Changes In Paradise: Part Eight - Perils, Proposals, And Progeny free porn video

Disclaimer: The usual ... if you're underage, stop reading (and how did you get a hold of this in the first place), if you're offended by transgender or transsexual ideas, stop reading, and if you're unlikely to enjoy erotic descriptions of sex, stop reading. Permission granted to re-post on any free site with attribution. You really ought to read "Changes In Paradise, parts 1 - 7," if you haven't already. Those narrative threads must be held in memory or many parts of what follows will not make sense. Thanks for the comments, suggestions, and encouragement on the previous parts. I really appreciate it. A very special thanks to Frank and Pat(rick). Their comments and feedback have immeasurably improved this story and inspired me to keep going. The rest of you, please leave a comment or a suggestion, if you can. If you do, thank-you-thank-you, and I'm still holding onto the shark. If you don't, perhaps the shark will visit you? Changes in Paradise: Part Eight - Perils, Proposals, and Progeny By Patricia Seaman First Class Eric Edwards blinked back his fatigue as he poured through the complex spreadsheet that combined data from several classified military and civilian Earth Observation Satellite (EOS) systems for analysis. Algorithms that sifted through the millions of images of the earth noted 235 variances for the North American continent that were flagged as possible sites of increased drug trafficking or terrorist activities. He had made it through seventy- five flags in the past two days and had found nothing worth reporting. It was a tedious job, sifting through the satellite images, looking for the changes in human activity that had triggered the computer to signal that those locations should be examined more closely by specialists such as himself. Eric didn't consider himself a specialist. After several years of surfing and bumming around, working odd jobs, he had finally gone to technical school for computer programming, but dropped out when he couldn't afford the tuition any longer. At twenty-six, joining the Navy had been difficult, but it gave him the technical training that he hoped would give him a career when he got out. The Navy did not, as he had first hoped with he enlisted four years earlier, keep him close to the ocean. He was stuck in an office building two hours from the ocean and another five hours from a decent surfing beach. He stretched back in his chair, looking out from his cubical at the quiet hum of activities that characterized his otherwise normal looking office. The OHSCMCEOSDIS (Office of Homeland Security Combined Military and Civilian Earth Observing System - Data and Information System) looked much like any high-tech office in Northern Virginia, a booming suburb of Washington DC. If not for the smattering of military uniforms, a casual observer might think that the workers hunched over their desks wrote software. Eric took off his glasses, a necessary crutch now that he worked with computers, and cleaned them with a tissue. He replaced them and leaned to his left. "Lieutenant Commander Bennet?" he asked into the cubical wall. "Yes?" a soft voice responded, floating softly over the low wall that separated their cubicles. "How many?" he asked. "Twenty-two," the voice replied. "Seven PM?" he asked. "Maybe," the voice hesitated. "I've got to finish thirty by today." "I'm at seventy-five," Eric offered. "I can help you catch up." "So, that's how you impress and seduce a fellow officer," she teased. "I'm not an officer, " he countered. "Yes, I know," she teased. "Come and get a few, and I'll take your proposal under advisement." Eric popped up from his seat and jogged around the cubical wall to the next entrance. A pretty brunette handed him a stack of folders as she smiled up at him. "You're still working hard for a short-timer," Sally teased. "I have other motivations," Eric shot back. "Besides, you are technically only a week behind me." "That is IF I resign my commission," she said with a smile. Sally Bennett was four years younger than he was, but she had gone to college and was a Lieutenant Commander. She too was leaving the Navy, much to her father's disappointment, but she was moving to Homeland Security, which kept her father from completely blowing his top. Her current job with Eric was part of her training for her new civilian career in counter intelligence. When she had arrived two months earlier, the athletic and friendly officer smote Eric with her first smile. They reported to different commanders, which they hoped would keep their relationship under the radar. They were well matched, despite their different ranks and educational experiences, and had similar interests and passions. Sally's new job would take her somewhere else, but where they could not know. Eric had no idea what he would do when his time in the Navy was up. Despite those obstacles, their affair was a passionate one, and both felt the tug of something more serious, a tug that they felt sorely tempted to give in to. "Instead of moving to Homeland Security," Eric suggested, "maybe you should come with me to California and learn how to surf?" "I admire your persistence sailor," Sally said with a smile. "Perhaps someday it will be rewarded." Sally was a petite woman with piercing eyes that danced beneath her rich, dark hair. She had learned how to scuba dive as a girl and was a natural in the water. She always resented the fact that the Navy didn't allow women to become SEALS, as she could swim circles around most men she knew. "You've got four more weeks to make up your mind," Eric offered. "My plane ticket for California is in one month." Even at 30, the former surfer still looked and acted (when appropriate) like a beach bum, and sometimes, in the right light, he still looked like one. "I'm pretty sure you would totally love the feeling of being one with the water, feeling the power and rhythms of the waves," he offered. "And I am sure that you would love scuba diving," she said. "They are both nice dreams, but you know how the Admiral has things planned out." The Admiral was Sally's father, and try as she might; he was a hard man to resist. With great difficulty, she had tried to carve her own path, refusing to use her father's reputation and influence to advance her own career. He nevertheless was a looming part of her life. When she had decided to resign her commission to move to Homeland Security, they had fought for weeks. Her father was convinced that Eric was to blame, that she hoped to follow him into civilian life. Nothing she could say could change her father's mind, and he hung like a shadow over her relationship with Eric. "What area were you working on?" Sally asked, changing the subject. "North America. You?" he asked. "South Pacific," she answered. "Boring, eh?" he asked. "No, lots of hits in the Philippines, East Timor, but nothing we can identify as unusual," she answered. "I'll get started on these," Eric offered, and he turned back to his own cubicle, five file folders tucked under his arm. ***** Petra actually wished, in that moment, that she had never changed into a woman, or even a mermaid. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggg," ripped from Petra's throat as another contraction wracked her nearly exhausted body, her tail curling above her head, her arms clutched to her now swollen belly. "Do I tell her to breathe?" Gabriel asked nervously, looking over to Pat. Phoebe giggled. "No," Pat said. "Her gills are working fine." "But there has to be something we can do?" Gabriel complained, feeling completely useless. "Relax," Pat urged. "We all feel helpless, but this is something that mothers must do. We can keep her safe, and guard the birth, but her contractions make it too dangerous to get too close to her. She is cresting every few contractions to breathe air, so she?s fine." "I know," complained Galina, rubbing her shoulder where Petra's thrashing tail had walloped her earlier. "You were trying to help," Gabriel said, caressing her other shoulder, "Petra didn't mean it." "I know," Galina said in the same ironic, monotone. "Still hurts." Pat smiled. Galina and Petra had become very close over the past several months, which wasn't surprising given that Galina had modeled herself on Petra's body, though her coloring was inspired by (his) own memories of (his) biological mother when she had been a male. Galina had been alone with Petra during the early contractions, before all the pods could make it back to the Moon Pool from all the different parts of the island. Petra would be the first mermaid to give birth, but she wouldn't be the only mermaid mother for very long. Six other mermaids were now pregnant. All four pods were gathered in the Moon Pool, waiting for the arrival of the newest mermaid. Petra's long period of confinement was ending, and she had been in labor for nearly six hours. She had become pregnant with the only child of her now deceased pod-mate, Michael. Pat, Danni, Phoebe, Xing, Angara, and Liga were all pregnant now as well, but as with Petra's pregnancy, none of the mermaids were showing any visible signs of pregnancy yet, though if Petra's pregnancy was "typical," all that would change in the last month of the eleven month gestation. Mermaid pregnancies were apparently longer than human ones, but Petra had not gained much weight until her last two months, and it wasn't until the last four weeks that her belly visibly changed. Her nipples had darkened as well, but otherwise, pregnancy did not seem to greatly alter Petra's ability to swim, gather food, or any water-based activity. However, in the last four weeks she stopped leaving the water at all. It was just too uncomfortable to be on land, even lying on the beach was difficult. Moreover, the baby, as far as the three "official" scientists could tell?Pat, Alexis, and Galina were all well-educated scientists when they were men in their previous lives?mer fetuses did not curl up, as human ones did, but rather stayed lengthwise within the womb. Thus, Petra's body had a long, modest bulge that extended from her sternum down to just above her vent, just shy of a meter in length. As she transitioned from her earliest contractions into the hard labor of one contraction about every two minutes, her tail had begun thrashing with the contractions, sometimes forward, but increasingly around her back. Her vent was dilating, and they could see flashes of lavender and black as Michelle's tail prepared to emerge from Petra's womb. Phoebe had worried that tail first was a breech birth, but Pat reassured everyone that marine mammals, which clearly the mers were, were born tail first. The fifteen mers arranged themselves around the edges of the Moon Pool, keeping Petra from hurling herself against the rocks. Now, six hours later, it seemed like an unnecessary task. Although Petra was in constant motion, swirling in the water as contractions rippled through her torso and tail, Petra had never actually crashed into the walls or bottom of the pool. Galina had accidentally swum into one of Petra?s contractions, earning a stiff wack on her shoulder from Petra?s very strong tail. Petra crested the surface a few times, which gave everyone a scare, but she fell back into the water safely each time. There seemed to be an instinctual reserve in Petra that kept her from thrashing too far out of control. Petra had eagerly anticipated this day, but now that she was caught up in the struggle of actual childbirth, she wondered why. Her insides felt like someone had hooked up an electric socket to her womb and flicked on the switch every few minutes, making all her muscles clench and push down. She thought back to her own transition into a mermaid, and decided that the "push" she had to do then was nothing compared to this great effort now. "The tail is coming," Pat exclaimed as she swam beneath the convulsing Petra. Petra arched backwards again into a circle, groaning her pain, her flukes stiffly quivering above her head, her now stretched open vagina pointed towards the bottom of the pool, trying to push little Michelle out into the world, into the family of mermaids and mermen who now populated this little island. Everyone could now see about ten centimeters of Michelle's lavender and black tail, a dusting of dark green decorated the trailing edge of her 20 cm flukes. It was mottled, like the triplets, but with her mother's and father's coloring. It hung limply in the water, and Gabriel shot Pat a worried look. "Just be patient," she reassured him. Another contraction and the entire tail became visible, and Michelle's stubby pelvic fins were now fluttering purposely in the water. Pat gave Gabriel a winning smile, and he smiled back, relieved that Michelle was moving on her own. Another contraction and her torso was visible up to her shoulders, and wisps of dark, black hair flowed down her back. Then, suddenly, a final contraction rippled through Petra's torso and out squirted Michelle, her arms raised above her head as she eased into the water, a thin cloud of blood surrounding her. Petra sighed with relief as her body relaxed back to a straight line. Pat quickly gathered up the two-foot long (60 cm) mermaid and got ready to bring her up to her mother's arms, but little Michelle blinked, and squirmed free from Pat's gentle embrace and headed straight for Petra's breasts, her umbilical cord still attached, trailing back into Petra's vagina. Petra gathered her vigorously swimming daughter into her arms, and gazed in wonder at the beautiful creature she held. Michelle was somewhat rounder in proportion to an adult mermaid, less long and graceful, but her tail was fully developed, waving back and forth in the water energetically, her limbs and fins were clearly under her conscious control, her eyes open and bright, and locked in on her mother's eyes. Petra swam slowly to the surface, the other mers following. Michelle gazed expectantly into her mother?s eyes, waiting. Petra, recovering very quickly from her painful contractions, pushed herself out from the pool and perched herself on a low shelf that was about a half a meter below the surface of the pool, the water reaching her belly button, but her head, shoulders, and breasts were out of the water. The rest of the mers bobbed along the surface, waiting. "Go ahead, little one," Petra urged, "Breathe." Michelle gave a little cough, and took her first breath of air, wiggling her arms and tail in the simple joy of being alive. Her arms did not have the random movements of human babies; it looked like she was really stretching. She looked around at the pool, her eyes alert, watching everyone. She squirmed in her mother?s arms and flipped herself over pushing herself up onto Petra?s magnificent breasts. She found a nipple, and started to suck vigorously, staring into her mother?s eyes. "Oh, she's got Michael's eyes," Petra sighed, inviting Gabriel, Xing, and Galina to come look at their newest pod member. "Just like I imagined so long ago. They are so blue it hurts." Galina and Xing rose to either side of Petra on the shelf, while Gabriel leapt out and headed for the store of dried fish at the back of the cave. The girl's all oo'd and ah'd at Michelle's eyes, which were indeed, wide and blue, and her head was already covered in a rich, thick mane of black hair that reached to her tiny, chubby hips. Her tail was mottled, like the triplets, but hers was lavender and black, rather than blue and white, and her fins, flukes, and dorsal membrane were decorated with a light green fringe. As she tugged on Petra's left breast, Michelle's flukes curled under and around Petra's right breast, brushing against Petra's right arm. Petra would remember that first connection for the rest of her life. The feelings of motherly love, contentment, the supportive presence of all four pods as they watched the first moments of mother and daughter, the tug of Michelle's tiny mouth, so unlike feeding other adults as they transitioned into mermaids or mermen, and the knowledge that the milk she was giving was now life giving, not tail giving. Petra felt the barest whisper of Peter, her former male self, rise up from within her memories, savoring this penultimate female moment of motherhood, feeling her magnificent breasts pump life giving food into her daughter's eager mouth. Yes, she recognized, she was truly and completely a female now. She stroked Michelle's soft hair, remembering the first moments she had first visualized the color of Michelle's eyes three nights before Michael died, those same eyes that were now shinning brightly as the little mermaid sucked at her breast. Her daughter's eyes were the same brilliant blue as Michael's. "Xing, Galina," Pat prompted, "Let's cut the cord." Galina took the small piece of thread that Phoebe handed to her, and tied it around the cord where it left Michelle, while Xing tied hers a few centimeters out from Petra?s vagina. Once both were tied, Xing cut the cord with one of their surgical knives harvested from the submarine. "What about the placenta?" asked Petra, stroking her daughter's hair as she suckled on her large breast. "Relax," Pat assured her. "Normally it is expelled anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour after birth in humans. It should be similar for us. You'll feel another urge to push or something like a cramp. It's probably best to wait on this shelf and simply deliver it into the water." "I'll start on the circulation," Danni announced, taking on her increasing role as domestic goddess. "I'll help," Cleo offered, and she joined Danni in swimming down the main tunnel. The mers had discovered that two well-placed mers near the front entrance could temporarily increase the gentle current that kept the water fresh throughout their system of underwater caves. The colder denser water rose up through the very large system of interlocking caves and pools towards the warmer interior of the mountain, but they could increase the circulation in the main tunnels and Moon pool by pushing water out the main entrance, rather than letting the mountain wick water up into the dormant volcano. When the Moon Pool was a bit too cloudy or the water seemed stale, a few minutes of strong mer-tail cleansing worked wonders. Gabriel returned to his sister-wives and held Petra and Michelle in his strong arms. Xing and Galina each leaned back on Gabriel's arms, and all four of them watched as Michelle fed. "You owe me five bucks," Phoebe said, giving Pat a poke in the ribs. "We don't use money, goofball," Pat said poking her back. "Michelle had a tail, fully formed, ready to go," Phoebe countered. "You said she would be helpless, blind, and flailing, like human babies, unable to swim right away. I was right, and you were wrong." "Alright miss-smarty pants," Pat giggled, rubbing her own belly in anticipation of what was to come. "We are more like other aquatic mammals, like dolphins and whales, who's young are born ready to go. What would you like instead of five bucks?" "First crack at John tonight," Phoebe said wiggling her eyebrows. "It's not my turn," Pat teased back, "it's Danni's, and you'll have to ask her." ***** Hank Connor scanned the island, searching for some sign of John and Patrick. His broad shoulders tanned by the sun, swung back and forth, while his now longish blond hair was gathered in a ponytail. He looked good for 47, and while he wasn't going to win any body building awards, he had kept in good shape. Beside him, his wife Janice trained another set of binoculars on the island as well. Slowly they swept their gaze back and forth over the horizon, looking for any sign of human activity. Their colleagues might have hid on one of hundreds of small islands within a 500-km radius of the now inactive nuclear testing site. "It?s worth a closer look," Janice concluded. "I don?t see any obvious signs, but there is enough canopy that they could be hidden in the jungle." "It?s better to check than to wonder," Hank agreed, as he paused to look at his wife of twenty years as she searched the island before them with her binoculars. She was two years younger, and still trim despite three wonderful children, who where all helping on this trip. Hank had figured an "extended family vacation" was a better cover to search for their missing friends than simply leaving San Francisco for three months. He admired Janice's long dark hair as it fell down her slim shoulders and toned body. Janice was a scuba instructor, and many hours in the water kept her in shape. "Robbie," Hank shouted below, "Will you please hail the Sea Dancer and let them know we?ve reached 463." "Will do," floated up from the hatchway. "If they weren?t such good guys, I?d have written them off a week ago," Hank said. "I almost wrote them off last year." "We will find them," Janice reassured her husband. "They're not dead." "How can you know?" Hank asked. "You said the same thing last summer." "I just do," she said, still scanning the horizon. "Last spring we weren't this well organized, we only had two weeks to look, and we didn't have Bill and his crew." "It does help to have help," Hank admitted. "We are covering twice as much territory in half as much time." "And we have all summer," Janice reminded him. "Not any more," Hank warned. "We only have six weeks left." "I know," Janice sighed. "But John is my brother-in-law, remember?" "Then we will find him," Hank reassured her as he resumed scanning the island. "Or what's left of him," he thought silently to himself. John was Janice's sister's husband's brother. Julie had married just out of high school, and her husband, Brian, was a cocky pilot for the Air Force. Brian's little brother, John, had become a friend to Janice and Hank when he had helped on a Greenpeace mission nearly fifteen years ago. Over the years, Hank and Janice had mentored many young men and women as they learned to become activists for the earth, but John would always be their first. They would not easily abandon the search for him and his sidekick, Patrick. After a few more minutes, Janice lowered her arms to the railing of their sailing ship, Freedom III, a Martin 49 (15 m), resting herself as they cruised towards the small island with only a jib up, keeping their speed slow. She sighed heavily. They had been searching for John and Patrick for over nine weeks, methodically going through each of islands they had agreed, so long ago, that were the most likely sites to be both habitable and yet still yield enough evidence of environmental damage to bring to the World Court. They had only a few more islands marked on their original plans, but four of the six "best" islands that they had searched so far were not habitable, thanks to recent eruptions, earthquakes, or a lack of fresh water. If the primary target island, the first place they checked nearly two months ago, was not habitable, then it was possible that the two men had gone to an island not marked on their map. Or worse; they had died long ago. They only had six more weeks before they had to head back to California, so that the girls could start college in the fall. Rescuing in-laws was a hell of a way to spend a summer vacation. "How many more probable?s do we have left?" asked Janice. "Three, 463, 332, and 399," Hank answered checking the heavily marked chart in his hand. "Sea Dancer confirms and will head to 332," announced Robbie as he bounded up from below. Robbie was their eldest son, now twenty-two, had been an art major in college. Named for his maternal grandfather, Robert had favored his mother's dark coloring and slim build. He was a dreamer, but a dutiful son, very much unlike his father, who had been a risk taker and troublemaker when he was a child. It had paid off handsomely, however, as Hank Connor had earned millions in the dot com revolution. "A week on 463?" asked Robbie. "Yes, that should do it," said Janice as she resumed scanning the island. "So, are we in for a day or two or longer?" asked Trevor as he stumbled up from the galley. He blinked in the sun and stretched his long and lanky body in a full body reach that sent his bones to snapping. "One week," Robbie said, turning to greet the taller young man who slumped onto the starboard bench. Trevor Green was the boat's resident geek, radio head, prankster, and a recent intern, as John had been so long ago. A strapping 25 year old, he had hooked up with Hank and Janice while he was still in college on a summer internship with Greenpeace. After graduating, he signed on as crew on their boat because they spent most of their time sailing along the California coast. When the call came for a "covert" search and rescue mission, Trevor was one of the few people Hank and Janice could trust. They were less concerned with discovery and more concerned about their twin daughters, Kate and Ann, who were both 17 and had inherited their father's blonde good looks and rangy athleticism. Trevor was one of the few people the Connor's had ever trusted around their daughters. "Why'd you let me sleep so late?" Trevor asked grumpily. "Because someone forgot to wake anyone else up for their share of night watch," Hank chided. "You can't stay up all night and still function the next day." "You can't, old man," Trevor said good-naturedly, "but I can." "When you can beat him in a swimming race at 100 meters," Janice teased, "then you can call him an old man." "Enough," Hank said, kissing his wife gratefully. "Let's get everyone ready for landfall." ***** "Sally," Eric whispered. "What?" she replied, ignoring his breech of protocol? "You need to see this," he said tersely, unable to believe what he thought he was seeing. "I'll be right there," she replied. Eric rubbed his eyes again but not from fatigue. He stared at the computer screen; the satellite image was slightly distorted from the extreme zoom his imaging program had created. Sally leaned over his shoulder and gasped. "Can you sharpen the focus?" she asked. "I've digitally enhanced this photo as much as possible," he whispered. "Do I need to remind you that this was shot from a satellite 438 miles (705 kilometers) above the surface of the earth?" "I thought these things could do license plates," she complained. "Some can, but not the one that passed over this particular swath of the South Pacific," Eric said, his fingers flying over his keyboard as a second image came into focus. The shot showed one section of a small island. In the center of the shot was a curving beach that looked to be about 200 yards (183 m) wide, which only took up about two inches (5 cm) of screen space on Eric's computer. In the center of the beach were four fuzzy humanoid shapes that appeared to be lying on the beach. Their lower halves were all brightly colored and vaguely fish-shaped. "That's not possible," she whispered. "I know," he breathed, not believing what he was seeing. "Have you crossref??" she asked. "Yes," he interrupted, swiftly typing commands into his keyboard. "Here is a composite of images from the last two years. You can see similar patterns starting about a year ago: here, here, and here," he said, his finger shaking as he pointed at the screen. "Just before that, there was this," he said, as he brought up another photograph, "large group of men and a few women. I don't know why this island hasn't been flagged before." The two of them looked closely at the photograph, a large group of 20 or more were spread out on the beach while two large yachts were anchored in the lagoon. "They all look human," Sally said. "But two months later," Eric said, bringing up another photograph. On the same beach, a similar number of figures were visible, however, their lower halves were brightly colored, sparkling in the sunlight, and vaguely fish-shaped. "Those cannot be real," she said. "Yes," he said. "They are real. There are too many sightings over too long a time to be faked. And that's why the computer didn't trigger a flag, it might not recognize "fish" on the beach as human activity." "Not fish ... mermaids," she said, barely believing what she was seeing. "Yes," he whispered, his heart pounding, as he brought up the most recent picture. "Real mermaids." "Real mermaids," she repeated, her chest rising and falling with her excitement. "A real merman too," he said, indicating the larger, darker form next to the bright green, blue, and yellow forms. "When were these last two pictures taken?" she asked. "Four days ago," he answered. "Have you entered any protocols yet?" she asked. "No," he said. "Seaman Edwards," Sally said softly. "I order you to forget what you are seeing." "Yes, Sir," Eric answered, surprised. "I want you to file all images, flags, documents, and references you have assembled pertaining to these records, protocol Blackgate," she continued, her soft voice trembling. "That will erase all ..." Eric said, confused. "That's an order, Seaman," she said tersely. "Yes, Sir," Eric said reluctantly as his fingers began to fly over the keyboard, following the complex set of instructions for the Blackgate protocol. "I need the officer over-ride code." "Turn away," Sally said, and she typed in a complex password. "You can finish now." Eric entered his own password, and then his finger hovered over the return key. "I have only two more weeks," he said softly. "Trust me," she whispered. He turned to see her eyes twinkling, the smallest smile pulling at her otherwise blank and professional face. Holding her gaze, he depressed the return key. All pictures and records were erased, and the algorithms would now ignore any changes to this island. It was now a classified location; only a human intervention would pull up data on this island. ***** Petra and Galina watched Michelle play in the tidal pool while Xing and Gabriel frolicked further out in the lagoon. Galina rested her head on Petra's lavender lap, feeling Petra's fin pressed into her own dorsal ridge. Michelle was climbing over Galina's flukes as they trailed in the pool, while Petra enjoyed the warm sun that fell across her body. She savored feeling dry for the first time in months. It had been nearly two months since she had been fully out of the water for any significant period. Now, three weeks after her birth, Michelle was growing like a weed, putting on weight and length at an astounding rate, happily babbling and cooing nonsense noises. Michelle had been able to swim and feed right from the start. On land, however, her fins were a different story. Michelle looked and crawled with as much grace as any human baby. However, she rarely ventured further than a few feet from her mother, though she would stay with Xing or Galina without complaint while Petra took a break from feeding Michelle to gather food on her own, or to spend some "quality time" with Gabriel. Michelle wouldn?t drink from anyone else than her own pod-mothers, but she favored Petra, not surprisingly. Sometimes she fussed when Xing fed her, but Galina was particularly good at feeding Michelle while Petra and Gabriel made love or took some time to swim alone together, perhaps because Galina?s breasts were so similar to Petra?s. Everyone speculated on how quickly mermaids would mature because Michelle seemed to be developing at twice or even three times the rate of human babies. Everyone had also been surprised by how quickly Petra's libido had returned, most especially Gabriel, though he wasn?t complaining. Xing, Galina, and Gabriel had fallen into an effortless routine of feeding both Petra and Michelle, and the other pods had helped, as they were able. "Do you think you?ll want a baby?" Petra asked as she stroked Galina?s soft, strawberry red hair. "Someday, yes." Galina answered after a moment, surprising herself. "After Xing delivers." When she had first been faced with her transition, she had hesitated, and even secretly hoped that she would replace Gabriel someday. Now, nearly nine months later, she shuddered at the thought. She dearly prayed that no harm would ever come to Gabriel, and that she could remain a sister-wife to Petra and Xing forever. As she lay with her head resting on Petra's "lap," she savored the wonderful feelings that her new body provided. She loved having Petra play with her hair, and she could feel Petra's strong and smooth tail move beneath her head and neck. She glanced up and was rewarded with the impressive sight of Petra's enormous breasts arching out into the air above her head. There had to be at least six or seven inches of breast, narrowing towards a very prominent and up-thrust nipple, now darkened by motherhood. She glanced down, looking at her own equally impressive breasts, sloping down from her shoulders, the weight of her breasts pulling each nipple towards her sides. She hugged herself underneath her breasts, feeling her small waist, and forced her breasts together, each mounding up from her body, her own nipples were smaller and pinker than Petra's but were equally prominent and stiff. She couldn't see her own arms past the beautiful bulk of her breasts, and with her right hand she scratched her nails across the underside of her breast, watching the flesh move but unable to see her hand. Galina could also feel Michelle as she scrambled over her flukes, playing with her trailing fringes, running her tiny fingers along the bony ridges that gave each fluke their shape and support. Michelle's warm little body felt good on her flukes, and she gently curled up the outer edges, cradling the infant mermaid in the center of her own wide and strong flukes. She raised her head up to look past her breasts and admired how beautiful Michelle was, her lush lavender and black tail nicely complimenting her own maroon and deep blue coloring. The bouncing movements of Galina's flukes kept Michelle's attention as she splashed and played in the water. Galina hugged herself tighter, feeling her strong stomach muscles tense as she bounced Michellein her flukes. She stroked her tummy and the line where her torso and tail were joined, enjoying the softness of her own skin and scales. She began to trace her nails up from her belly button to the center of her breasts, and then began to lift up her arm towards the peak of her nipple, but before she could reach her own nipple, Petra's hand moved from her hair and gave Galina a gentle tweak, tugging on the large, pink nipple. "I hope Xing and Gabriel finish soon," Petra said. "Then they can watch Michelle and we can have our turn." "Yes," Galina sighed, feeling her abdomen quiver in anticipation as her nipple stiffened even further in Petra's grasp. "Our turn," she whispered, reaching up to pull Petra?s other hand to her other breast. ***** "These boxes can go over there," Pat directed Phoebe, Emma, and Alexis to put the long box they were wrestling into one of the new "lab caves." "There are two more boxes," Alexis warned, pushing her end of the box out of the water up towards Emma, who together with Phoebe salamandered across the cave floor as directed. "Why didn?t you imagine mermaids who could have legs when they got dry?" asked Emma as she struggled with the heavy box. "If you tell me how to imagine the cell dynamics that it would take for such magic to work," Phoebe said. "If you had imagined magic, that might have helped," Emma whined. "Magic would still require some sort of energy to work," Phoebe prodded, "Sort of like you lifting your half of the box." "Which I could do if I had legs," Emma complained. "It would take less energy for you to lift this box than it would for you to transform your tissue and bone every time you got wet or dry," Phoebe countered. "You?re a nerd," Emma teased. "You?re still not lifting," Phoebe shot back. "I'm pregnant, and I'm lifting." "There?s no more room," Emma complained. "You sound just like your sister Cleo," Phoebe teased. "Are you sure you're not playing a practical joke on us by pretending to be Emma?" "Now that's a low blow," Emma shot back. "We wouldn't confuse you with your sister if you stopped complaining and lifted your end of the box," Pat said, stifling a giggle. She turned to Alexis. "Let?s go grab the next one," she urged, and turned back towards the opening below that lead back to the Moon Pool. Alexis followed, watching Pat?s shimmering green tail flutter in the dim light of tunnel before her. The new network of seaweed lights were growing slowly, shimmering strands of bioluminescent sea grasses that Galina and Alexis had fashioned using mermaid?s milk as a catalyst for transgenic transformations. Thanks to the relative ease with which plant life was adapted by their new technique, namely using mermaid?s milk as primordial soup mix in which organisms were altered and joined until the desired trait appeared in a second generation. The large network of caves was now completely illuminated by bioluminescence. For the past several months the five scientifically inclined mermaids had made great strides in adapting and using their secret weapon, mermaid milk, for a variety of new purposes. Their discoveries and inventions were greatly aided by the new equipment that the pods had slowly, but steadily transported from the Russian sub back to Mermaid Island. They now had fuel cells that powered their scientific equipment, which ran much more efficiently once Galina had used their mermaid milk to improve the efficiency of the proton exchange membrane inside each fuel cell. They had debated extracting the still intact nuclear reactor from the sub, but decided that they didn?t need electricity in large enough amounts to justify the effort and they didn?t want the increased danger of having the reactor on or near the island. Besides, it was too big to move with just mers pulling things along underwater. Phoebe and Emma were in awe of all the equipment on which they could learn and experiment. John and Patrick had brought some biological sciences equipment, scanners, microscope, etc., but the sub's equipment was well beyond the scope and power of what Greenpeace could provide. Once everyone had learned basic Cyrillic, the equipment was not too complicated to use. Some of it had to be altered for mer use, however, like the larger microscopes that were a bit too tall for a salamandering mermaid to reach easily. John had built ramps that could allow the mermaids to reach the viewing lens without having to rise up on their flukes alone, which all of the mers could do for very brief moments, but their bodies were too heavy to be supported by only the bottom of their tails for very long. The younger mermaids spent hours gazing into the microscopes and bio-scanners, memorizing cells, molecules, and DNA strands. In fact, if anyone was puzzled as to where Phoebe or Emma might be, the lab was a good first guess. Pat and Alexis pushed the last box through the water, back into the lab cave, holding it steady as they waited for Phoebe and Emma to finish stowing the second box at the back of the cave. The white-blue light from the LEDs they had strung together for this lab glowed brightly above them, while the pale green light from the altered sea grasses glowed dimly below. Only the lab cave had electrical lights, all of the mers preferred either their own enhanced sight, hearing, and mer- senses or the bioluminescent lights the Russians had created in their own sleeping or home caves. The lab cave needed the bright clear light so that they could perform experiments and assess their data, and unlike the Moon Pool Cave, there was no sunlight or moonlight in this cave. The new equipment that they were unloading was all fabrication machinery from the sub?s machine shop. When they had unpacked everything and set up the equipment, they would be able to weld, create bolts and other fasteners, and even cut steel. The first thing they were going to build was a variable buoyancy underwater sled. It had been hard work lugging back equipment from the sub, and some of the larger pieces had been dangerous to move, requiring two full pods, each working in perfect harmony, to get the large heavy pieces back to the caves. With the new sled, they could carry large, heavy loads over long distances with only one pod required to guide the sled. "Now we can start working on a new sled," Phoebe gushed as she took her end of the box from Pat. "The next time we find a wreck that we can salvage," Emma groaned as she took her end from Alexis, "it will only take a few days rather than a few months to transport stuff back to our island." The piece of equipment they most wanted to move first was the forward gun on the Russian sub. Despite Pat's objections, Gabriel would have his weapon for protection, one that could rain havoc on anyone who was unwelcome to their island. ***** Looking out from his office window on the 78th floor of the Petronas Towers, Malaki Dimaunahan felt both pride and frustration. He was proud of his far-flung business empire, which appeared to the authorities in Kuala Lumpur to be a legitimate import/export business. The vast majority of his wealth, however, did not come from the trinkets he shipped back and forth between several Asian countries and Australia, New Zealand, and South America, but rather came from his smuggling, prostitution, and drug businesses- for which his legitimate businesses was a cover. "Miss Chin," he barked into the intercom on his shiny, black desk. "Yes, Mr. Dimaunahan," an Asian accented voice replied in English. "Send for Tumibay," he said softly. "Yes, sir, right away," the voice answered. It had been a year since he ordered Alberto to lay low for a few months. After six months he got a bit worried and started looking for his cash to show up in strange places. After nine months, he had sent out discreet inquiries as to Alberto's whereabouts. Now, the time for subtlety had passed. He needed to find Alberto and his money. If he didn't, news of Alberto's defection could inspire others to break free from Malaki's control. Malaki walked over to the window and gazed down at the city below. Millions of people, from all over the South Pacific and Asia, seethed in the streets below. Tumibay would fly in from Fiji tomorrow or the next day, Malaki thought, fly back out to find Alberto two days after that, take a week or so to assemble and train a crew, and then another week or two to find Alberto's hide-a-way, get Malaki's money, and leave no loose ends. One-month tops, and Alberto would be history, and then news of his demise could be carefully distributed to keep others in line. He was tired of Alberto's recklessness, always in trouble with the authorities because he lacked finesse. Brutality had to be done delicately, carefully, so as not to arouse the suspicions of authorities whom you did not yet control. Malaki would miss Alberto's special talent as a recruiter of prostitutes, who unfortunately did not last long in Malaki's brothels. His clientele tended towards brutality as well, it seemed. He was confident, however, that someone else would rise to take Alberto's place. Malaki turned to a wall safe, and opened the small, heavy door. He reached inside and took out a small radio-tracking device. He had waited until now to use the device to find Alberto because he risked tipping his hand to the rest of the thugs who worked for him. If word got out that there were bugs on each of his operatives' boats, then that advantage would be lost. It had cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to secretly install bugs on all those boats without detection. Now, with millions of dollars at stake, it looked like a good business decision to risk some exposure. Tumibay would find Alberto and have Malaki's money returned to him in a month. After that, Alberto and his ruthless gang would no longer be a liability. ***** Eric looked out across the plaza where he was drinking coffee, the "LA Times" paper opened to the classified ads. Young mothers with children in strollers chatted and played along the plaza where it dipped down into Lake Anne, business men and women bent over tables discussing charts, graphs, and papers, and an young girl played guitar on a park bench. Eric wanted to be depressed, but it was such a beautiful morning that he couldn't be sad. He had been depressed for several weeks?ever since that afternoon when he deleted the mermaid files, and Sally had stopped talking to him. She broke her dinner date with him that night, and the next day at work, she was busy in another part of the building. She remained unavailable the next day, and the day after that. Her only response to an email he sent her was one line: "Trust me." He wanted to, but it was difficult. On his last day in the Navy, she came to his desk at the end of the day and offered him a handshake. She only shook her head softly to his raised eyebrow and left his cubicle quickly. Now, after two weeks waiting for his plane trip to become a reality, he was finally beginning to feel somewhat himself. For the last two mornings, he had come down to this coffee shop to by the out-of-town paper and scanned it for possible jobs. The morning sun warmed his dark brown hair, and he returned to looking at the classified ads. As he scanned jobs that he really didn't want, he wondered why Sally hadn't returned his phone calls after she resigned. A mutual friend told him that she did, in fact, resign her commission. Eric hoped that she would make some time for him before she moved to her new job. If she was still sticking to her original plans, today was the day she was to start her training, and so he would never see her again. He had hoped or thought that they had shared something more, something that would require a goodbye at the very least. He shook his head, and readjusting his glasses, he returned his focus to the newspaper. After a few moments of silent concentration, an envelope dropped from above his head onto his paper. Relying on his military training, he didn't flinch. He pushed the envelope off the ad he had been reading, while noticing that return address on the envelope was for Qantas Airlines. "I thought you told me to forget everything?" he said calmly without turning around. "What was the latitude and longitude of that island?" asked a soft voice behind him. "I forget," he answered with a slight smile. "I order you to remember," the voice said. "Upon what authority do you so order," Eric asked. "Upon this authority," Sally said as sat in his lap and kissed him passionately for several minutes. Several times Eric tried to speak, but Sally pressed her mouth to his, twisting her tongue into his, nibbling on his lips, and holding his face to hers. "3 degrees, 23 minutes, and 51 seconds south, and 174 degrees, 40 minutes and 52 seconds west," said Eric breathlessly when she finally let him go. "The plane leaves tomorrow morning," she said, recovering from the passion of the kiss herself. "What do you need to travel to Fiji?" "You," he answered, reaching back for another kiss. "Seriously, we're going," she said standing up and straightening her skirt. "Seriously, you're all I need," he said, picking up his coffee and waving her to sit down. "My passport is current, I travel light anyways, and I've got all my discharge pay and my savings. I can throw a few things in a suitcase, and buy a surfboard when we get to Fiji." "How can you be so easy about all this?" she asked. "I'm not complaining, but it seems so incredible to me. I treated you like shit for the past four weeks. Aren't you going to ask me why?" "No. You'll tell me if I need to know," he said. "How do you feel about me?" she asked tentatively. "Then or now?" he asked. "Both," she answered. "We have something really special, like a perfect wave," Eric answered slowly, thinking. "I guess I'm still something of a beach bum, just taking it as it comes, hoping for a good day on the water. I was upset for the past week or so that you wouldn't even say goodbye, but that doesn't matter now; you're here. Besides, you did ask me to trust you." "You are something special, the very last person I ever expected to meet in the Navy," she giggled, leaning across the table to kiss him again. "Ditto," he said. "How much money do you have?" she asked. "Now, that's a personal question coming from a girlfriend who hasn't spoken to me in over a month," he teased. "We couldn't risk being discovered," she said earnestly, leaning towards him, her blouse opening to reveal the swell of her shapely breasts. "Discovered doing what?" Eric asked, trying not to look at her cleavage. "My father already blames you for everything, you know, resigning my commission, changing to a civilian job," she said with a sigh. "I know all that," Eric said. "Is that way you didn't speak to me for the last month?" "Partly," she said. "I needed to make sure that the last thing my father might suspect was that you were connected to what we are about to do." "We?" he asked. "Oh, Eric," she said, caressing his face. "I am asking you to help me run away from everything my family wants for me, and to help me to become a mermaid," she answered. "What?" Eric asked, his eyes flashing back to Sally's. "You think you can become a mermaid." "If they're real, they had to become mermaids some how," she argued. "Oh, they're real," Eric reassured her. "Those photographs showed mermaids on that beach at least fifty times over several months at all hours of the day, and a few at night. No one stays in a mermaid costume that long." "Then, Neptune or whatever or whomever can cast the same spell on me," she said, with a far away look in her eyes. "On us," Eric said softly, taking one of her hands in his. "That was a childhood fantasy for both of us." "Yes," she said, remembering. "We discovered that secret the first time we made love. You wanted to make love in the water, but the pool was too cold." "But it wouldn't be too cold if we were mermaids and mermen," Eric said, laughing. "But I am not ready to believe in Neptune or magic." "Well, then how are there mermaids on that island?" she asked. "I don't know," he said lightly, picking up the envelope and standing up. "Let's go and find out." "Wonderful," she said, springing up into his embrace. "Fifty thousand dollars," he whispered as they hugged fiercely. "Seventy-five thousand," she whispered back. "That will buy us some really good surf boards and scuba equipment," he said. "Hopefully, we won't need it," she said. ***** Galina and Petra floated in the sand bowl that lay in the middle of the south lagoon, the "mermaid?s lagoon" as the pods all called Pat and John?s original landing spot. The bright sunlight sparkled along their dark rich tails, still bright in the clear water of the lagoon, ten meters below the surface. Galina admired Petra?s flowing hair, her shapely shoulders from which hung two incredible mounds of feminine flesh, their large and dark nipples rising another two centimeters from her areola. Galina looked down at her own set of matching breasts. Her nipples were slightly smaller and pinker, because she had not yet become pregnant. But Petra?s breasts had not fallen or sagged in pregnancy, another benefit of being a mermaid, she supposed. Using her pelvic and mid-tail fins, Galina pushed herself towards her sister-wife, each fin swirling back and forth, like a Chinese fan dance, moving as slowly and as seductively as possible. "No," Petra urged. "Today it is my turn." "No," Galina said firmly. "You always give. Today, I will give to you." "But," Petra protested. "You know I am right," Galina whispered as she began to slowly rub her body along Petra?s lush contours. "Now be quiet." "Ha," Petra giggled as she felt Galina?s breasts brush against her tummy. "You know what I mean," Galina admonished her. "You are allowed to moan only," she said pushing her breasts into Petra?s small waist, using her tail to circle around Petra?s long and beautiful body. She felt Petra's hand begin to stroke her tail as it slid past her fingers. "No touching," she warned, as she felt Petra's fin swing back to brush against her. "Fins too!" "You're no fun," Petra whined. "I'll show you fun," Galina whispered as she swung her own pelvic fin along Petra's waist, rippling her fin against Petra's hip like fingers drumming on a tabletop. "Oh, don?t make me wait," Petra complained, "No one but Michelle has kissed me since last night. You and Xing are each up to three orgasms since then." "I said quiet," Galina teased as completed her first circuit around Petra's quivering body. She lifted her face up and nibbled the underside of Petra?s overhanging breast as she curled herself around her lover. "Ohhhhh," Petra moaned, feeling the tensions in her body begin to build as Galina expertly swirled around her body, brushing her with tail, fins, fingers, tongue, and breasts. Petra could feel her flukes begin to quiver, as her passion built within. Galina ran her fingers along Petra?s waist as she circled around her lover, tracing the changing contours of the shimmering line that joined her waist to her tail. Her fingers rose up slightly as the line arched up around the edge of her hip into Petra's small waist, and she could feel Petra's pelvic fins fluttering in the water as she passed by. Her fingers then traced the line back down slightly as it crested around Petra's muscles that used to be her rear-end, and then sharply rising all the way up her back like a widow?s peak as it followed her dorsal ridge nearly three-fourths of the way up her spine towards her neck. There, just between her shoulder blades, an especially sensitive patch of forest green fringe marked the top of Petra's dorsal ridge. Petra arched backwards, hoping to force Galina's fingers to brush her sensitive fringes, but Galina held her course. She continued tracing her fingers along the line of scales and skin, following the other side of the dorsal ridge back down to Petra's prominently curving backside. She was tempted to deviate slightly towards one of the two dimples that sat the base of Petra's gills, above her tail, punctuating the small of her back. Instead, she followed the line up over the other hip, above her other pelvic fin, until it returned to the concave swell of Petra?s belly. Galina admired how quickly it had returned to its previous shapeliness after Michelle?s birth, and the way it was now jumping at her feather light touches. Petra was a bundle of nerves, all seeking release, her body consumed with need, at the same time she savored the slow, gentle seduction her pod-mate was forcing her to endure. Galina let her fingers fall down to Petra?s fins, and traced the dark green fringes along the trailing edges, watching as Petra?s movements became more frantic, seeking release from her slowly building seduction. She put her now slender hand along side Petra?s swollen vagina, her clitoral hood pulled back, the nub of her large clit exposed to her view. She could feel Petra?s heart beating, the blood flowing through her tail, and as she lay her head centimeters from Petra?s vent, she could see each heartbeat in the nearly imperceptible movement of her labia. Galina put her other arm around Petra, holding her tail gently to her body, her own breasts pressed around Petra?s tail. "Ohhhhhhhh," Petra moaned as Galina?s hand pushed over the top of her mons, causing her to arch her body towards Galina?s gentle pressure. "Uh, uh, uh," she urged, "More ... more ... more," she pleaded as Galina began making small circles with her palm pressed to her vent. Petra reached up with her own hands and began stroking her own breasts, pushing them together, remembering the days when she was a young boy, dreaming of a bra, stuffing his mother?s nylons in a discarded bra, wishing he had been born a girl. Petra ran her hands out from under her magnificent breasts to her nipples where Michelle fed every few hours, day and night, feeling her large nipples now dark and thick, poking into the water. She pulled on her nipples, rolling each in her fingers as Galina slipped two fingers into her vagina. "Oh, my god YES," Petra urged, pulling fiercely on her own breasts, moving her massive endowments back and forth in her grasp, feeling the water caress each breast as she moved them back and forth in the bright, tropical water. Galina savored the heat that surrounded her fingers, added two more to the mix, and moved her face to the top of Petra?s vent so she could begin to caress her clit with her tongue. She kept her other hand wrapped around Petra?s wide hips for leverage, and bore down on her clit, her tongue flicking and sucking her throbbing nub. "Oh, mmyyyyyyyy goooooooooood," Petra wailed, as an orgasm crashed through her body, her breasts now spilling milk into the sea. As soon as the waves of passion seemed to slow down, she felt Galina shove her entire hand into her, filling her up nearly as completely as Gabriel?s penis. Galina?s tongue returned to her clit, and Petra felt an even larger orgasm rise up from her depths and overtake her body. "Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Gaaaaaaliiiiiiiinnnnnnna" she screamed, as waves of pleasure surged through her body, twisting and turning up and down her torso, pulsing around Galina?s hand, now trapped within her spasming vagina. Galina held on for dear life, feeling Petra?s cunt walls ripple over her hand, knowing and savoring the pleasure she was giving to her pod- mate. After many minutes of shaking and quaking, Petra finally calmed down. It was at that precise moment that Galina began to twist her hand back and forth, deep within Petra?s steamy depths, brushing the thick knob of nerves that was her G-spot with her knuckles and thumb. Petra lost consciousness after a few minutes, a smile frozen on her face. ***** Hank stretched towards the morning sky, pushing his toes into the cool sand not yet warmed by the sun. As he slowly went through his yoga routine, a sun salutation, he calculated how much time they had left. It would take them about three weeks to make the crossing from 463 to 399, and assuming it took another week to comb through that island, and assuming that they didn't find any evidence of John or Patrick, that would give them two more weeks to make it back to civilization. The Sea Dancer was still at 332, as it was a much larger island and took time to comb through dense jungle that could cover all trace of human activity in a very short time. They could meet Bill and the others in Australia or even back in San Francisco. "Can I join you?" his son, Robbie, asked. "Sure," he answered. For several minutes the two men stretched, bent, squatted, stretched, and arched their way through the sun salutation together. From her vantage point further up the beach, Janice noted the way Hank made the exercise seem manly, while Robbie made it seem beautiful. Everything her son did, he made it into a work of art. Janice pushed aside the thought, which she did not think often, that Robbie's gracefulness and beauty seemed at odds with his gender, which as far as anyone knew, was a straight male. Robbie had dated, but never very seriously. She had once confronted him in high school, hoping to support him if he was gay. He had only smiled at her, and thanked her for her love, but reported that he wasn't gay. She walked slowly towards the two men in her life. "Do we ship off to 399 or do we head back to Australia?" she asked. "339," said Hank in between stretches. "We should be able to be there for a few days, and then call in a seaplane for the girl's flights." "The girl's flights?" asked Robbie. "I've decided that if we don't find them on 399," Hank said relaxing for a minute on the sand, "I think the four of us should continue search for another month." "Oh, Hank," Janice gushed. "That would mean so much to me." "Robbie?" Hank asked. "I'm a graduate, and currently unemployed," Robbie answered. "I'm at your disposal." "Let's get everyone together, and get going," Hank said, rising to embrace his wife. ***** The morning sun glinted across the sea, spilling across the eastern horizon, the impossible blue of the sky melting into the shimmering white-caped blue of the endless waves and water. The chug-a-chug-a- chug of the old engine throbbed in the vastness of the ocean, as the one-meter swells slapped against the old metal hull of the ancient fishing boat. One hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars might purchase a heck of a surfboard, but it didn't go far with ocean going vessels, thought Eric ruefully as he trained his binoculars across the horizon. "Morning lover," Sally said brightly as she emerged from the galley below, two mugs of coffee in her hands. "Morning sunshine," Eric said, gratefully reaching for the steaming cup of joe. They had traded watches for the past two days, heading steadily but slowly for the small island in the vastness of the South Pacific Ocean. "That crazy old man was wrong," Sally observed as she watched the sun rise over the water. "What do you mean?" asked Eric, slipping his arm around her slender waist, marveling again at the beauty and strength this smart and driven woman possessed. "The hunk of metal and bolts didn't sink, and we're not lost," she said, checking the compass and her notes on the navigational map on which she had charted their progress. "Yea, but I did lose my glasses," he noted ruefully. "I?ll tell you if there is anything interesting to look at," she giggled. "Do you still think we got a deal on this hunk of junk?" he asked. "Ask me tomorrow," she answered. "Why tomorrow?" he asked. "Because we will be there," she answered. "I hope those mermaids are nice?" he observed. "I'll bet you do," she teased, elbowing him in the stomach. "Are you sure you don?t mean pretty?" "I?ve lost my glasses, remember? Besides, you're the only mermaid I want," he protested. "More to the point, we only have ten thousand dollars left, and a short wave radio that might not work. If the mermaids don't welcome us, we could be in deep trouble. Marooned on an island, with no hope of rescue, because no one in the world knows where we have gone." "In two days, my father will have us tracked to Fiji where we bought the boat, and someone will tell him that we were headed north from there with a weeks worth of food and some camping equipment," she answered. "If he gets really upset, it will only take about a month to have the entire South Pacific scoured for our bodies." "Your dad will be upset," Eric said. "You know that he will come looking for you." "I know," she sighed. "But that just means that the mers will have been warned, and we will have joined them." "I still don't think we can just be changed into mermaids," Eric worried. "Our satellites have been taking pictures of the earth for forty years, and really good pictures for the last twenty," she argued. "If those mermaids had existed before a year ago, someone else would have spotted that pattern. We wouldn't have been the first." "Perhaps," Eric agreed. "What will it be like, do you think, to be a mermaid?" Sally thought for a long moment, finishing her coffee, watching the sea as it slowly slid by their old, slow boat. "It will be like diving, I hope, only better. We will float in a world of beauty without worrying about air, feeling the water caress our bodies like a lover," she said. "It would mean that I could simply be, be ... simple, in a way, instead of always feeling like I had to do things to please my father." "What kind of mermaid do you want to be?" he asked, st