Ratings Advisory: The Earth Media Content Group has determined that this story can only be read by people above the age of 18. It contains subjects and situations that are suitable only for mature audiences. Parents with underaged children will need to activate their content-advisory programs now.

The regular publication of the Boobs In Blue comic came to an end in 2419. A series of biannual specials took its place. This story, set ten years after the events described in the Police Blue movie, continues the adventures of Lynnae, June, and the rest of Blue Team.
 

[Prologue]

The planet Outback, year 2427. Some 200 kilometers northeast of New Darwin lies the Lydia Burbank Memorial Nature Preserve. Nestled somewhere in the rugged hills of the Preserve is a fabulous treasure. Two men decided to take that treasure, enjoying the wealth that will result in its sale. Consulting his map, Andrew Curr calculated his position. His partner, Terrance, nervously looked around. The Preserve has a good supply of bushbears, and bushbears hunted at night.
    "Andy, this place gives me the creeps! Are you sure about our position?" Terrance kept his hand near his holster.
    "Terry, still your fear," Andy said firmly. "The cave entrance is 300 meters in that direction. C'mon." The big man moved confidently, leading the way through the brush with his torch (flashlight).
    Ten minutes of walking lead the two men to a stark, rock-faced hill. A rather obvious cave entrance beckoned the men to enter. Patting the side of his pouch, Andy shined his torch into the cave's entrance.
    Terry gulped. "Andy, did your friend said he was after the same treasure?"
    "Hartwood? Yes, about three months ago. He was good." Andy checked his own gun, an 8mm Colt Pulsar, and prepared several light strips. "He was very, very good. If anyone could've made it then it was him. Now it's my turn."
    The duo entered the cave. They slowly made progress in the dank and cold air, leaving a trail of light strips. It was only the thought of treasure that made them go on. In the ten years since the reported death of Mr Big there had been numerous finds of rare and valuable items that belonged to the deceased supercriminal. A bra that graced the front of the 23^rd century actress Josie Lotz fetched a 150,000 credit bid in a recent auction. Sometimes the treasure finders succumbed to the booby traps that Big used to protect his stash. The plastic explosive that lined the interior of a genuine Fat Albert lunch box killed the overeager man that opened it, utterly demolished his house.
    Deep in the cave is the holy among holies of the sports world: the McGwire. It's an autographed baseball, 429 years old and valuable in its own right. But this ball is graced with another accolade - it's the ball that McGwire hit to secure his place in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Seventy homeruns in one season is a great feat, so great that Mr Big decided to get the ball for his own enjoyment in 2055. Now, after centuries of being lost to the universe, it was time to reclaim the McGwire.
    After two minutes of walking Andy made an abrupt halt, grabbing Terry by the arm. "Hey," Terry protested, "why did you do that for? There's no traps; the minicomp shows all-clear."
    "That's what concerns me." Andy looked ahead, his torch lighting up a section of cave floor. There's a barely perceptible groove on the ground. Grabbing a handy rock, Andy threw his impromptu missile at the groove. In startling swiftness, a wall of spikes moved out of the cave wall, forming a barrier. Imbedded in the spikes is the decaying carcass of Hartwood. The corpse's head turned, gazing lifelessly at Andy. The jaw fell off, causing Terry to blow chunks onto his boots.
    "Hartwood. He could never keep his mouth shut." Andy shook his head and produced a laser cutter from his pack. The spike barricade was undone in minutes. The duo proceeded, encountering another trap in the form of a pit lined with spikes. They got past that peril by firing an anchoring rocket into the ceiling. The attached rope allowed both men to swing over to the other side.
    The duo passed through an unadorned archway. Andy's heart raced when he saw the chamber before him. It was a venerable baseball shrine. The walls were lined with old-style photos of baseball legends and commemorative plaques, the diffuse lighting lending a heavenly atmosphere to the scene. At the far end of the chamber was the McGwire itself, resting on top of a raised cylinder of marble.
    Joyful, Terry started to go for the ball, but again was stopped short by Andy. "It's too easy," Andy said, looking at the regularly spaced images of baseballs on the floor. Pulling out a tube of programable memory-plastic from his pack, Andy used his improvised tool to press down on one of the baseball images. It yielded, moving down a mere three millimeters...
    TWANG! A 5cm rod of metal implanted itself in the tube. Turning, Andy saw the rod's exit hole in the wall. It was the same size as the numerous tiny baseball images painted on the walls. The baseball images on the floor were pressure plates, linked to the rod dischargers in the walls. Andy handed the tube to Terry. "Stay here."
    "Absolutely," Terry breathed. With tip-toe dexterity Andy made for the marble cylinder. The spacing between the pressure plates got less and less, and at one point Andy nearly fell over. Recovering quickly, the tall man reached the cylinder. Having made it that far Andy wasn't about to succumb to another trap set by Mr Big. From his cornucopia pack came a baseball identical to the McGwire in terms of size, shape, texture, material, and weight.
    As avarice filled his eyes Andy steeled his nerves. The replacement of the McGwire had to be down quickly and without error. At the perfect moment of balance and clarity Andy made the switch. Well, at least it wasn't set to explode, Andy thought, Big wasn't that paranoid. Further thoughts on the subject had to wait - the cylinder started to move down. A violent crack was heard, then huge chunks of the ceiling fell down and the ground started to shake. "Oh, Fuddleducks!" Andy sprinted towards the exit, avoiding the flying rods by the narrowest of margins.
    Terry had already made it across the spike pit, waiting for Andy. The tall man reacjed the pit, holding the McGwire closely to his chest. "Throw me the ball, I'll throw you the rope!" Terry yelled.
    Andy looked down into the spike pit, noting the multitudes of sharp points ready to impale him. "Throw me the rope!"
    "No! Throw me the McGwire, then I'll throw the rope!"
    Desperate, Andy threw the ball to his partner. Terry admired the ball for a moment, then half-heartedly threw the rope at Andy. The means of Andy's escape was three meters out of reach. "So long, sucker!" Terry sprinted off.
    Andy hadn't the time to curse, so with energy born of adrenaline he jumped and caught the rope, swinging to the far side. He fumbled his landing, scrambling to get over the edge of the pit. The ground under his hands had turned to the consistency of wet clay, making handholds difficult. Above the pit the ceiling started to come down. With a final spasm of energy, Andy got out to the pit, the descending section of ceiling missing him by a moment.
    Scrambling, Andy ran towards the cave entrance. Just a short distance from the former spike barrier was Terry, pinned to the cave wall by a baseball bat covered with pine tar. The McGwire Ball was at Terry's feet. Andy recovered the ball without ceremony, but he had to say one last thing to his dead partner. "Well, you always said you had the biggest wood." The joke was lost to Terry, and Andy had a new problem. A huge rock sphere made to look like a baseball was rolling after Andy. "That damn Big. Couldn't he think of anything else?" Now pursued by the rock, Andy ran like the wind, following the trail of light slips back to the cave entrance. Then, with the rock just behind him, Andy made a prodigious leap forward, exiting the cave. Dust rose as the baseball rock slammed into the cave entrance, sealing it utterly.
    Regaining his breath, Andy sat up and looked at the McGwire. With Terry dead, the two million C-Bill minimum that the McGwire would fetch on the black market will all belong to Andy. A rustling of leaves and branches made Andy raise his head. "Who's there?" He said, pulling out his gun.
    "That's quite unnecessary, Mr Andrew Curr," said a mystery voice. Multiple targeting lasers played over Andy's gun and hand. "Drop the gun or we'll drop you."
    Andy threw his gun away. "Who is it? Is that you, McTaggett? Was it you who convinced Terry to betray me?"
    "Not McTaggett, but you did chose the wrong friend," Mystery Voice said. A soft hum filled the air, revealing a multitude of formally cloaked people. Most of them were Park Rangers, armed with 11mm rifles that were normally used on rogue bushbears. There were two women dressed in civilian clothes, and, upon closer inspection, wore badges on their rather pronounced chests. "I'm Captain Lynnae Jarvis of Blue Team, New Darwin Police," said the shorter of the duo. The taller one walked over to Andy, removing the McGwire from his grasp.
    "I'm Captain June Norbert," said the tall one, "and you're under arrest."
 

1

North-Central New Darwin. The oldest section of the city also played host to the oldest profession. An area of 168 square blocks known simply as the Box serviced the baser needs of men and women of the city for over 200 years. From streetwalkers to reservation-only pleasure hotels, the Box had everything a connoisseur of the flesh wanted... except a subway link. For decades civic groups have opposed the addition of a subway link for the Box. To do so was to make access to the Box much easier and convenient. Nobody wanted Little Jimmy taking the neighborhood subway and head straight towards a brothel. Until now, customers had to drive or take streetcars to enter the Box, making it a conscious choice and not a flight of fancy. But that was about to change. The building owners in the Box decided to put up the money for the subway link. Since it was private money, the City Council gave their consent and allowed a private contractor to start work on the eight tunnels and 16 terminals. It was a regular November evening when the workers in tunnel 3, located at the Scratch Lane Terminal, encountered something unusual.
    Construction Supervisor Linstrom was going over the daily progress reports when the third-shift work detail encountered a metallic object. An audible clang brought all work to a halt. "What was that?" Linstrom asked out-loud. "Did the driller break a rod?"
    "Not that, Supe," replied Klerts, the drill operator. "We hit something metal here. Strange, the sounder and radar didn't pick up so much as a rock beforehand."
    "Let me look." Linstrom left his desk, bringing along his pick. He reached the section of wall where the drill had been working. Klerts moved some rock away to get a better look. "Here, shine a light on that," Linstrom ordered. The now-illuminated surface shone a spectacular silver, glowing actually. Linstrom tested the object's surface with his pick. Whatever the object was, it sounded solid, and the pick left no marks whatsoever on the queer thing.
    "What do you make of it, Supe?" Klerts asked.
    "There was nothing about this in the records for this area," Linstrom offered, "and the building that use to be above us only had a foundation, no basements." He retrieved his minicomp, selecting a menu. "I'll call up our geology expert, and a friend of mine at the university. Could be a meteorite or an old cathouse advertisement that got buried."
    Startled, Klerts jumped back, hearing a perceptible hum coming from the object. "Supe, I think you better call the bomb squad too."
    "What? Here now, your mind is acting up." Linstrom touched the object and nearly leapt out of his skin. "Wowzers! That thing electrified me!" With his now-numb hand at his side, Linstrom had to voice-activate his minicomp. "Jezzy, call the police emergency line," he said urgently, "we have a possible bomb at our location."
    "Affirmative," said the little machine.

The bomb squad showed up,  just as befuddled at Linstrom and Klerts. The various detectors and scanners the police had kept insisting that there was nothing there. A stethoscope was used, but that just confirmed the existence of the hum. Cautiously, more rock was removed, exposing more of the strange device. After two hours of work it was clear that the object was something other than a bomb.
    "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" said Sergeant Wynt to his second-in-command.
    "I sure am, Sarge. I'll do the honors." Officer Billings entered some commands into his minicomp. "This will be a great start of the week for Blue Team."

Central Station, Room 410. On this particular Monday morning Blue Team assembled for yet another week of crime busting. Lynnae and June were the first to arrive, making a beeline for the refrigerator and coffeepot respectively. Paul, Lyn's husband, arrived a moment later - nothing could make Lyn walk faster than the thought of a cold bottle of Jolt waiting for her. Nadia made her appearance two minutes later, and with her was Blue Team's newest member - Harriet Brooks. Harriet was brought onto the team three months ago, ready to fill the vacancy that will be created when Lynnae retires in four months.
    "How was it?" Nadia said, retrieving a coffee mug from her desk drawer. "Did Mr Curr put up a fight?"
    Lyn was too busy chugging down Jolt, leaving June to answer the question. "How could he, being surrounded by so many big guns? And I'm not referring to mine, thank you." June grinned. "Yet another missing treasure will be returned to its rightful owner, namely the Baseball Museum back on Earth."
    Paul shook his head. "It's amazing what some people would do to get something with an artificial value placed on it. A baseball? C'mon, why not a gold statue of a naked goddess?"
    Lyn came back up for air, wiping her mouth and resealing the bottle. "I would've posed for that, but I was too busy arresting badguys at the time. Now, what's on the plate today?"
    "Something right up our alley," Harriet announced. The strawberry-blonde woman sent a 'ware message to her friends. They all agreed it was unusual, but not unexpected. "Why is it that every unusual event that happens in this city is attributed to that Mr Big character? He's been dead for ten years now."
    "Harriet," June said sternly, "have you forgotten so quickly on how the past often intrudes on the present? After the removal of his curse, Alberto didn't remember all the places where he helped Big hide stolen goods. Just last year we found the Star of Europa diamond in a shoebox locker at the Lydia Burbank Memorial Stadium, and only last week did we learn about the McGwire baseball through the grapevine."
    "But a flying saucer? In the Box?" Harriet's blue eyes looked critical. "Could this be a colossal gag on Big's part?"
    "It sounds like something he would've done." Nadia filled her mug with fresh coffee. "Big would've made as much money as possible before revealing it as a fake."
    "If it is a fake," Lyn added. "Our job is to determine if this is another of Big's schemes that fell by the wayside... or something else. The site supervisor, Linstrom, has called in some specialists. I suggest we beat feet and see this for ourselves."
    Paul snapped his fingers. "Let's not forget the daily ritual. We'll stop by at Mitchell's on the way to the Box."
    Harriet sighed. "Of course, since it's Monday, I'll be the one springing for the donuts."
    "Cheer up, kid," June said, giving Harriet a pat on the back. "Next year you'll have the honor of buying donuts on Tuesdays!"
 

2

The work crew finished removing the remaining rock, fully exposing the strange object. Looking at it, Lyn had to agree it look like a UFO. Bright silver in color, the 12-meter craft is surmounted by a green nub, roughly one meter tall. A preliminary inspection revealed no apparent hatches or widows. All-in-all a mystery begging to be solved.
    Lyn faced Supervisor Linstrom. "You mentioned that you brought in two experts. Who are they?"
    "One of them is a geologist from our company, Roy Gleason." Linstrom pointed to a man working in the newly-created pit around the object, analyzing the nearby rocks. "The other man is from the NDU Engineering Department, Professor Wade Oberly. He's a metallurgical expert."
    "Sounds good." Lyn walked up to the object, hand outstretched.
    "I won't do that if I were you, Captain," Linstrom warned. "It gave me a nasty shock."
    Lyn withdrew her hand. "A defense mechanism? If it is a gag, then Big wouldn't want it shock everyone who touched it."
    "Then call it a malicious gag." The forceful reply came from the lips of a tall, stern-looking man. The man's dull grey overcoat gave the impression of a walking slab of stone, heavy and unyielding.
    "Who might you be, Sir?" June said on the behalf of Lyn.
    "I'm William Brock, president of the company responsible for the tunnel work. I've come to see for myself the thing that has halted work here."
    Lyn's internal detectors informed her that Brock wasn't the type that overflowed with patience. "Mr Brock, I'm Captain Lynnae Jarvis, commander of Blue Team, a special investigative group of the New Darwin Police. My team has been assigned to investigate this object."
    "Blue Team," Brock stated. "You're the group that investigates the 'unusual' crimes and criminals, like the Crime Commandoes and legacies of Mr Big. Tell me," he said, walking towards the object, "does this fit Mr Big's M-O?"
    "I wouldn't do that..." Linstrom's warning was incomplete. Brock touched the object and received a shock.
    "Ouch! What was that?" Brock shook his hand, trying to remove the numbness.
    Lyn made an involuntary grin. "Well, I guess that settles the need for a partition. Harriet, go to the van and get the barrier tape. Mr Brock, I assure you that my team will find the answer to this riddle before too long."
    Brock  massaged his hand, working the feeling back into his shocked appendage. "Too long and I'll lose money. Delay here will set back the opening of the Box Subway Extension. I can't allow what most likely is a hoax created by the late Mr Big to interfere with my schedule. Your team has until Thursday night, after that my crew will remove this object."
    "That's rather abrupt, Mr Brock," spoke Nadia. "We need time to conduct a proper investigation."
    "Honestly, ma'am, what is it that requires investigation? I say it's an elaborate hoax concocted by Mr Big. When he was alive, that little man thought non-stop on ways to separate people from their money."
    Lyn raised a forestalling hand. "That's what we're here to determine, Mr Brock. Without further delay, my team will go to work. I'll inform you of any changes down here."
    Brock nodded. "Very well, Mrs Jarvis. You can contact my office if anything should turn up. G'day." The stern man left, oblivious to the June's impromptu raspberry.
    "June!" Lyn chided. "After all these years I thought you were more mature."
    "Mature? Like this?" June flicked the bird after Brock's retiring form. "My cop senses tell me that Brock won't let us have until Thursday night."
    "Which makes our time here a premium." Lyn waited until Harriet returned with the barrier tape. "Now, gather around. Time to dispense with the assignments. Nadia, you check the building records for all structures within 3 square blocks, especially the building that use to be above this spot. Harriet, you'll stay here. If Gleason and Oberly find anything contact us. As for Paul and June," Lyn said impishly, "you'll go and talk to the 'old-timers' and owners of the buildings nearby. There's the chance that they'll know something."
    June went arms-akimbo. "Just what will you be doing? Aren't you worried that Paul may get 'distracted'?"
    "He won't." Lyn planted a kiss on Paul's cheek. "He only has eyes for me. Don't you, honey?"
    "And hands, and feet," Paul said. "You're going to make a call to our 'contacts'?"
    "You're so perceptive, husband. I'll be back here at noon."

10:15 a.m. Brunch Time. Lynnae made calls to Alberto and Sylvester. Both men admitted their ignorance about the strange object in the Box. Sylvester bashfully admitted that, in his former life as Mr Big, he would've done the old 'Cardiff Giant' scheme in the Box had the thought occurred to him. Both men wished Lyn luck for a speedy wrap-up of the case.
    Lyn could've made her calls anywhere, but at this particular time she's at Amber's house, checking in on her friend and family. Bert's at work and David, Amber's 9-year-old son, is attending school. In the spacious kitchen Lyn took sips of hot cocoa while Amber  bottle-fed Sharron, her year-old daughter.
    "Another strange mystery this time?" asked Amber, wiping away spittle from Sharron's chin.
    "A genuine one. It's not something Uncle Silly did. We have until Thursday night to figure it out, then Mr Brock will take it away."
    "Working in the pressure cooker again, eh?" Amber winked conspiratorially. "Well, on March 17 Paul will have twice the wife and half the income. Your pension can be higher... if you stay in three more years. Is this still something you want?"
    "More than ever. I've been a cop for 22 years. The odds of something really drastic happening to me are here." Lyn held her hand to her chin. "The dice have been rolled enough times. Besides, I'm getting... anxious. My belly's hungry." Lacing her fingers, Lyn placed her hands on her stomach.
    "You'll make a great mother, Lyn. You've gained some good practice with David and Sharron. But be prepared for the late-night diaper changes and feedings." Amber shifted Sharron, settling the tot in the crook of her left arm. "That reminds me. Are you still going ahead with... um, you know?" The little woman used her free right arm, moving it about 30cm in front of her.
    Lynnae looked incredulous. "You had to ask? Of course, but not so far out! I'll have the proper bust-to-height ratio of 1. Fifteen years ago, while on that undercover assignment in Kendelborn, I discovered that being so large-bosomed was wonderful, satisfying, and fulfilling. No pun intended."
    "None taken," giggled Amber. "Paul's been waiting a long time. At least you won't worry about growing out of your bras. My David was insatiable, never getting enough milk. I think that's the reason he's as tall as me now. Just image how tall he'll be when he's fourteen! But it came at a price. My bust went from 30G to 30J. At least they haven't grown for Sharron here! Next year I'm due again, twins this time. At least I should have frontage to satisfy them both."
    Lyn laughed. "Oh, but I'm sure Burt doesn't mind some more frontage. When I go from 32H to watermelons, Paul will find excuses to spend as much time with me."
    "You're a dirty little woman," chided Amber. Both women laughed and had some more cocoa.
 

3

At noon Lyn rejoined Harriet at the Scratch Lane Terminal. The two specialists were still working on the object, but they had some information. Harriet handed a file pad to her boss.
    Lyn wore her thinking face. "Hmm... Gleason thinks the object has been here a long time, over 11,00 years judging by the sediment layer and placement. Ah... Oberly's bringing in some equipment?"
    "Yes," said Harriet. "He believes the interior of the object is hollow. The object is not as massive as it appears. A force-probe drill has been ordered and... I guess that's it."
    Descending the steps into the work area was Oberly and his assistants, carrying the special drill equipment. The portly man looked happy. "If this won't work then I don't know what will," he said out-loud. "Mr Linstrom, I suggest you send everyone out of here. Just in case."
    The site manager nodded. "I can agree with that, but I have to stay. Contractual obligations."
    "Count me in too," Lyn said. "If it's a Mr Big trick, you'll need police presence as well. Harriet, you can stay if you want."
    "Thanks, but if that thing is a bomb I'll get to heaven before you," said Harriet nonchalantly.
    "I don't think so, Harriet; I got seniority. Okay, Mr Oberly, get that puppy set-up."
    Twenty minutes later Oberly and his crew were ready. The drill was set on the upper surface of the object. Wearing a protective suit, Oberly operated the controls. Harriet, Lyn, Linstrom, and the rest of Oberly's group watched from behind work equipment and piles of rock. The first two drill attempts had no apparent effect. The NDU professor scratched his head. "Well, that's unusual. A force drill can go through anything. Think I'll try it at 105%."
    A loud droning buzz filled the air the instant the force drill touched metal. The sound got progressively worse, making everyone cover their ears. Lyn thought her head was about to explode. How could Oberly continue drilling? The assistants thought the same thing, cutting power to the drill. Everyone stood up, shaking off the effects of the sound.
    Harriet worked on her abdomen. "Geez, I hope I can still have babies."
    "You're young, Harriet," Lyn said, "you'll recover. Just what is it with Oberly?"
    The man in question was still on the object, silent as a rock. Lyn took out her minicomp, scanning Oberly for life signs. He was alive, and the object's surface was no-longer electrified. Lyn got on the object and shook Oberly. "Hey, you awake?"
    Oberly was roused from this stupor. "Oh... my head. If I had ancient fillings then they would've disintegrated." The force drill head was retracted, allowing everyone a good look at the drill's work. "Hey, that's not supposed to happen. That hole's way bigger than the drill head." Indeed it was, the hole easily five centimeters wide instead of the drill's intended two. Then another surprize came. The metal around the hole started to melt. Lyn and Oberly jumped off, watching as the hole widen to the point when a person could pass through.
    "Harriet," Lyn commanded, "get some flashlights. Linstrom, you have masks?"
    The site supervisor looked bewildered. "You're going inside that thing? It could be dangerous."
    "Well, if it didn't explode after being drilled then it won't do so now. The masks?"
    Linstrom relented, handing a pair of masks to Lyn. Now equipped, both police women entered the object. It was black as pitch inside, but the flashlights pierced the darkness to reveal a shocking sight. Despite her years on the force, Harriet shrieked. It's excusable for being startled by a dead body that's practically in front of you.

As it turned out, there were two bodies in the object. A section of officers were assigned to keep security at the Scratch Lane Terminal as news of the object spread. The bodies were whisked away to Central Station. Dan Spirit Talker, now a full-fledge police medical examiner, proceeded to do autopsies on the bodies.
    Blue Team assembled in a room next to the autopsy lab, going over notes. Nadia made a mental cough over the Team's wetware channel. "The building records all check out. They've practically stayed the same since the time of their construction. As for the building that use to be at the site, Bartly's Bouncing Betties, there was no basement. Only reinforced pylons and springs for earthquake protection. Before that, the site was a collection of video kiosks and refreshment stands."
    "Speaking of Bartly's," Paul said, "many of the old-timers talked about that place. When it opened fifty years ago the dancers complained that the management was secretly injecting them with nanites. Most of the dancers gained an average of 80cm during their employment. Though the medical examiners ruled out nanites, they were at a loss to explain the growth. The lawsuit left the owners bankrupt, and Bartly's closed in 2415."
    "That was part of it," June added. "The customers and employees of Bartly's complained of a low, pulsating hum. It was especially evident during peak times, like happy hour and the main evening performances. The owners tried everything from soundproofing to noise-cancellation devices. Nothing worked, and business steadily went down."
    Lyn nodded. "I heard a strange hum while inside the disk. Could've been my own heart beat, or my nerves. Old age is finally catching up." That made everyone chuckle, since they nicknamed Lynnae 'Old Lady'. "Dan is still working on the bodies, but should have a report for us by 9 tomorrow. June, arrange an interview with the former owners of Bartly's. Get specific information on the hum. Harriet, you'll go back to the Scratch Lane site. Use that science background of yours and talk shop with Oberly and Gleason. I'm beginning to feel that this is less and less a Mr Big caper."
    Paul grinned. "Oh, honey, aren't you forgetting someone?"
    "You had to ask. I'll call up Mr Brock. You," said Lyn, poking Paul's chest, "had better cook an extra-special dinner tonight as compensation. Brock will have to settle for what we got. Nadia, you stay here with Dan and assist. I'm going to check the City Maintenance records for the area around the former Bartly's, Just in case."
    "Sounds good, 'Old Lady'," Nadia joked. "You have to prove that you can keep up with us 'youngins'."

Evening. After dinner Lyn and Paul watched some tri-dee and retired to bed early. Attired in their matching pajamas, the couple settled into their routine. Lyn read a romance novel. At her feet was the couple's pet miniature dachshunds, Runt and Snippy, offspring of Nadia's own Smudge and Pumpkin. Paul was doing a crossword puzzle from the New Darwin Herald.
    "Honey," Paul said, tapping his pen on the file pad, "what's a seven-letter word for the Devil?"
    Lyn scratched her head. "Mr Brock?"
    "That's two words, love." Paul saw what Lyn was doing. "Hey, that'll work. Thanks." In the puzzle Paul wrote the word scratch. "How did Brock react when you told him the news?"
    "Poorly. He was concerned about 'another delay that will cost even more money'."
    "That's just tough." Paul snuggled over and kissed Lyn. "Going by our track record we'll have this mystery solved before too long. We'll show him."
    "Just as long as nothing else happens, Paul."
 

4

Back at the site all was quite. Harriet worked on her report, trying to make sense of the information she got from Gleason and Oberly. The geologist still stood by his assertion that the object has been in the ground for at least 11,000 years. Oberly's assessment on the metal was equally firm. There was no process known that could account for what the object's metal could do. Preliminary metallurgical examination could only tell what the metal wasn't. In the morning Oberly is going to drill again and save some of the strange metal before it disintegrates.
    Harriet wasn't alone at the site. Erin Stout, a member of Oberly's group, was working on the force drill. Oberly told her to position the drill on another section of the object. Erin mumbled uncomplimentary remarks under her breath. Harriet's ware picked up Erin's less-than-civil words about her associates. "Erin, what's with your noise? This is the Box, after all, and the rest of your group are males, aren't they?"
    "They bloody well are," Erin spoke out. "Some of them are even married! To a man, they all got 'anxious' and left me to do all the work. I am the junior member of the team, but that's no excuse to saddle me with all the heavy lifting."
    "I hear you, sister. It's the young bucks that do all the work. Would you like a corndog and some lollywater? My treat."
    "That you, Harriet. I'm a pit peckish." Erin grinned, setting to her work with new vigor. Harriet went up the steps, telling the police guarding the entrance that she'll be back in a minute to get some food. A concession stand stood across the street, servicing the curious on-lookers with hot corndogs and pita pockets.
    Erin, no longer mumbling,  still thought about her boss. Old goat. He's probably at the Cheesecake Cafe with the others. Well, she thought as she tighten a restraining clamp, after this I might as well go to the Beefcake Barn. Mmmmmh... Beefcake. It was that instant Erin suddenly trembled, her hand releasing the wrench. Then the object's hull started to vibrate. Disorientated, Erin slid off the object and fell into the surrounding shallow pit. Not only was she shaking, but items in the area started to float and fly around. Culminating this confusion was the sound. A relentless, pounding sound that drove all thoughts from Erin's head. She covered her ears, mouth open in a silent yell. If only the sound would stop! To top it off, she felt the sensation of a giant fist squeezing her chest. A rolling, burning feeling accompanied the squeezing.
    Outside, Harriet got the food, crossing the street quickly to avoid traffic. The corndogs smelled inviting. She felt a little guilty buying four dogs, but they tasted so darn good, especially with mustard! Walking down the steps into the work area, Harriet caught the end of the unusual flying display. An airborne supply drum nearly nailed Harriet on the head. The cop ducked down, watching as the various bits of debris settled down. The quiet that followed was deafening. "Erin!" she yelled. "Where are you?" Placing the corndogs on a work table, Harriet went to the pit. Erin was there, flat on her back and unconscious. Harriet jumped down and check Erin's vital signs. Image her shock when she saw the proud basketballs on Erin's front where there were none before just five minutes earlier.

Maryland Hospital, 1 a.m. Tuesday morning. Harriet sat next to a sleeping Erin. The now quite-buxom woman had not regained consciousness since her experience in the pit. Going by procedure, Harriet placed a call to June, telling her of the queer happenings that night. Grumpily, June replied that she was coming over, and that this 'better be worth my time'. That was 35 minutes ago, which means she should be...
    June Norbert walked in, her rumpled overcoat wet with rain. She didn't appear to be in a bad mood, but once she saw Erin... "Root a boot! You didn't mention anything about this!"
    Harriet looked at her teammate. "You would've told me to 'stop with the bad jokes'. Besides, it was your turn on the rotation list to receive calls tonight." She turned back at Erin. "Poor girl. It has to be a terrible shock for her. The doctor said she should regain consciousness by morning."
    "How big is she?" June gaged Erin's new front and compared it to her own. "I saw her at the site earlier, and she certainly wasn't a blouse-buster."
    "Her university record listed her bust measurement as 94cm and bra size 34C. Now," Harriet gestured with her hands, "she has an additional 51cm, pushing her up to 34W. In combination with her 163cm height, that gives her a BH ratio of .89."
    June nodded soberly. "Well, if she plans to keep all that new flesh, I can direct her to the clothing stores that I frequent. Harriet, tell me from the top what happened at the Scratch Lane Terminal. After that, you can go home and get some sleep. I'll stay here with Erin. If she comes around, I'll ask questions."
    Harriet agreed. "Thanks, June. You can still be present for Dan's report, thanks to your wetware. But make sure your avatar is properly attired. No string bikinis like the last time."
    Like an imp, June stuck out her tongue. "Go home, youngster. I can easily imagine you with basketball breasts!"
 

5

Dan's laboratory. Blue Team gathered to hear the report on the bodies found the day before. Thanks to the holographic projectors in the room, June was able to be present in avatar form. Dressed in her regular clothes, the 3D hologram of June floated a few centimeters off the floor. Aside from the occasional static flicker and inability to touch anything, one could be forgiven for mistaking the hologram for real.
    On the examination table were the bodies. The wrinkled, mummy-like skin was pasty-grey in color. Their clothes, a combination of robes and metal bracelets, were in remarkably good condition. Even though the eyelids were closed, everyone swore they felt the corpses gazing at them. Dan tapped a light pen on the surface of the examination table. "Let's start the morning with a few surprises, okay? First, these bodies are human. DNA, blood, skin, organs, the lot. Second, they apparently died in their sleep - no signs of violence, disease, or other injuries. Due to the conditions inside their craft, the remains were remarkably well-preserved."
    Paul spoke out. "Have you constructed models of what they looked like when they were alive?"
    "Yes. Here, have a look." Dan manipulated some controls on a nearby panel. Hologram projectors hummed to life, displaying life-sized representations of the bodies. One was male, 179cm tall and 70 kilos. His hair was brown mixed with copper. The other, a female, was 163cm tall and 48 kilos. Raven black hair crowned a head of desirous beauty. Perhaps too beautiful.
    June made a small noise. "Dan, we know your wife Barbara has been on deployment for five months now, but that's no excuse for using her face on that body. What will Chief Laramie think?"
    Blushing profusely, Dan entered some commands, replacing his wife's face on the image with the actual one. Overall it was just as lovely as the first one. Common to both, the holograms had honey-colored skin. "But you must admit, June, that these people were quite good-looking."
    "Now I'm even more incensed," June said mockingly. "Why do I get the feeling that these people won't be on the database?"
    "Because they're not," Nadia spoke out. "No fingerprints, DNA, or retinal patterns on record. For all we know they could be constructs."
    Lynnae knotted her forehead in thought. "Let's look at what we have here, people. First, there's the strange, silver-colored UFO composed of an unknown metal and possessing a nasty penchant for shocking people. Second, we have two unidentified bodies of rather attractive people. Third, Erin Stout somehow ends up with considerable breasts within the space of five minutes, if not less. And finally, the strange hum that we all heard. Let's gets some answers." Lyn turned to her husband. "Paul, do some research on the clothes of those two. If this is hoax, then it's likely that the hoaxers would've based their work on some historical data."
    "Once more into the breach," said Paul. "I'll definitely need some of your Jolt to keep me awake."
    Lyn next turned to Nadia. "You, my tall friend, will go to Maryland Hospital to relieve June. When Erin comes around and is ready, ask her questions. June, have you arranged a time to speak to the former owners of Bartly's?"
    "I sure did," June said with aplomb. "Those dirty old men better keep their hands to themselves. I might be too much for them!"
    "They might die of heart attacks first. Harriet," the young woman looked at Lyn earnestly, "you and me will return to the Scratch Lane Terminal and investigate the UFO. There's bound to be something in there that we missed."
    "Eager to try, Captain."
    "Let's get to it." The individual team members went off on their assigned tasks.

Back at the site Lyn and Harriet, with flashlights in hand, re-entered the object. Harriet was a bit apprehensive, expecting to find another body. There was no body. In fact, there was nothing else in the UFO. No apparent food supplies, no equipment panels, no chairs or desks, nothing other than the two slight rectangular indentations on the floor where the two bodies were found the day before. The cops got out of the object. They had just as many questions coming out of the UFO as they did going in.
    "This thing reminds me of a stage prop," Lyn quipped. "Or it could have technology so advanced that we can't recognize it as such."
    Harriet grunted. "At least Mr Oberly was able to get a piece of metal for analysis. I'm still wondering what caused all the stuff to fly around here last night. I hope Erin can tell us something useful."
    "Until then, we'll have to fudge it. Well, look who's here." Lyn smiled appreciatively, but on the inside she was sour. Mr Brock was in the work area, looking none-to-pleased.
    Brock approached Lyn like a slow-moving rockslide. "Captain Jarvis, what progress have you made? Anything new about those bodies you mentioned?"
    "Plenty of progress, Mr Brock," Lyn said politely. "But we had an unfortunate accident here last night. One of Mr Oberly's assistants was injured, and we believe it had to do with this object."
    "I'm sad to hear that, Mrs Jarvis," Brock said in his best approximation of sincerity. "Now, those bodies?"
    "Apparently human, right down to the DNA. The state of dehydration of the bodies makes them at least 8,000 years old, if not older."
    Brock coughed. "I find that hard to believe, Jarvis. I still believe that this is some sort of hoax concocted by Mr Big."
    "You're entitled to your opinion, Mr Brock. Now, if you don't mind," Lyn said with finality, "me and my teammate will get back to work."
    "Yes, you do that. This delay can prove costly. If I fall any further behind schedule my clients will be displeased." Brock paused for a moment at the stairs. "At 11 p.m. Thursday night my crews will remove that UFO and resume work on the tunnel." With glacial slowness Brock ascending the steps.
    "Who's stolen his eggos this morning?" said Harriet out the side of her mouth.
    Lyn smiled crookedly at Harriet. "Speaking of morning, Harriet, who gave you that sweetflower? Was it Bobby?"
    Harriet touched the flower she had on her lapel. "Who else? It's an incredible advantage having a boyfriend who owns his own flower shop."
    "I say it is. Why, you'll never have to worry about getting a florist for your wedding."
    "Lyn..." Harriet said coyly. "When I'm able to place a whole bouquet in my cleavage that will be the time for me and Bobby to get hitched."

Back at the hospital, Erin regained consciousness. The doctors did what they could to console Erin about her 'condition'. For a woman who gained an additional 51cm to her front, Erin was taking it well. Happy, actually.
    Nadia was intrigued. "What exactly were you doing last night? Thinking about anything in particular?"
    Erin blushed, daintily putting a hand to her new chest. "Well... I was working on the mount for the force drill, grumbling about how all my male friends were absent. I told Harriet that those men were 'anxious' to see overblown women wearing nothing more than smiles and thongs, dancing on elevated stages. Ah..." Erin now looked like a embarrassed school girl, "I was thinking of going to the Beefcake Barn after setting the force drill. That was when... I felt weird."
    "Go on, I'm listening," Nadia urged.
    "You may think it's queer," Eric countered.
    Nadia gave a sly wink to the blushing girl. "Honey, I've been in the police for over 19 years now. There's a good chance I've already heard what you're about to say."
    "If you insist." Erin drew in a breath. "In my mind I saw a handsome man. He had skin the color of honey and shoulder-length copper hair. He showed me a land that was lush with growth and filled with vitality. The women," Erin grinned, "were blessed with beauty and ample bosoms. It was then that I felt my chest fill with heat. So intense was the sensation that I fell into a slumber. Then I found myself here."
    "Hmmm..." Nadia said in contemplation, "do you recall anything else?"
    "Yes. The man showed me a city that was ringed with water and land. A city of silver, gleaming in the light."
    Nadia 'wrote' what Eric said to her wetware. Even now the molecular-constructed computer that resided in Nadia's brain  made queries and retrievals from library centers all over Outback. In a matter of minutes a list of references will be made ready for Nadia's review. "Take a rest, Erin. I'll have a few more questions for you in a few minutes."
 

6

June smiled prettily while Randy and Phillip, the former owners of Bartly's Bouncing Betties, polished off their third shot of scotch. The two old men were the stereotypical scoundrels June expected them to be. More than once Randy commented that June would've been a natural on the Bartly stage. Had he said that ten years ago June would've ate his kidneys for dinner.
    Randy coughed, clearing some scotch that went down the wrong pipe. "Them girls were ornery, blaming me and Phillip for injecting them in their sleep. That's a load of bull! If anything, they were the ones violating the contract!"
    "That's right, Randy," Phillip added. "Those girls were supposed to have breasts no bigger than basketballs - like you, Mrs Norbert," said Phillip in a way that only scoundrels could say. "But instead of a bust-to-height ratio of .75, those girls got up to .9, even 1.2! All in a matter of days! Believe me, there is a difference when watermelons gyrate on stage instead of basketballs."
    "Strange," said June coyly, "I though all topless dancing establishments would welcome the prospect of 'growing assets'. Why didn't you pay the girls extra for their new sizes?"
    Randy guffawed. "We would've, but they were defacing the property with their murals. Big ones. We were not in the business to provide wall space for aspiring artists."
    "That's right, Randy," Phillip agreed.
    June nodded. "Randy, can you show me some of their art?"
    "Yes ma'am. I took some photos to show to the judge when the case went to court. Back in a second." Randy got up and went for a bookcase. He pulled out a decorative file pad, handing the device to June. "There you go, Captain. Just look at that. A bunch of regular Picassos we had back then. 2410. It was '10, Phillip?"
    "Yeppers. Nice art. Too bad we had to paint it over."
    June paged through image after image. The art was a mix of styles and forms, but they all had some common points. The painted people had honey-brown skin and copper hair. Female images were adorned with ample breasts that spilled out of gowns and togas. It was enough to make June giggle. She recorded the images to her 'ware. Dan will be happy to see that his interpretation of the corpses' skin color was dead-on.

Tuesday afternoon. Blue Team went to the Silver Platter for a late lunch, comparing notes. Nadia wolfed down a sausage pizza roll and wiped her mouth. "Erin is okay, aside from her new chest. The doctors will release her tomorrow. I have the feeling that she'll keep her boobs the way they are now."
    "Another bountiful woman joins the world," June sighed. "Lyn, what are we to make of all the information we gathered? It sounds weird and crazy. Just like most of our cases."
    "State the obvious, June. What do we have here?" Lyn's forehead kneaded in thought. "June learns about the artwork created by the former female employees of Bartly's. Nadia gets a description of a vision experienced by Erin. Paul's research on the clothing was icing on the cake. People, we could very well have two genuine Atlantians in Dan's laboratory."
    "Atlantians?" Harriet said in puzzlement. "Who are they?"
    "I'll handle this one," said Nadia. "Some 11,500 years ago, back on Earth, there supposedly was an advanced civilization on an island called Atlantis. Erin's description of a city surrounded by rings of water and land is one of few clues that we know about Atlantis. Over the centuries, people credited Atlantian civilization with advanced technology, great art, and beautiful people." Nadia and the rest of the women giggled. Paul was throughly enjoying this. "Then, poof - nothing. Some say it was a war, others a natural cataclysm. Atlantis disappeared from the face of the Earth. If Gleason's readings can be relied on, then that UFO could be an Atlantian spaceship that escaped, but ended up crashing here on Outback."
    June scratched her nose. "What have you been smoking? Chief Laramie won't cut us any slack for such a far-out theory. We need proof."
    "We will get that proof," asserted Lyn. "It's been well-documented that wetware can record subconscious thoughts and images. Now, if we re-create the conditions at the Scratch Lane site and record the results, we'll have proof."
    "Sounds good, Old Lady, but who'll be the poor sap working on the UFO?" Harriet patted her C-cup top. "I don't want to end up like Erin."
    Paul cleared this throat. "I'll try it. Perhaps nothing will happen. If not, well... I guess Lyn will have to bring some baggy pants for me to wear."
    "Paul..." Lyn pinched Paul's blushing cheek.

9 p.m. Blue Team gathered at the Scratch Lane Terminal. Tobias Eddings was there as well. Toby retired from the police five years ago, accepting the position of vice-president of testing at a software company. With his experience and knowledge, Toby earned a considerable salary. He bought a house in Crichton Heights, a luxury division in New Darwin. All that remained was filling the bedrooms with children. Something that Samantha, Toby's wife, wanted to do right away.
    Lyn was the first to greet Toby, treating him to one of her endearing hugs. "How's Samantha?"
    Toby 's smile was more relaxed than the last time Lyn saw him. "She's getting there, Lyn. The doctor gave us the okay to get the oven started," he said with relief. Samantha made it to the rank of Lieutenant Commander in the CSN, becoming the first officer of the Stroud. Captain Pavone was still in command when the ship was ambushed a year ago. Eight pirate destroyers were sent to destroy the 'Buxom Battleship', but Pavone wielded his cruiser like a sword. Four ships were destroyed before a critical hit got past the shields, wiping out the bridge. Samantha, down in auxiliary control, took over and saw to the destruction of the remaining four destroyers. One final hit reached Samantha's post, severing her left leg. The Stroud managed to limp home to Outback. Over 25% of the crew were casualties. Sam decided to take a medical discharge from the service. She had a new leg grown in a medical vat and had nanites attach the limb to her body. After six months of therapy Sam was able to walk on own without aid. Only after had Sam fully recovered did her doctor gave his consent for her to get pregnant.
    "Glad to hear, Toby. We need your technical magic tonight. Think your set-up can do the job?"
    "I stake my name on it, Lyn." Toby patted the box he had at his side. "Just be glad Stamp isn't here to make jokes at my expense. He's reading a romance novel for Samantha tonight."
    Lyn nodded. "Having a possessed minicomp can be a blessing in some ways. Now, on with the job." Going by Erin's account, Blue Team restaged the events of the previous night. The force drill was still attached to the UFO's hull, left there at the insistence of Lyn. Paul had the dismantling wrench in hand. On his head he wore a sensor headband. It will pick up any anomalous wetware transmissions and signals, sending the data to Toby's portable analysis kit.
    Paul sat on the UFO's surface, contemplating which part of the support brace to remove first. "Nadia," he said, "what was Erin thinking about when she worked on this thing?"
    "She was thinking of the Beefcake Barn."
    "Well," said Paul wryly, "I can't very well think about that. How about The Cotton Tail?" The wrench made contact with a connecting strut. "Yes, seeing all those babes in bunny suits, their breasts on the verge of popping out..."
    The hum, which was up to this point scarcely audible, came on like a clarion call. Another sound exploded in the ears of everyone at the work site. It was a piercing, rhythmic wail that flowed like hot lead. Lyn covered her ears, getting next to Toby. "Anything yet?"
    "Nothing!" Toby yelled back. "It's all electrical chaos here!"
    On the UFO Paul was getting spooked. He felt like he was being electrocuted, but very slowly. He moved to the edge, his hands shaking. "It's getting too much for me!" He barked.
    "Stay there!" Nadia yelled. "Aren't you seeing anything?"
    Several boxes and work tools started to float and fly of their own volition. Paul got even more rattled. "I can't stand it! I'm coming down!"
    "Paul!"
    "I"m coming down!" Paul slipped off the UFO, landing in the pit.
    June held her hands to her head, eyes looking at something that no-one else could see. "Give me the band," she said with a possessed voice. "I can see."
    Paul scrambled over to June, taking off the headband. "Toby! It's June! She's the one!" Hurriedly, Paul placed the band on June's head. More bits of equipment and debris levitated, rotating on their axis.
    "I'm getting something!" Toby's equipment picked up a definite signal from June's wetware.
    "I can see!" June announced, eyes closed. Paul had to ward-off a flying crate. He broke his right arm and fell down. Nadia rushed to June, holding her friend by the shoulders.
    "I... can... see..." With an exhale June collapsed, along with the levitating objects. The piercing wail disappeared, the hum returning to its barely audible level. Lyn went over to Paul, checking on his injury.
    Nadia sat June down and removed the headband. "Hey, are you still with us?" She asked.
    June wiped her sweat-beaded brow. "Ohhh... it felt like a whole world was marching through my mind. Did Toby get anything?"
    "Oh Yes!" Toby beamed, patting his equipment. "This will knock people's socks off!"
 

7

Wednesday afternoon. Blue Team compiled their report in record time, presenting their case to Chief Laramie and Mr Brock. Held in Laramie's office, the report took 35 minutes. To Mr Brock, the report was 34 minutes too long. "No offense, Mrs Jarvis," said Brock as he stood up, "I'm finding this difficult to accept. Let me get this straight. One of the most experienced detective teams of the New Darwin Police believes that the object at the Scratch Lane Terminal is an Atlantian flying saucer?"
    "All the facts we've collected suggest that," Lynnae said with conviction.
    Brock looked like a high school math teacher flunking all his students. "Facts. Yes, let's address those. You say that some 11,500 years ago there existed, back on Earth, an island called Atlantis. A technologically-advanced civilization lived on that island. Then, suddenly, the island disappears and Atlantian civilization along with it."
    "Yes, go on," Lyn prompted.
    Brock wore a smug look. "Some Atlantians manage to escape in a spaceship, but due to some error or accident, crash-land on Outback. The ship was subsequently buried and has been underground for thousands of years. Then, it is found by my work crew. Your team assigned exotic properties such as breast-enlargement, race memory, and advanced technological sophistication to the saucer."
    "I stand behind my team's report," Lyn affirmed.
    "Well, if you pardon my words, I can pull a better story out of my arse." Brock raised a forestalling hand. "Wait, Mrs Jarvis, hear me out. I believe this is nothing more than a Mr Big hoax. A scheme to swindle money from gullible people."
    "Impossible," Nadia countered, "we've found no evidence to support such a claim."
    "Then he was very meticulous. In 2377, while Bartly's was being constructed, Mr Big had the construction crew under his hypnotic control. He had them place the UFO in the ground, covering it up, and making them forget all about it."
    "How do you explain the sediment layer?" Paul countered. His right arm was secured in a sling. The broken bones are being mended by nanites. He'll be right as rain in five days.
    "Simple. He had nanites placed in the soil, tasking them to convert the sediment layer to match the surroundings. After all, that thing's been in the ground for 50 years. Plenty of time to erase signs that the thing was planted."
    "And the bodies?"
    "An afterthought, like fake mermaids at ancient sideshow attractions." Brock sounded confident, as if he rehearsed the whole scene earlier. "Big wanted to add a touch of exoticness to his hoax."
    June looked a little perturbed. "What about the psychokinetic phenomena?"
    "Gravitic generators in the UFO," asserted Brock. "Those machines, in conjunction with a surveillance computer, just performed a part of Big's nefarious scheme."
    Lyn was getting annoyed. "Mr Brock, since you're turning into the proverbial wellspring of information, care to explain the rest of the phenomena at the pit?"
    Brock smiled like a vindictive social studies teacher. "Considering Erin Stout's chest, Mr Big probably laced the outer hull with traces of his infamous Nepalese breast-enlarging potion. As for the metal, Mr Oberly found it to be a variant of clever metal, invented 90 years ago. That would give Big the opportunity to steal some for his purposes. Finally, for the hum, Gleason believes it to be nothing more than natural earth noise."
    "I thought I heard natural gas escaping," said June.
    "Captain Norbert, watch your tongue," warned Chief Laramie. "Mr Brock, how to you account for June's wetware information and the murals?"
    "Well," said Brock in a smug manner, "Captain Norbert, as well as the rest of Blue Team, has a vivacious imagination. With all this talk about Atlantis, her imagination fixated on what her friends found out. Besides, wetware recordings of unconscious acts are still unreliable..."
    "No!" June protested. "It was a conscious event! I saw what I saw!"
    "No insult, Captain," Brock offered, "I'm merely suggesting that your mind picked up some elements of your story and made them into a believe mental image. As for the murals, even topless dancers must do something to occupy their time."
    Harriet looked fumed. "Chief Laramie, who are you going to believe? Us or that bag of piss?"
    Laramie glared at Blue Team. "Officers, mind your tongue! You've done what could be done at the pit. Reluctantly, I agree with Mr Brock." The Team looked sour. "Big planted the UFO with the intent to cause mischief and raise money. Fortunately, he'll never have the opportunity to collect that money. The UFO will be taken to a laboratory and dismantled. Perhaps then we'll get the definite proof."
    "I certainly agree, Chief Laramie," Brock chimed in. "Now I must take my leave. G'day."
    After Brock left, Laramie look more approachable. "Yes, I know Mr Brock is a pompous ass, but that's no excuse to insult him. All of you have done your ususal exemplary work. Perhaps this time you've encountered the one case that can't be solved."
    "That could be the case," Paul said, "but I can't shake the feeling that there's something much more to this case."
    "You done what could be done, Paul." Laramie stood up from her desk. "Perhaps if you had some dinner and time to think the answer will come to you."
    Lyn nodded. "Advice if I ever heard it, Chief. Okay, gang, let's go to the Tea Cup. My treat."

Blue Team gathered at the Tea Cup. 17 years earlier June and Lyn worked undercover as waitresses at the restaurant. As part of their employment, the duo had to enlarge their breasts to watermelon size. The Tea Cup's tradition is still practiced, as a rather curvaceous and over-ample women served the team ice water, taking food orders with an old-fashion pad of paper and pen.
    Paul sighed. "Ten years and 156 cases. Now #157 will have the distinct honor of not being solved by us."
    Lyn placed a consoling hand on Paul's shoulder. "Don't let this case get you down, honey. Perhaps this time we're out of our league."
    "I thought I would never hear you say that. We've handled all the weird stuff that came down the pike, like thwarting the Crime Commandos when they tried to steal the Burbank Column and your recovery of the McGwire." Paul looked taciturn. "I sure hate to see you end your career with this albatross around our neck."
    Lyn smiled. "Cheer up. There's more important things in life than solving cases. Like selecting my maternity clothes."
    "That was subtle," said June. "Make it a worthwhile investment. Buy a whole cheesecake and wolf it down! You'll look good in a tent."
    "June! You're jealous because I'll be a domestic goddess before you. After dinner here, you and Harriet can join me for a bit of shopping. Perhaps we can find some slacks with expandable waistbands. Greg's been feeding you all those crepes."
    "You!" June teased.
    Paul covered his grinning mouth. "Lyn, after dinner here I'll go back home and feed the rats. Runt and Snippy must be starving."
    "You do that, Paul. I'll buy you a new belt."
 

8

At the Bourke Pedestrian Mall Harriet, June, and Lyn were shopping. There's a sale on maternity dresses, and Lyn sorted through the offerings. June held out a particularly colorful dress. "How about this one? It's a nice blend of yellow and white."
    "You can literally make a tent out of that," said Lyn reproachfully.
    "Lyn, you need this much room. You're still going ahead with you expansion, aren't you?"
    "And what concern is that of yours, Mrs Basketball? Have you ever considered that I just may stay inside all the time and go topless?"
    "That was so funny that I forgot to laugh," countered June. "What Hey? I'm getting an update from the station. Tune to ware channel 4."
    Lyn mentally tuned to the mentioned channel. It was a live feed of a newscast at the Scratch Lane Terminal. The reporter was none other than Chad Winthrop of ONN (Outback News Network), complete with permanently white teeth and plastic hair. The smug reporter smiled. "I'm Chad Winthrop, and behind me is the Scratch Lane Terminal, a source of rumor and mystery for the last three days. A spokesperson for United Tunnelworks, the company responsible for constructing the subway extension in the Box, has announced that the strange object is nothing more than a hoax of the late Mr Big. The company has decided to remove the object tonight so as to resume work on the tunnel."
    "That bugger!" Harriet snorted. "He said we had until tomorrow night."
    "Afraid there's nothing much we can do, Harriet," Lyn offered. "United Tunnelworks has exclusive rights to whatever they find in their excavations. Plus they own the worksite for the duration of the work. Either way the UFO is theirs now."
    "However," June said, "we're still on the case. Who knows what could be uncovered when they lift that thing up."
    Lyn grunted. "Yes. Perhaps Mr Brock is right. Big may have left a nudie magazine under the UFO. Just to show the world that the whole thing is a joke."
    "We're with you, boss." June produced the keys to her aircar. "Let's get going."

There was a huge crowd at the Terminal. It took some effort to muscle through the throngs of curious on-lookers, but the police trio make it down into the work site. Mr Brock's thin smile was that of a vindicated small-claims defendant. "Ah, you've come to see first-hand the removal of the UFO. I think its new home, the Museum of Curiosities, will enjoy the increase in business. After it's been throughly investigated, of course."
    Scratch Lane is directly above the UFO. A city workcrew was removing a section of street. A nearby crane stood ready to haul up the object and place it on a flatbed air lorry. Lyn kept her face neutral. "Actually, we're here to see if any new evidence will be uncovered by your workmen. One can always hope."
    "I can't deny you that, Captain. Please, be my guest."
    The trio went down into the pit. Workmen, under the supervision of Linstrom, attached support cables and wires to the UFO, only waiting for the last bit of street above them to be removed. It was then that Harriet noticed something queer. "Lyn, June. I could've sworn that the opening we made back on Monday was here." She pointed to the UFO. "Where is it?"
    Looking perplexed, Lyn did her own inspection. "It was here. Just two minutes ago. I did a check on my 'ware video cache."
    "Perhaps it's nothing to be concerned with," June said. "After all, Mr Oberly said the UFO hull is composed of a clever metal alloy."
    The hairs on the back of Lyn's neck stood up. "I don't think it's that, June. Erin and Paul were thinking lecherous thoughts when this thing turned all funky on them. Look at that." On the hull of the UFO sat two scantily-clad waitresses from the Cheesecake Cafe. There's a photographer on the UFO also, eagerly taking shots of the two beauties. "If this thing caused objects to fly around, all due to the lecherous thoughts of one person, what will happen when dozens, if not hundreds, of people think such thoughts?"
    June looked pale, pointed to the green nub on top of the UFO. The nub was glowing and pulsating. "I think I know. Plus my head is starting to spin just like the last time. Cripes!" The tall officer placed a hand to her now-aching head.
    Pivoting, Lyn looked at the gathered crowd in the work area. Undoubtedly, all of them were thinking of things to do later this evening, such as visiting establishments that featured semi-nude dance troops and private performances. The level of sexual expectancy had to be quite high. If that was true... "Get off that thing!" Lyn yelled at the people on the UFO. "Get off now!"
    "Mrs Jarvis! What's the meaning of this?" Mr Brock got down in the pit. "I gave my permission to those people to take some publicity photos."
    "No! You don't understand!" A pronounced cry made Lyn stop. Her justification was made real. The photographer and waitresses fell off the UFO. Both women rapidly gained oversized watermelons on their fronts, their little halter tops ripped asunder by the sudden growth. The photographer, a man, experienced some growth of his own. Improbably, he got taller, clearly adding at least 20cm in height. His bare arms bulged with new muscles, and Lyn suspected the other parts of his body were equally endowed with new flesh.
    "Ohmygod," breathed June, turning to the crowd. "Get out, all of you! Get out!"
    Too late. The strange effects of yesterday returned. As Lyn predicted, the lecherous thoughts of the assembled people added to the power of the display. Inexplicitly, a wind came up, blowing loose debris around. Levitating objects became aerial missiles, impacting against bodies with force. The workcrew hastily retreated, carrying away the photographer and waitresses. Harriet and Lyn aided the other police officers in evacuating the work area. June got caught up in the rush, swept away by a now-terrified crowd.
    The UFO's green nub was positively bright, glowing and pulsing with heighten energy. Even the hull glowed and pulsed, its silver color filling the area with its painful light. Mr Brock got onto his knees, starting at the beautiful object. He reached out with his right hand, the tips of his fingers making contact with the smooth, unblemished metal.
 

9

It was chaos. The effects were now working outside on the streets. Loose debris flew about as if in a windstorm. The temporary food stands were knocked down, the people inside barely able to get out in time. Harriet lost track of Lyn and June - they weren't responding to wetware transmissions.
    Throngs of people ran helter-skelter, causing many collisions and falls. Harriet got up next to a wall, trying to get her bearings. The unnatural hum was back, a faint but distinct sound that echoed in her mind. Another rush of people came by, and by happenstance Lyn was in that crowd. Harriet pulled Lyn away, taking her to a nearby bar. The establishment had been deserted in haste - tables and chairs were strewn about and overturned.
    "Lyn! Don't you recognize me?" Harriet asked, shaking Lyn.
    "First off, stop shaking me!" said Lyn. "I'm not that far off."
    "What's happening out there?"
    Lyn touched her forehead. "Don't you feel it? Here, in your head?"
    "What?"
    "The people..." Lyn breathed, "where they... Ockers?"
    "Who do you think they are?"
    Lyn pulled up a chair and sat down. "Human, but not the ones we know. It was as if the murals came to life and filled the streets. I'm getting some strange urges. An urge to... become someone else."
    "Fight it, Lyn! Tell me, who are you?"
    "I'm... Lynnae Jarvis," said the little woman, "Captain, New Darwin Police. That thing in the pit... it's influencing hundreds, if not thousands, of people."
    A multitude of screams shook both officers. They ran to the windows, looking outside. Their cool police detachment enabled them to remain calm. Like what happened to the photographer and waitresses, men and women were being transformed. The men got taller and muscular, while the women were overblessed with expansive breasts. Some augmented couples actually giggled and scampered away into the night, undoubtedly to enjoy their new gifts.
    Harriet saw Lyn staring at the endowed women outside. Incredibly, the front of Lyn's blouse started to push out. "Fight it, Lyn! That thing is trying to make you an Atlantian!" As before, Harriet had to shake Lyn, breaking her out of the involuntary trance. It was too late, though, as Lyn had a magnificent watermelon bust on her chest. The blouse was now a useless garment, the bra on the floor lifeless and broken.
    A blood-curdling shriek made Harriet look outside. She gasped. There, floating above the Scratch Lane Terminal, was a 100 meter-tall apparition in the shape of a nude female. Green in color, the massive figure looked out upon the Box, and it was smiling.
    "Oh, God!" Lyn exclaimed, hunkering down on the floor. "That thing in the pit is acting on the lecherous energy of the Box. It was that thing that gave me these breasts."
    "Why, Lyn? Why is that thing changing people?"
    Lyn wiped her forehead clear of sweat. "It's trying to create an Atlantian colony."
    "After all this time? Is it possible?"
    "Oh, yes it is." Lyn dared to take a peek at the green goddess. The gigantic figure was still there, gazing out upon the chaos it created. The little cop hunkered down again. "Some Atlantians must've stay behind on Earth, spreading their genes to the various tribes of humanity. That thing in the pit is activating those genes, transforming people. It has to be stopped."
    Harriet looked uncertain. "How can we? What do we know?"
    Lyn stood up, holding her bosom together. "The Devil's enemy is iron. Now, if we can project a mass of metal into that column of energy, discharge it into the ground..."
    "Yes, Lyn. It can work. Look there!" Harriet pointed to the crane that was meant to retrieve the UFO. "I'm not affected by the UFO's mental control. I'll operate the crane."
    "Okay, but let me say now that you're the one who volunteered."
    Both police women got back on the street, running towards the crane. Lyn had hold her watermelons together with her arms, preventing the flesh from gyrating too much. The crane was but a block away when the duo saw June walking towards them.
    "June? Can you hear me?" yelled Lyn.
    The tall police woman faced Lyn and Harriet. Both cops could see that June was possessed, her face blank and unmoving. The wind picked up, blowing close to hurricane force.
    "Harriet, get to the crane! I'll take care of June!" Harriet moved forward while Lyn set out to confront her possessed friend. Lyn held out her arms, allowing her exaggerated bust to sway in the breeze. "June, honey, you don't want to hurt me. I'm your friend. Remember?"
    June, stoned-faced, looked at her friend, sending a blast of force into her mind and body. Lyn resisted the psychic assault.
    "That's not the answer I wanted!" roared Lyn. She then proceeded to assault June, trying to break her free of the UFO's influence. It certainly wasn't a cat-fight. June was playing for keeps. "Oh, God! I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice!" With her oversized chest, Lyn employed her 'bust-butt maneuver, knocking her friend down to the ground with a mighty thud. For good measure, Lyn battered June's basketball front one more time, knocking the wind out of her.
    Harriet made it to the crane. She entered the control cabin, her wetware enabling the controls. With propose, the machine turned, its support arm on a collision course with the apparition. Satisfied, Harriet was set to leave the cabin, but a sudden fall of building material blocked the hatch. She couldn't muscle her way out, and with only the slightest hesitancy did Harriet face the green goddess. The arm got closer, closer, closer...
    The sound of ten thunderclaps filled the air, making Lyn fall to the ground. She struggled back up, finding the balance that would support her new mass. The green goddess was gone, in its wake was a huge plume of fire rising out of  what was once the Scratch Lane Terminal. "Harriet!" Lyn yelled, waking towards the now-wrecked crane. "Where are you?" Moments later Lyn reached the remains of the control cabin. Only the chair and control panel were left intact.
    "I'm here, Captain!" It was Harriet's voice, sounding somewhat muffled. Lyn looked around, almost falling over when she spied an incredible sight. On the ground 15 meters away was Harriet's head, shoulders, and arms. The rest of her was two massive spheres of flesh. Carefully, Lyn walked over to her enormous friend, getting to one knee. She pushed down her own breasts so she could look at her friend clearly.
    "Harriet, are you in pain?" Lyn managed to say.
    "I think my back is broken. That happened when I was blown clear of the control cabin, not," Harriet patted a section of breast flesh, "because of these. I'll be in hospital for a very long time while the nanites repair my spine and shrink these puppies."
    Lyn felt Harriet's flesh for herself. The skin was smooth and silky, just like the skin of Lyn's own breasts. "I daresay you'll be in hospital for almost a year, considering how big you are now. Guess I'll volunteer to feed your cats while you're recuperating."
    "Some trade," Harriet breathed. "I get my boobies blown up and you'll be feeding my cats. You're getting the worst of it, Captain." Both women laughed, waiting for the rescue crews to come to their aid.
 

[Epilogue - Three days later]

There is only one medical facility that can handle a woman of Harriet's 'displacement' - the medical ward of the Cloud 9 orbital resort. Set to handle the medical needs of the 9's pillow women, the doctors gladly accepted the challenge to provide care for Harriet. The police woman received a considerable dose of breast-enlarging energy when the UFO was destroyed. Affixed to her body are stupendous breasts, the overall measurement 10.1 meters. With a height of 1.67 meters, Harriet has a bust-to-height ratio of 6. A fact that her florist boyfriend Bobby is acutely aware of!
    Harriet's hospital room is filled with flowers and vases. Bobby himself is atop one of Harriet's hyper-mammaries, face to face with his woman. She giggled when Bobby kissed her nose and tickled her chin. Their playful affection was interrupted when Chief Laramie and the whole of Blue Team entered the room. Thanks to the zero-gee environment, the officers floated to the ceiling and saw their friend's face. "I'm happy that the doctors have allowed us to 'see' you, Harriet," Laramie teased. "Just how are you doing?"
    "Much better, Chief," Harriet chimed. "The doctors say my spine and central-nervous system will be fully restored in two weeks. As for the breasts, due to their size, the nanites will need 348 days to shrink them, give or take a week."
    Lyn raised an eyebrow. "348 days? Sounds like you're not going all the way back. Right?"
    Harriet blushed. "That's right. I'll end up with a 127cm bust. For me that's a 34P bra. Blue Team's tradition of buxom detectives will continue."
    "I'm so glad to hear that, Harriet," said Laramie thankfully. "But this isn't going to be one huge paid vacation for you. Though you can't move, your wetware is still functional. You can do research and computer investigations for the team. But, for the foreseeable future, only your head will be represented in VR conferences." Everyone in the room laughed.
    "I agree, Chief." Harriet rubbed her chin. "The doctors have the therapy schedule all laid out for me. I'll be walking on my own two feet when my bust reaches 340cm. The doctors hope to release me when I reach 200cm."
    Nadia hummed in approval. "Perhaps you'll want to be released even sooner. Paul and Lyn are spoiling your pet cats rotten, feeding them caviar and milk."
    "Speaking of spoiled rotten," Harriet crooned, "what's with Lyn here? Isn't she a bit bigger than she wanted to be? And why wasn't June's breasts affected by the UFO?"
    Lyn placed her arms on top of her bust, caressing her blouse-covered watermelons gently. "Well, let's start with June. Apparently, the UFO enlarged women to the sizes they desired to be. June had no desire to be any bigger, but me..." Lyn stopped her caressing, "well, I wanted the perfect BH ratio of 1. But I must've picked up some leftover UFO energy. Right now my bust measures 186cm, 31cm more than my height measurement." Arms now at the side of her breasts, Lyn gently pressed inwards, showing the firmness of her new assets. "I'll keep them at this size until my first child reaches the age of 15. After that, I'll go back down to my natural 32H size."
    June smothered a giggle. "I'm not so sure. Paul will probably find an excuse to keep you that big. Perhaps he'll throw away all your pillows, using your natural wonders to rest his head on at night."
    "Shut up, you mind reader," said Lyn, her finger tasking her tall friend. "We'll continue this conversation elsewhere. Let's give Harriet and Bobby the rest of the afternoon together. We can always bug her tomorrow."

It is now two weeks later. The Box had resumed its normal way of business. The Scratch Lane Terminal is nearing completion, only awaiting the official opening ceremony. Regrettably, Mr Brock will not be present for the ceremony. When the UFO exploded, it vaporized Brock, leaving only trace amounts of DNA for investigators to find. The official report concluded that Brock was under the influence of the UFO, unable to break free to save himself. Lyn could only wonder what  desire Brock wanted fulfilled. Having a sense of humor, perhaps? Now the world would never know.
    Some 12,430 people were affected by the UFO's energy. The men were stuck with an average 20cm of additional height. The women, though, could modify their breasts with nanites. As with all things, some women went with much smaller breasts, other much bigger, and the rest keeping their new size intact. The babies that will be born in nine months could look forward to such names as Hercules, Athena, and other figures from Greek mythology. The effect of the Atlantian UFO will be felt for some time to come.
    Currently, Paul and Lyn are at home, wearing pajamas. They're sitting on the floor, watching tri-dee. Lyn rested up on Paul, who in turn rested his arms on top of Lyn's breasts. Runt and Snippy, the dachshunds, kept Lyn's feet warm.
    "Honey," said Lyn, placing her hands on top of Paul's, "I think it's time to do some shopping at Angelican Attire. There's a sale on maternity dresses."
    "This early? We'll have plenty of time when you retire in March." Paul gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.
    "Yes, about that. I reasoned that since I got my breasts early, I might as well make a full job of it." Lyn's pajama top was only secured by the top buttom. Her wonderful flesh was exposed when she fished an object from her left breast pocket. She handed the object to Paul.
    "What's this, love? Some evidence from a new case?"
    "You can call it evidence. I saw Laramie today... and my doctor." Lyn giggled, bringing up Paul's right hand to her lips so she could kiss it. "When those two testify, they can say that tonight was the night that you and me made three."
    "Hey, are you saying that this little square is your birth-control implant?"
    "Wrong, dear. That little square was my birth-control implant. Laramie knows. She even congratulated me in advance!"
    Paul sighed in relief. "If this is what you want, honey. At least your tummy won't be huge for the retirement ceremony."
    "Paul! How insensitive of you!" Lyn laughed, turning over to kiss her man. Two huge watermelons tried their best to crush the wind out of Paul. After ten years of marriage, Paul was able to endure Lyn's 'tender' embrace. "It's time to go upstairs. Runt, Snippy," Lyn commanded, "go to bed."
    The little dogs tried to get in Lyn's cleavage. They only succeeded in making her giggle. "Not there! Go downstairs!" The domesticated rats pouted, eyes wide and pleading. "No! Go Downstairs!" The dogs pouted some more and even whined. It took a handful of dog treats to lure the rats downstairs.
    Paul secured the door. "Now, where were we?"
    Lyn jumped into Paul's arms, covering his face in a series of kisses. "We're going upstairs to make me pregnant. Do I have to make it an order?"
    Paul planted his lips on Lyn's forehead. "No. I am ready to satisfy my goddess. Remember that I'm just mortal."
    "I know that all too well," Lyn crooned. "How does it feel getting half the income and three times the wife?"
    "Outstanding, Lyn, outstanding," said Paul as he climbed the steps with his wonderful wife in his arms.
 
 

END

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