Conspiracy of DreamsChapter 38 Fire One
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Conspiracy Of DreamsChapter 39: Fire Two free porn video
Who was Glory Rose Morganstern? Until her enslavement for copyright infringement three years ago, Slave Rose had been the premier theorist in learning techniques. Her fall from the highest circles of Capitallian academia was held up as proof that 'it can happen to anybody.' Rose protested her innocence--but at her trial she pled guilty and had become the property of the man who had privately prosecuted her, one Neville Pugh. Neville Pugh was also the owner of record of three dozen of the rescued Capitallian captives of the USR mind control research compound.
Hank knew considerably more about Glory Rose Morganstern, born George Huston Peckworth, because of the extensive dossier kept on her by the United States of America (called United States Remnant by Capitallians). Glory was in her 40's and not exactly a sexy woman. That didn't matter to someone born in the wrong body. The dossier on Slave Rose included a psychiatric profile along with full medical records, a very personal history that Capitallia's privacy laws were intended to protect. Slaves, of course, had no privacy from their Capitallian owners, but Slave Rose's extensive file was intrusive even for a slave.
That wasn't important at the moment. Three Chinese-built copies of the six-engined Antonov 126 cargo transports were winging their way to the coast of Georgia out of the Old Hunter Army Air Field near Savannah as a team of commandos plotted the rescue of Doctor Glory Morgan stern. The commandos had rescued 53 other people who were wrongfully enslaved and then illegally removed from Capitallia to the United States Remnant (AKA the old United States of America).
A commando named Donna was in charge of the original rescue mission--which was successful so far. Glory Rose Morganstern was the only rescue target missed. From the command center in Pensacola, Florida, Republic of Capitallia a slave named Kandi Cones was coordinating a flow of information to her owner, Hank Dalton.
"These are the official building blue prints," Kandi said. From headquarters in Pensacola, Florida, Kandi was inside the USR's most secure communications and data systems because of her work on Project Goldfish. "USR Federal Aviation Administration records indicate that there is currently a Chinese-made helicopter on the site--a pirated copy of the old Sikorsky S-70. That is big enough to get you to safety. The Wacky Wench and Jim are standing by in international waters."
Kandi sent the data package of Ambassador Cai's USR beach house retreat. A permanent security force of 12 men and two dogs were guarding the beach house, which was more of a sprawling resort than a simple cottage. Ambassador Cai was known to travel with a close protection team of 9 more men.
"Apologies, Kandi," Hank remarked, "but these are OFFICIAL records. Brenda, Rene, Maxine, Trix, Amanda, Binky and Red Baron, be ready for the layouts to be different from what the official records say. The map is not the territory. We will locate Doctor Morgan stern by her bio digital slave control implants--there's a GPS function that is supposed to help owners find runaway slaves. An owner or an owner's agent, if possessing the right decryption key, can pick up those GPS signals identifying a particular slave. The signals are encrypted to protect the privacy of the slave's owner since the ability to track a slave would necessarily be the ability to track the owner. Kandi, thanks for the real-time data on Doctor Morganstern's location and for getting us the decryption key for Doctor Morganstern so we can track her within the compound. You lost track of her GPS signal coming from her implants because Ambassador Cai's villa has a GPS scrambler on site--but you tracked her to the villa where you lost the signal and Dr. Morganstern's signal isn't anyplace else. When we get on the compound we'll be able to pick up Dr. Morganstern's slave implant signal with our suit radios and that key. Trix, I need you to fly the helicopter. I think that it may have Chinese labels on all the controls and you read and write Chinese better than any of us--even with commando implant enhancements. Brenda, I need you to guard our way out. Brenda and Trix will get to the helicopter and drop anybody within 100 meters of it. Get it ready for flight. I just hope Ambassador Cai keeps his helicopter fully fueled. If not, we'll improvise.
"Amanda, you will bring up the rear," Hank continued. "This is going to be a diamond formation with me on point and Rene to the left, Maxine to the right--Maxine is left handed and her heavy infantry-model Direct Energy Weapon will have a better field of fire for her on the right flank. Interval will be tight--ten meters. GPS information says that Doctor Morgan stern is in this building."
Hank gave instructions to the two talking birds, a fisher eagle named Binky and a red tailed hawk named Red Baron. All this took place as three 6-engined jet aircraft lumbered to an altitude of 4000 meters at a speed of 500 kilometers per hour, with the aircraft separated by three or four kilometers between each other in a loose V-formation. Only 12 minutes elapsed between the three large Chinese-built aircraft leaving the Old Hunter Army Air Field near Savannah, Georgia, United States of America and the rear ramps of three aircraft opening up. Six figures fell out of the three airplanes, two holding big predatory birds. The Antonov copies lumbered on out over the Atlantic Ocean as the six commandos formed up in two groups. The avians were released and all eight spread their wings when the group had descended to 1000 meters, slowing to a speed of 160 kilometers per hour.
Amanda felt excitement--the world's best roller coaster rides didn't compare to the free-fall followed by controlled flight using extendable wings. Amanda's low fuel warning alerted Amanda to five minutes of powered flight remaining--not an issue with a flying suit.
"That's no Sikorsky," Hank said over the two-way digital radio system. "That's a Mil Mi-8 helicopter."
"I've got it, boss," Trix announced. "I wonder if they were using the electronic signature of a Sikorsky Blackhawk as a cover?"
There were sentries down below. A dog and his handler patrolled the fence line. Someone was night blind in a gate house controlling access. Another sentry stood outside a cabin. A third sentry was walking around the helicopter. Two more sentries were posted on the roof and those two were the first to be incapacitated by stunner fire. A Direct Energy Weapon (DEW) isn't silent, nor does it sound like movie ray guns--but the noise of discharge often gets ignored because it doesn't sound weapon-like at all. Depending upon power setting the DEW will make a mild pop to a thunderclap and the visual signature will range from invisible to a purple flash. Direct Energy Weapons have no ballistic trajectory and for all intents and purposes take effect immediately. That means distance and target lead is not a factor as with traditional projectile weapons. Hank, Rene and Maxine took down their assigned targets in less than one second. Trix and Brenda laid out the helicopter guard and took control of the Russian-designed rotary-wing aircraft before they had touched down.
"Amanda, on me," Hank commanded as his wings folded and he hit the ground running for the door. "Doctor Morgan stern is inside according to the GPS feed. The floor plan will appear on your faceplate."
"Hank," Trix announced, "this is a Sichuan Lantian Helicopter Company Mi-171C. The data plates say that the airframe was built in 2099. It looks like Capitallian avionics have replaced the Chinese. I can reprogram the cockpit controls in English."
"Is there time?" Brenda asked.
"No. I'm starting the preflight," Trix said. "Take-off in seven minutes."
"Helicopter secure," Brenda announced.
"Initiating distractions," Maxine announced as she ran to the left and Rene ran right.
Hank was running at 50 kilometers per hour when he spun so that his back slammed through the French doors of the cottage. Hank's body punched through the 'shatterproof' transparent polycarbonate that had replaced glass throughout the USR and left a trail of sparks--the polycarbonate was powered as a replacement for both curtains and pictures. Whatever the wall art had been, the French door was pebble-sized fragments now. Hank's inertia carried him across the room to crash into the opposite wall. The two figures on the bed stirred and Hank shot them both with his forearm stunners at the same moment. Hank bounced off the wall, yanked the Western-style bedclothes from the mattress and wrapped the two people in sheets and blankets.
"Amanda, guards at the door!" Hank announced through Amanda's implants.
Amanda responded immediately--when the door opened the guard lit up with a stun bolt and dropped. The man behind him dropped from Amanda's second bolt--just like shooting shadows in the simulator, in the modified feelie booth that Amanda trained in. As she had been trained to do, Amanda advanced into the room so that she could see through the doorway into the next room. A third and a forth man fell to Amanda's stunner fire, and then a fifth man. Hank was bundling the two people out the shattered hole that had been stylish French doors, easily $5000 USR dollars in damage.
Outside, the other two commandos were exploiting the less-lethal nature of stunner fire from three weapons: a pair of light Direct Energy Weapons built into the forearms of their commando armor and a heavier infantry model DEW positioned to fire over one shoulder. The commandos were prepared to kill--but the mission profile called for zero fatalities--zero injuries if possible. Each commando used one of their backpack missiles to blast the motor pool, more for diversion than for any other effect. Mini missiles tore into unoccupied structures and set the buildings smoldering--the fire suppression systems in the buildings triggered, filling the rooms with inert fire suppressant and creating a no-travel zone for anyone without oxygen--or anyone who couldn't hold his breath and run for several minutes.
As Hank glided towards the helicopter holding two bundled people in his arms, Hank was in radio contact with the two sid birds flying overwatch and with Kandi Cones in the command center back at PAM headquarters in Florida.
"Red Baron reports a police cruiser en route to our location," Hank told Kandi. "We need another six minutes."
"I'm on it, dear master," Kandi said. "I see Binky's video feed and you are clear for take-off on bearing zero-niner-five."
"I copy zero-niner-five," Trix acknowledged as she shucked her flight module and tossed it in the back of the 'made in Sichuan' helicopter. With the flight module detached Trix could sit in the pilot's seat. The auxiliary power unit was started with battery power, and the APU was used to start both main turbine engines. The tail and main rotors began turning as Trix checked off each item. "Hank, we have only a quarter tank of fuel. We have about 100 kilometers of range."
"I've told Jim," Kandi said from Pensacola. Instant global communications were impossible two centuries ago--in the 1930's 'instant' meant in an hour or two, if atmospherics were favorable. In the year 2134 the communications lag was mere microseconds from Savannah, Georgia to Pensacola, Florida and back. "He will have the Wacky Wench in position approximately one hour from now. Just follow the bearing of zero-niner-five."
"That means we have to ditch in the ocean," Trix said.
"It just sucks to be a commando," Brenda quipped as she fused the main gate closed with her infantry model DEW, locking it as permanently as if she had welded it--and Brenda was 130 meters from that gate.
"I like it when it sucks," Rene snickered.
"I want it to suck more," Trix completed the Commando Mantra, a psychological trick commandos used on themselves.
"The police are falling back and waiting for backup," Kandi reported. "Standard USR police procedure. Smart, too. They just have their 5.7mm pistols, a shotgun and a submachine gun, nothing that can hurt you in commando armor."
"They can poke holes in MY helicopter," Trix snarled as she completed her preflight.
Hank had reached the helicopter and had shoved two people inside the side door.
Amanda was falling back on the helicopter, protecting Hank's back.
"I got through to the two police," Kandi announced. "Ambassador Cai's beach house is off-limits to USR police without direct orders from headquarters. I've shorted out the communications system and emergency services won't respond for at least fifteen minutes. Maybe longer--Ambassador Cai likes his privacy."
"In fifteen minutes we will be 12 kilometers away," Trix said as the helicopter came up to full power.
Brenda, Rene and Maxine were mostly watching now. Nobody poked a face out of hiding.
"All USAF defensive patrols are clear of your flight path," Kandi announced, "and won't be in intercept range. I've control of their communications circuits and they'll do what I tell them. The Joint-STARS aircraft on radar picket sees only what I want them to see."
Amanda joined Hank as he secured the two people he pulled out of the cottage. One was Doctor Morgan stern--the other was Ambassador Cai. Amanda began assisting in medical treatment of the rescued slave and the ambassador. When unwrapped from the bedclothes both proved to be naked. Hank removed a fake penis from Doctor Morganstern's rectum and bagged it as evidence.
"How about that," Hank commented, "China has brought back imperial eunuchs."
"Huh?" Trix asked from the front of the helicopter.
"Huh?" Amanda asked from beside Hank.
"Huh?" Kandi asked.
"Take-off in ten seconds," Trix began counting down. The three commandos covering from outside, a fisher eagle and a red tailed hawk dashed to the helicopter and got aboard. "Three, two, one."
The Russian-designed, Chinese-built egg beater lifted off the helipad and lurched forward as the hatches slammed shut. Trix flew without running lights, without the anti-collision beacon, with the mandatory transponder shut off. Transponders were how the USR tracked aircraft--since the late 1980's continental radar coverage had been replaced by transponders. When a transponder quit transmitting, as did those aboard the four doomed airliners on September 11, 2001, the aircraft vanished from the air traffic control system. The ambassador's helicopter's transponder was set with several identification codes--including a rental Sikorsky S-70 Blackhawk. Trix chuckled as the helicopter flew east.
"Help me finish bathing them," Hank told Amanda. "I'm out of wet wipes and I need your supply. I need to diaper them both."
"What happened to the ambassador?" Amanda pointed at the rotund Chinese ambassador's smooth crotch. Cai was devoid of genitalia.
"I told you," Hank explained. "He's an imperial eunuch. China used to remove the entire male package--penis, testes, scrotum. They were referred to as 'clean shaved slaves' and were surgically modified as an early form of behavior control. Many ancient cultures believed that eunuchs would be loyal and submissive compared to intact males--and females, of course, were never trustworthy. I'm surprised. This tells me that China's leaders are desperate to stay in power. It fits in with the attempt to acquire Capitallian bio digital slave control implant technology."
"Slave Rose has a penis?" Amanda asked as she cleaned fecal matter from the feminized slave. Being stunned has a distressing tendency to loosen one's bowels and bladder.
"Doctor Morganstern is a transsexual," Hank fitted the adult diaper to the Chinese ambassador. "She had her testes removed so that her hormone treatment would be more effective. See her breasts? All hormonal. No implant. Doctor Morgan stern was nine days away from final genital surgery when she was enslaved for plagiarism of her own papers. Doctor Morganstern is Capitallia's foremost authority on learning systems. She vanished last year and was out of Capitallia before I realized she was missing. Matter of fact, Project Goldfish located Doctor Morganstern. Officially, she had been sentenced to five years as a slave and sold at auction. I was working with a slave advocacy agency to free Slave Rose when she vanished--and Slave Rose's penis was the give-away."
"How?" Amanda asked.
"Because slave advocates can examine naked slaves to make sure that the Kinder and Gentler slave regulations are followed," Hank explained. "When the advocate reported that Slave Rose was female, I asked for documentation that Slave Rose's sex change had been completed. Sex change surgery on slaves is prohibited because slaves do have some rights to bodily integrity. Sex change and other permanent modifications can only be done by contract or by court order--like Trey's soft castration."
"What's soft about castration?" Amanda asked.
"Joan was supposed to remove Trey's testicles," Hank said. "Since he is supposed to have them reattached in five years, what Joan did was program the medical booth to shrink Trey's testes and then move them up into Trey's abdomen. The testes are in hibernation. Joan also configured Trey's penis and scrotum so that he appears castrated. Basically, Trey IS castrated, and three officers have verified this--but instead of the time and expense to clone new sex organs, a simple two-hour procedure in a medical booth will restore Trey to full function. You didn't see how much longer it took to restore Ambassador Cai's manhood because the cloning was done in advance--all we did was attach the bits."
"Isn't modern sexual reassignment surgery a simple out-patient procedure now?" Amanda asked. "Medical booths seem like magic."
"No, the medical booths are not magic," Hank said, "not in the sense of getting something for nothing. Danny Albertson received a new heart in a medical booth--not really new, just repaired in a 30 hour procedure in a medical booth. It cost $100,000 because of that lifetime guarantee. For sexual reassignment therapy in a medical booth there'd be a paperwork trail. Joan and I were the primary patent holders on the technology and I wrote the rules on their use. The documents for Slave Rose were not there--as one of the patent holders, I had access to that privacy information for the sole purpose of ensuring contract compliance. There was no record of medical booth use on Slave Rose and the woman presented to the slave advocate didn't look as if she had undergone non-medical booth technology in the last four weeks. There'd be bruising and major surgery would require at least a week non-productive recovery time."
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