, but I caught a glimpse of sadness. The next day, around mid-morning, two guards arrived at my cell and escorted me to the third floor, a place I'd never been before. It wasn't long before we entered an office. The warm woods and bookcases were a stark contrast to the sterile atmosphere of the labs. I stood before a slim, graying woman in a shapeless black dress sitting comfortably behind a desk. The guards strapped my legs to a sturdy chair bolted to the floor. When they finished, she waved the guards from the room, leaving me alone with her. She smiled professionally. "You have created quite a stir in the community, David Bates." She gave me a look that I supposed was significant to her. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. 'Finally, someone who will talk with me!' I thought in relief. "All this is a complete mystery to me. I still don't know where I am and I don't know why you're treating like this." She considered me over a notepad that I was fairly sure was a prop. I had no doubt that this conversation was being recorded and looked around for obvious cameras and fiber-optic telltales. "Before we begin, would you like to..." She glanced at something on her desk. "...ejaculate? I'll wait if it would make you more comfortable." She smiled like my grandmother. "That won't be necessary," I replied dryly. "Are you going to tell me what's going on, Ms..." "You may call me Jezzi. Are you sure you wouldn't like to...?" she asked me again. "Positive. What you're asking implies that I have no sexual self- control and is a little insulting." She leaned back and made a triangle of her fingers under her chin. "Interesting. Surely you know what you suggest goes against everything we know about your gender's proclivities. Testosterone has been the driving force in a man's behavior since the beginning. Only with the advent of the teachings of the Goddess and the expunging of men has real civilization begun. The rape gangs; males enslaving women; forcing them to do their bidding; satisfying them in unwholesome ways - the perversions of the past are over." With those bizarre few sentences, spoken so matter-of-factly, a chill settled on my spine - but one key point stood out in particular: "This society has absolutely no men?" I asked incredulously. She smiled. "Of course not. Sappho is free." "Then how do you reproduce?" "Our distant ancestors took a supply of sperm, filtered to exclude male births and women who would retain the atavistic preference for men. Upon this base is our society built." I shook my head. 'A society of lesbians?' I wondered. Her peculiarly cold grin told me I had to think fast before I was relegated to display or vivisection. I gripped the arms of the chair tightly. "Jezzi, if you give me a chance, I can prove that men aren't what you say they are." "Really?" she asked amusedly. "That would be amazing." "Yes. The database of my scout craft is enormous. It contains almost everything we have of Earth history." I had a sinking feeling. Any ship emigrating to the stars would have brought all the knowledge they could. She would already have most of that information - unless they had destroyed it or hidden it somewhere. She laughed. "We couldn't trust what you have on your vessel. Records can be modified or constructed." "Do you think that I broke my own drive and came here in the one in three hundred chance that I would be rescued just to fool you with a false history?" I laughed right back at her. "You're being absurd." She threw her head back and shrieked, her laughter coming in wild waves of unrestrained hilarity. When she recovered, she rubbed the tears from her eyes, her makeup running a little. I disliked the enthusiastic leer that emerged. "Man, I don't care about your history. I don't care if you're as meek as a kitten, your testes will never be allowed to function, your obscene protuberance will never threaten a woman again with its terrors!" 'Is this some test?' I speculated. "Jezzi, you've watched me; you have reports on my behavior. You know I haven't threatened anyone!" "David, you have been restrained," she pointed out mildly. "You haven't been given the chance." "How can I prove myself to you? Men have never been like what you describe! A very few have done some of these things, it's true, but just a very small minority, and they're put in jail for their crimes. Men and women both have their flaws and advantages, but they live together, marry, have children, and love each other." I looked at her closely in sudden realization. "You already know this!" She shrugged. "Rumors. Perhaps, in time, you could even make some people believe you; you aren't what we expected. But it doesn't matter, David, what 'truth' is on Earth or elsewhere. Even if you could prove everything you say, the truth here is that men are monsters, barely human and a threat to all women." She spread her hands helplessly. "I'm afraid that our truth must stay intact; it holds our society together. I'm sure that what passes for logic and reason in your testosterone- driven brain will agree that it must be this way. Our world is nearly a paradise. An inconvenience fact like you cannot be allowed to destroy it." The impotent rage I felt at that moment thought otherwise, actually, but there was nothing to say to this woman who had already made her decision, and who, incidentally, had my balls firmly in her hand. I slumped. "What are you going to do?" She regarded me kindly. "We are not cruel, David. Your maleness will be cut away. We will make you as female as we possibly can with surgery and hormones. Your activities will be controlled at all times - tempered with drugs and electro-mechanical restraints. You will become the property of the Information Organ and our research department. I imagine that you'll be giving speeches on the evils of men for the rest of your life, but that is not for me to decide. You will be given some freedom, within limits, if you follow a very careful course and do what we tell you to do." She shrugged. "It's for the best." I closed my eyes and concentrated on blocking my rising panic. I cringed inside, but I had to know. "When?" I asked. "Tomorrow morning. It will be announced around the planet that we have captured a man. The removal of your manhood and modification will take place on worldwide vid. Your testicles will be burned on a pyre to the Goddess immediately following." She smiled in satisfaction. "You might be interested to know that the ratings will surely break all records. Who knows? A world-wide holiday might even be declared." Ashen-faced, I was led back to my cell, hobbled with a steel bar between my ankles. As I lay inside, I had an unbelievable urge to use the bathroom. After all, this might be the last time I would ever be doing it standing up. I looked down as I did my business. How does one say goodbye to one's genitalia? I tried imagined myself with breasts and vagina, wider hips and slimmer waist in the mirror. I would make a fairly ugly woman, depending on what they cut away and added. I had taken care of myself over the years and had a slim but strong physique, but I was sure that I'd never been mistaken for a woman. I wondered how I would look after the drugs and surgeries from women who considered me a monster. I grew suddenly furious. 'This isn't fair at all! For the best, my ass!' I did have a choice, albeit a grim one. I could allow myself to be used by these hateful creatures, or I could ensure that I would not. I looked around the cell for something sharp. They monitored me, but I had a blanket. With care, I could slice a vein and bleed my life away in the evening. In the morning, there would be nothing left for these bitches to exploit. Under the watchful eye of the camera in the corner, I searched. There was very little; the bed was fitted wood; the mattress, cloth with filler. The mirror on the bathroom cabinet was highly polished metal. Opening the mirror door was no help. They had removed everything. There wasn't even a tube of toothpaste. And yet - there was a screw that stood out from the masonry holding the cabinet to the wall. I shielded my activities from the camera with my body and grasped the head of the screw. It moved! After a few minutes of wiggling, pushing and pulling, I managed to turn it slightly, then a little more. A minute later I had it. It was only about an inch long, but the point was sharp. I concealed it in my palm and waited. A tray of food appeared through a slot with a spicy aroma that made my mouth water, but I ignored it. I couldn't take a chance that it was drugged. After two hours, it slid back. I had nothing to do. For several hours I stared at the featureless ceiling. When the lights dimmed I prepared my mind for death. The door flew open with a bang. A fair-sized woman in a black uniform and a small semiautomatic weapon burst in. Sure my activities had been discovered, I pushed and rolled myself to my feet, leaped and tackled her in one motion. The shackles hampered my feet, so I didn't get very good leverage, and underneath her pleasant softness she was fairly strong. With great difficulty, but knowing my testicles and freedom were on the line, I forced her face down to the cold cement floor. "Wait!" she grunted. "I'm here to get you out!" I almost laughed, but paused to consider what she said. It didn't make sense for one guard to enter by herself; they had always worked in pairs. "How can I trust you?" I inquired. "The keys to your shackles are on my hip. It's the small blue key." She didn't resist me when I removed the set of keys, and I didn't take my eyes from her the entire time. Several seconds later, I was free. "What's the plan?" She rolled her eyes at me. "Plan? We run as fast as we can! I drugged my partner at the desk, opened the gate with the keys and opened your cell. We maybe have a minute before the guards in the main block get here. You're being watched! We have to move now!" I helped her to her feet. "Right." It was a switch going from preparing to die to being rescued by an unknown woman, but I managed. I also kept the gun. "Let's go!" She sighed at the loss of her weapon, but nodded. "This way!" She ran down the antiseptic white-tiled corridor towards a sliding gate, already open. On the way, an ululating horn went off by my head, scaring the shit out of me. "That's the alarm," she shouted, although I was already fairly sure it wasn't the dinner bell. The gate slid home just as I passed through. She sped up and hit another door just ahead like a linebacker just as it, too, began to shut. "Come on, we have very little time!" She pointed past a slumbering woman on the floor to thick glass double-doors. I didn't have to think very hard; I spotted several hefty women in black running towards us down an adjacent corridor. We ran through the doors and into a parking lot where I breathed the first faint possibility of freedom in the darkness and open air. The lot was filled with ancient-style cars. She ran towards a soft pink sedan. Opening the rear door, she waved me through. I didn't hesitate, throwing myself inside headfirst. She followed me in and slammed the door. "Drive, Barbara! Drive like the demons of hell were after you!" she shrieked at the driver. Barbara did her best to comply. Tires screeched and the sharp smell of ozone from electric motors in overload entered the cabin. We almost took the first corner on two wheels. Barbara's blond hair pulled back into a ponytail was paired with pretty blue eyes in the rearview mirror. "Oh, my Goddess! You really have him!" She saw the weapon in my hands. "Wendy, he has your gun!" "Yes, he overpowered me, Barb. He threw me to the floor and took my weapon." She rubbed her wrists and stared at me. "He's very strong." "Goddess!" Barbara squealed. "Is he going to rape us?" I detected horror in her voice, but something else, as well. That something convinced me more than anything that I was in friendly, non- lesbian hands, and I handed Wendy her gun back. "I'm not going to rape anyone, Barbara. Don't worry. Thank you both for rescuing me. You know what they were going to do to me?" Wendy nodded. "They were to deprive you of your sex and fertility in the morning. The government says that you have already killed and raped. Is that true?" "No!" I snorted. "I'm a scout from Earth. My only crime was to enter this star system after my hyperdrive broke down. A psychiatrist named Jezzi claimed that I was to be surgically changed to become a woman and preach anti-male propaganda to protect society." "Could you describe her?" asked Wendy. I described the bitch and rubbed my chin. "Hmm. She has a wild laugh, too." She nodded. "That's Jezzi Belladonna. She's a psychiatrist, but she's also the Executive Directress of Paglia, the head of our government." I grunted. It figured. She had certainly seemed to have the authority to make high-level decisions. "Barbara, where are we going?" She smiled. "We're going out of town. We'll switch cars and then we'll drive to the mountains. You'll be safe there, male." I grinned, glad to still be male. "My name is David Bates. Call me David, Barbara." She sighed. "Yes, David. David. David. There is something so masculine about it!" I looked to Wendy. She shrugged and looked up comically. She had short white hair, not something I normally found attractive, but it fit her. She was strong, even a little husky, but a strong, fit woman had never bothered me. Her smile, though, struck me the most. It was soft, a little bit sad, yet contained strength and character. And she had certainly been brave to dare a rescue. She caught me looking and our eyes met for a few seconds. Then she turned away with a furious blush. "I hope that you're not the animal they say you are, David. That would destroy us." "I'm not perfect, but I'm certainly not a monster." I watched the outline of distant mountains against the stars. "It seems that we have the time. Would you like me to tell you of my home world, Wendy?" She looked into my eyes. "Tell me about your family, David." I leaned back and thought how to begin. "My father and mother met in college... "...I said my final goodbyes to my girlfriend, Gail at the terminal on Earth." I became a little misty-eyed as I thought of her. With all the time in hibernation, she must have been at least a grandmother by now. "Did you love her, David?" she asked me softly. I sighed. "I guess the honest answer would have to be: not enough to stay on Earth." I watched her. She was almost ready to cry herself, lost in thoughts of a real male - female relationship, no doubt. "Wendy, what about your family?" She shook head to clear it. "Of course. All this must be as new to you as your story was to me. My mother and her wife had two children together, one each. I was the oldest. It wasn't until I was about ten that I realized I wasn't as interested in girls as most of the others. I pretended to be and even had an affair or two in my teens, but I was one of those unfortunates who didn't care. I loved my mothers and sister, but I just couldn't make that physical connection. "At first, I thought I was picky, but I gradually realized that no woman truly met my needs. I was jealous of others' ability to love deeply with both heart and body. I think that my mother knew early on what I was, but she didn't want to face that her daughter wasn't interested in women. Most like me just take another partner like herself, pretending, going through the motions as best they can - even raising a child or two within a marriage - but that wasn't for me." She raised her eyes to me, now glittering with tears. I reached for her, and, after a small hesitation, she went into my arms. She felt delightfully soft and warm, and I held her until she stopped sobbing. We switched to a blue van just outside of the city and took a little- used road to a grotto in the shadow of a towering cliff with a view of the brown rocky plain all the way to Paglia City. It was almost daybreak when we entered the adobe and wood beam house. It was large enough to be comfortable for three with five medium-sized rooms. The ceilings were shorter than what I was used to, the walls a natural tan-pink. It had all the usual amenities of the civilized universe: water, electricity, heating, cooling during the hot days, and access to a planet-wide network database. I certainly had no complaints; I still had everything I had the day before. Barbara extended her arm in welcome. "This is my vacation home, David. You'll be safe here." She turned to Wendy. "And because it's my house, I get to mate with him first!" she laughed. Knowing Barbara's reactions in the car, I wondered if it were really a joke. Barbara had given me a predatory gleam that I'd found intriguing. She was awfully cute, too. I awoke in the afternoon to find Barbara standing over the bed. I yawned and stretched, to her delight, and sat up. I wasn't wearing clothes, so I made sure the sheets covered my waist. "Good afternoon," I said. "Afternoon, David." She placed a small pile of clothes in a chair by the bed. "I have some clothes that might fit you better, David," she said. I smiled. "There are stores for ugly women in the area?" "Not for those as ugly as you. I bought some loose blouses and athletic pants. We'll worry about the rest later." "Thank you." I waited. She didn't move. "Are you here because you want to see me naked?" "There is little modesty on Sappho, David. Everyone here is a woman," explained Barbara hopefully. I grinned at her effrontery and I was tempted, but I didn't want to shock her with what I had. "Everyone here is a woman except for me," I clarified. "Please give me a little privacy. I'll be out in a few minutes." "All right." She stopped at the opening and grinned. "Wendy said that you wouldn't." I found an electric shaver in the bathroom and used it on my face. After I took a shower and cleaned up, I tried on the clothes. The panties all fit strangely, naturally, failing completely to compensate for that region of distinction. The athletic pants almost fit. The blouses fit, sort of; the ones that fit my shoulders were all too large in the chest where my breasts weren't. Still, anything was better than the drab, humiliating prison dress. I smelled wonderful spicy food before I stepped out into the dining room. Barbara and Wendy were both there, waiting for me. They looked secretive and pensive, as if they'd had an important discussion that concerned me. "Good afternoon David," Wendy greeted me shyly. "Those clothes fit you better." "Thanks for buying them." I smiled at both of them, feeling better than I had in weeks. "Thank you both for saving me," I added sincerely. "I know that I've put you in great danger." They looked to each other. 'Here it comes,' I thought. Barbara addressed me directly. "To be honest, David, we were willing to turn you in if we had found that the stories about men were true. We still aren't completely sure of you. I'm sorry, but you can't leave the house." I nodded. "Of course. I understand." I took a carrot and dipped in into some thick sauce as I had just seen her do. It tasted sharper than I thought but good. "So, I'm on probation?" I asked casually. Wendy stared at me. "You're taking this very well!" I laughed, exhilarated. The panties I wore uncomfortably would have fit much better had Jezzi had her way with me. Being under house arrest or probation was an incredible improvement to the alternative. I bowed slightly. "I'm extremely honored that two beautiful, brave women risked their liberty for me without knowing who I was. I'd be a very poor guest if I demanded that you accept me unconditionally. I realize that I could still be a crazy rapist or murderer as far as you're concerned." "When you gave me my gun back I knew you weren't a crazy rapist. You aren't what the tales say you are. Are all men like you?" I shook my head. "No. There are all kinds, good and bad. I suppose that it's the same for women here." I grinned rakishly. "I guess I could say that I'm a typical space scout." "Are there women scouts?" she asked, interested. "Not that many. There are psychological differences between men and women; most women don't find a long life alone in space very appealing." She looked at me strangely. "And you do?" "Certainly not forever. But there's appeal in seeing new things, exploring and discovering - and finding the original colonies is important work. For a while, this is what I'd like to do. Of course, that's likely to be over now." I looked them over. "May I ask what you have planned for me?" Barbara smiled. "We don't have a plan yet, but I believe that I can speak for Wendy, as well as me, that you are in no immediate danger from us." The way she said it and the way Wendy blushed lent encouraging weight to her words. I could guess, but I wanted to hear it from them. "Barbara, Wendy, why did you decide to rescue me?" "David," Barbara began, "it's not as if we don't know what we are. On our world, about 3% of us are known as throwbacks or perverts. We're attracted to a tall body with narrow hips, firm muscles, flat chests, and broad shoulders. We like to make love a certain way." She shrugged helplessly. "We like men. Our history tells us that we're better off without them, but I wasn't so sure. It was too convenient; our founders claimed that the old records were destroyed as a way to start us afresh, and only their word substantiates what they claim men to have been." Her words brought me to tears, so saddened was I for these poor deprived women. "Barbara, the Diaspora began over a thousand years ago when a virus mutated into something so terrible it threatened all human life on Earth. Nearly a thousand long-range colony ships were manufactured in deep space from metals and minerals mined in the asteroid belt. Many cultures and human civilizations were represented. I suspect very much that your founders belonged to a splinter group of crazed lesbian man- haters. They would have had access to the complete history of humanity, thousands of years. It was a horrible crime to destroy it." "I'm sure it was, David," Barbara said. "I've known Wendy for several months, ever since we met in a casual bar. We hit it off and spent a few weekends together. When she told me that she thought that they had a man in custody, I was extremely interested, naturally." Wendy leaned forward and picked up the thread. "I saw you being escorted to a test, David. At first, I thought you were the ugliest woman I'd ever seen. Your shape, your movements were wrong. Then something deep inside me knew you were a man. You resemble some of the actors playing men in our vids, but you lack the maniacal expression, the lust and leer of depravity. You weren't happy in our custody, but you were patient and even polite throughout. I know some of the guards. They beat you, David!" I shrugged. "Some of them did at first, but I eventually figured out that they'd been taught that I was evil personified." Wendy bit her lip and looked into my eyes. "There was something else. I saw you again a few times. I even guarded you once. Even through that terribly ill-fitting dress, your body pleased me. You made me feel very fem, and that doesn't happen!" I regarded her. Her short hair looked better and better, bringing forth an urge to mess it up. And then came a pang of sadness: "Wendy, you can't go back to the city, can you?" She shook her head. "No. They have the breakout on disc. If I showed my face in Paglia, I'd be in jail very quickly." "I'm sorry, Wendy. I've cost you your freedom." She shrugged. "It will be difficult, but there are options. I can get a face change and move to Woolf or Stein. Anyway, Barbara should be able to carry on. I doubt that anyone can trace her to me." Barbara nodded. "I'll be alright. I'm a biologist, a geneticist in the fertility center. As soon as I heard about you, I took a vacation. I won't have to be back for a week." "I'm glad to hear that, Barbara. Ladies, although I'm extremely grateful to you both, I have to tell you that I don't see much of a future for me on Sappho, and me being here puts you in great danger. Were you planning on me staying in the mountains forever?" They looked at each other and Wendy grinned. "We have an idea, David, but we want to get to know you first." A month later, Wendy lay beneath me, sweating lightly and making soft sounds of pleasure in what had quickly become our favorite afternoon activity. She had allowed her hair to grow progressively longer as her feminine side came to the fore under my dominating presence and it was nearly to her shoulders. I was hers until the weekend when Barbara returned. Barbara and Wendy had agreed to share me and I had reluctantly consented, although I had told them that a normal male would prefer a monogamous relationship. Oh, the choices! Tall, strong Wendy, or slim, petite Barbara. The truth was that I was falling in love with them both. I continued my powerful rhythm above her and the tension built until I could barely restrain myself. "Wendy! It's time," I exclaimed. She picked up the cold metal container I had come to know too well, and I grunted a new batch of anxious egg-seeking wrigglers inside. She twisted the cap on before they knew what hit them and held me close, whispering happily into my ear, "Thank you, David. And a little more of you is preserved for the rest of us." I kissed her in response. It was one of the conditions I had agreed to. There was no protection on Sappho against pregnancy, per se, although most women in Paglia and Woolf took pills that safely suspended periods for up to a standard year. Neither Wendy nor Barbara was in danger of swelling, but Barbara wanted to get as much of a sample as possible and they both appreciated my efforts on their behalf. Wendy kissed me back and slid into a position lying beside me. Smiling secretively, she said, "Barbara and I have a surprise for you this evening, David." I tickled the ribs under her soft skin to force the information from her, but she only laughed and applied a finger to my lips. "You'll just have to wait." I waited patiently by the window as Barbara's van pulled up the long drive, stirring up fine red dust that made the sunset more interesting. She pulled out a large suitcase from the back and hauled it inside. I took it from her at the door and lifted her to my lips. Her soft kiss brought an ache to my male apparatus. Unfortunately, relieving that ache would be denied for the time being. "David," she said when she could catch a breath, "we must talk. We have a plan that could bring you into the mainstream of our society." I put her down. "I am in your hands, Barbara," I said humbly, and meant it. I owed them everything. They laid it out that night over the after dinner coffee. "David, we feel you should try to live as a woman for at least a year or two," Barbara said to me. "If you succeed, then we'd have proof that you could be a good citizen. Besides giving you a legitimate place in this world, you would have eternal thanks from the entire throwback community. Your example might eventually allow men to come to Sappho." I folded my arms and frowned. "Why do you think that the community of lesbian man-haters would ever accept me? When they had me before they didn't give me a chance to prove myself. Jezzi told me that she didn't care. She couldn't wait to snip me flat." Barbara sighed unhappily. "Jezzi is rather traditional in her views. David, I'll be honest with you. We don't know for sure that the lesbian community would ever accept you, but we have to try, and looking like a woman would be meeting them halfway. Their reason for hating men has always been that you were all animals. If they denied you after knowing you for the good person you are, they would look like awful hypocrites." I wasn't so confident with that line of reasoning, but I hadn't grown up on Sappho. Finally, I threw up my hands. "I suppose that you'd be the best judge of that, but how in the world could I ever pass myself off as a woman? You know how I look. I'm butt-ugly in a dress." Wendy smiled. "We're very advanced in cosmetic surgery, David. I know a skilled surgeon who could do the necessary operations and proscribe the necessary medications. It would take about two months before you'd be ready." She saw where I was looking and laughed. "Don't worry, David. We would never touch that. That's our favorite part!" I sat in shock at the direction this conversation had taken, and a certain shrinking sensation descended to my privates - again. My heart pounding, I looked for reasons to say no. And yet, I owed it to them to try. Besides making it less dangerous for them, it also meant more freedom for me if everything worked out. They watched me closely as I gulped down the after dinner coffee, waiting for my reply. Under my wan countenance, I knew that there could be only one answer. I sighed. "I'll do it, of course. Barbara, when is the first appointment?" They rushed to me with enormous smiles on their faces, sat on my knees and held me tightly and I held them back. Barbara caressed my face with her soft hand and gazed at me with adoring eyes. "David, you have an appointment with Dr. Beverly Hackworth tomorrow morning." I don't remember the operation much or even the ride over and back, such was the strength of the anesthesia. All I remember was pain of the aftermath. My face was covered with bandages and I felt like a dartboard. The good doctor had injected me with hormones and muscle converters that would slowly reduce my male musculature. Even my knees, hips, and chest had suffered, having undergone some operations, and I couldn't even walk for the first month. Still, it wasn't all bad. Barbara and Wendy sneaked into my room as I lay strapped and part of me remembered their pleasant ministrations like an erotic dream, even through my drugged haze. Apparently, Barbara still wanted more sperm. Finally, the day came to remove the bandages and braces. I was nervous, dreading what I would see. I felt different. I was lighter, certainly weaker, and my legs worked strangely as I staggered with their help to the bathroom. Wendy grinned. I was still taller by the same couple of inches, but helping me, she seemed powerful. She applied some salve to the bandages and she and Barbara unwrapped them slowly. When my face was revealed, it was swollen and discolored, but the differences; it was smaller - my jaw and ridges over my eyebrows had been shaved. Even through the puffiness it was more delicate. My nose, once proud, was subdued and subtle. My mouth was not as wide and my cheekbones had been altered, raised slightly. The only features that hadn't been transformed were my eyes. I tried to speak - after a month it was finally allowed me - and managed a high-pitched croak. "I really look like a woman!" This woman in the mirror was not who I was in my mind's eye. I was an accident away from being the daughter my parents had always wanted. The confidence in my strength and manhood ebbed as I turned slightly to reveal a graceful neck and a well-rounded ass that I would have liked dearly to touch on someone else. Just for the heck of it, I touched it anyway. It felt like a woman's butt, and feeling my hand move over the greater expanse brought forth a strange thought: I wondered if it wasn't a tad too big. I brought my hands to my face, watching myself move, noting the lack of musculature in my arms. I unbuttoned my nightshirt and revealed breasts - not too large - but woman's breasts. I touched them, cupped the warm softness and lifted them in my hands, amazed at the weight - and gasped at the heightened sensitivity as my fingers circled the swollen areolae. My hands went to my hips and roamed unaccustomed breadth and width. The operation there had given me a pelvic girdle, explaining the odd swaying on the way to the bathroom. Leaning forward and staring, I examined myself closely, imagining my face when the swelling went down. I wouldn't be beautiful, but I might be pretty. "Jesus Christ!" Barbara shook her head. "David, we have to teach you how to behave - starting now. The proper expletive is 'Goddess!' Remember that." I nodded unconsciously. It hit me then just how far this world had come. It was backwards in many areas, but the cosmetic surgery was the best I'd ever heard of - by far. "How is this possible?" I exclaimed, still gaping at the image of the female in the mirror. Barbara looked at me strangely. "I mean surgery like this is, or was, impossible or extremely difficult on Earth. Your founders left with 23rd century Earth medical technology. They could have done all this, I suppose, but you widened my hips, trimmed my knees, shaved some bone mass from my forehead - like it was a routine outpatient operation. How?" "Ah! I know what you mean. The founders decided early on what technology to preserve. Medical technology was a priority, naturally, because they wanted to have babies immediately. In fact, our very existence depends on biology, chemistry, and the ability to maintain the birthing facilities properly. Other industries suffered, and we descended far in some respects, but not there. There was also the discovery of an indigenous plant, amarna, that contains an enzyme that inhibits rejection, accelerating the healing process. You're probably wondering why you don't see scars." I touched my face, gently shifting the skin around. "Yes. That's part of it." Barbara considered me carefully. "Beverly did an excellent job, too." I looked at her - her tone was sad and she seemed almost in tears. "I knew this would happen, and she did perform a near-miracle with you, but I miss David already." I knew what she meant. My training took another month. I learned to walk and speak the sometimes-different words, learning the modified ancient dialect. Most of it was easy, but there were oddities. Still being a man, I could never wear pants that revealed, only skirts and dresses; therefore I would forever be a fem on this world, and I had to act like one, learning to defer to other women gracefully, developing feminine gestures with hair, pose and movement. And there was a way of speech completely foreign to me, of fashion, children and domesticity. My cover would be an electrical engineer in an architectural firm, not too different than my own education and experience, and I received a quick but intensive course on Paglia electrical standards. I would be a normal fem with a fictitious steady girlfriend sometimes played by Barbara. My familiarity with Wendy and Barbara sadly lessened as my feminine side developed. It is surprising what standing in front of a mirror and repeating, "I am a girl" about a thousand times will do for one's psyche - especially when the picture matches the words. Whatever outward masculinity I had was rapidly disappearing. They insisted that I act fem at all times, and while I longed to take Barbara in my arms and lift her to my lips for a kiss, I no longer had the strength, nor was I permitted to try. The first time I slipped, Barbara slapped me sharply. "Donna!" she told me firmly. "You are a fem. You will not act this way. It could mean our lives, remember that!" The hormones and training had affected me by that time and I apologized just short of tears. It was humiliating to see how far I had come. The worst thing about it was that she was absolutely right. She took my hand and drew me to her. "Donna, please don't be angry with me. I have some idea of what you're going through, but it's for the best. One mistake and it would be over." I nodded listlessly. Even worse, perhaps, was Wendy. One evening, while I cooked dinner, a fem thing to do, and part of my training, she came up from behind and took my breasts in her hands. To my later amazement, I responded pleasurably, turning to face her. She kissed me powerfully in her stronger arms and I let her, relaxing, drifting away. When we went to bed that night, she was the aggressor; she darn near stripped me. Taking over on top, she held my arms to the bed. There was no play- acting to her dominance; she enjoyed it. My instincts told me to move her and put her on her back, but with her greater strength I couldn't do it. After a moment of half-hearted fighting, I lay back and let her, discovering that I enjoyed her control. Afterwards, as we lay in bed together, she stroked my face gently with her fingertips and pulled me to her as I used to do with her. My breasts lay against her side and my arm draped over her stomach comfortably - too comfortably. I brought my head up, alarmed. "Wendy, I know the hormones are affecting me, but I shouldn't be acting this way. I was a real fem with you tonight. That's not my personality at all." She touched my hair softly. "It's the drugs. They don't make you a fem, but they do help you 'feel' like a fem; it's a training tool. Don't worry, they're temporary - just until you get the job and then you'll be back to normal. It's difficult on us both. I prefer David, the man, to Donna, the fem, but you have to be convincing." She smiled, wriggling closer. "Just remember, Donna, it's possible to completely undo what was done to you. In the meantime," she said seriously, "be the best girl you can be for us all. Your freedom as well as allowing men on Sappho depends on you." "I'll do my best, Wendy. I know what's at stake." I fell asleep in her arms not long afterwards. The job interview was the week afterwards. Barbara drove me the long way out of the mountains, down the coast road. Although Paglia City was the second largest city on the planet, it wasn't very large by Earth standards, less than 100,000 women. Laid out in an efficient grid pattern with two broad traffic loops, typical of colonial worlds, there was one striking peculiarity: there were few buildings taller than four stories. The green of small parks dotted the downtown and suburbs, many with athletic fields and gardens. Two stadiums graced the city: one downtown and a newer one in the northern suburbs. Pastels and gentle earth tones predominated for buildings and houses. Looking to the west, white fishing boats and medium-sized freighters plied the coast. As we entered the city, the traffic picked-up dramatically. Vehicles on the tarmac in the opposite lane whizzed by; women in sunglasses and ponytail or scarf enjoying the sun in electric sports cars; bored truck drivers in heavy trucks; families in mini-vans with girls in the back seat; and many in the ubiquitous small rounded sedans. Barbara pointed to a large, fenced field where women in purple shorts drilled with white balls by a large, two-story tan building. "Those are the Pumas, our professional soccer team. They're world champions," she said proudly. "We might get a chance to see them play." "I used to play soccer in college, myself," I replied, thinking nervously of another time, another place and a very different body. She smiled and placed a hand on my knee. "Cheer up, Donna. Relax! You'll do fine." "Are you sure that my identity will hold up?" I asked for the third or fourth time. "You and Wendy have trained me well. If you say I'm ready then I believe it. I worry about the things I can't control, Barbara." She nodded. "The ID managed to get you a medical card, a driver's license, an employment card, a bank account, an Engineering degree, and a Paglia passport. If it's flawed, it hasn't shown up so far." We drove through an attractive part of a residential area. The streets were lined with bike paths and walkways. I watched as a shiny bus with "Downtown" in the destination window pulled up to the curb. Girls in identical pleated blue tartan dresses laughed and played in a playground attached to an elementary school as their teachers watched. She caught me gawking. "How do you like our world so far, Donna?" "This is very much like Earth of a thousand years ago, not too long before the Diaspora. The cars, boats, and planes in the sky all are very similar." I glanced out the side window to an immaculate park. "It all seems well-managed. The records from those ancient days showed it to be a little dirtier back then, a little more chaotic with more rich and poor. This city has a homogeneous feel to it, as if those highs and lows have been smoothed out." I shifted towards her on the seat as I had a sudden thought. "How much taxes do citizens have to pay?" "Mm. About 70% on average." "And wages are regulated?" She looked at me strangely. "Most of the time. The government runs most of the largest businesses. A few large corporations are independent and most of the smaller ones, but if someone makes too much money, they're taxed at a high rate. The system has been universal in Paglia since the beginning. Of course, Woolf and Stein do things differently." I'd read about social experiments like this. Inevitably, competition from other societies with greater efficiency and innovation caused poverty or a change in the government. Apparently, here the competition never developed, or was never allowed to develop; Paglia was as close to a successful socialist society as I had ever seen or read about. A few minutes later, we stopped inside an industrial park. Barbara smiled and reached for me. She closed her eyes and gave me a rare kiss, and one that I needed. She smoothed my hair lengthened with long black extensions to a length that a fem would commonly have then looked me straight in the eye. "You're ready," she assured me, nodding firmly. I grinned at her, not wanting her to worry about me. "I think I am, too." I grabbed my purse and slid out of the van, stepping off onto the concrete sidewalk. "Don't worry about a thing, Donna," she shouted through the window. "I'll pick you up about 5:30." Then she drove off with a backwards wave, leaving me alone. I took a last deep breath. "I'll do fine," I told myself quietly. I adjusted my light gray business skirt, and strode confidently down the short concrete path across the grass and into a two-story stucco office building. The cool darkness inside was comfortable after the late morning sun. I crossed the crowded lobby to the information desk, past a dozen women, some talking together, and others on their way to some appointment. The majority in the building, mainly technical and professional women, was dressed in pantsuits, doms, but a few were like me, in a business skirt and blouse. I noticed a few curious looks; one or two even looked me up and down, giving me the treatment. I'd turned out prettier than anticipated, appearing to be in my early twenties, and Barbara and Wendy had told me to expect it. To be honest, I really didn't mind the attention - as long as it didn't go further than looking. I smiled politely at the shorthaired brunette in her late thirties behind the counter and read her nametag. "Good morning. I'm looking for Randi Turner's office, Ms. Pollard. I have an appointment with her at 11:00 this morning." She glanced at me. "And you are?" "Donna Terrell." She bent to her computer and entered a few strokes. A few seconds later, she nodded and handed me a visitor's pass with my name on it. "Go right up. It's room 212." "Thanks."