Sappho Chapter 10 free porn video

Chapter 10 "Yes, Doctor O'Bannon, it's been a rough two weeks and I'm sure I'll have a lot of bad nights before I can put this completely behind me. Yes, it's true. I was furious, then I cried, then I was angry at everything, but I'm getting over it now. I feel what I need is a new start where I can get my bearings - regain my equilibrium." The psych regarded me from her chair with a look chock-full of psychological insight. "I think you're full of it, Debbie. I'd feel it best that we hold you for another month." The net was often a great tool. Every patient who suspected her doctors of playing games with her should have access. "Doctor," I said reasonably, although I seethed underneath, having been held a week too long by my own reckoning, "I thought we'd been all through that. I don't show any of the signs of instability; I've never had a history of mental illness. I arrived here from a physical injury, for which I have recovered sufficiently according to the Patients Bill of Rights of 3034 section eight, paragraph four. The North American Republic Supreme Court has already ruled..." She held up her hand irritably. "I know what the ruling is! I thought it was ill advised. But, as you point out, I can't legally hold you. So, I'm going to release you with a warning. You will get over this, of that I promise. How easy that will be is up to you. Remember this: you've done virtually all you can do to get back to Sappho; no one in their right mind could possibly deny it. But sometimes the dragon wins." She stood up and shut off her recorder. "Ms. Larranti, you may go now." I stood up and offered her my hand. She took it wryly. "I hope that you do what you say, Debbie, else you're in for a rough time beating your head against the wall. Good luck." "Thank you, Doctor," I said smiling. "You've been a great help." "Oh, Christ. Get out of here." "Yes, Doctor." Much later that day, I returned to Quincy to my old apartment. By the time I'd cleaned away the dust and dirt to an acceptable level, I was exhausted. The time in the hospital had taken a terrible toll on my stamina and strength. It was something I could work on, would have to do work on, anyway. And so I became a regular at the women's club again, walking at first, lifting weights every other day, forcing myself to finish routines no matter how long it took. The single-mindedness seemed to have a side effect. It was as if I didn't care; it seemed the zest for life had left me. Before I went to bed that night, I took off my clothes and examined myself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. I used to like what I saw. Admittedly, I was skinnier now than I was; my face a little gaunter; my legs and arms thinner, but I knew I was still pretty. My breasts were firm and just the right size; my derriere might have drifted imperceptibly south, but was toning and still looked good from different angles; my skin was still smooth and healthy. My brown eyes were still clear and strong, hair still long, black and shiny, and my face was symmetrical and feminine. I liked the way my waist flared naturally to hips I enjoyed running my hands over. The Sappho surgeons had done a remarkable job. It wouldn't have been wrong to say that sometimes I'd aroused myself by looking at my own reflection. I still liked what I saw but more objectively. I would have thought that perhaps I was just now settling in to my body, that familiarity had finally caught up to me, but that wasn't quite it. While I would never have asked any of the women in the club out, I'd been physically attracted to several. I still thought they were good-looking, but I didn't get that urge. I liked them about the same, I supposed; I noticed hair, what they wore, but I wasn't interested. I shook my head finally and slipped into my nightgown. I'd been a loner since I'd left the hospital. Most of my time was spent on the vid and the net, searching for ways to get back to Sappho. 'You're obsessed, Debbie. What do you expect?' I thought to myself. My other pillow was Indira again that night, and I slipped into a restless slumber. The next night found me on the net. The weights had made me sore and I didn't like what I was finding. I was still wealthy. The money I'd allocated for a ticket to Sappho hadn't been used, and there was still the sale of the Sappho vids, which I could sell now that Sappho wasn't a secret anymore. If I was extremely fortunate and managed my money very well, I might be able to buy an old freighter. But piloting it was another problem. I'd need a pilot's license to fly her, and what I'd been trained on was now woefully out of date. The latest hyperdrive technology used an entirely different principle and the piloting requirements had been changed. Essentially, I'd be starting from scratch. I wasn't getting anywhere. I yawned and leaned back in my nightgown, stretching out muscles that that were getting stronger slower than I liked. The vid keyed me by a flashing light in the corner. The smiling blonde face in the ID picture was a welcome relief. "Answer," I told the vid. And it did. "Debbie! What is wrong with you, girl?" Barbara stared at me wide-eyed and goofy, tilting her head. I could only see her head, but I imagined her hands on her hips and leaning forward like she was scolding an errant child. I grinned, feeling some of the tension ebb away. Seeing her was like a fresh breeze in my hair. "I've been obsessed lately. I should have called, I know. I'm sorry, Barb." Appeased for the moment, she replied, "Well, if you know what your problem is, then that's halfway okay. But only half. Is there any reason you can't do whatever you're doing over here?" "Are you inviting me to your estate, Mrs. Hamilton?" She made a rude sound. "Hardly an estate by Angels' standards, but it does have a nice view of the valley and the ocean. Come down for a week or so. You'll be with friends. Wendy is staying here until she gets her life sorted out and Richard is visiting us, too." "And your husband?" "Martin would like to see you again. I told him I would never have married him if you hadn't approved." I laughed. "That's not true. I liked him, but you were so in love that you'd have walked on rusty nails to get to the altar." Then I considered. "But maybe I can show him some pointers. Does he know about the place on your..." "No you won't!" she laughed. "He's just fine the way he is. He doesn't know about us and I don't want to tell him without a good reason." "I'm just kidding. Barbara, I'd love to come. You're right, there's nothing I have to do here." I took a flight the next morning. Barbara's place may not have been an estate, but it was only because they didn't want it to be. Instead of manicured lawns and gardens, gates and gardeners, she and her husband had decided to place trees below and above this modern house on the hill overlooking the heart on Angels. The tiny forest made a buffer of sorts, a place of peace and privacy, adding only an artificial brook to make the picture she and her husband desired complete. I saw Barbara, Wendy, and Richard around mid afternoon. We had a few drinks on the sheltered porch overlooking the valley, and through the distant haze of that day, the Pacific Ocean. The subject of the moment was Wendy's latest method of finding the "right" man. Wendy lifted her finger. "A man should be respectful, but not so respectful that I see him as a fem." She lifted another. "He should be bigger than me and hard." She glanced over at Richard, who was laughing, and frowned. "Oh, you know what I mean, Richard! And third..." She held up finger number three. "He should understand the person I am and know how to please me." She nodded decisively and sat down, crossing her legs in her skirt and taking a sip of the beer in her hand. "Oh, please." Barbara said disgustedly. "Wendy, you meet men like that all the time. I've seen it constantly - a single word wrong, a misunderstanding and you go running away like a rabbit. A pity you choose that trait to emulate here, as you have so much else in common with the furry creatures, as you and I both know." Wendy reddened, glancing at me for a split second. "You know," I said. "I think Barbara has a point. You probably aren't giving men a fair chance. Wendy, you, of all people, shouldn't be scared of men. It's why you came to Earth in the first place. Take advantage of it." Richard looked around, pointing his pinky at each of us around the bottom of his beer. "Is there something going on here that I don't know about?" Wendy shook her head. "Just old memories, Richard." She turned her head towards me as she raised her hand, pausing it uncertainly halfway to her face. "Debbie, this is nothing like Sappho. The relationships..." She sighed. "It's as if men don't see me as a person, exactly. To them, I fit some preconceived woman niche." "I don't understand. You didn't have a problem with men before. Why now?" "It wasn't the same with you..." She glanced at Richard, then Barbara, who shrugged resignedly. "Just don't tell Martin," Barbara said. "Richard, we knew Debbie when she was David. We were the ones who rescued him from prison. We shared him at my house in the mountains. Wendy was his girlfriend before they cut off his penis and testes. All clear now?" He eyebrows sprang up like surprised toads and he exhaled slowly. "Yes, very clear - and I'm getting another beer." He left the room in a hurry. Wendy leaned towards me. "Debbie, it wasn't like that with you! You understood dom and fem. These guys have no idea of the subtleties. Kiss one and he's like an untrained passion animal. They're all doms and barely give a shit what sort of woman they're kissing." "That's the way I was with you at first, Wendy." "Well, yeah," she said uncomfortably, "but it was more like a game then. I mean I really liked it, but you were our controlled 'guest;' we had you to ourselves, and I knew it was temporary. I...I didn't have to face the fact that I was so uncharacteristically fem with you when you were - all David." "If you say so, but you said that you don't like fem guys." "No. Something about them makes me uneasy." Her mouth drew inward, like she had tasted something unpleasant. "Face it, Wendy. You're attracted to dom men. Most women are, you know; it's in the genes. You're going to have to do what I did with Indira, but in reverse: accept the way men look at you and make it work for you. It's worth the effort." I nodded firmly when she looked at me skeptically. Richard returned and twisted off the beer cap with a loud pop. "So, I'm a fem on this planet. No matter where I go on this entire planet, if I'm with a guy I like, I'm a fem. Wendy the fem." She buried her head in her hands. "That's right, Wendy," I said, purring in my best sultry voice, remembering what she had done to me. "You'll be making love at his pace. Your legs will open of their own volition and that hot, wet place that lies between will beg for his penetration. You'll be beneath his hard chest, his mouth on your breast teasing your nipple with manly force. You'll be dominated and you'll love it. And you know what he'll want in return?" She shook her head, unable to look at me. "Oh, Goddess! No, what?" "He'll want you to enjoy it. He'll want you to cry out in uncontrollable delight, hold him with your arms and legs, roll your eyes back when you climax. He'll find much pleasure in your body. Now tell me you find that repulsive." Still sitting and holding her head, she stomped her feet rapidly in a kind of staccato dance. "Goddess!" "Perhaps I came back at a bad time?" Richard inquired, looking around. "Anybody want a beer?" "No thanks, Richard," I called back. Taking Wendy's hand, I asked, "Wendy, are you going to be all right?" She looked up, breathing hard. "I think so, Debbie. It's just a lot to take. This really is a whole new world with totally different ways." "So? Take the time to learn them. This world is right for you. Men are right for you. Be careful, but don't fight it." She squeezed my hand. "I'll do my best. And now it's your turn. Look, I don't know how to say this except straight out: I hope you find a way back to Indira, but have you thought about what you'll do if that proves to be impossible? Do you have a point where you have to say, 'enough'? Think it over." "That would be the sane thing to do, wouldn't it? I promise to think about it." "Good." Rising to her feet, she moved forward to embrace me. "I don't want to worry about you, Debbie. Don't do anything stupid," she said. "Everything I do will be well-considered." "Huh. Not the same thing, but I suppose that will have to do." She turned to Barbara and Richard, a gleam in her eye. "Debbie has convinced me to give men another chance!" "About time," Barbara sneered. "Going into town tonight? I'll go with you." "I think I might go right now. There's a place I found where I can nurse a beer for an hour or so and just watch. I have to admit it. Men are crude and irritating sometimes, but they can be fun, too. If I see how the Earth women handle it, maybe I can, too." Richard got up, put down his drink and held out his hand. "I can do better than that. You don't 'study' men. That can only lead to frustration. I know a place where we'd have a good time together and meet some people. Stick with me. You'll have the right kind of man all over you in no time." She raised her eyebrows. "I like this plan better." She took his hand and they left, Richard dragging her away laughing. And then there was just Barbara and I. "I'm glad you convinced her to go back and try again, Debbie. I didn't what to say to her." "She's just scared of change, although it wasn't such a big deal for you, as I recall. You were a horny thing from the first day." I pointed to her swollen belly. "And look what's it gotten you." "Yes," she smiled, placing her hand over her growing baby. "Debbie this is better than my best dream. Martin is great; we're rich, and now this child." "Barbara, what's it like being pregnant?" I blurted out suddenly. She reached out and pulled me towards her gently. Taking my hand, she placed it over her womb and held it there. "Debbie," she said, her blue eyes near to tears, "there's life in here, part me, part Martin. It's what I was made to do. I can't explain it any better than that." She took my hand and placed it over my own stomach. "Imagine one of your own there, Debbie, a mother with her child in the universe under the Goddess. What could be more natural?" "I have been thinking about it lately. It doesn't feel as strange as it used to. I think with Indira..." I bit my lip and stopped. She nodded. "Of course, with the one you love." She grinned. "Personally, I prefer the natural way over artificial insemination, but either way will do." We talked over old times and how the arrivals were handling the new culture - very well in the main - Earth was showing its best side as a matter of pride. And it helped that the vast majority were bright and attractive; nearly all of the women were in their twenties or thirties. Then we discussed her life in Angels and what I was trying to do. She listened without interrupting, but it was clear to me, who had known her so well, that she didn't think much of my chances. She would be with me until I gave up - and beyond, and what else would a friend do? Getting restless, only too aware that inaction would be the same as losing Indira, I gave her a peck on the cheek and begged off, explaining that I wanted to check a few things on the net. I took the portable down to the grove of trees for a few hours, trying a few options I'd thought of in the morning, but I came up negative. Earth had far too many restrictions to allow anyone to travel anywhere unmonitored, except for special cases like in-system mining, an unsurprising policy in a universe where bio weapons could kill millions in the wrong hands. My idea of the morning was to get passage to a world where strict rules wouldn't apply and buy a ship there, but what I read wasn't promising. Other planets had different rules, but all maintained substantial safeguards of some sort. One idea kept rolling around in my mind like a seed looking for a place to germinate. It was impossible, but it was a persistent thing. I was damned if I could think of something better, so I let it alone, looking at the problem from different angles. There was nothing easy about this tiny germ of an idea. Because Sappho was off-limits I couldn't rent a ship to take me there. I surely couldn't buy a ship. I'd need a pilot's license and mine was woefully restricted to a type of obsolete scout ship. Stealing a ship was impossible with a tiny possible exception - the one I came in - if my scout ship hadn't been scrapped; if she hadn't been disabled; if I could get her fuel; if I could access her, and if I could get away - a very long string. It was already dark. The small night lights of the path behind me were the only illumination other than the vid screen of the portable and the faint glow in the sky from the city in the valley. I yawned and leaned back on the rock I'd been sitting on. I'd been looking for a way into the records of what was still in high orbit, but the information seemed to be restricted. I heard shoes crunching gravel; someone approached from the house. Turning to look, I caught a glimpse of the profile of a man. "Mind if I join you?" he asked. "Pull up a rock, Richard. I'm through with the net for today anyway." I shut it down, closed the screen and waited for the gray rectangle in front of my eyes to fade. "That was nice of you to take Wendy to the city," I said to the dark silhouette by my side. "Not a problem. I took her to an arcade. We played in a VR world with monsters to shoot, and then had a few beers and shot some pool. She's a lot of fun to be with, and she gets along fine with guys when she can forget that vision of being dominated you planted in her mind." I chuckled. "Yeah. That was partly to get her back for something she did to me..." I looked up. "Uh, well. You probably don't want to know." He laughed. "I can guess. There are only so many combinations, and Wendy talked about you when you two were together. I have some idea how close you were before - your final phase." I was abruptly weary of talking about me. It was cool and a stray breeze blew through the trees, giving me goosebumps. I shifted my position slightly to be a little closer to him, using his body as a windbreak. My eyes had been adjusting to the light better and I looked up and over, noting his masculine features; they were certainly sharper than mine. "What about you, Richard? Where did you grow up? Do you have a girlfriend?" "No girlfriend. I was raised in the Southeast sector. Went to school at University of Southern Virginia, majored in Criminal Science, was on the track team - pole vault." "Oh, that's why your arms and back are so strong." I shook my head in confusion. 'Now that sounded girlish. Why did I say that?' He shrugged. "I suppose. I heard that you were a heck of a soccer player about seventy-five years ago." I rolled my head back and smiled. It made me feel good that he could jokes about my past - it was how close friends should be. I leaned back to my elbows and stretched my legs out, accidentally brushing him with my hip. He turned his head at the contact and had a good look at a large portion of breasts in the tank top. Of course, it was dark and he couldn't see much, but I found that I didn't mind him getting a peek, although most men glancing over would have been annoying. Richard was comfortable to be around. "Oh, I still play; you saw me on the beach. One of my friends on Sappho even recorded a game that I played in." The air brought his scent to me. He smelled good, and I leaned closer. It wasn't the soap and water clean; he must have come straight from the city, as his clothes were the same as when he'd left. It was subtle, a pleasant musky odor. What is wrong with me? I sat up straight again. Although it was innocent, I knew what a pretty girl could do to a man if she wasn't careful. I didn't want to jeopardize our relationship. "Debbie, speaking of the beach. Why don't you and I go to the beach together tomorrow for an early morning run." It would be nice to have company, I decided, although I usually ran alone. "I don't have the stamina I had before, but I think I can do a couple of miles if you're willing to slow down. What time?" "I'll pick you up at your room at 5:15." "I'll be ready." I got to my feet when he did and we walked back together. His presence was a comfort in the dark, although I knew the perimeters had electronic fences and alarms. When I headed to my room to clean up, my panties were moist, something that happened sometimes when I saw a pretty woman. It was a good feeling to know that I was coming out of a funk, but it had me puzzled. I couldn't have been interested in Richard, not in that way. I shrugged and got ready for dinner. The next morning he picked me up as promise and took me to the beach in his car. We warmed up and stretched together in what passed for running outfits on the Angels beach: me in a bikini with my hair tied back, Richard in a short pair of trunks and an athletic top. He started slowly to match my pace. The cool sand in the clear morning was a different feel than running on the treadmill or outdoors in Quincy, and it gave my calves a good workout. High-rise apartments to the East blocked the view to the city and, only the seagulls and a few scattered people on the beach with us broke the peace of the morning - that and my own heavy breathing, ragged by comparison to my companion. "Debbie, I was thinking about your problem," he said. "Have you found a solution?" I asked, not really expecting anything. "I thought of two possibilities: what are the closest colonized worlds to Sappho - the ones she might trade with?" "Cassius, New Miami, and Victory, in that order ranging from five to ten light-years away. I don't see Sappho trading with any planets soon. They are amazingly self-sufficient, and the arrivals didn't know of any plans to build more ships. I know what you're saying, but if I left for one of those worlds, I'd probably just live my life out there." "The other idea is to simply take a long trip to somewhere, take a long trip back, then wait a year or two for the second load of Sappho women." "That's not a bad idea, but I can't count on Indira staying in a pod for another sixteen years. The word is that I'm dead. Thank you for thinking about it, though." Those were two options that might have been viable under certain conditions. That he was actively concerned for me warmed me inside. As with Wendy, most men looked at me as a woman, vulnerable and someone to be protected if necessary. Even Richard, who knew I wasn't interested in him, had the same reaction. He was a good man, besides being handsome and sexy, and he would make some lucky woman very happy. "What have you been working on? Maybe I can help." "I don't have much," I admitted. "Just a bunch of crazy ideas, most of them illegal and impossible." His eyes were all kindness and sympathy. "Maybe it's time to think of something else, a contingency plan," he said delicately. "If Indira thinks that you're dead, then at least she can move on with her life. It's very hard on you, I know." Thinking that I might fail was the specter hanging over my head. I'd pushed it away, locked it behind doors, but not to admit the obvious was delusional. "Richard, I have to know that I've given it my all. I don't think I could live with myself otherwise. When I run out of ideas, when all hope is gone, I'll deal with it then." "Sounds like a recipe for a breakdown to me, Debbie." That specter was sitting right on my shoulder now. "Two years, Richard. I've already lost a year. That leaves me one year to find a way to get there. After that..." I stopped jogging and started to wipe tears away that had begun to form. I didn't want to cry then. 'Save it for later! Cry a year from now if you have to!' But I did anyway. Richard brought me into his arms, and this time I welcomed them. His chest was a shield against the world; his large hands, my protectors. I sobbed against his shoulder, gradually pressing myself, fitting my softness to his lean hardness, and my narrow arms held him close. I only cried a minute, and that normally would have been enough, yet when I looked up, I found that I didn't want to let go. It might have only been a reflex of seeking comfort and closeness in times of dire stress, if so, it would have been a first for me, but I gave into the urge before I analyzed it, and stood on my toes, lifted my face to his, brought a hand to his cheek and, without thinking, touched my lips to his. His face drew back a fraction, but I persisted. He hesitated for an instant, and then joined me. Wendy had said that kissing men was like kissing an "untrained passion animal." I didn't see the problem. It was like the old days on Earth when a guy showed a girl how he felt about her. There were no nuances, but that's not what I cared about. He was a man; I was a woman, and what could be more natural then a kiss? And then I felt something that could be argued was more natural push against my lower stomach. It didn't repulse me, even aroused me, and I pressed back, flattered, interested, desirous; my breasts were getting hard with an old feeling and wanted attention; my bikini bottoms grew moist and... I broke off the kiss in shock. He changed from warm and passionate to confused and contrite in a split second. "Debbie, I'm sorry," he said, and maybe he meant it. I shook my head rapidly. "No! It wasn't your fault. I started it. Oh, Goddess! I started it. This is embarrassing." I grabbed the sides of my head and moved away. "Richard, I enjoyed it, and I shouldn't have. I was horny as hell!" I whirled back to him. His expression was comical, all over the place. And I still felt it; Richard looked very good - it was a strain to stay away. I slapped my forehead. I had to think! There was only one explanation I knew of and it made me sick and furious to consider it. "There is something very wrong here, and I think I know what it is," I said low and angry. "Richard, will you take me home now? I have to see a doctor as soon as possible." "Of course." He looked at me with curiosity then slow comprehension. "You think someone gave you something to make you feel this way?" "I'd almost bet on it." A couple of hours later at the clinic, I would have won that bet. Doctor Fernandez showed me the body scan on the wall screen. "See here," he said, tracing two abnormal white streaks with his forefinger. "There are two separate slow release agent implants. The one in your right thigh, the larger, is a type I don't recognize." "That's a hormone supplement, Doctor. That's normal for me." He nodded. "Very well. The other in your left calf is known in common terms as femederol. It's a designer drug, actually a series of drugs that alter the hypothalamus, which controls quite a few autonomic functions. This drug alters a female-oriented hypothalamus of a female to the normal male-oriented pattern." I swallowed hard. "Take it out, Doctor. Now." "Are you sure didn't know about this, Ms. Larranti? It's nearly unheard of to prescribe the drug without a woman's consent." I glared at him. "I'm positive, Doctor. Why do you think I'm so damn angry?" "I'd have to contact the original hospital that installed it, Ms. Larranti," he said, folding his arms. "Very well." I reached into my purse and pulled out a small knife. After getting a good look at the location on the screen, I felt around until I found it - like a fat flexible needle a quarter inch below the surface. I stabbed myself and sliced before I could think about it. Reaching into the bloody wound until I had a good grip of the end in my fingers, I grunted as I pulled it out. The damn thing was only an inch long, and I waved it in the air like a worm. "Here you are, Doctor. Now what can you tell me about it." He stared for a moment, appalled at what I'd just done. "All right. Put it in the tray." He cleaned it carefully with a towelette and examined it under a projector. "This type has a two month cycle, dissolving as it releases the agents. I'd say this was installed about a month ago. It's hard to say what the effect will be after a month. You would know better than me. For some, a month is sufficient to completely re-orientate the sexual preference of a lesbian. For others it would take the full two months." "What about the reverse, Doctor?" "There is an equivalent for men, but it doesn't work the way your question would imply. Each drug does two things: it deadens part of the hypothalamus and stimulates another part to a greater extent, essentially tilting the orientation. Both drugs together would deaden a large part of the hypothalamus and the stimulus would likely not be able to counteract the deadening. The net result might easily be a loss of interest in both sexes. I don't know if there is any data on it. After all, why would anyone do such a thing?" "Is there any chance of it wearing off?" I asked, pleading with him to give me some good news. "I'm sorry. What has been done is permanent. It's possible that after only a month of the drug those deadened areas might not be completely dead." "How is this legal, Doctor?" I demanded, slamming my hand on the examination table. "Normally it's not. Under certain circumstances, a presiding psychiatrist might prescribe the drug if he thinks that it's vital to the patient's mental health." "That bitch!" I hissed, clenching my fists. "That's why she wanted to hold me the extra month. She wanted to make sure the femederol had run its course." "Ms. Larranti, you're saying that this is what happened?" "I'm almost sure of it. But she was wrong! She had no right." "It's not something I normally like to say to a patient, but you might sue for damages." I stormed from the office thinking much darker thoughts than merely suing a doctor who wouldn't suffer the consequences, and I was barely calmer during the ride back to Barbara's house. "What do you want to do, Debbie?" Richard asked me as we pulled up to the parking slot. He seemed nearly as steamed as I was, which both made me grateful and angry all over again: he was being so damned noble I couldn't help but like him even more and that started those feelings again - the ones I didn't want. I wouldn't have minded another clench to show him that I appreciated it, but I would have enjoyed it - a lot. "Argh!" I screamed into my hands. "I'm going to get some expert opinions on femederol." Two days later: The test was finally over. The streaming stills and vids of men and women at work, at play, sleeping, lounging at the beach, or in romantic postures and facial poses had come to an end. My doctors, DiGregorio and Unger, specialists in brain function, un-strapped my head from the scanner, one on each side. Harry DiGregorio, the tall, dark, younger and good-looking one, bent over and smiled reassuringly, looking thoroughly professional in his white lab coat. "I think we have enough data, Ms. Larranti," he said smoothly, beaming a sexy smile. "Wouldn't you agree, Kevin?" The shorter physician nodded, his blue eyes also calm and encouraging. "I would, indeed, Stanley. Perhaps you would like to see our data, Ms. Larranti? It would be a good way to show you our process as well." He motioned towards the adjacent room behind clear glass. "Yes, I would, Doctor Unger, very much." I rose from the chair and wiped my palms on my skirt, walking nervously through the door Dr. DiGregorio held open for me. I could hardly complain at my solicitous treatment. I had seen myself in the mirror that morning before Richard drove me to the center, and the words, "distraught female" had come to mind. "As you can see," Dr. Unger began, "here are the display elements we showed you and here are your responses. The monitor to the right is an activity comparison hypothalamus, actually a composite of other femederol modified women using the same standardized test." He pressed a button and set a dial, and the monitors moved, much slower than the rapid-fire pace of the machine. "As is apparent from the bright lights of the activity monitor, Ms. Larranti, you have a pattern of above average activity when you see what society would call a good- looking, virile, healthy man." I sucked in a loud breath. 'I'm like Barbara?' I exclaimed silently. Dr. Unger shook his head gently at the sound. "Ms Larranti. Please don't make more of it than necessary. That exaggerated response was expected. We must take your unique history into account. The shock of enjoying the sight of an attractive man is inflating these high levels. I'm almost sure that will subside as you accustom yourself to it. It's what's on the opposite side that is most interesting." He brought up the female pictures, poses and expressions. "These are within the normal heterosexual range, but close to the outer edge. The femederol did its intended work fairly well, but there were a few anomalies of interest. Perhaps you could explain them for us." He brought up a slide of a tanned woman with black hair in a white swimsuit. Quite obviously female with larger than average breasts, she looked into the camera with a loving smile. I closed my eyes. "At first glance her smile reminded me of Indira." The doctors looked at each other. "Do you have a picture of her, Ms. Larranti?" Dr. DiGregorio asked. I handed over a few from my purse. "Pretty woman," Dr. DiGregorio commented. "And these other pictures and this vid?" I confirmed that they all had reminded me of her. Dr. Unger continued. "It's obvious that you have an extraordinarily strong mental and physical bond to her. Ms. Larranti, we speak truth here. This is dangerous territory. You have a powerful image of her in your mind. If the femederol had been allowed to run its course, you would have come to see her through the eyes of a normal woman. You might have still retained the feel of wonderful memories, but the remembered physical attraction would have faded until finally you might have wondered what all the fuss was about." "That is horrible! It's worse than being raped." They glanced at each other for a second, wondering, no doubt, if I knew what I was talking about, but they had the sense to leave it alone. "As horrible as that is, Ms. Larranti, it would have allowed you to ease your mind, start new relationships, and a very pretty woman like you would almost certainly have found love again. "But now you find yourself in an in-between state. There are two problems you face now, as we see it: Ms. Larranti, we see no way to obtain your goal of returning to Sappho. Becoming a doctor, a pilot, the head of a company - those are difficult but manageable things. We may be wrong, and we are not psychiatrists, but this borders on obsession, understandable in your case..." "I have a self-imposed time limit of a year, Dr. Unger." He nodded his head in approval. "Excellent. The second problem is what you might face if you somehow succeeded. Ms. Larranti, many, upon obtaining their goal, find it to be less than what they desired." I started to protest, but he lifted a hand. "Please hear me out. Only you can be the judge of that. But what if Indira, upon hearing of your death, marries or passes on her affection to someone else? You could be stuck on a planet with no one to your taste. The only woman with whom your love is so great that it might overcome the effects of your dose of femederol would be gone. You would have to book passage to Earth again." "I'll take my chances, Doctor." "Of course. If for some reason you do not succeed in your quest to return to Sappho, then I would recommend strongly that you finish the femederol treatment and make a clean break with the past." I said nothing to that. I'd eat glass before I'd destroy my feelings for Indira. "Thank you, Doctors. You've clarified a lot of things in my mind." Both smiled. "We wish you the best, Ms. Larranti," Dr. DiGregorio said, grinning attractively, making me tingle in the usual places. I sighed. It would be a long day. On the way back to Barbara's house, I explained to Richard, as calmly as I could, what the doctors had found. "You say the doctors give you a chance with Indira if you can get to Sappho?" "They tried hard not to be encouraging, but they didn't say it was impossible." I smiled ruefully. "At least there's that. It isn't over." "And you are attracted to men, more than the average woman?" He seemed satisfied somehow, and I looked at him suspiciously. "That's what the doctors say." He said nothing for long seconds. Then, tightly, "Sorry, I was out of line. Your first priority must be Indira." Putting myself in his place wasn't hard. However it started, he'd always had feelings for me and I had been fond of him; with this physical attraction, as much as I'd liked to pretend it hadn't happened, our friendship had taken a new, uneasy turn. "I felt it, too, Richard," I said as gently as I could, "but I'm still going to try as hard as I can to return to my wife. Please understand." He nodded reluctantly then turned to me halfway, showing me what I'd come to know as his serious side. "I do understand, but you understand that a part of me hopes you fail?" "Yes," I said quietly. We were silent the rest of the way, although my insides certainly weren't. Alien man-woman thoughts hounded me the whole way back, images of making love as a fem with a Richard in Indira's place, looking up rapturously to his face as he fixed our roles forever, making me be what my body demanded. Stop messing with my mind! Visions of sex, and men taking me like a normal Earth woman refused to leave me alone until I returned to my room and replayed the vids with Indira and me. I reviewed my life with her, pictures of us together in Woolf, the recording of our wedding, and later when we'd said our real vows pledging each other, remembering the love we'd shared and the promises to each other. Fortified with Indira, I came out at dinnertime, but avoided Richard like a dangerous woman-eating bacteria. I'm sure he understood because he didn't try to speak to me the rest of the evening. After an uncomfortable meal, I made my formal apologies to Barbara, who already knew because I'd told her earlier, and would have faded away into the night to the waiting taxi outside, I was tempted - but there was a detail I needed to take care of. Richard waited just inside the door when I returned. He looked down, waiting for what I had to say. "I couldn't leave without saying goodbye," I said, and then I shook my head miserably. "That's not what I want to say." "Just say it, Debbie. I'm not a child; I can take it." "I really like you Richard, even before. It's this - attraction that's..." I sighed, glancing at the floor. "What I mean to say is that you're dangerous. I wish it weren't that way." He reached over and lifted my chin gently in his large hand so that he might watch me more easily, a familiar gesture, but done so well I took no offence. When our eyes met he was grinning. "I like that: dangerous. But wherever you go, you'll meet other men you're attracted to." "I don't think it works that way. I have to feel something for them to be truly - interested." I blushed. Damn it, I was getting wet already. "I'll try to be casual with men. I think that might work. I just wanted to say I'm sorry." His eyebrow elevated intriguingly. "There's nothing to be sorry about. They pulled a dirty trick on you. Look, Debbie. I'll make it easy for you. If you need a shoulder or something I might help you with then I'll do what I can - no strings. The big day is slightly less than a year off, unless you've changed your mind..." "No," I said decisively. "If she thought I were dead, she would have found a new life by then. Indira is a strong woman." I frowned. "Richard, if you're about to say you'll wait for me, then I'm walking now." "Nothing of the sort. But if it should happen that you and I are both available a year from now, then I might visit you." I laughed nervously. Indira had made no secret of wanted me, but being pursued by a man was different. "All right. But I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen." "I wouldn't have it any other way." The way he looked at me was too much. I gave him a kiss that lasted for, well, I lost track. I left in the cab immediately afterwards, though, without saying another word or looking back. By the time I was aboard my flight to Boston, fifteen minutes later, I had completely recovered. Cruising low over Boston Harbor, on the way in to a landing, a few tumbling pieces in my head fell into a pattern, holding together in a way I hadn't thought of before. Arriving at and leaving the airport was a vague memory and I didn't go to sleep until late that night, checking the data. When I was sure, I sat back, stunned for a moment. There might be the tiniest crack in the armor of labyrinthine rules and regulations. It wasn't a certainty, and I had to check a few other things to make sure, but it was the best chance I'd seen so far. I put on my nightdress and went to bed as usual, but this time I gave my Indira pillow a kiss before wrapping my arms around her. *** The beam was a pain in the ass. They often were on private vessels. To get those nice curves and bends that characterized the multi-environment vessels the extremely rich liked best, the specs often made it an assembly nightmare. Add to that the fact that bare metal in vacuum tended to weld itself, aligning the massive thing was nothing less than a three-dimensional juggling act requiring an innate ability to judge mass, angles, rotation and velocity that one either had or didn't. The talent wasn't that common in men, and rare with women. After three months on the job as the only woman on the crew of ten, I'd surprised a few, but not me; I'd had one of the top ratings in spatial awareness at the academy. The Earth below had long since become a part of the neighborhood. The array of bright lights illuminating the otherwise dangerous black shadows of space were behind me. The Spaceport riding the needle loomed in the distance a safe ten miles away, far enough for them to react if an errant beam should slip from a carrier, which had happened in the past, although not frequently and never with our crew. "Debbie, how is FD-23 coming along? I need you in B sector to help Don and Hassan." "Have two done now. The third will be locked down in five, Victor," I replied to the foreman, applying the smallest twist and push to the massive, ornery thing that would place it in its final position. "You can send someone over now to sign-off if you're in a hurry." "Roger that, Debbie." I heard a "snik" as he switched to another frequency. Another faint "snik." "Vlad is on his way." "Roger that, Victor. When he signs-off, I'll head to B sector." A moment later, Vlad the Inspector rounded the ship on the high side, his characteristic orange and red work suit moving slowly towards me as he guided his jetpack expertly with only the tiniest bursts. All of us had different color patterns. As the only female, I had pink, naturally. I'd thought about changing it, but it had belonged to another woman before me and to re-color it would be like changing a tradition - besides, the guys liked it. Vlad stopped himself with a brief blast of jets a few feet away. He grinned, his teeth barely visible through the protective visor, there to shield against the naked sun. "You finished, Pinky?" he asked. I pushed back from the beam, my lines keeping me from straying too far. "Just did the adhesive and lockdown; ready for your perusal." He gave it a professional look over, which I respected. Despite being friends, the job was too important to take any shortcuts and mistakes cost lives in space. "Good job as usual," he said, just before marking the beams with his stamp. He made a counterclockwise twisting motion by his head, the signal for low power, and I kicked the transceiver down to local with my chin. "Pinky, you going to join us at Dante's?" "Sure, but only for one drink. I've got to get the Idiot ready. Had some new parts come up the elevator yesterday." "Ah," he sighed like a bad actor, "a loss. Your presence, or lack of it, affects us all. To prefer to be with that ancient piece of crap than with your friends..." "Hey, watch it!" I barked, although I was amused; his description paralleled my own. "That's my baby. Someday we'll be out there in the belt getting rich." "Sure, sure," he replied resignedly. "What a waste. That prospector is nearly as old as you. Wouldn't you rather move into my quarters instead? Space is cold and I am warm - with hair to tickle your nose and to make it interesting." I grinned. "I like you too much, Vlad. I'm not seeing anyone on the team - those are my rules." Moving forward, I gave him a pat on the helmet. "Sorry." I made the motion that I was switching back the power. "Victor, this is Debbie. I'm done here. Heading to 'B' sector." When the shift was over, I took a shower, put on a clean jumpsuit and headed down to Dante's, a spacer dive that had been around for two hundred years, since the beginning of Spaceport. The place had changed in the seventy-four years when I'd first visited. The glitz and self- illuminating tables had changed to darker plastic wood trim, giving it more class, but the occupants remained close to the same. Ordinary space jacks like us, the military non-coms in-station and those from up the line, and even the occasional Scouts still came through the place. What hadn't changed, save for growing in number, were the pictures of former patrons who had struck it rich, which went on one wall, or of those who had died or were lost in space, who's pictures went on a larger wall. The place was loud this evening. Somebody was leaving to go Earthside, either retiring, or had made enough money to buy whatever he wanted - I never bothered to find out, but he was buying drinks. I sat down between my favorite guys, Vlad and Bjorn, two men who took me as I was. Vlad's words to the contrary, he would have been shocked if I ever agreed to his proposal, although he would have accepted. In a way, the crew was an antidote to Richard, whom I still thought of occasionally and still stayed in touch. I kept it easy with that bunch, never letting too much of me show. They all knew who I was and who I used to be, though; I wouldn't hide that from them. But my life was my own. The purchase of my prospector, "Frank the Idiot," officially renamed from "Sojourner Treasure," by the prospector of its latest name, who'd spent five fruitless years in her about fifty years ago, had helped seal my image of a temporary space jack just passing through. Circling in the outer orbit at 45,000 kilometers for the previous forty years, I'd bought her for next to nothing and parked her outside a few klicks away. She was only efficient for one purpose: prospecting, and that was a lonely occupation. It was about 2:1 men to women at Dante's that night, about average. Most spacers were men, and probably always would be; the women there were mainly girlfriends. They wore colorful dresses that showed their figures; their hair was arranged attractively and their boyfriends certainly enjoyed being with them, keeping them close in a room full of men with roving eyes. And they did nothing for me - or very little, except to remind me of who I wanted to be with. Bjorn slapped me gently on the back. "Come on, Debbie. You're drifting away. The Earth Cup!" "Right." I put down my beer. It was the sporting event of the century. The best soccer teams of the closest surrounding colonies would compete with Earth for the right to be called the best soccer team in ten light- years. All the money was on Earth teams from one of the six zones to win every match against the colonies, but I wasn't so sure there weren't going to be a few upsets. Georgia and Farnham both had populations of around a half-billion. "Innovation, Bjorn," I said. "That's what's going to do in a few clubs. Earth has been playing the same game for hundreds of years. They're going to get caught with something new and it will take them a goal or two to adjust. By then it will be too late. Just watch." I stood up and downed the last of my beer. "Got to go, guys. The Idiot awaits." "Right. We'll see you tomorrow," Bjorn said before returning to the discussion. It took about an hour to get out to her. I could have used my jet pack to get there - it was only a few kilometers, but there was always a risk of some malfunction, and calling for emergency help while falling towards the Earth tended to be an expensive call. Instead, I caught a ride aboard an open space lighter, a thin-framed supply and maintenance ship that ferried men and materials between the ships and Spaceport. I wore my orange and white Sappho Spacesuit, less durable but more flexible and comfortable. Serge slowed down enough to let me off with my parts and I caught a flexible tending line I'd rigged just outside the airlock for just such eventualities with one hand. "Bye Serge!" I called, waving to his receding ship. "You need a ride back, Debbie?" I heard through my helmet. "I come back this way in about an hour." "No thanks, I'll jump." "Crazy female. You're going to miss someday and your homemade backpack will fail. And then where will you be? Splat, face first into the observation deck." "You worry too much, Serge. I won't miss." "I hope not. You fill the best looking space suit at Spaceport." "Thanks. Later, Serge." I let the small airlock cycle and stepped inside, deciding to waste a little energy to warm things up. "Rex, turn it up above freezing." "Yes, my Mistress," crooned a man's voice. I had nearly given up trying to modify this AI's behavior. Frank the prospector had been frankly strange. I had the impression that he had talked to himself for close to five years and his attitude on women was confused, to put it politely. Those years in space with nobody but Frank to talk to, and those bondage vids, the only ones he'd brought, had set some patterns in his AI so deep I wasn't sure they could be removed without a cold boot and base reload. The Idiot was half the size of my scout ship, although the main room was about the same. Part of it was due to the missing hanger; part of it was missing hyperspace capability. This was strictly an in-system vessel and an old one at that. Half of the ship's prospecting equipment: the spectrometer, the seismic analyzer, the samples laser, had been non- functional. Bringing her up to modern specs to be licensed had cost three times what I had paid for her. Even parking the Idiot close to Spaceport was costing me far more than I liked. But the Idiot was registered and after two months of part-time simulation training and a checkout, I'd had my license updated for this obscure craft. When the temperature was tolerable, I unpacked my bag and went to work replacing some of the internal communication equipment. It didn't take that long, mostly a straightforward replacement. The newer parts, although smaller, had more capability and were more efficient. "Rex, run internal testing on new communications gear." "Right away, my life." He hummed a song I'd never heard before, but knowing Frank through Rex, I was sure it had something to do with women. "Done. My scans show a directional capability and communication protocols I've never heard of before." "That's right. You know how to use it, Rex?" "Yes, my desire, my pain." "Bring up the telescope on vid. Point it towards Alpha position in high orbit." One thing the ship did have was a superb working telescope, quite often useful in the asteroid belt, and as good or better than my former scout ship. "Exactly as you wish, Mistress." A tiny ship appeared on the screen, one of the Outer Defense Force ships, always stationed at Alpha position in high orbit at 45,000 kilometers above the Earth, a kind of easy marker equivalent to 0 degrees on a 360 degree circle over 320,000 kilometers long. "Move anti-rotation 5 degrees 32 minutes." That would put us on about a 15 kilometer-wide section. There were two ships or junk craft on the vid, but I thought I saw what I wanted. "Move in on the center object and magnify." "All done, Mistress." Goddess. That was my Vicky. My heart began to pound. Nearly all of it depended on her still being alive and active. There had been no reason for the to shut her down, but so much depended on this. "Send tightest beam possible to that ship using protocol FR-3. The message is, Hello, Vicky. This is Debbie." "Yes, Madam Debbie. Receiving return audio." "Put it through." "Voice verification." I took a deep breath. "This is Debbie. How have you been Vicky?" "Voice verification accepted. I've missed you, Debbie." "I've missed you, too. Doesn't anyone talk to you?" "No. Not since you took the amarna plants. I don't think they are going to reassign me, Debbie." I closed my eyes for a moment. 'Thank the Goddess. She has been left undisturbed.' "Why, Vicky?" "On the way out, one of the men mentioned to the other that I was obsolete. They're probably right. I downloaded the latest ship specifications. No 5C ship has been built in fifty-one years, three months." I wanted to tell her not to worry, that everything would be fine, but that wouldn't have been true. Vicky had a whole lot of things to worry about. Old ships with power often towed derelicts, spare fuel tanks and canisters with space debris into a trajectory with the sun. The littering of the early space programs was still being cleaned up after a thousand years. "I'll try to find something, Vicky - some way out of this." "I hope so. This is making me nervous. No known DK scout ships survive today except me." Talking to her more than a minute or so, or asking pointed questions would be pushing it. I couldn't have her making a call and finding out that I wasn't a part of the Scout Service anymore. She could be ordered to never speak to me again. "I will try, Vicky. I promise that I'll do what I can. I'm sorry, I have to go now." "Yes, Debbie. It was good to hear from you." "And you, Vicky." And then she was gone. "Rex, close channel." "Yes, Ms. Debbie." "Rex!" I exclaimed, utterly exasperated. "Just call me Debbie. All Right?" "Yes, Mistress Debbie! Right away." I sighed. It was no wonder the Idiot had been cheap. The only good thing about this lumbering piece of obsolete prospector was that it shared fuels with a DK scout ship. But that's why I bought her. I had to call Barbara; I had a few modifications I had to make to the Idiot, and then it was time to wait, watch - and hope. The months rolled by slowly. Leaving my fate to a nameless bureaucrat in New Dallas to make the decision that would determine if I went to Sappho grated, but I tried not to let it affect work or the easy relationship I'd maintained with my mates. Bjorn had moved on by then back to Earth, and Victor had been kicked upstairs to a desk in Spaceport. Of the men remaining, Vlad was the only one I spent much time with, mainly at Dante's, although we had been to the gym or even dinner a few times, always Dutch, and I eventually told him something about life on Sappho, even showing him some of the pictures I took back, partly because I liked to see his black eyes widen and his nose flare when I told him of the night clubs, ships, farms; the whole planet full of women who'd never seen a man. I didn't say much about me, or really become his close friend until I helped find him a girlfriend, Luanne - one of the three new arrivals from Sappho that had found jobs at Spaceport. Unsurprisingly, his physical interest in me diminished about that time. But by the time I entered the final month he knew me well enough to know something was wrong. I rarely went to Dante's anymore after work. Instead of watching men and women together, laughing, drinking and having a good time, I preferred to work it off in the gym, walk the station, lose myself on the observation deck, or work overtime. The less I thought about the end approaching the better. On this day, Vlad insisted that I go, and for once I couldn't find a legitimate reason to say no. I wasn't scheduled to work for two days and I hadn't been drunk in a while. I figured it was time. The crowd at Dante's that evening was unusually sparse and Vlad found a small table away from most of the noise. I wondered why then remembered that there was a concert, one of North America's biggest singing stars, Bad Denny Van, was making a rare appearance. We shot the breeze for a while. I could usually get him to talk while I drank and listened, and it worked for a while, mainly making small talk about work and how he and Luanne were getting along, when he stopped me. "Debbie, we are friends, no?" "Sure," I said, pouring beer #2. "Best friend I have in Spaceport. Is something wrong?" "Something with you. I've worked with you too long. You're on edge all the time now, your hair is a mess, your clothes are filthy, and you haven't taken a shower in weeks." I cracked a smile. "You noticed. I'll be all right, Vlad. Give me a little time." "Seriously. Your work is still okay, but your concentration is gone. You're going through the motions - that dangerous." He poured himself a beer. "Luanne has been talking to me. She said it's probably because you had a wife on Sappho, Tyrona, and you miss her. Is that true?" I laughed. "Where did she hear that?" "A friend of hers. There's a network of Sappho women on Earth. You should see her vid bills. Is it true?" There wasn't any reason not to talk about it, not now. "Her name isn't Tyrona, it's Indira." I pulled out a good picture from a thigh pocket on my jumpsuit and showed him, making sure I met his eyes. "And yeah, I miss her a hell of a lot. You understand why I didn't mention this to the team, and why I don't want it spread around?" "Yeah. It makes sense," he muttered uncomfortably. "When they made you a babe, they couldn't take all the man out of you. But the way you look at the guys in the gym, the way you dance, the way you kissed Victor at his goodbye party - well you had me fooled. For a while I even thought..." Vlad rubbed his chin for a few seconds and appraised me in a way not entirely complimentary. "It's none of my business," he said at last. "I'm just trying to understand. That's your problem, isn't it; it's getting to you, that others of your - point of view aren't around." He flinched when I touched his hand, but I took it anyway, forcing him to look at me. "Vlad, it's not what you think. I am attracted to you, I like guys a lot, and I also 'like' Indira in the same way. I figure that it's nobody's business but mine. Yes, it's bothering me and I'll tell you why, but only if you promise not to tell anyone else, and that most especially includes Luanne." "That would be difficult," he said uneasily. "She has strange ideas about us - that we must always share everything, like they do on Sappho." I laughed. "Luanne is a wily fem. It's a guideline, not a rule. And Vlad, this isn't Sappho. The fem-dom thing doesn't apply here. Don't be an jerk about it, but my advice to you is to be the decent man you are and let nature take its course." He nodded firmly. "All right. None of Luanne's business then. Now what's this secret that's been screwing with my favorite spacer?" I told him about the femederol. "Bastards!" he snarled, clenching his fist and causing a couple of heads to turn our way. "So you want to keep her memory, but you feel her slipping away?" His fierce reply surprised and alarmed me, and I kept my voice low, a hint to calm down. "Something like that. Vlad, I'll deal with it." His black eyes blazed. "This is worse than I thought. Any moron would know that it must be your decision to take that stuff. Arrogant shits. Idiot Psychiatrists!" "Keep your voice down, Vlad!" I hissed. "Sure I'm angry, but I will get through this." "I'll bet it was a civilian," he remarked, still hot but thankfully quieter. "A secret for a secret, Debbie. I was an officer in the ODF for over ten years, an XO in one of those ships in high orbit. A military doctor would have respected you. It was the civilians that disgusted me enough to get out. There is nothing worse than being in a military in an extended peacetime." I sympathized with him to that extent. "Why do you think I went into the scouts? Vlad, I'll be all right in time." He regarded me. "You're not doing so good now. You shouldn't work for a while until you can relax." I glared at him. "I know my limits. Vlad, you're making me regret telling you." Vlad glared right back. "I wasn't kidding about the risk. I don't want you dead. I've seen it before; you are too distracted to be safe." "Is that the consensus; do the others think I'm losing it?" I asked evenly. "There's been talk about it. Can you blame them? You're angry all the time and getting worse. Make-up can't hide that you're losing sleep, and you talk to yourself sometimes. They're worried about you." I had a powerful suspicion that he was being far too man-protective, but he wasn't smiling. "Fine," I snapped. "I'll quit. I won't have the crew looking over their shoulder at me." He drew back and shot me a look of surprise. "Just like that? All right then. Good. Go back to Earth; take a break, relax - come back when you get better." I frowned slightly. 'Since when did you become my keeper?' I asked myself. "No. I think I'll stay here. I have a feeling that this - impasse will work itself out pretty soon." He placed both hands carefully on the table and leaned forward, his visage still far too full of worry about the female in question for my taste. "And what are you going to do with the Idiot?" That did it. I drained the last of my beer, planted it solidly in front of me, slapped a few credits down, and stood up. "Nice talking to you, Vlad," I said, looking down at him like winter had come to Spaceport. "We'll have to do this again when you can remember that I'm not a frigging child." He caught my arm in the corridor just outside Dante's. I stared at it until it was removed then lifted my eyes. But he refused to apologize. "Debbie, I'm worried about you. Look, you've been talking about prospecting for months. What I'm saying is that this would be a bad time to try it - if that's what you're thinking of doing. You're angry and depressed. Years alone in a small ship in your state of mind would be a damn fool thing to do." I stiffened. "Take a good look at me, Vlad. I'm neither mentally ill, nor a fool and it isn't any of your God damned business what I do!" I whirled and marched away steaming, leaving him with his mouth open. If I were a guy, would he have treated me that way? Probably not! I slowed as I thought about it. But I wasn't a guy, as the motion of my breasts reminded me at every step. And most men were hard-wired for protection that way - hell I used to be. I'd even been grateful for it more than once in Dante's when my crew had run interference for me with obnoxious guys. It was unsettling, this caveman pack securing its females thing, and I wasn't at all sure if the corresponding female gene that enjoyed it was a part of my make-up - or maybe the key lay elsewhere - I could appreciate a man's strength and physique as well as the next woman now. It wasn't hard to understand Vlad if I looked at it from his side. I must have looked a sight, pleading emotional problems. I would have been better off telling him that I was on the rag. The damnable thing was that I wasn't sure that I was dealing with it well. Would a man cry every night and find it so hard to put out of