Green Ice Book 2

Green Ice Author: Morlock Title: Green Ice Universe: The Hotel Summary: The next generation brings the business to a peak only dreamed of by its founders. Keywords: MF+, FF+, bd, tort, ws, reluct, slavery, medical Edited 2/26/13 Book 2 --------------- Prolog Boats were the only practical method of long distance travel across oceans.  And in fact, were the main method of sea based commerce also.  With the collapse of the petrochemical industry, the massive worldwide system of production and distribution came to a screeching halt.  Compared to the start of the century, only a fraction of that commerce now moved from factory to consumer.  For one thing, there were far fewer factories - a result of there being far less raw material available.  For another, the average citizen's discretionary credit balance didn't allow for much consumer spending. The government had long since regulated frivolous production out of existence.  There were industries turning out luxury items, for certain, but they were never seen nor purchased by the masses of the country.  As an example, coffee on the street was an artificial, totally man made chemical compound.  It tasted like coffee, looked like coffee, and kept a person awake the same way.  But, in it's subtle way, it wasn't the real thing - not to anyone who had ever tasted the actual liquid made from a real black bean.  I imported coffee beans from around the world, in the barter system, and the result was eagerly purchased by my customers - but obviously only those in the upper slice of society.  It also made a fabulous gift to someone, say, a government official who was being groomed. Not by happenstance, most of the small manufacturing facilities making high end items or commodities, were owned by the Enterprise.  Of course, they were subject to the same ration rules as everybody else.  That is where our world wide barter system came into play.  For instance, if a production of, say, floor carpet was planned.  The normal process was to apply to the ration board for a certain quantity of vinelester thread.  If the purchasing agent was lucky, he would get a certificate in a few months from the bureaucrats for so many tons of material.  That didn't mean that he got the thread - just the right to buy it.  It might take another year to find a factory who also got the ok to buy the material to make the thread to sell to us.   That is, if it was straight forward, which it seldom was.  Usually, somewhere along the chain, some two-bit government official would hold up the process, either seeking some payola for his ok, or just wanting to show that he, by god, had the last word. Sometimes that backfired.  If he really got too greedy or too uppity and screwed with the Enterprise too badly, that person, if male, found himself working in a mine somewhere in the third world, or if female, staring at the ceiling with her legs spread in some bordello ten thousand miles away. Usually, some politician somewhere used the opportunity to "request" that his project be placed first on the list to buy the carpet.  Maybe he needed his office complex remodeled, or possibly his home.  The practical aspect was that until he got the assurance that he was on the list, the permissions seemed to never come through.  Of course, this type of political hostage taking was no different than politicians had done for millennia. If we had depended on government channels for our production, I would have given it up long ago.  A major department of the Enterprise was engaged in procuring hard-to-get materials from all around the world.  They would prioritize a list and send it to Sallie, who would then publish it to our customers.   At the next auction, many of the wanted materials would be offered as payment for our merchandise.  The inbound materials were stored all over the island.    --------------- On the way Actually, the statement that boats were the only method of ocean crossing wasn't exactly correct.  To the heads of state of top tier countries, air travel was still an option, if one that was seldom used.  For one thing, the worldwide array of airdromes that once existed had shrunk to numbers that could almost be counted with two hands.   For another, elected politicians were extremely touchy about being seen as enjoying a perk that their constituents had only seen in historical acties.  However, for a very few of the world's wealthily - the top one percent of the top one percent - well, me, just to be accurate - air travel was available on demand, although the destinations were vastly more limited than a hundred years ago.  The Enterprise maintained a very small fleet of turboprop seaplanes.  Compared to the high subsonic speeds of the old jet liners, they were much slower - about half as fast, but had a very long range.  The planes could reach anywhere in the world from our three refueling centers, but couldn't linger at any destination but those three.   The liquid hydrogen - H2 - used for fuel was very perishable - a certain amount evaporated from the onboard tanks whether it was being used or not.  Eventually, in hours or days, depending on the fuel load and distance from base, the amount would drop to a level that was insufficient to return.  Long distance trips had to be carefully planned.  If anything delayed the aircraft at the other end - weather, mechanical problems, etc - then our single tanker aircraft had to be dispatched to service the stalled plane without benefit of a permanent refueling depot - not a task we undertook lightly.  H2 is not a liquid to be handled without extreme caution. My problem with air travel was that once we were out of sight of land, we were also out of data communications with the world.  The pilot's radios worked well enough for their uses, but any PDU's just displayed a stylized blinking waveform.  A satellite communications system would have worked over the vast ocean distances, but all comm satellites had died decades ago after the entire planet was laced with hyper-speed fiber cables. So, for the ten or so hours, and over the forty-five hundred kilometers that the trip took we had to supply our own entertainment.  I was glad that Nefer was along - she helped fill in part of the time.   Our planes were in the main, cargo carriers, and weren't exactly luxury transportation, but there were beds for the pilots and a couple in the back for any passengers.  We spent most of the trip laying on one.  Our erotic time passing didn't include Ice in any form - Green or plain.  I never used it while outside of our or a friend's home - if an unforeseen event came up, anyone under the influence would be useless.  And, possibly dead, depending on the emergency. ............... Historians note The term 'Air Travel' references the worldwide access by air breathing, subsonic vehicles that were available to the general public during the period of fossil fuel use.  Over a period of about seventy years, aerial travel was readily available even for the lower economic classes of the world.  As explanation, realize that the worldwide system of personal projection was not available during that time and thusly, physical meetings were a requirement and a desirable function.   Visual and audio links became available during that time, but the actual physical travel was still preferred. The collapse of the petrochemical industry ended that method of transportation almost completely and almost overnight.  The available aerial vehicles (called airplanes, or 'planes) were horribly inefficient as to energy use and in an era of ever decreasing personal means became totally out of reach of all but the exceedingly wealthy.   The early worldwide data connection (called the Internet) had matured by the time of the collapse and took over virtually all long distance assemblies.  From that time on, most citizens of the world seldom traveled far from their place of birth. ............... --------------- Later "Boss.  Need you up here asap!" What the heck?  I looked at the time on my PDU - about the only function that was working at the moment.  We should be within an hour or so of the coast.  I got to my feet and pulled my shorts on, wondering what had happened.  It wasn't something with the plane - they wouldn't have called me to help. I stuck my head through the cockpit door.  "What's going down?" The copilot handed me a headset.  "Your office is trying to reach you.  They want us to turn back.  Reception is really bad."   Now my hair began to stand on end.  This was starting to sound like the shit had really plopped into the blades.  He turned back in his seat and said, "Go ahead, control.  Number 1 is online." Through the static, I could hear Sallie - I think - saying, "Boss.  Boss..." Crackle hiss "...taken plant..."  hiss  "...arrested and in..."  crackle crackle "...Diller says meet..."  Then it just turned to junk. "Bob."  This to the Captain as I took my headset off.  "Can we make it back?" He shook his head.  "Not a chance.  We still have plenty of H2, but nowhere near enough to make it back to the island.  We didn't leave with anywhere close to a full fuel load - not just for the hop to the mainland."  I stood there thinking furiously.  Until we got within PDU transmission range - which usually meant somewhere near a city - I was going to be completely in the dark.  All I knew was that something had happened at or to the plant,  The word arrested was ominous. I didn't know who or why, but I needed to walk into the situation with far more info than I had.  I made a decision. "Ok, Bob.  "Set us down in Sessiman Cove."  That was an abandoned harbor on the coast, about two hundred kilometers south of the plant.  It was a place that we used on infrequent occasions when we had persons or cargo that we didn't want to advertise the existence of.   An old man had a shack on the shore - at least that is what it looked like.  Below the shack, in the hillside was a really nice home with power and running water.  He wasn't a member of the Enterprise, but was in our pay as a caretaker. He nodded and said.  "You know, of course, that we can only stay there for a day or so, before we have to fly up to the refueling point."   I wasn't a pilot, but I well knew that the liquid hydrogen in our plane was very perishable.   Within a couple of days, the remaining fuel would have dropped to a level insufficient to fly to the plant - the only refueling point on this side of the continent.    "How far can you make it back if you leave immediately?"  He looked at the copilot who immediately ran some figures through the onboard computer.  Shortly, he replied.  "Three thousand clicks, give or take." Hmmmm.  About two thirds of the way. The Captain looked hard at me and said, "I know what you're thinking.  Want me to arrange it?" "Yes.  But not if the weather is bad.  I want the plane safe, but it isn't worth having two crews winding up feeding the fish." --------------- Ashore Finally!  Once I got close to the landing area, and the caretakers shack, I got a signal on my PDU.  I immediately commanded it to link with Sallie.  She was waiting, as was Rita and several others. "...seized the plant.  Larson has been arrested on ration violations, black marketeering, and several other things.  Diller pulled our five internals to the safe house."  Larson was the plant manager.  The five that she was speaking of were Enterprise members - technicians and engineers that oversaw the workings of the plant.  "Our problem is that all of the accusations have accurate data behind them.  Far and away too accurate.  We have a mole in the plant somewhere."  She turned to listen to someone out of vision.  "Our contacts in the Statehouse are trying to run it down."  "How many do we have?" I started to ask, but stopped before anything came out.  Because of the importance of the plant to us, we made sure to have agents inside of the state government.  Since I was one of the inner circle who traveled on Enterprise business, I didn't know who they were.  As Rita explained, "What you don't know, you can't tell when they wrap the electrical wire around your testicles."  She went on for a while, then I began to give orders.  "The plane is on the way.  At least most of the way.  Bob has arranged to meet the tanker to refuel at sea to get the aircraft back."  This was never easy and if there were heavy swells or bad weather, it could be almost impossible and downright dangerous.  Liquid hydrogen was tricky enough in a proper refueling depot - on bouncing planes in the middle of the ocean and using a portable pump it could be really dicy.  "Send another one here, but fill the tanks to the top.  That will give it a loiter time here of several days before it has to return.  We have to assume that the H2 depot at the plant is off limits now." Rodger - Rita's father - stuck his head into view.  "John, if you need muscle, be sure and give me some lead time.  I have several on the continent, besides Diller and his pair,  but they will take a while to get there." I shook my head.  "I don't think that we're going to resolve this with force, but I'll remember that." Rita finished with, "We're sending Aime and two agitators along.  I have a feeling that you'll need them." --------------- In the town. Deepside, Oregon was a fairly young and smallish city, far from the mega strip cities south and east.  One reason for being was the river, cascading out of the mountains and through the magneto hydrodynamic generators.   The dam supplied enough power for the populace of fifty thousand or so - barely.  The town tried to keep the population in check since any massive inflow of newcomers just spread the energy that much more thinly.  It was still illegal, in principle, to prevent anyone from moving to anywhere in the country that they wanted, but the citizenry of Deepside didn't make them welcome.  Permits, inspections and just generic bureaucratic inertia made moving here permanently almost an exercise in futility. They couldn't put up gates at the entrance to the city, but they could take five years to install electricity and water to a new living cube - which amounted to the same thing. The other reason for the existence of Deepside, was our plant that supplied over half the jobs available to the area.  I knew that for every fairly highly paid position in the plant, at least fifteen more were created as a result.  The question was, did the people know from where their unusual bounty came? I certainly didn't want to walk into the trouble area as the known owner of the facility.  All that would do would probably get me arrested, also.   But, my name wasn't connected with the facility in any way.  It was owned though several interlocking corporations and would take far more moxie than a minor official and his staff had to trace it.   Rita already had heavy legal power working on getting our manager released, and had her team in full contact with several of our agents in the government to find out exactly what was going on. Nefer, of course, was throughly enjoying herself, this being the first time she had ever walked the streets of a city, or been around anyone not connected to the Enterprise.  Our standard of dress was the same as most adults out in the world, especially since we had just ridden public transport.  In the privacy of our tropical island, it was usually much simpler - i.e. very little or nothing. We both wore conservative stretches - nice looking, but available at any online store.  Of course, the youngsters, like all of that age in all generations past, pushed the idea of dress to the limits.  With young people, the current fad was form fitting clothes that revealed all, from the pudenda crack and exposed nipples of the females, to the exact size and shape of the male tools.  The next fad would probably be just body paint and no material at all.  With the elevated temperatures of global warming, clothes, in what used to be the temperate areas of the world were optional, except for shielding from the noonday sun.   There were a few nudists on the street here and there, but the human animal - especially the female - enjoyed the display of clothing and most people wore at least a minimal set of habiliments.   Neferteema continually elicited a series of appreciative comments and suggestions from the men - and not a few women.  Her golden hair and hourglass figure was a standout among young women, most of whom were overweight or flabby from a short lifetime of eating food that was chosen for taste, rather than nutrition.  She was the recipient of continual tittie squeezes and dry fingerings as we walked along.  I could have purchased for her the small orange tag that would have warned the passersby to keep their hands to themselves, but she was enjoying the attention so I just let the crowd have their pleasure. Our progress was very slow, but I wasn't in a hurry, waiting for info to flow back to me from the staff.  I knew that some of the heaviest collection of brain power on the planet was working behind the scenes right now.   Nefer would stop and examine everything displayed by the stores we passed.  Of course, the items didn't actually exist that she was looking at - at least, not most of them.  Some stores just had a visual display rotating though their inventory, but the upscale businesses had windows with holograms of their products.  She was continually asking me what this or that was.  I had to remind myself that she might have an IQ that was off the scale, but as a young woman out in the world, she was still a child. This was a very young town, almost a frontier city, and was peopled by citizens with that outlook.  Sex was everywhere.  In the open, on display, and available in every conceivable act.  It might even still be somewhat shocking to an elderly citizen from the more conservative parts of the country, but Nefer just watched with total innocence as a woman in a booth demonstrated her technique to service three young men at once.  And she WAS good - all three came almost together to the applause of the moderate audience watching from the walkway. Further on, under a bright green canopy, sprayed with a thin mist of water for cooling, a steady series of whacks issued, followed by loud exclamations of pain.  As we stepped up to the open side, I could see a middle aged woman standing naked in the center of the sawdust floor, wrists above her head and tied to a rope.  At intervals, a young man would lay the blade of a whip across her back, anywhere between her upper thighs and her neck.   Apparently, she had been under the whip for quite a while - her back was solid red and the muscles in her legs were visibly jumping with the reaction of the pain.   I looked at the glow sign propped up at the entrance to the tent.  "Master Saddom," it read in glaring colors.  "Disciplinator par Excellance.  Pain and punishment expertly tailored to YOUR needs.  Bonded and insured against permanent damage.  Bring yourself or your subslave.  Group discounts available."   Obviously, this establishment was nothing new - there were very few people enjoying the performance from the sidewalk. I looked at Nefer, wondering if she understood what was this was about.  She was looking with interest, but with no hint of surprise or shock.  I knew that somewhere in her vast encyclopedic memory had to be information about the bondage and discipline fetish, but I had no clue if she actually grasped the idea that some humans craved both pain and punishment with their sex. I kept looking a my PDU, trying to mentally force it to release the information I was desperately wanting.  I didn't bother to call up and ask about the progress - if Rita and her superb team hadn't come up with anything yet, my jumping in with questions wasn't going to speed the process up any. While Nefer was watching the discipline, I looked across the street at the impressive building with a holo sign over the entrance.  Doctor Heimem Lartertsa, sexologist.  Penile expansion.  Clitorial descension.  Mammary enhancement.  Hmmmm.   A body builder.  Illegal, of course, but that didn't stop underpaid doctors from branching out.  As I looked at the glowing holograms of expanding penises and tits, my PDU suddenly beeped. "Well, Hallelujah," I said to the image of Rita's head.  "I was down to hoping that you had a left message for me before you expired." "Sarcasm won't help, Honey.  We have a plan, but you need to meet Diller.  Call me back when you get there.  We might have some further info." A map with a direction path appeared on my PDU.  I nodded to Nefer and we headed for the nearest bus stop. --------------- Somewhere We stepped off of the battery bus in a much quieter part of town.  Semi - upscale, it included a fairly nice cliffside drinkery.  I entered and looked around.  Ah, out on the far patio, at a table, was Sergeant Diller.   I knew his actual name, but he had gone by his current handle for so long that even he might have problems remembering his given moniker.   At the table next to it was another man, looking out over the beautiful vista with interest.   I knew that he was one of Diller's team and his appreciation of the view was minimal.  His eyes would be continually roaming and looking for trouble.  Since he would have been vetted for the job by Rodger himself, I knew that he was perfectly capable of wiping the floor with the faces of the two policemen that were enjoying a snack, further over. Diller rose and stuck out his hand.  "Greetings, Boss."  I returned the firm shake, and nodded.  "Sorry about the mess." "Not your fault," I said.  "But we have to clean it up."  He was looking at Nefer, no doubt wondering why I dragged along my squeeze on a critical mission.  "This is Nefer, and what she is would take too long to explain now, but believe me, she isn't a shallie cunt.   He nodded and I continued.  "Is this place safe?" That was a question with no absolute answer.  If someone wanted to - and had the money - they could hear what we said no matter where we were outside of our island.  He waved his hand in a so-so reply, then gave an invisible signal to his man, who casually got up and strolled off the patio.  I knew to wait before asking anything important, so I just said, "Rodger sends his greetings." Diller nodded and smiled.  "How's that Redhead of his?  Still got him wrapped around her finger."  I chuckled.  "Well, let's just say that my mother-in-law gets just about everything she wants."  The talk went on until his man returned and somehow gave an invisible high sign.  Diller leaned over and said quietly.  "Nothing obvious around here.  Didn't expect there to be, or I would have picked a different place.  This is good because as long as we face the ocean, we're pretty well immune to long distance snoopers."   He pointed at nothing in particular - it was just a phony gesture to show that we were two good friends and a pretty woman enjoying drinks and looking over the scenery.  "Garrette has the engineers at the Sessiman cove safe house."  He looked at his PDU.  "In fact, a plane has just pulled in on Rita's orders."   I nodded.  At least now, we had an escape route if stuff fell apart.   I knew he was chomping at the bit to know what the plan was.  Unfortunately, I didn't have one yet. "How about Larson?" "Still in the jakes as far as I know.   His PDU is offline."   I knew that.  The one place that it was legal to be at without your ever-identifying device, was jail or prison.  "Did you..."  I held up my finger, as my PDU politely chimed with the "It's Rita" beep. This time it wasn't her - just a message.  "Do you know a Kramer Bonder?  He's a protraction analysis at the plant.  Whatever the hell that is," I added. Diller thought for a moment, then shook his head.  "Doesn't chime with me."  I brought up a picture, and showed it. "Ah.  Yes.  Seen him on occasion.  Don't know what he does." "Rita's agent - or agents - on the inside sent back a partial copy of the data that the mole sent to Bobo.  Her crew is doing a parsing analysis on the comparisons of PDUs in the plant.  They say there is a 68.476 percent chance of him being the mole."  That had to be Sallie's work - anybody else would have said about a seventy percent chance.  "Do we take him?" I shook my head.  "Not yet.  They say wait." We looked up as two females came over and stopped before our table.  Street femmes.  Both were young, good looking and definitely female.  Their nipples were showing through the opened display apertures.  At the moment, the pudenda seams of their skintight stretches were closed, but I knew that by moving their fingers down an invisible seam, the stretches would open and expose the area for total access.  "Usage, Misters?" the shorter one asked.  "We can slather you.  Each or bothly. Or with a hanger if zired." "No thanks," I said. These would be registered prossies - licensed to practice and obviously either on retainer with the establishment, or having paid for the privilege of canvassing the customers. The taller said, "Yous wan young?  Older?"  She bent over and gently bobbled her large tits back and forth under the stretches. "More bigly?" The other one spoke up.  "Mebe wan funsies with a transie?" Diller turned around and motioned to his man at the next table.  Very shortly, both girls were being escorted away from our table, each of his hands holding one female arm.  Their feet just managed to touch the floor occasionally as they were moved toward the exit.  --------------- Later We were still sitting and talking.  Nefer had gotten up to explore and was at the far end of the patio in the middle of what looked like several prosperous businessmen and women.  They were giving her the once over with their hands.   Actually, it was the twice and three or four times over as they admiringly felt and poked her body.  She was loving it, obviously.  So was I.  With her on the patio, we were just two men talking at the other end and for all intents and purposes, invisible.     Finally, Rita came on my PDU.  "Ok.  It's definitely Bonder.  One hundred percent possibility.  We found two key security phrases in the stuff he sent.  First, we need to find out who is his contact and how far it goes.  Second, here is the plan we want to initiate..." A few minutes later, Rita signed off and we sat back to empty our glasses.  Diller looked at me and said, "Frack!  When your significant other decides on a plan of action, she doesn't fuck around, does she?"  I was kind of stunned also, but what the heck - there were several thousand IQ points behind the instructions we were given, and even though I had the go-no go authority, I wasn't about to second guess them. I stood up and walked over to the pat session.  "Time to go, Nefer."  She immediately moved toward me, followed by two of the men.  One stopped and said, "Your pardon, sir.  Might you be the ward of this female?"   I said yes, knowing what was coming.  "Then I would like to tender an offer for her wardship for... say, two months?"  I shook my head.  He tried again.  "Sir, I'm the owner of the Quarry domain.  I assure you that I can disperse a substantial amount for her mentorship." Again, I shook my head.  "Sorry.  She is spoken for.  But I assure you that if it was up to me, I would give your offer the attention it deserves."  One problem with today's society, was that it was very difficult to determine a person's financial standing from their appearance.  In our parent's time, a person would arrive in a large and high priced vehicle, wearing clothes to match.  Along with expensive mechanical timepieces and precious crystals set in rare metals.  Today, the few wealthy didn't dress expensively for the reason of keeping the anti-wealth feelings at bay.  About the only indication was the vendors they visited - like this one - and their speech.  I knew the instant he opened his mouth that he was one of the educated wealthy.  He could assume that I was also, although he would have no idea just how deep my wealth ran. We bowed to each other and the four of us left.  --------------- Sessiman cove I was facing our five technical persons - all men, by happenstance - the Enterprise had plenty of female engineers.  These were second circle employees of the Enterprise - un-cognified, well paid and educated.  All looked to be fairly young, but I wouldn't know without looking up their records.  Any one or all could have gone through the rejuve process and be in their seventies or later.  They were very uncomfortable without their PDU's, but we couldn't chance having them travel to our safe house from Deepside.  Any law enforcement agency could pull their travel records after the fact.  Their devices were scattered around the state, at plausible destinations. "I need a volunteer for what might be an unpleasant mission.  Not dangerous, but it's possible that he could be clapped in jail and accused of being a guilty party."  Showing that our method of picking loyal employees was valid, all raised their hands.   "Thank you.  Let me give you the scenario and we can all decide who would be the best pick." While I was doing that, Diller and one of his men were engaged in their mission.  The dangerous part was that all three had left their PDUs behind and if caught now - for any reason - they would be hauled in as guilty of the crime of unmonitored movement with enmity to society.  That was short for the idea that government - any government - doesn't like even honest citizens to do things without being watched.  Of course, every citizen in the country couldn't be monitored twenty four hours a day. In actual fact, not even a fraction of a fraction of one percent could be.  But, the movement records of any could be pulled after the fact, including anybody moving in and out of the plant after an...  incident.  Of course, those records required a warrant.  Unfortunately, these days, a warrant was like a piece of ass, as my parents called it - anyone could get one at any time with little effort. --------------- The next morning It was a good thing that several thousand kilometers of ocean were between us and Rodger.  My father-in-law was an uncomplicated man.  If he caught someone stealing from him, he would lower the boom - but, on occasion - depending on circumstances - would help or even hire the individual.  If a man attempted to harm a member of the Enterprise, his wrath could be terrible.  If the harm fell toward his significant other, Rita's mother, or any of his extended family, he would probably cut the perpetrator's nuts off before disposing of the rest of the body.  But, if an employee or member of one of his organizations committed a disloyal act, all the restraints would fall away in a nanosecond.  An enemy he could respect, but a person that took largess with one hand and stabbed the giver with the other was unforgivable.  The colorful tales of his retributions, as told by his men and that I heard as a boy, even if only marginally true were...  well, not stories that a mother wants her child to hear. This one was laying on the floor at the feet of Dod, Diller's other man, who had just brought him in, still out from the injection of bye-bye juice that he had been given.  I was talking to Rita about the questions I needed to ask.  Her answer was a surprise. "No.  We want Neferteema to do the interrogation."  What the fuck?   "Are you kidding?  How the hell could she..."  Rita held up her hand as I saw Nefer raise an arm to look at her PDU.  I heard Quan's voice giving her instructions.  In a minute or so she nodded and said, "I understand, Doctor Quan."  She looked at me and I nodded, confused as to something going on that I had no idea of.  To Dod she commanded, "Take his clothes off."   Commanded was the word.  Her aspect changed from little girl to a do-what-I-say attitude.  Shortly, the man was laying in the floor, nude.  She pointed. "Lay him on that table, face up, and tie his extremities to the corners."   Dod and I both picked him up and put him on the indicated spot and tied him down.   Finally, she said, "Wake him up." I heard Quan tell her, "Nefer, put your PDU on global.  We need to hear what he says."  "Yes, Doctor Quan." I spoke up.  "Do you want a picture stream?"   Yes, was the answer as Dod injected the spread eagled man with the wake up antidote. As the man came to full consciousness, he suddenly realized that this wasn't the water closet of the plant - the last place he remembered as his location.  "What are you doing?! Who are you?!  Turn me loose?!... and so forth.  He struggled, but just managed to dig the ropes into his wrists and ankles.  We didn't have proper bondage gear, so I had to use what I found - borofiber rope. Nefer suddenly ran a finger down the seal seam of her garment, and it fell away, leaving an unbelievable golden haired ivory statue standing in front of us.  She turned and waved us back and motioned for silence.  We both backed up, in awe of the sudden female apparition that had just appeared.  I had seen her nude before - hell, I had had her many times and I was just as open mouthed as Dod, who was seeing her in her full glory for the first time. She stepped up to the prone and bound man and lightly ran her fingers up and down his midriff.  He stopped shouting and just looked at her, confused, wondering what an angel had to do with him.  Finally, she said, "Kramer Bonder.  My name is Neferteema.  This will be a catechizenation session.  I will ask and you will answer and together our essences will gather the truth."  She did something with her fingers under his sternum and he jumped slightly and his mouth opened in surprise.   Then her fingers traveled up to his neck and suddenly, he spasmed for a second then went limp.  Pain or pleasure?  I didn't know.  "We both want our coalescence to be as innoxious as possible." Jeeze.  This could have been a different girl, if it had been dark and I couldn't actually see her.  Her words came out in a... a... almost a syrupy flow - threatening, seductive, hypnotic, doting...  Hell, just add your own adjectives. "Kramer Bonder.  You must have been given a lofty desideratum to want to extend alleviation to the adversary of our employer."  I had no idea if he had a clue of what she was saying.  I barely did. He got the gist of it.  "No!  I didn't get anything from anyone a..."  She barely moved her fingers, but he jumped like he had been electrocuted. She bent over, her depending breasts and nipples almost touching his chest, and with her face just centimeters from his, cooed, "No. No prevarications. Remember, we will descant only the apodictic truth to each other.  And that wasn't the truth, was it, Kramer Bonder?"  The fingers of one hand caressed a temple and the other circled around his neckline.  He swallowed and shook his head. "No.  Please.  I don't know what you want." In a blinding flash, I realized just what this golden girl was.  My mother, Teema, and her silk girls had been extensively trained in the method of giving pleasure by the manipulation of the nervous system and pressure points of the body, male or female.  They could play another body like a virtuoso could play a musical instrument.  I had been on the receiving end of that treatment many times, moving up to an almost blinding orgasm and desperately trying to reach it, then being brought down to start again.  Over and over, until that moment of near apotheosis when the manipulator finally allowed the climax.  And during that moment before the nervous system released all of the stored erotic energy, the mind would gladly make any pact with the Devil to be allowed to finish. Neferteema could do that as well as any silk girl I had ever had.  But... And it was a very large but.  What the silk girls could do for pleasure, Nefer could also do for pain. We watched, awed, as she caressed his body, asking one question after another.  Any insufficient answer aways got a response that was - hell, I don't know.  Unpleasant, maybe.  It wasn't like he was being physically tortured - he didn't scream or yell at any of her manipulations.  But he always came back with the correct answer rather than have 'it' done again.   Truthful statements got a pleasure response - not totally erotic, but I guessed more like the feeling of a wonderful massage - squared and cubed. At any rate, we were watching in wonderment, a man being almost cognified on the spot, without benefit of drugs or months of time, as his nervous system responded to both pain and pleasure.  And a woman softly speaking to him in hypnotic undertones.  Within an hour, he was in a state of desperately wanting to please the golden goddess standing above him.  He would actually cry if he was given a question that he honestly didn't know the answer to.  And would smile in an almost erotic contentment anytime he could give her the full answer that she was seeking.  I was fascinated by watching his erection coming and going, depending on his state of mind and her actions. She was leaning over him, her breasts laying against the side of his chest, and murmuring into his ear - her finger tips all the while doing their dance on his nerve endings.  Now, he couldn't spill his guts fast enough.  If the information would have caused the death of his mother, his family, his favorite pet - pick anything - he would have gladly sacrificed them to be able to give this beautiful siren just one more morsel of information. Finally, she stood up and put both hands on the sides of his neck.  He instantly stiffened, thrashed and moaned as his penis shot out a load that streamed all the way up his chest.  --------------- We were having a bite of breakfast with the others. Amie and her two team members, the caretaker, pilots, and engineers talked to each other.  Neither Dod nor I spoke - both of us just replaying the scene that we had witnessed an hour before.  I was still stunned by the episode and was trying to think about what the capabilities of a woman like Nefer would mean in the future. Rita and her team of brainiacs were thrashing though the confession that had come from our traitor.  I knew that plans were being made and refined even as we sat there.  Sallie's artificial intelligence network would be doing probability trees and possibility forks and plausibility scenarios a trillion times a second. Our ex-employee wasn't attending our meal.  In fact, he was in a small cell waiting for the plane to leave for the island.  He was destined to be a worker in a mineshaft in Mongolia or on the slopes of the Himalayas.  He would probably have company. Shortly, the acti-panel on the wall activated and Rita began filling us in. --------------- Afternoon Amie's team had already left for Deepside to begin their agitprop.  Diller and his man were safely back after first seizing our traitor, then moving on to their next task while Dod had brought the man back.  The plant had been designed and built by us and as such, was laced with underground access points.  Many were for legitimate maintenance access, but the others were for clandestine movement of material and personal - like now.   They had installed the appropriate device at the indicated place, and it was just waiting for activation. I had taken our volunteer engineer to the location of his PDU, which he quickly strapped on with relief.  Then on to the city we went.  Then it was waiting time, again.  --------------- Two days later The plant manager was free, but confined to his quarters.  Fortunately, he was given his PDU back, so we could contact him securely.  That is to say, Rita's crew did.  I had just been roaming around Deepside with Nefer.  In those two days, I could begin to see the work of the agitprop team.  There was constant discussion and rumors among the street crowd of a problem with the plant.  And doubt of the reasons of the government to have seized it. Rita had given us the notice that the plan was in motion.  Our nemesis, Bobo had made a public statement, trying to damp down the unsettling rumors that were beginning to fly about the plant, the seizure and the ultimate disposal of it.   I assumed that the agent assigned to him had "suggested' the idea.  Since she was a fully trained silk girl, I doubted that it took much convincing. But, he assured his constituents that paradise was just around the corner - just give them a few days to properly process the property that rightfully belongs to the people. Dod escorted the engineer to the waiting point a few hundred meters from the plant entrance.  There was a crowd there - none knew why, just that the word went out that something was happening.  Without any actual knowledge, I knew that the mob had to be a result of the agitprop team.  Eventually, he got the signal, and we watched him, via Dod's PDU, hurriedly walk toward the main gate.   The engineer's PDU was streaming audio so we got the full interaction between him and the authorities.  "Hold it.  Who are you?"  That was one of the two armed guards at the gate. "Johanne Walcker.  I'm the reactor control engineer.  I was on vacation when I heard the news.  I need to get into the reaction control center." "Sobs, dodder.  Nobody shoves in without chop chop from above." "You don't understand.  If the plant has been offline for two days, the catalyst feed has to be shut down.  It will eventually blow, otherwise."   We could tell that the crowd was not only listening, but dozens were streaming the feed to the watching public all over town.  And I was sure that the agitpop team would have almost everybody in the city watching.  'I dunt know sqwat about that, dodder, and I ain goin..." "See here.  Call your superior and I'll explain it to him.  We don't have much time."  Just to emphasize, he added, "The explosion is going to be big, I assure you." The guard was doubtful, but got on to his PDU for instructions. A while passed and finally, a flywheel runabout pulled up and out stepped a civcop chief.  "What's going on, Jenkins?" The guard pointed to the engineer and gave a totally broken explanation of what he thought he heard. "Your name, dodder?" he demanded of our man. "Johanne Walcker.  I work in the plant as the reaction controller.  Listen.  Like I told your man, I've been on vacation and just heard of the news.  We need to make sure that the...  well, the part of the plant that feeds the ion resin to the reactor has been properly shut down.  Maybe you know?" Of course the officer didn't.  He was somewhat educated as his lingo indicated, but he would have trouble understanding how a light switch worked.  "I don't know nothing about that.  You need to take it up with headquarters, but I can tell you that no dodder is going to be allowed in until the investigation is complete. "Listen carefully," our man said in pretend exasperation.  "The machinery doesn't know or care about politics.  It has to be either monitored or shut off properly.  Otherwise, there isn't going to be a plant making anything.  Understand?" Before he could reply, I heard, over my PDU, one of Rita's team give a command.  Suddenly from beyond the fence, deep into the massive plant came a whistling scream.  It was loud enough a half kilometer away - up close it would have been ear shattering.   The engineer ran a few feet to be able to see around the gatehouse, but of course nothing out of order was visible from there.  In a not totally pretend panic, he shouted, "Captain!  That's the pressure pop-offs cutting in!  You need to get these people away from here now.  And your men!" The Captain was staring over the fence, trying to see something - anything.  He turned to the engineer and shouted, "What the hell is that!?" "I told you!  The pressure in the reactor vessel is near critical by now.  If it isn't released, it is going to blow - big time!" The Captain began to converse rapidly into his PDU, then said to our man.  "Get in the runner.  Headquarters wants..." That was as far as he got.  I heard another command in my PDU and an even louder and shriller screech replaced the previous noise.  The engineer looked over the fence in panic - again, not a totally pretend performance.  "It's too late!  Get everybody away!  It's going to blow in two or three minutes!" By now, the shriek and the shouting of the engineer had convinced the crowd that this was a performance probably best seen somewhere else.  Preferably a kilometer or more away.  As the Captain and his two men looked toward the plant in total confusion, our man said, "Run!  Hurry.  Get behind something."  He took off following the crowd. As soon as he came up to us, the three of us disappeared down and alley and headed for the safe house.  About half way there, we heard the almost subsonic "BOOM" as our team triggered the gadget that Diller and his man had installed a couple of days before. --------------- The next day in Sessiman cove. Our agitprop team was in full cry.  By now the entire city knew that the source of livelihood for their very existence had blown up because of the incompetence and - yes, it was being said, criminal greed of certain politicians and officials.  "The performance seemed to be somewhat effective from here," said Rita.  I shook my head. "That's the difference that several thousand kilometers makes.  From here, let me tell you, it sounded like the entire plant is nothing but a hole in the ground."   Rita disappeared from the acti-panel. Sallie's head came into view.  "Nonsense, Boss.  Just a little showwomanship.  Some preliminary sounds from a mega-amp to set the mood and a set of shaped charges at the right places.  Lots of scrap metal, plenty to gawk at for the uninformed, but nothing critical was damaged." "How about Larson"  Do we grab him and haul ass out of here?" Rita came back.  "No!  Absolutely not.  Everybody will express nothing but concern that the plant is offline.  That means that the plant team will stay around and offer to help.  If they disappear, then BoBo has a chance to claim sabotage by us."  She held up a finger for a second as someone out of vision conversed with her.  "Amie's team will keep turning the screws, of course.  Once the effects of the closed plant start hitting the local economy, Bobo will try to make peace.  Of course, he will desperately try to save face, but I think we have him by the balls.   And once the Federals realize that their normal allotment of materials is gone also, our agents will push a criminal probe on him.  So.  Relax and enjoy the continental entertainment." --------------- Time passes Nothing was going to happen for a while.  Public pressure had to cook for a while.  Meanwhile, I wasn't going to waste my life sitting in an underground hidyhole, no matter how well fitted out.   Nefer and I boarded the train in the little town, and headed south.  It wasn't a vacation - well, not completely, anyway.  I wanted to visit another of our enterprises - a surface mine that extracted lithium from the very low grade ore in the desert.   In our parent's younger days, such a facility would have been impossible.  Between the bureaucratic sloth and the inevitable lawsuits from the multitude of greenie save-the-earthers, the time required to get permission would have required decades.  From my history lessons, the old state of California had always been somewhat of an eccentric place.  Now it was two of them, having split apart back in the '40's.   Here was where many fads were born - some of which were adopted by the rest of the country and became mainstream.  But, what used to be the most populous state in the Union, was now only a shadow of its former self.  The climate that apparently had been the major draw was still there, except for being several degrees hotter on the average.  But the water that supported that population was long gone - and so were the people.  Once the massive pipelines and canals channeling water from the mountains and the Colorado river were shut down for lack of power, the entire southern part of the state had reverted to desert, with the coastline rimmed with the skeletons of major cities - now crumbling and stripped of everything recyclable.  The high speed rail service that linked the north with the south was still there, but now was just a railroad without the adjectives.  The infrequent trains plodded along at thirty or forty kilometers an hour, serving the few small solar towns.  The unconventional and unorthodox thinking was still in residence.  And sometimes far beyond what would have been conceived of in the past.  The different cults and schisms had coalesced into communities of people sharing the same...  hell, I don't know.  Beliefs, maybe.  Not religious, but lifestyle. Our first stop for the night was one of them.  We had no choice, the solar arrays feeding juice to the track turned off with the sun.  I knew that the onboard batteries, or rechargeable fuel cells, whichever it might be equipped with, could carry the locomotive for an hour or so, but certainly not all night. ............... Historians note The foundation that supported civilization since the dawn of the industrial age, about 1800 CE (old calendar), was energy.  Mankind went from work being performed by animals, to steam engines fueled by first wood, then coal.  The catalyst that impelled humanity into a technical civilization was the discovery of fossil fuels that could be pumped from vast deposits underground.  This end product of the natural underground compression and heating of fossilized organic materials gave a worldwide source of inexpensive energy that lasted until about 2020 CE.  The use of such vast amounts of hitherto sequestered hydrocarbons, significantly increased the carbon dioxide component of the atmosphere, with the accompanying climate changes.  Over the two hundred years of hydrocarbon use, along with a parallel use of the solid carbon form of fossilized plants, called coal, the temperate zones of the planet increased in latitude almost five hundred kilometers, with the previous temperate areas largely becoming arid landscape and in some cases, even desert. These changes were accompanied by a elevated activity in the troposphere with an increase of violent storms, increased rainfall in some areas along with a decrease of precipitation of all kinds in others.  Once the problem of atmospheric CO2 enrichment was realized, about the year 2100, many political and axiological efforts were made to either stop the increase of gaseous input, but due to factors that are somewhat vague at this distance in time, no meaningful effort was even attempted until the collapse of what was called the "Petrochemical Industry." Many alternative sources of energy were invented and developed, such as direct production of electricity from solar flux, huge windmill generators and more obscure processes such as algae farming for petrochemical feedstocks.  None of these were sufficient to replace the fossil fuels in any significant way.  There was also a fairly large footprint of nuclear fission generators, most of which are still with us to day as cocooned and sequestered problems that require constant monitoring. The current technology of hydrogen fusion reaction was well known since the twentieth century as the source of energy that powered the stars, and many attempts were made to harness it.  Unfortunately, the practical creation of the fusion reactor came along centuries too late to be of any use to our ancestors. .............. --------------- Chicasan, State of Southern California I was looking at the sign, prominently posted on the platform.  'Thralls must be leashed.'  Hmmmm.  I pointed and said, "Do you understand the significance of that?" I should have known better.  "Of course," she answered, cheerful as always.  "This is one of the commonalities where vassals are required to be tethered in communal society.  I fathom the concept of anthropological domination, although I have no personal emotional reference to the cultural abstraction." I mentally shook my head.  The girl could instantly set her lexeme value to match the education of any group, but, I noticed that if left to herself, she would gradually revert to an academician level - totally incoherent to the average person and barely understandable by me.  However, I reminded myself, she had other good features that balanced that shortcoming. Of course, actual slavery was still illegal in the entire country, even in places like this where the Federal power seldom appeared anymore.  But, that fact bothered few people in this community.  For one thing, most, if not all of the 'slaves' were willing.  In an earlier age, they would have been called submissive bondage and discipline aficionados.  For another, all had a registered document in city hall stating that they had hired themselves out to their 'employers' as cohabitation partners for a specified sum of money and time of service.  Such partnerships were ignored by the impotent state government and didn't even come in on the detectors of the Feds.  As far as the powers in Washington were concerned, anything that kept a portion of the populous happy was something to be grateful for and not to be interfered with. At other places up and down the coastline were other associations with other fetishes.  There were hundreds of nudist communities, where clothes were frowned upon and in some were actually illegal.  Other places were lesbian, gay, or transsexual - some times any of the two or all three.  Scattered among them were colonies of any given persuasion - take your pick.  The above makes it sound as if the west coast was a seething mass of sexual addiction, but in fact, the population wasn't even one percent of its previous record.  It was very sparsely settled, on the average. Besides, many of the communities were peopled by aficionados of non-sexual attractions.  For instance, several weird religious congregations - moon and fire worshippers, believers in every kind of superstition - probably everything short of human sacrifice. And, here and there were congregations of just normal people, as defined by the rest of the country.  The one commonality among all the different groups, was the addiction to green ice.  That was the shield that kept the common people from realizing just how miserable their actual lives were. We checked in at a hotel, had a fairly good dinner, then, as it was still very early, headed out to sightsee before bedtime. I had been in towns like this before, so nothing I saw would surprise me, and of course, Nefer absorbed everything as just more data to be processed.    Including... The Bar of the Collared Virgin sounded good - at least, the sign did that promised The Coldest Drinks on the West Coast.  A tall cold one would be nice.   The establishment was an open structure.  The climate here was always warm to warmer, so the doors and windows were just openings under the wide overhanging eves.  We stepped up to the porch as a feminine squeal came from inside, followed by a roar of laughter.    Once inside we could see a replica of a medieval rack in the center of the floor.  Around it were the normal tables and chairs that would be found in any bar in the country.  A female was just being pulled off the wooden instrument and from her expression, she hadn't been laying on it for show.  Of course, she was buck naked except for wearing collars on all four limbs and her neck.  Apparently, a wager was in progress as one of the men, acting as a barker, began to take bets on the next action.  Shortly, another woman climbed onto the platform and lay on her back while men snapped wide leather straps around all four limbs.  I motioned to the barkeep, "A citrus squeeze for the woman and a green slammer for me."  He nodded and began the procedure of clanking glass and ice.  I pointed to the action in the center of the room.  "What's up with that?" The man was obviously experienced as he expertly moved both hands in different motions to fix our drinks.  "Filly Fest," he replied.  "The split who can take the most number of notches, wins."   He handed me a steaming green glass and I walked over to the action.  Now the side wagers were flying as the wheel man pulled on a spoke just enough for the pawl to drop into the next notch.   The girl on the table was bar taut, but had managed to keep still so far.  About ten seconds later and clank, the pawl fell into the next notch.  I noticed, that unlike the representations of the rack that I had seen in historical drawings, this one had a very fine cog wheel.  That is, each succeeding notch that the pawl dropped into made a fairly small increase to the pull on the ropes.  Finally.  "AHHHHHHH."   She had had all she could take.  The shouts and groans went up around the platform from the winners and losers.  Apparently she had done well, as her owner smiled and helped her off the table, unlike the previous one that had been whopped by a man as she climbed down. On the far end of the room a line of nude women - and a couple of men -  were standing, chained by the neck against the wall.  About half the spots were taken - the others having just a chain and a collar dangling from its hook.   This was obviously the parking place for the slaves while the owners talked, drank or gambled.  About half had the small orange disk dangling from either the collar, a necklace chain, or a wrist band - the universal indication that this person was off limits to other hands. As the action slowed down in the center of the room, while the men jawed and refilled their glasses, Nefer began to get some glances.  Unlike the other women in the tavern - less a couple of female doms wearing weird gear - she was fully clothed.  Her stretches were skin tight, like all other young women around the country, but her nipple circles were closed and her pudenda seam was sealed.  Nevertheless, there was no disguising the fact that the nano-thin material showed the form of a young female that put the other girls to shame.  Even though she loved physical contact from strangers - or anybody - I had told her to stick the little orange patch over one of her tits.   I had been fully trained by Rita's father in the art of self defense and in the use of anything as a weapon - all of us had, both boys and girls -  but unlike Rodger, my makeup had no use for combat for its own sake.   So, I was hoping that the looks that were currently undressing her stayed visual and didn't turn into physical admiration.  But since the floor entertainment was over for the moment, and the alcohol intake was increasing, we finished our drinks and left before some drunk decided to push his luck. Down the street was a meat market, still open from the look of the glowlights.  The moon was almost full, the night was cool so we walked down the almost empty street toward the dim lights.  Unlike the main streets of a strip city, this berg had no extra power storage to waste on lighting up the outdoors. Just for the very slight possibility that I would find some young precursor that might be usable in our trade, we nodded to the man at the gate and entered the compound.  The high end PDU's on our wrists were noticed by the guardian and he smiled and welcomed us as obvious well off shoppers - something fairly rare in this part of the country.  There were a couple dozen females and a handful of males in residence.  All had their own cubicle, open on one side for viewing by prospective purchasers.  They were nude of course - nobody in their right mind would purchase a clothed thrall.  I was surprised to see that the specifications for the merchandise was actually printed on a piece of paper posted at each cubical, rather than a link into our PDU's.  This was a very backward community.  As we walked around, I could tell that about half were put on sale by their owners, and the rest were self-presented.  With the latter you could make a deal on the spot and the money would go to the person being purchased, minus the fee for the use of the market.  Most were just ordinary individuals, from barely adult to middle aged.  All were submissive, of course, or they wouldn't be here.  Even though they were confined to their cubical with a chain and collar, any of them could state that they wished to be unfettered and leave, although the individuals who had active contracts had to wait until the term of arrangement was expired.  They wouldn't, of course.  All were desperate to find a master or mistress to dominate them or they wouldn't be here in the first place. A couple were good looking cunts, although still below the minimum standards of any that we would fool with.  And far below any comparison to the dynamite blond standing next to me, looking with her usual interest at a new experience.  Until... We turned the corner and stopped before a cubical.  In it was a good looking woman, late twenties or early thirties, not stunning but still, a nice piece.  I looked at the paper posted on the wall.  She was owned by a Mr. Haddins, had five months to go on her contract, was nulliparous, brunette, one hundred and sixty  centimeters tall...   Crap, I could see all that without reading.  I moved further down in the document.  There was nothing about her sexual preferences.  She had to be a submissive or she wouldn't have put herself in here, but... "Stand up," I ordered.  She immediately got to her feet, chain tinkling, and stood straight, and unsubmissive-like, looked straight at me.  I held my PDU up and as the device was recording her image, I said, "Turn around slowly."  Hmmmm.  I pulled up a picture from a group that Quan had posted a while back and compared it with the current female.  Damn, she was almost a copy. I backed up and said to my PDU, "Call Quan."  Shortly, he was looking back at me.  "Supp, Broman?"  I pushed the image stream that I had just captured to him and said, "Compare this with your list number 54."  I waited as he clicked and talked to his much larger display. Finally, he nodded.  "She's damn close, looks wise.  Do you have her specifications?"  I nodded and captured a view of the paper on the wall.  He read that for a while, then said, "Definitely doable if she has the intel specs.  Is she hirable?" I nodded.  "Maybe.  She's an other-contract thrall.  You want her?" "Yes.  At least for a try." "You got it," I said then signed off. Turning to the woman, I said, "You..."  I looked at the paper again.  "...Didi.  Speak of yourself." In a low voice, she began her sales pitch.  "Didi have 29 years, Master. Five foot seven inches in tall. Have good tail.  Can service with mouth, pussy or chute.  Teeths are good.  No kind of..." I stopped the sales pitch, wondering where she learned the ancient measuring units of feet and inches.  "If you are so desirable, why did Mr..."  I had to look at the posted paper again.  "...Haddins decide to put you up for sale five months early?" She hung her head.  "Didi didn't satisfy Master with desire.  Didi was wanted to... to...  Master would squat over her face and..." "Never mind," I said.  I had no interest in hearing about Mr. Haddins perversions, especially right after we had enjoyed a good dinner.  "If I buy out your Master's contract, what is your offer for one year?  An unlimited contract," I added.   That meant that we could do anything to the girl short of physical harm.   She was looking at Nefer with more than just curiosity.  I would wager that she was either gay or bisexual.  She certainly wasn't looking at my crotch and wondering what was there.  She finally looked back at me and with some hesitation, said, "Two pumpkins, sir?" She meant two hundred credits.  Back before all monies became electronic, hundred credit banknotes were orange, but for her it was just learned slang - she wasn't even remotely close to being old enough to remember physical money.  A damn good wage for an uneducated female for a year.  I didn't care.  If she worked out, then she would be on the payroll.  If she didn't, the money was trivial.  I paid the proprietor of the sale house, buying out her old contract and placing her under mine.  The money was registered to her name in the Federal banking system and she would have access to it, minus fees and taxes, in one calendar year.  Back at the hotel, we showered, then headed for bed to try out our new possession.  Sure enough, while she certainly knew how to service a man, it was just a job for her, but once she started on Nefer, it was for pleasure.  Even as she was licking and stimulating my partner, one hand was under her body fingering her own clit.  She was nothing spectacular, but nonetheless, was a good lay.  Heck, for a male, any new cunt is good. But, she wasn't bought for sex.  The Enterprise had other uses for her once Quan got through with her. -------------- Time passes The inspection trip to the mine was unspectacular - which was good.  It produced a steady stream of product greatly desired by the industries of the world, in addition to another stream of the same product that left the mine at night and without a lot of, shall we say...  ponderous bureaucratic procedures?  In a day or so we were back at Sessiman cove where I deposited the girl for transport on the next plane out to the island.   Things were going well, as they usually do when a team of experts is involved.  The Federal District Attorney for the Northwest states had launched an investigation into the shady goings on of the legislature.  It helped, of course, that he was an employee of the Enterprise in addition to being DA.  By now, every person involved in the fiasco was back pedaling at full speed and swearing to one and all that Bobo had led them all astray.  They swore that it never crossed their minds that the Representative from the Deepside district would actually try to nationalize a private industry.  How un-American!  It was a despicable act in a land that was built on the idea of the sanctity of private property and none of us would have ever gone along if we had known of the evil plans being hatched!  No Sir!  It was Bobo that did it.  Yep.  Just him. By now the agitprop team had the city in such a state that Bobo wasn't about to come home.  Lynching was the best he could expect from a citizenry with an unemployment problem growing exponentially by the day.  It wasn't long before the state government offered all needed help to get the plant back online.  Unfortunately, the damage was so severe, they were informed, that the plant administration was doubtful that proper repairs could be made with the funds available to the corporation.  The suggestion was bandied about that the corporation might mothball the plant in the hopes of finding the working capital to put it back together.   Hopefully in a few years. Once that news was made public, Bobo decided that even being a hundred and fifty kilometers away from his constituents wasn't far enough.  His few remaining staff that hadn't already disappeared announced a sudden and major health problem that would require him to retire to a medical facility on the East Coast for several months.   Once he was gone, both the State and Feds came though with a set of tax remission bills over a ten year period - and a couple of grants of emergency money - that would allow the corporation to repair the plant as fast as possible.  And a suspension of all inspection and building codes during the process. I just sat back in the comfortable underground hideout at Sessiman Cove and watched the farce play out.   I was continually shaking my head in admiration while watching Rita and her team playing the politicians like a virtuoso playing a fine musical instrument.   The plant manager, Larson, was back at the helm, only this time when he spoke, the local officials jumped as high as he ordered.  His casual comment that any official that started putting red tape in the way of the repair would have his or her name reported to the citizenry made sure that nothing was unavailable for his needs from the locals.  Teams were working under the guidance of the engineering staff to clear away the wreckage and get to ready to install the new reactor unit as soon as it was delivered from the island.   Well, not all of the engineers.  Our man who volunteered to put on the act in front of the guards was off on an extended vacation and with a very large bonus to enjoy it.  Diller and his crew were also heavily bonused and told to haul ass to somewhere to relax as soon as their temporary replacements arrived on site. The job would take about two months - officially.  Since the explosions were set by us, nothing of importance was damaged.  The plant could have been back online in three days - but only we knew that.  --------------- Time passes.  Quan's place The last several months since the Oregon plant had started back up had been very quiet.  I was relaxing in Quan's pool with Chi on my lap, facing away and with my johnson still in her, although it was limp and done for the day.  Rita and Quan, on the other side, had already finished and were just talking.  He looked over at us, saw that we were though and gave a command to a shallie standing against the wall.  She vanished. "Ok, John.  Let me show you something."  In a few seconds another shallie came into the spa room.  She looked vaguely familiar - late twenties physically, nice looking - Woah! This wasn't a shallie.  This was the girl whose contract that I had bought in the state of Southern California.  I gently lifted Chi up so that our pleasurable probe and sheath connection was broken, then floated over to the lip of the pool for my PDU and commanded it to bring up a photo.  After a few seconds, I had to admit that this woman was a master image for the Under Associate for Projects Review.  Of course, I knew that Chi's team could almost make your sister look like Santa Claus. She just stood at the edge of the pool but not nude - around her waist was a wrap.  The small bandages on both cheeks meant that she had been ministered to by Chi's team of doctors for appearance reasons.   Quan asked, "Who are you?"  In a very pleasant voice, she answered.  "My name is Leona Thelsen." "And your function is...?" "I am the Under Associate for Projects Review.  I am thirty years of age, was educated at the University of Sasonce.  I entered the Government after graduation on a Seamour grant and moved up the ladder over the next several years.  My mother lives in the Alabama strip and is a Public Works Coordinator for the..."" Wow!  From a public educated - meaning, no practical education - young woman who could barely speak two consecutive words of proper American, she was now sounding like a genuine University graduate.  I held up my hand to stop her.  "Ok.  Not bad.  How did you learn the target so quickly? She assumed a much more casual stance and replied, "I don't know, Sir.  One morning I woke up knowing all about Leona Thelsen." That meant that she had been RNA doctrinated, but with whose?  There was no way that it could have come from the mark herself - collecting donor RNA was a major medical procedure, done in a sterile medical environment.  DNA could be hijacked easily, but not its much more intimate relative - not yet, anyway.  I looked at Quan and asked, "This girl has been Stretched, right?"   I couldn't believe it - actually, I could because the result was standing there, but it was still awesome.   Four months!  "Where did the RNA come from - not the madam herself?" Quan shook his head.  "From her portfolio manager.  He became ill last spring and had to be admitted to a clinic for tests.  He grew up with her and just followed her into her career."  He pointed to the woman.  "She has natural intelligence - it's just been overlaid by the usual public non-education." "What's the schedule?" I asked. Rita spoke up, finally looking up from her PDU.  "The target is going on leave next month.  By coincidence, she's been invited to a 'conference' in Cayman.  On the way, her boat will 'sink' and she will barely make it ashore.   The experience will be traumatic, but she should be able to resume her duties in a couple of months." I knew that the swap would be made in route, and it would be our doppelganger who would wash ashore.  The alleged terrifying experience would help cover any inevitable slip-ups while she was merging into her lookalike's life. Quan climbed the ladder out of the water.  "Let me show you something else that has come up." --------------- Quan's office Three girls were showing on the wall sized actiscreen.  All were wearing some loose fitting robes as they relaxed and enjoyed some action on their own acti.  I didn't yet know if I was looking at a recording or if it was live.  "Take off your garments."  Well, that answered that.  All three stood up and turned around facing us, or rather, facing the direction that our view was looking at the moment.  They slipped out of their clothes and stood, seemingly unconcerned. Well, well.  All three were intersexes.  Very attractive with narrow waists, large boobs, and wide hips.  However, the large dongs hanging in place of their clits gave the lie to their femininity.   I wasn't sure what the significance was, since about one in thirty thousand or so humans have an ambiguous physical sexuality, but I knew that Quan didn't call me in here just to look at three sets of trans.  "Turn around and bend over for examination."   They spun around, bent over at the waists with their hands on their knees, then veed out their legs.  I looked with interest at the sight - or rather, the lack of...   None had testicles.  Instead, each had an almost normal looking vagina starting at the base of their penis and an ordinary female crack running all the way to their asshole.  That made these some very rare versions of the usual intersex persons.   I knew that hermaphrodite females were desired by some shallie collectors, but I wondered how he managed to find three of the rarer species at the same time.   "Ok.  I'll bite.  How did you find three of them." He spoke at the images and the three girl-boys stood up, re-clothed themselves and relaxed on their lounger to begin watching their acti again.   "I didn't.  They all applied for service within a week of each other."  He waved me to a lounger and he dropped into his own moulding chair.   "However, they all came with a story that I had to check out before I believed it."   I just raised my eyebrows and waited.  "All of the three think they were born with their uniqueness, although they were raised in totally different creches.  And their DNA shows that they aren't related." He stopped and waved at a shallie standing in the portal.  She immediately entered, holding a tray with two steaming cold drinks for us.  After we accepted the mugs, he popped her on the butt to leave and continued.   "You may know that only about two percent of intersexes have the penis/vagina combination - that is, two percent of the point oh oh three percent of the total intersex population, which makes them very rare individuals.   It used to be a much higher percentage, but genetic typing at conception usually catches such ambiguity now." I nodded, surprised that I could follow him so far.  "Ok, so you have found three very rare hermaphrodites.   And the significance would be...?" From behind me, a voice answered, "Actually, hermaphrodite is an inaccurate label.  That word indicates an individual or species that is fertile in both male and female terms." I turned around to see both Chi and Rita enter, both with their own drinks and both as naked as Eve running from the apple tree.  From Rita's facial calm, I knew that both of them had been enjoying each other since we left them at the pool.   Lightning fast for them - usually, their sexual encounters with each other would go on for hours. She continued.  "Most intersex persons are infertile.   And since these have no testicles, they have no sperm.   They can ejaculate, which means they have a prostate and that precludes a working set of female reproductive organs although they have a pseudo vagina deep enough to allow for intercourse."   I moved over to let Rita lay back beside me as Chi sat beside Quan.  Quan continued.  "The real epiphany here is that all three have a standard set of XX chromosomes." All I knew was that a normal female had that type and a male had a set of XY pair. Chi nodded.  "They should have a set of 47XXY pairs.   Or 46XX 47XY pairs.  Or even 45X XY sets.  But they don't.  That means that the meiosis didn't produce pairs by homologous DNA crossover recombination.  It had to be an artificial chromatic homolog process to get the ambiguity in sexual characteristics and still produce normal chromosomes... I mentally shook my head and managed to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head.  Chi might as well be talking in the language of beings from Alpha Centauri.   I waited for a pause in her dissertation so that I could drop in a question. "Ok. Ok.  So the three are sexually weird but normally constructed.  What does it mean?" Rita knew full well that it had totally gone over my head, but she managed to keep from laughing.  ""It means, honey, that someplace on planet earth has a lab that is doing cutting edge genetic work.   Besides us."  I looked at her.  "Those three are artificial?" Quan spoke up.  "Their male organs are.  Those three girls were born as normal females, but someone has developed a process to cause their clitorus'es to... metamorphosis into a major male wang and produce a prostate along with it as they grew to adulthood. Ok, I understood that.  "Alright, so someone can make trans girls on demand..." "No. No, Cungie-san."  Chi was shaking her head.  "These girls have a fulling working set of male parts, only excepting fertile testicles.  Growing a penis from a clitorus is the easy part.  We could probably accomplish that if we wanted.  But to take a normal child female, and cause her to develop a normal male tool, along with a prostate and all the nervous apparatus for orgasm and ejaculation is...  well, I'm not even sure how I would start the research. Sum Bitch! as my father-in-law was fond of saying.   "So what you are telling me is...  somewhere in the world is a laboratory, or set of geneticists who can accomplish things that even you and your people have no idea how to do?" Hmmmmm.   Was that information good or bad?   Or neutral? -------------- Several weeks later Rita and several of her associates had hurried into my office.  I waved at them but kept my eyes on my desktop PDU display.  I saw a notation appear on the info section of the screen and said, "Ok.  We'll be leaving in two hours.   Get your team ready at Deepside.  You'll go on the search with us." Diller nodded and signed off.  I sat back and looked at the crowd that was looking at me.   Rita just said one word, "Down?" I nodded.  "We'll refuel at Deepside, pick up Diller and his team then and fly the route.  Hopefully, we'll find the ELT beacon if it was a crash.  If they just had to set down somewhere, then they'll be listening to the radio and looking for us."   Unless they whanged at full speed into the side of a mountain.  In that case, the Emergency Locator Transmitter was probably atomized junk. "What do you think? asked Rita.  "No information to even guess.  They could be sitting in a field somewhere waiting for help or just be fragments on the side of a mountain.  All we know is that the plane left Lake Bosson at eleven hundred yesterday and never showed up at Deepside." One of Rita's team spoke up.  "How about the op.  Can we stop it?" I shook my head.  I spoke into my PDU and the wall activision instantly turned into a news report, recorded earlier.  "...still looking for the other members of her ship.  The Carib Coast Guard has said that so far that Director Thelsen is the only survivor that has been located as of this broadcast.  The extent of her injuries is unknown, but sources state that they are not life threatening.  The commander of the..."  I clicked it off. "Too late," I said.  "We're committed." "Fregrels balls," said another.  "If the actual Director turns up alive - or even as body parts..." Rita was gazing off into the distance.  "Then we're majorly fucked, just to use one of my father's favorite expressions." I sat back in my chair, which immediately reformed into a lounger.  "We probably shouldn't have run both operations in parallel.  Get the target, then place the clone.  We need to remember that." Rita looked down from whatever space she had been in.  "We knew that, honey.  The problem with this operation was time and distance.  The time to fly the real Director to our lab, here - halfway around the world, extract a sample of her RNA, then fly it back - again, halfway around the world so it could be used by our agent.  The Director was only supposed to be gone on leave for a week.  That didn't leave enough time." Another of her associates spoke up.  "Even if the Director is never found, we have another problem.  Our clone is going to have to assume her new identity with only the third party RNA education of her manager.  That is going to leave a lot of holes for her to fall into." Another nodded.  "We need to tell the clinic that the clone now has some major retrograde amnesia from her accident.  That will at least give us some time." Rita nodded.  "Do it." I stood up and said, "I'm gone.  Wish me some favorable random factors, as Sallie would say." Rita walked up to me, grabbed me in a hug, along with some serious tongue work and replied, "Good luck, honey.  And watch where you land." --------------- Hours later Deepside was on the horizon and my PDU finally synced.  I immediately connected to Diller for an update.  He didn't even wait for me to ask.  "Nothing yet boss.   Not a word." Damn.  The mountain interface theory was looking more likely as the hours went by.  Whatever.  We would leave as soon as the plane was topped off with H2. Then my device chimed with Sallie's page.  I nodded to accept and up popped her face.   True to form, for her genes, she didn't waste time with greetings or pleasantries.   "Ok, Boss.  I can cut your search area down by sixty eight percent."    Wow, that was a definite help.   A map of the country replaced the female talking head with a line from the East Coast to about halfway across Texas.  "The last location that their PDUs were synced was Sand End." Hmmmm.  That cut out the entire trip from the East Coast to the middle of Texas.  I knew that the plane wouldn't have flown half the length of the country directly over the I-20 strip city.  That would have been against our philosophy of always trying to keep a low profile.  It would do no good to remind the average person that there existed in the world people who could afford to actually fly like the rich ancients that they watched in their historical acties.   Nonetheless, they would have paralleled the city close enough for their PDUs to stay synced.  Since the I-20 strip petered out in the Texas desert at the town of Sand End that would have been the place for them to have dropped off the grid. She continued as my map suddenly displayed some hand written marks and X'es.  "This is where they would have crossed the I-80 strip as they turned northwest, but they didn't.   So you need to look from..."  more marks  "...here to here."   At least some of the indicated territory was mainly flat.   Maybe we weren't looking for a hole in a mountainside, after all. "Thank, Sweetie."  I didn't bother to say "Keep me informed."  I knew that she would be laser focused on the problem as she queried every possible resource in the world to try to further shrink the area of interest. As soon as we landed and motored up to the refueling platform, I called the crew back to my temporary office that I had set up in the tail.  After running over the info that I had just received from Sallie, I said, "We're going to do a high level inflared pass from here to here, then come back on a parallel track with another."  I looked at Captain Hargrove.  "How many passes can we make before we have to come back here for fuel?" He looked at the map on his PDU, did some fast calculations, then said, "Six, easily.  This is one of our two extended range birds and we're traveling light.  Lots of range." I nodded.  "Good.  After each pass, we'll ship the data to Sallie's crew and they'll tear it down for any heat source anomalies.   Of course, what we're hoping for is to pick up their radio as we pass over.  They'll know we're looking for them."  I didn't mention the obvious - that we didn't want to pick up their crash transmitter.  I wasn't worried about the captive.  Her life as she knew it was over, anyway, but I had five employees and friends on that plane that I wanted back. --------------- Time passes I was relaxing in an midscale bar in Deepside.  The rest of the crew, I assumed, was either asleep or laying between some legs in their hotel rooms.  We only flew four passes, since Sallie said that any residual heat sources would be far more apparent in a scan with the sun missing.  Nonetheless, it had been a long exhausting night.   We were waiting for word from Sallie's crew as to whether or not they had found anything on our scans.  If not, we would try a daylight visual set of passes.   But at this point, it wasn't looking good.  Maybe... "Service, Sir?" I looked up a the prossie standing beside my chair.  Nice.  Really nice. Not the usual out of shape, slack muscled and over grease painted cunt.   Early twenty something years old or so and definitely not wearing show-all stretches.  Not that her very nice form wasn't on display inside of her skin tight garments, but nothing was showing bare or sticking out.   Brunette, tall - about a hundred and seventy centimeters and a good form.  This one apparently exercised somewhat.  "What's your name and specialty, femme?" "Tag is Poppy, Sir. Companionship.  Sex.  But I can cook, clean and speak converse if wanted." Interesting.  She must have either paid attention to the actie teachers in her schools, or actually had a human as a mentor.  Her American-speak was far less fractured than the usual street-femme.  I wasn't needing tail at the moment.  It would have been nice, as it always is, but I had too many worries for my body to spare any energy for my dick.   She would pass the time while I was waiting for Rita or Sallie to come back. I pointed to the lounger across from my table.  "Sit down," I invited.  She hesitated and I knew why.  "Don't worry.  I'll pay for your time." She sat down and replied, "My grats, sir.  Action is ungood since that cammerbag blowed the plant.  You want your rodder serviced?" "Not yet, I said.  Maybe later.   Right now I'm waiting for news."  Taking a different tack, I said, "Tell me about yourself." She was...  well, not uncomfortable, but uneasy with the idea that someone might spend credit just to pay for talk.  This was a nice bar, but not even close to the upscale watering holes overlooking the cliffs.  She wouldn't be allowed in here if it was.   However, neither was it the jammer bars that the average citizen had access to.  The usual clientele of this place was what would once have been known as middle class - workers who had managed to get an education from the worthless teaching given to the citizenry or that had developed a skill that would give them a decent living. "Query, sir?"  I nodded.  "May be the plant coming back and working?"  I understood the desire for an answer.  If her clients weren't working, then her business had to crash also.  But... "Why would you ask me?"  I really wanted to know.  As far as I knew, I was a total unknown on the mainland.  At least to her economic class. "You are owner, yes?  No?" What the fuck?  My hair almost began to stand on end.  "Why do you think so?" She shrugged.  "Pardon if offending.  Recognize Sir as Tatum.  Richie from Wahie."  "How do you know that?"  This might be serious.  How the hell a public educated twenty something year old could recognize me was...  well, so how the hell could she? "Saw image and story in past when 'netting for school." She remembered my name and picture from some random search for a school project?  I wondered...   "What day was that?" "Don't remember, sir.  Was in social class of outage school." An eidetic memory, maybe?  I knew that the rare phenomenon was never as it was displayed in fiction.  No one had a memory that could recall every event of every day of their lives - the human brain had nowhere near enough storage for such a feat.   I also knew that the ability had nothing to do with education or native intelligence.  Possible this woman could store images and information, but probably couldn't tie them to a date that they were seen or read.  None the less, if she was what it appeared, Sallie would love to test her. I queried her for fifteen minutes or so.  Sure enough, she had a total grasp of pictures and text that she had seen and read and could even correlate them with approximate dates, but, of course, not to the point of being time stamped to the exact day and hour.  Unless, some event of the day tagged itself to the memory. "Do you have contracts or family here?"  That was a surprise question, obviously.  She shook her head.  "Raised in city creche.  No parents.  No contacts.  No money with rodders in town to buy me at present." Good.  "I have a proposition for you."  At her look of confusion, I replaced the unknown word.  "A long term contract.  Six months.  Unlimited.  Your price?" She was caught by surprise.  I suspected that long term contacts for her services were probably several days at the most.  She hesitated, probably trying to figure out how much six months would be to her usual fee.  "I'm offering two hundred credits." That made her jaw drop.  She probably had never had more than five credits to her account at any one time.   And that would have been after a really good month.   I could see her normal female caution about something too good to be true fighting with the idea of becoming - to her ideas - rich.  The unlimited part of the contract meant that she would be obligating herself to anything that I required - within the law, of course. She opened her mouth to start, then hesitated, then tried again.  I held up my hand and gave her some more information.  "You will travel and be tested for your abilities.  If they are sufficient, it is possible that you could have a permanent contract."   There was no possibility of a single girl on her own forgoing that kind of opportunity.   She slowly nodded and I downloaded a standard service contract on my PDU.  A few commands later, it was filled out and sent to her PDU address.  She read it, added a verbal signature and it was done. --------------- Days pass Still nothing.  Multiple night and daylight passes came up totally negative.  The assumption now was that the plane and passengers had, for some reason, gotten off course and crashed outside of our search area.  And as we had examined less than one percent of the land in the range of the plane, they would probably stay vanished until someone else found them, or, if alive, the crew walked to civilization somewhere. For now our search plane was doing an expanding spiral hunt for radio traffic from the ground, returning to the Deepside base to swap out pilots and observers and to refuel. Leaving Diller to monitor the situation, and be ready to react at an instant's notice, Poppy and I headed back to Sessiman cove.  I still had an enterprise to run and I couldn't do that efficiently from a wrist sized communications device. The first night, I stripped down in our apartment, then called the girl away from the window where she was looking at fascination at the waiting plane.  I lay back on the mattress and said, "Show me your talents." She immediately thumbed the seam of her stretches, dropped them to the floor and crawled onto the foot of the bed.  Her's was a very nice body - how she maintained it on the junk that came from the public kitchens and stores, I had no idea.  She looked at me to see if I wanted to give directions, but I just looked back.  She scooted up to my midsection and began to work over my johnson with her mouth.  She didn't have the skills of one of mom's students and was a long way from Nefer, but she was good.  Unlike most girls who just worked the sex trade mechanically, she had tried to learn other techniques.  She instinctively knew that I liked tits, and made sure that her nice set swung back and forth in my line of vision as she lowered herself onto my rod.  By the time I flipped her onto her back to finish, I was definitely turned on and enjoying the act.  I had decided that even if Sallie had no use for her, I would keep her as a bedwarmer for the rest of her contract.   Hours later, I had emptied my nuts into her twice.  The second time was even better than the first as she began to learn what I liked. Then an incoming alert overrode my PDU's quiet setting.  "Boss..."  It was Diller. "Plane is inbound.  They found it."  I flew out of bed leaving my clothes behind.  In the office, I polled the pilots' PDU. The pilot immediately began his report when I stopped him.  "Hang on Dave.  Let me get headquarters synced in."  I keyed in the priority alert for both Rita and Sallie and waited the few moments till they came online.  In less than a minute, I said, "Ok, Dave.  Hit it." He looked at something off screen.  "The plane is down at..." A map replaced the talking pilot's head.  "...here.  Made radio contact.  Pilot and copilot and one passenger are injured.  Others mostly ok.  Cargo is missing."   What the fuck!?  How could that be? My first question was, "Can you land nearby?" The map disappeared and the pilot came back on.  "Not a chance.  Closest possible place lake is here..."  The map came back.  "But that's two hundred and fifty clicks away."  The map scrolled and he continued, "If you get the amphib, there's a stretch of old highway right there that hasn't been covered by the sand yet.  That's only about fifty clicks away.  There's an old road here, right next to the plane, but it's lined with poles that are still standing.  Not good."  I sat back and thought furiously while Sallie queried the pilot some more.  No time for half measures.  Besides some injured friends, there was the problem that the woman apparently had fled the site. I made a decision.  "Rita!  Put a pair of Geeps on the amphibian and send it to Deepside, chop chop.  I'll meet it there."  Now I thanked my Godfather's insistence on having at least one aircraft with hard landing capability.  Rita's father had told us many times, that when the old Frenchman, Jean, spoke, you listened carefully to what he said. The range of the amphibian wasn't as great as the other birds because of having to haul the weight of all that landing gear around, but it had plenty for this mission.  As an afterthought, I said,  "Send along some defense equipment."  Then an idea struck me.  "Send two big rolls of d-rope and stuff to make it work."   My tone of voice didn't indicate that I wanted to discuss the situation, so she nodded and disappeared from my screen.  Then I went back to listen to Sallie's questioning. "...three hundred kilometers off track.  Did they say why?" Dave shook his head. "No, but we were coming up on critical fuel, so we left just a few minutes after the contact." Rita came back on.  "Plane will be leaving here in an hour.  Soon as they get the cargo secured.  I'll call you with an ETA." --------------- End of Book 2