Field Work -- Our Lady of the Bodega

© Copyright 2005, 2006 by silli_artie@hotmail.com

This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior express written permission of the author.

A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments. Enjoy.

Prologue

Peta rolled to her side, trying to ignore the all-hands alarm sounding noisily through Ship. As one of her kin grumbled, she snuggled closer, burrowing into dense, warm fur and the comforting smell of family in the nest. One of her hands felt as if touching an ear; she scratched gently and heard a pleasant murmur in response.

“Didn’t you hear the call? Get up!” came the shout.

She felt someone swat her. As she opened her eyes, she made a rude gesture suggesting rapid and forceful genital insertion without benefit of lubrication. She was rewarded with another swat and the cry, “Just for that, YOU get to recruit the new field team!”

Now she was wide awake. Recruiting? Field team? This was supposed to be a survey mission to a backwater system!

“Oh, awake now? How nice!”

One of the senior Bridge officers floated in front of the rapidly assembling group in Ship’s light gravity. He looked like hell -- bloodshot eyes, ears drooping unevenly, his fur hadn’t been brushed in quite a while, and he’d been worrying a spot by his left ear. The tail twitches were a giveaway of serious stress and fatigue.

He forced a smile, almost a rictus, showing small pointed teeth, and continued his tirade. “If you’d been paying attention to what’s going on, you might have noticed that the system we’re surveying has two gas giants, an asteroid field full of metals, and not one, but two of the planets have rings! We even have a planet teeming with life, some of it intelligent enough to be involved in its own systematic eradication! Now this evidently didn’t get you excited, but once Ship took a good look at those rings and all those asteroids, she decided that this is the time and place to bud! Not only does that mean we’re going to be enjoying this lovely system longer than anticipated, it also means we have to recruit a new crew from the locals! But we’ve already got a volunteer to recruit the field team! That makes my life so much easier! And now that I’ve got your attention, let me pass along an invitation to an all-hands meeting our dear Captain has called, three clicks from now. Three! You just might want to be there! And if you think I’m upset, you ought to see her!” With that he reached out to cuff the person closest to him, then turned and propelled himself back along the passageway from which he’d come, snarling, grumbling, and swearing as he went.

Budding? Now? Here? She thought they’d have more warning, and be able to do it in a civilized system. Her mind raced as she helped groom her kin, and they helped groom her. Didn’t want to upset the Captain -- last time that happened, someone lost an ear. Ship helped them grow it back, but still....

Recruiting! This could be fun! She’d get to spend time in planetform, and really live with these creatures, working with Ship to find a crew for the new Ship-to-be. And as for civilized -- she and her mates all thought it best to have Survey crews recruited from planets with a wild edge to them. Send in the droning sleepy-eyed bureaucrats later, but start off with a crew that still had survival instincts!

Business As Usual

Eduardo was pissed. Things didn’t add up -- again. He looked up from his account books and hollered, “Danny! Get Paco and Deek in here, now! Get some muscle, too.” Eduardo rested his head in his hands. He didn’t need this shit -- not now, not ever.

It took a few minutes to round up Deek. Danny, Luis, and Paco were prompt. Yvette, Eduardo’s girlfriend was also there.

Deek looked his usual self -- thin, short, shifty. He had a wise-ass smile on his face, but he knew from Eduardo’s scowl that he was in trouble again.

Eduardo shook his head, arms folded as he leaned back on the table, standing in front of Deek.

“All right, Deek -- where’s the rest?”

Deek started to grin and mouth off, but thought better about it -- Eduardo looked really pissed this time. “The rest of what, Eduardo?” he asked.

“The money or the rocks, Deek. You shorted us one or the other. Which is it?”

Deek shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno, Eduardo. I thought...”

Eduardo yelled, interrupting, “You didn’t think, Deek! You thought you could screw me again, just like you’ve been doing.” Eduardo turned to the other youth, Paco. “I thought I told you to watch this creep. Did you?”

Paco was scared. He didn’t like Eduardo being mad, especially at him. “Yes, Eduardo, I stayed with him all day long.”

Eduardo looked at Paco. He was a good kid, trying really hard. It would be a tough job for anyone to stick with a shifty little sleaze like Deek. “Okay, Paco,” he said softly. “All day? Really -- ALL day?”

Paco nodded, “All day, except...” Now Paco was really scared. He’d screwed up.

Eduardo felt like yelling, but Paco didn’t deserve it -- not yet at least. “Paco, tell me about the except...” Eduardo said softly.

Paco nodded and explained hurriedly. “A white punk in a tricked out Acura came by and Deek sold him a ten-dollar rock for thirty, and he gave me ten to go buy lunch for both of us. I was only gone a few minutes, and Deek was right where I left him when I got back. I didn’t leave him at all the rest of the day, even though I had to pee really bad -- I waited until we got back here and checked in.”

Eduardo had to smile. He held out a hand to Paco and watched the kid flinch, expecting to be hit. Eduardo sighed and stepped over to Paco, putting an arm around him. “Paco, you did good. I’m not mad at you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Eduardo saw Deek grinning again. So the little shit thinks he’s off the hook, does he? Eduardo stepped to the side and backhanded Deek across the face, knocking him down. Eduardo nodded to Luis. “Pick him up. Hold him.”

Luis was at least a foot taller, and easily picked up Deek by his upper arms.

“So that’s ten bucks more you stole from us today!” Eduardo yelled at Deek, inches away from his face. “And two rocks. What did you do with it?”

Not getting any response from Deek, Eduardo turned away from him and nodded to Denny. “Check his pockets.”

Deek started to protest, but Luis gripped his arms tighter, and lifted him a bit off the ground.

When Eduardo turned around again, Denny had emptied Deek’s pockets onto the table. Eduardo picked over the contents, finding one rock.

He turned again, and with a swipe of an arm, pulled down Deek’s pants and boxer shorts. He looked, then pointed at Deek’s prick. “You gave one of my rocks to a crack whore again, didn’t you, fool!” He backhanded Deek again as Luis held him.

“I ought to kill you! This isn’t the first time -- and it isn’t the first time you didn’t use a condom, is it, fool? I’m not going to kill you -- you’ve probably already killed yourself, fucking crack whores like that.” Eduardo turned away, scowling. “Throw him out. Deek, you’re through with me. Don’t get caught on my turf.” Then he swung around again and grabbed Deek by the neck. “Understand me, fool?” He throttled Deek until he nodded his head and tried to make a noise. Eduardo let go and wiped his hands on his pants. “Throw him out the back. Now!” He looked at his hands in disgust, and went to wash them.

As he washed his hands, Yvette came into the little kitchen and leaned against him.

He shook his head as he dried his hands. “Fuck -- what now? Deek had balls at least -- we’ll have to move people around to hold that turf. We don’t want to lose any more to Frank, or those prick Asians.”

He turned to his girlfriend. “Damn, you deserve better,” he whispered as he held her.

At least they had enough money to pay Ron for their shipment of drugs. He didn’t want to get behind with Ron. So far, they were doing okay, making money, keeping everyone fed and warm. He hoped the weather stayed good. Bad weather kept the customers away.

First Steps

Peta moved slowly, still on her back, getting used to her new planetform body. Monkeys -- not her favorite! She’d worn monkey bodies before, she reminded herself. She moved her tongue in her mouth, a rounder tongue, flatter teeth, monkey teeth... Still, better than lizards, or spiders...

“AAUGH!” she cried, forcing her eyes open. It felt different. It always feels different!

She held her hands in front of her, looking... Nice dark skin, supple skin, darker than her fur. Fingernails rather than claws, flexible, strong hands and fingers. She missed her claws already -- how could you fight, make love, without claws?

She laughed -- a sound she’d have to get used to. They’d observed their hosts at work and at play. They seemed to fight, and make love, pretty well.

She moved her hands delicately over her new body, her home for the next few months at least. Interesting sensations from smooth skin. Ooh, her breasts were much larger, fuller than she’d expected -- they hadn’t been shown images of their planetforms before being transferred into them. She touched herself gently, closing her eyes to better experience sensation. Nice sensation -- especially from her nipples! The last time she’d worn a monkey-style body, she’d been male. This felt very nice! As she continued stimulating her breasts and nipples, different sensations started lower down. Soon she moved a hand down to explore more territory, and the effects of different stimulation.

Panting and recovering a few minutes later, she laughed -- this body was going to be fun!

She moved, getting used to things. She knew she’d been patterned for the basics before she regained consciousness. She’d been through it before; every time you change, it takes getting used to, even when you go back to your birthform, especially when you go back to your birthform.

She got up and looked at herself in the viewer. Bigger, heavier that she’d expected, fuller. She liked the fuller part. Nice muscle development. Nicely adapted to planetary gravity, which was a little lighter than her home world. A home world which was far, far away. Would she ever see it again? She shook out her arms. With luck, no!

She took a breath and started the trainer on attack/defense sequences, superimposing her actual position over the desired. Might as well get to work, establish the movement patterns, solidify reflexes.

She quickly got to the place where her body was moving on its own, responding. She thought about her assignment. As usual, she’d been given deliberately incomplete information. She knew she’d be scouting and recruiting the field team. Others would be recruiting officers, flight crew. She’d been given the basics of the target area, a rough, lower-class city neighborhood in less than ideal condition -- plenty of survival skills there! Three rival gangs: Black, Latino, Asian. She already had a set of languages -- American English, the common language, then Mexican, Afro-American English, and three Asian languages to cover other groups in the area. She knew her skin color, features, ethnic appearance were such that she could fit into many of the groups and subgroups in the area. Key aspects of her appearance were semiotically calculated to allow her to move freely within the area, and so that others would ignore her; she’d be able to move practically invisibly within their society.

But for now, it was the old routine. Get used to planetary life -- sights, sounds, smells, cultures.

An annunciator warned her of a meeting with the other planet-bound crew in half an hour. How many clicks was that? Two and a quarter? Time to shower, dry, and dress. Drying would be easier, but dressing -- wearing clothing -- that’s going to take getting used to again!

Walking into the conference room Ship had set aside for them, Peta pointed and laughed. “Tik! Is that you?” She knew Tik was going to be an Asian male; he was recruiting science and bridge teams. But in comparison to the planetform she wore, he was small! She thought the males were typically larger in this monkey world.

They were all wearing similar jumpsuits for initial acclimation. Tik nodded, getting up from the chair he’d been sitting in and approaching his nest mate. “Yes, Peta, it is.” Tik ran his hands over her, smiling. “You have a very nice planetform!” he told her.

Peta enjoyed the sensations, feeling her body respond. She ran her hands over Tik, feeling his planetform respond as well. “I think we should practice together,” she said, “starting with kissing...”

Tik agreed. Soon they shed their jumpsuits, practicing other activities.

Burke

Doctor Alice Burke teased yet another weed from the flower bed. The sun was warm on her, warm enough so that her fingers moved easily, not yet too hot to work in her garden.

The weeds were as relentless as the arthritis, she thought. Both natural processes... She nodded, processes which could be postponed, at least for a time.

And time -- she’d seen a lot of time. In her forced retirement, that’s what she had, time -- too much time, not enough time.

She laughed softly, chiding herself, moving her stool a bit to work on more weeds.

“Doctor Burke?” a voice asked.

Alice looked up to see a young couple, man and woman, standing at her side gate. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

“Do you have a few minutes to talk?” the woman asked.

Alice sat up, then moved carefully to standing. “I’ve got lots of time.”

Sitting in her study drinking iced tea a few minutes later, her visitors exchanged glances.

The woman spoke. “Doctor Burke, we’ll get right to the point. I’m Mara, and this is my partner, Hal. We have a job we would very much like you to take.”

“I’m retired,” Alice said, without much conviction. She wasn’t “retired,” she was old. That’s what she’d been told. Not officially, of course, but she was expert in reading such messages.

“We know,” Hal said, “but we think you’re the person for the job.”

After a pause, Mara said simply, “We need a resident psychiatrist for our starship.”

Alice took another sip of tea, looking at the two. “You’ve got my attention,” she replied.

Her visitors smiled and sighed.

Three hours later, as they finished an impromptu lunch, Alice was full of questions. And she could feel the smile filling her. What fascinating problems! And the implications of some of the things they said...

“Let’s get pragmatic,” Alice said. “I’m seventy one. A common phrase from our culture -- the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”

“This is not a problem,” Hal replied.

“Explain,” Alice stated simply.

“These shapes we wear,” Mara started out, gesturing to her own body, “are not our natural forms, our birthforms.” She paused, waiting for Alice to acknowledge her. “What does this imply?”

Alice nodded. So many implications, and questions...

Mara continued. “The major implications are that we have the ability to create these planetforms, and to move consciousness from one form to another. We cannot create life -- that is beyond our skill. For you this means that when the time is right, we will prepare a new form for you,”

Alice nodded, her eyes filling with moisture, “And transfer the flame, the light, from the old candle to the new...”

The couple looked at each other, exchanging intimate smiles. “You understand very well,” Hal said emotionally.

“How long does the flame last?” Alice asked philosophically, toying with a teaspoon.

The young couple held hands. “We don’t know. As long as you wish is perhaps the best answer. We have passed our own life expectancy by many, many times,” Mara said, looking at her companion, looking into his eyes and smiling.

“And I see so many trees for us to climb together, so much to explore,” Hal said emotionally to his mate. The two held hands, looking at each other.

Alice shook her head at the display. “I’m happy to learn some things are universal... How do you build a stable society on a ship, or is that even the goal?”

“You accept?” Hal asked.

Alice shook her head. “Silly boy -- I did that hours ago.”

Brinna

“Is something wrong, Mr. Clarke? I thought I did really well today,” Brinna said as she reviewed paperwork with her flight instructor after her aerobatics lesson.

Paul smiled and shook his head. “Brinna, you’re outstanding. The problem is, when it comes to aerobatics, I don’t have any more to teach you. Oh, you need practice, we all do. I’m still making calls, maybe Cary in Hayward... Have you thought of competing? You should, really.”

Brinna was a little surprised. She expected to be good, but that good? She talked with her aerobatics instructor a while longer, then put her jacket and motorcycle helmet on to head back to school.

She was a cautious rider, especially going by the string of restaurants -- just in time for the late crowd to be getting out.

Almost back to Stanford, green light, halfway through the intersection -- she barely had time to hear the tire squeals, the horns -- impact and blackness.

Message

“Hey Feet -- boss man wants ya!” a voice called out.

Feet took his size fourteens off the table and lumbered down the hall to find Ron. As usual, he was sitting at the table in the back, his key people around him.

“Morning, Ron,” Feet said, “What can I do for you?”

Ron looked at his soldier and smiled. “Good job with those punks on Azuerias Street. Need you to deliver a message for me.”

Feet smiled and folded his arms. It was nice to be back on Ron’s good side again. “Okay.”

Ron picked up a pencil. “You know that crazy bitch behind the bodega?”

Feet nodded. He’d heard of her. So had a lot of people.

Ron held the pencil lightly in one hand, tapping the fingers of his other hand as he spoke. Feet recognized that habit -- Ron was pissed at this bitch. He smiled -- this could be fun.

“This bitch is interfering in my business, and I don’t like it. Take her for a ride. Got it?”

“Take her for a ride -- and don’t bring her back....” Feet wanted to be sure.

Ron challenged, “Got a problem with that?”

Feet shook his head. “No, I got it, jus’ makin’ sure. Can I use Jimmy as a driver?”

Ron smiled. “Yeah. Take the Lincoln, but bring it back clean.” Ron looked to one of his lieutenants, then back to Feet. “You can make a delivery for me in Blossom Hill as well.” The lieutenant nodded.

Feet smiled a little more. This was going to be a good day. “Whatever you want, Boss.”

Ron nodded. “Be ready in half an hour.”

“I’m ready now. I’ll find Jimmy.” Feet left the room -- he knew when he’d been dismissed.

Down the hall, Feet grabbed a punk by the shoulder. “Go find Jimmy and tell him he’s driving the Lincoln for me, and he’s late already. Go!” The kid took off running.

Peta was walking back from her usual morning in the park when Ship alerted her to the man following her. She reviewed Ship’s scan: a large black man, very muscular, the one they called “Feet.” He’d been in the neighborhood recently, roughing people up, Eduardo’s and Frank’s both. A quick probe of his mind showed his intentions. Peta smiled -- a smile Feet wouldn’t have liked one bit. She laughed, looking at the muscular image projected in her vision. She had a wicked idea, and had Ship do secondary scans on Feet and the driver of the car following along. She didn’t think she was the one who was going to die today.

Scans on Feet came back clean, remarkably clean, considering who he worked for and what he did. He was disease free, drug free, and in very good physical condition. Not too intelligent, but healthy. His driver had the all too common set of viruses and pathogens.

This was going to be fun, she thought to herself. She felt her hips moving differently as she walked -- some deep programming in her monkey shell asserting itself, mixing with her own past. She laughed softly and peeled off her sweatshirt as she walked, revealing her form-fitting top underneath. She moved her shoulders, flexing muscles. How she wished for fur and claws! How she wanted to use teeth and claws!

Feet followed her for a block or so. He’d heard of her. Some people called her crazy. Some called her a holy woman. The locals respected her and came to her for help. All he knew for sure was that the local gangs which used to be rivals had started working together, she’d been a part of that, and Ron didn’t like it -- rivalry was better for Ron’s business.

Then he watched her peel off her baggy sweatshirt as she walked. Feet almost stumbled. There was a fine body underneath those crazy bag-lady clothes! He could see the sheen of her skin and the ripple of muscles in her back, shoulders, and arms. He smiled -- this was a new side to the crazy lady!

He raised his left hand to signal Jimmy, who had better damn well be following close behind. He stepped forward quickly as she still had both arms in the sleeves of the sweatshirt. He grabbed her roughly by an arm and told her, “You’re coming with me, bitch! Play games and you die!”

Peta felt him closing. She gave her commands to Ship. This was the kind of Field Work she enjoyed! She steadied herself and let him grab her roughly, turning and pulling her to the street. In reply to his barked commands she looked him in the eye and gave him a look of pure animal lust.

Feet almost stumbled over the curb as he pulled her to the car and pushed her into the back. That look she’d given him -- did she have any clue? How crazy was she?

He pushed her into the back of the limo, climbed in, and closed the door. With the heavily tinted windows, nobody would be able to see what was going on.

“Go!” he said to Jimmy. Jimmy nodded and screeched off. He was already taking commands from Ship. He’d drive to the airport about an hour away, and not pay any attention to what went on in the back of the limo.

Feet pushed the button to close the divider between the front and the back, then turned to the woman, only to have her pull herself over him and kiss him passionately, running her hands over him.

Peta initially met resistance, but that was overcome with some help from Ship. Soon he was responding with equal passion and abandon.

As they shed their clothing, Peta had to control him more. Like most young males, he was eager, but woefully ignorant of how to please a female. As the old joke went, he needed more than guidance...

Feet couldn’t believe it -- in the back of the limo, naked on top of the crazy lady, pumping in and out of her, kissing her, feeling her.

Peta felt his rhythm shift, Ship warning her that he was close to the edge. That wouldn’t do, not at all. She had Ship take more control of him as she flipped him to his back, riding him to her pleasure.

She let her head tilt back, and with eyes closed followed the cues of the body she wore, increasing her pleasure. Her fingers grasped his shoulders tightly; she wished for claws to better hold him. The sensations from his caressing her breasts were exquisite; her two large breasts responding differently and very pleasurably, so different from the two rows of smaller nipples she was used to.

She rode him to one orgasm, then another, and another, and finally let him have his release as she peaked yet again, snarling and squeezing him. Panting, she lowered herself down on top of him.

Peta was satiated, for the moment. Ship still held his penis erect within her. She rolled his head around a bit on her breast and laughed softly. He was only partially conscious, sucking out of deep reflex. She sat up a bit, feeling a current of air from the car’s air conditioning cooling the sweat covering them both.

She looked down at the male body beneath her as her hips still moved on their own. He did look tasty. She laughed again -- another wicked idea, but one which would solve a number of problems. She gave her commands to Ship. The bundles of drugs and money in the trunk of the car flicked up to storage with Ship. She ran her hands along his strong chest, then feeling his biceps and triceps, laughing a little more, as she slid her hands up to his neck and head.

Feet couldn’t believe it. He was panting, completely wiped out. He’d never had sex like that before. She’d ridden him, and ridden him, and ridden him, and finally he came.... Then he sucked on her, just like a baby. Now she was running her hands over him, and he was still hard inside her. She may be a crazy lady, but damn, she was good!

He opened his eyes and looked up. Was she crazy? She smiled and leaned forward a bit, running her fingers through his hair, and then sliding her hands slowly to the back of his head.

“Did you like that, sweetie?” she cooed.

Feet laughed a little, and moved his hands to her hips as he rocked them. “Oh yeah, baby,” he growled, “but not as much as what we do next.”

He thought about strangling her the next time he came, which wouldn’t be long. He felt her strong hands at the back of his head. He sighed and let his eyes close half way. This was one crazy, sexy, lady.

“Surprise,” Peta whispered as she broke his neck with a sudden twist. She rocked a bit more on top of him, finally sighing and sliding off, commanding Ship to flick his body up for processing and storage. She had Ship clean her up, dressing her again.

Good timing -- they pulled into the airport’s short-term parking garage as she finished.

Jimmy found a secluded place to park. He turned off the engine, set the parking brake, and turned to hand Peta the car keys. He hardly had a chance to be surprised when he vanished as Ship flicked him into the photosphere of the local star; no need to litter.

In the back, Peta shook her head. Should have checked his wallet first. Oh well -- she had plenty of their money, and knew where to get more. She rifled Feet’s pants pockets, then had Ship destroy Feet’s clothing. Ship had maintained a catch field around them since they’d gotten in the car, so she’d left no traces of any kind. She had Ship make a quick check, and had Ship flick her to a closed toilet stall in the public library near the bodega.

She left the stall and looked at herself in the mirror. She was still smiling, looking and feeling invigorated. Almost as good as being in her family nest on Ship. She looked at her hands, remembering gripping Feet’s shoulders as she rode him. Nice, but she still missed claws digging into fur, the feeling of a mate’s stiff guard-hairs tickling her. Still, these breasts had been nice...

Peta left the library and took a leisurely walk to the bodega. She went in the back and to the kitchen. It was her turn to cook dinner, and she had a real treat tonight.

She looked around to be sure nobody was watching, and had Ship assemble the proper spices and ingredients on the counter for her. She reviewed the image projected in her vision, rotating it in three dimensions, looking at cross-sections. There -- that would do just fine. She started with a section of upper thigh meat, about a pound and a half. She cut it into small cubes as the oil and garlic heated up in the pan. She ate a piece raw. It was still warm, and tasty.

The batch of Chile Verde she cooked up smelled and tasted grand. She laughed as she tasted -- “long pork” indeed. She had enough for enchiladas for their dinner, and made another batch to send to Eduardo and his people. Peta hoped they would enjoy them as much as she did.

Movement

Brinna tried to move, but everything hurt. Her vision was blurred; she tried to rub her eyes but her hands didn’t want to work.

“That’s okay dear, don’t try to talk -- you still have a tube down your throat. Can you move your fingers for me? That’s good! We’re going to give you more medicine for the pain now. Rest, dear, just rest.”

Brinna was more coherent. She figured she’d been in a bad accident. They explained that her head and neck were in a brace, a brace which extended to her hips. Lots of broken bones; her helmet and leathers had saved her life.

*

Brinna was able to sit up a bit, sip liquids. She was feeling hungry again.

They wanted to take her off the pain meds for a while, to do some tests. Was that okay with her? Sure.

An hour or so later, she asked the nurse to please scratch her right foot -- it itched like crazy. It seemed like a simple request -- why did she rush out of the room?

A group of doctors entered. Bluntly but compassionately they gave her the news. She didn’t have a right foot, or a left -- both her legs had been crushed in the accident, amputated just above the knees. The reason she wasn’t in even more pain was that her spine had been seriously injured. They weren’t sure, but she might never regain sensation or muscle control below her navel.

And no medicine they could give her could treat the pain she felt now.

Interview

Mike was at his desk, digging through the interminable paperwork. He heard someone knocking on his open door. He didn’t look up. “Yeah? What is it?” he called out.

“Got a minute, Lieutenant?”

Mike looked up. A young beat cop was in the doorway. Mike sighed and put down his pen. “Sure, unless it means more work for me.” Then he smiled and stood up, extending his hand. “Don’t think we’ve met -- Mike Evans -- come on in.”

“Scott,” the young cop said as he shook the older officer’s hand and sat down. “And I don’t think it means more work. That’s what’s weird about it.”

Mike sat back. “Oh?”

Scott said, “I work East side, around 47th. You know the drug scene around there?”

Mike thought for a moment. “Unless it’s changed, there’s a Hispanic gang on one side, a Black gang on the other, and some sorry-ass Cambodians trying to muscle the no-man’s land between them, and Ron feeds them all. Well, maybe not the Cambodians.”

Scott nodded. “That’s more or less it. The funny thing is, the last few weeks, the Hispanics and the Blacks have stopped feuding, and even started working together. The area has gotten real quiet.”

Mike sat up a bit. “They’ve stopped dealing?”

Scott said, “Hell no -- but most of the buyers are from outside the area. That hasn’t changed.” He grinned suddenly. “One of the funny things -- when we send undercover people in to buy from them, they send us to Blossom Hill, fingering people over there.”

Mike had to laugh at that. “So what’s brought about this change? Your professional presence?”

Scott laughed as well. “Wish it was. No, the reason I’m here is because of the lady -- you know the bodega on 47th near the library?”

“The one run by the Viet couple, next to the laundry?”

“That’s the one. There’s a woman living in a room in the back. Lieutenant, I don’t know what to say about her. You see her walking on the street, and you figure she’s another crazy bag-lady or something. But the way the locals talk -- the way they respect her, even the kids and the hoods.”

“You’ve talked to her?” Mike asked.

Scott nodded. “Yeah. Ran her ID -- legit, green card, Salvadoran. Been here three, maybe four months.” He shook his head. “Something really strange about her. Can’t put my finger on it. Last week I saw her sitting in the park, with Eduardo on one side, and Fat Frank on the other, and she was lecturing them like they were grandkids she’d caught filching cookies from her kitchen or something! The word went out -- no dealing in the park, no fighting. And there isn’t any! Just like that -- because she says so.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. The park had been disputed turf for years. “Want me to talk to her?”

Scott nodded again. “I’d sure appreciate it. Don’t know what you’d learn. I’d like to know what side she’s on.”

Mike looked at the pile of papers on his desk. He smiled and nodded. “About damn time I got out of this office for a while. I’ll do it -- this afternoon.”

Scott stood up. The two cops shook hands again. “Thanks, Lieutenant. I appreciate it.”

Mike smiled. “Don’t thank me yet. Just keep up the good work.”

Peta sat on the edge of the bed, a small table pulled up to it as she mended clothing for one of the young women in the neighborhood, when Ship warned her of someone approaching. A middle-aged Black man, carrying a gun -- a policeman. She continued her sewing.

Mike went through the alleyway at the back of the row of shops. He saw her sitting inside the small room, sewing something. The room looked like it had been a storage room off the back of the bodega. He walked up noisily, and said, “Miss? I’d like to speak with you?”

Mike was unprepared for the smile he received -- a smile with serenity, confidence, and something else in it.

Peta looked up and smiled. “Please, come in and sit down.”

Mike came in and introduced himself. He reached for his badge, but she told him it wasn’t necessary, and motioned him to the one chair in the small room.

Mike looked around the room. It had a small bed, the little table in front of it with children’s clothing, the folding chair he was sitting in, some boxes on the floor with clothes, and a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. Small, in need of repair, but neat and tidy.

When he looked back to her, she’d stopped her sewing, and was looking patiently at him, with that enigmatic smile of hers.

“For your kids?” he asked, indicating the clothing.

She laughed a little, an easy laugh. “No, for our neighbors. They work so hard, and have so little time to do these things. What can I do for you?”

Mike hesitated. She was so disarming. She was so calm. He pulled out pictures of the two local gang leaders and put them on the table. “Do you know these two men?”

She looked at the pictures and nodded. “Eduardo and Frank. Frank eats too much -- I keep telling him.”

“Do you know what they do for a living?” he asked.

She looked him in the eye. “They do what they need to do to survive,” she said calmly.

Mike was surprised with her response, and the strength with which she’d said it. There wasn’t a lot he could say to it.

“And what do you do?” he asked after a moment.

She smiled again and reached out for his hands. He was surprised when he let her take his. Her hands were warm and strong.

“I help people, and I do what I must to survive. The same as you. Some want our help, others don’t. Some hear but don’t listen. Some hear and won’t listen. We keep trying.”

“But what they are doing is wrong,” he said.

She smiled, but shook her head slowly. Peta had Ship scan him. She was surprised at the report. “Not to them, not in their eyes. It is how they survive. Some times we are trapped in situations which are less than perfect. We do what we must. And it is so tiring some times, so tiring.”

“Some times we need to rest, just let go and rest. A short rest will help so much. Let go and rest.” As she spoke, she had Ship sedate him, lightly at first, and hold him up. She reviewed the scans. He didn’t have the sexually transmitted diseases so prevalent in the area, particularly in black males, but his position explained that. The major blood vessels in his neck were almost completely blocked, and there were dangerous near-blockages in the arteries of his heart. He also had abnormal cells in a small gland, the one they called the prostate.

With Ship’s help, she looked through his mind. Strength and vitality, but frustration... Looking through his mind, she understood better how the different groups in the area fit together, uneasily.

She started Ship carefully treating him. Ship raised its usual objection of interference, which she overrode. It took a few minutes to sweep occlusions from his circulatory system. The renegade cells were taken care of -- they had not spread, and would not reappear. She also had Ship repair his joints, especially his left knee. As Ship flushed toxins and waste products from his system, she lowered his head to the table and let him rest.

As she watched him resting, she had another thought. She chuckled briefly, made her recommendation to Ship, and observed Ship as it scanned the man more thoroughly.

Mike took a deep breath and moved a bit. His head was on his folded arms. He sat up slowly, not quite knowing where he was. Then he saw her and remembered.

“What happened?” he asked.

She was sewing again, repairing a little girl’s dress. “You were tired. You needed to rest. You rested. How do you feel now?”

Mike was surprised, his head clearing. Yet he felt -- very rested. He felt more rested and stronger than he had in quite a while. “I feel good,” he told her.

She nodded. “I’m glad. I’m here to help. Remember that. Can I do anything else for you?”

Mike almost laughed out loud. He picked up the pictures from the table. “No, thank you. Please, miss...”

“Peta,” she said, “Everyone calls me Peta.”

“Please, Miss Peta, please be careful. You are associating with dangerous and violent people.”

She smiled as she continued her sewing. “Thank you -- I’ll be very careful. But all of us can be dangerous and violent, especially when our survival is at stake.”

As Mike looked at her, the look in her eyes shifted somehow. He saw someone of great strength. He knew she was someone to have as a friend, not as an enemy. Then her smile and softness returned.

“Please come see me if I can help,” she said.

Mike stood up, bowed a little, and let himself out.

He shook his head as he walked down the alleyway. He looked at his watch -- he’d been in there for three quarters of an hour, most of it asleep! He must have been tired! But as he walked, he couldn’t remember feeling better. Even his left knee felt springy! He laughed out loud as he walked back to his car. No, he turned, deciding to take a look at the park. If this woman was a problem, he needed a lot more like her!

Dreams

Brinna wouldn’t give up. She never had. She told herself she never would.

The dreams started.

Brinna knew she was dreaming again. Flying, soaring, effortlessly. She wasn’t alone; she felt the presence of others, but they were far away.

With each successive dream, the sensations, the reality of it got stronger; the presence of the others got closer.

And at the end of each dream, she woke to a darkened room and a broken body, crying.

Another dream, flying, pulling over into a gentle turn. Brinna did something, taking more control, turning it into an aerobatic maneuver, transitioning smoothly and effortlessly into another, and another. The other, the one who rode with her in these dreams radiated surprise, joy, enthusiasm. They flew and flew, arcing, turning, flying, maneuvering for the sheer joy of it.

Brinna woke in tears, hysterical; the night duty nurse couldn’t console her, finally calling for assistance. They sedated her.

“Tell me about your nightmares,” the psychiatrist asked Brinna in the morning.

“They’re not nightmares,” she replied flatly.

“But you wake up crying,” she was reminded.

“I’m crying because I wake up and the dream is over,” she whispered. “I don’t want it to end.”

They talked for another hour. Brinna wasn’t sure if the doctor was capable of understanding; she told him to talk to her aerobatics instructor.

Later in his office, the doctor reviewed Brinna’s files. He picked up the copy of her application to Stanford University. She was a brilliant, beautiful, driven woman. Gymnastics, flying - aerobatics, on top of a very tough academic schedule. What drove her?

Then he read the first sentence of her entrance essay. “I will be one of the first to step on to the surface of another world.”

He sighed, putting down the folder. This was going to be tough.

OODA

Peta sat in the park, enjoying the morning. She sat, enjoying the victory; they had retaken the park. She brokered peace between Eduardo and Fat Frank, keeping the park neutral, stopping the dealing, the fighting, cleaning up the park, making it safe once more. She brought their families together. Young women, Blacks and Latinas both, sat talking together, watching their children play. And they played together. Peta had another bag of clothing to repair, the items she’d finished already distributed to both groups.

Ship advised her of his approach.

“Officer Scott,” she said, turning as he approached. “Good morning!”

Scott smiled, shaking his head. She always knew... And he had the feeling she wasn’t someone you wanted to try and sneak up on...

“Good morning, Tia Peta,” he said, using the pet name many in the neighborhood used for her.

She laughed, an easy and free laugh. “Here, sit down,” she said as she picked up a piece of clothing to mend. She opened her little bag and found replacement buttons and thread.

“Tia Peta, you have worked a miracle here,” Scott told her, looking at the park. From what it had been two months ago -- now it was clean, full of happy families, no longer contested turf.

“Ah, but the peace is momentary,” she said. “I imagine that’s why you stopped by?”

“No, is there a problem?”

Peta nodded as she worked on the button. “The Cambodians, they don’t understand. To those vermin, a place is either their turf, or turf they want. They aren’t brave enough to try and take it during the day. Instead, they send their hookers and pimps here at night, but we run them off. They will keep trying, protection next, trying to squeeze people and work into the neighborhood that way, like the vermin they are. We will run them off, but we might have to make a mess to keep others from coming in to try and take their place.”

Scott nodded, attentively, amazed at her assessment. “How will you do that?”

Peta chuckled. “Oh, we have our ways...”

“Tia Peta, those people are armed...”

She nodded. “They usually carry knives, some guns, under the seats of their cars. They also seem to be quite lax in renewing vehicle registration and wearing seat belts...” She gave a knowing glance to the officer, then bit off the end of a thread, held up the little blouse to look at it, smiled, and exchanged it for the next garment needing repair.

“I understand. I’ll let the beat and traffic units know. Please be careful?”

Peta nodded and smiled. “Of course... Would you like to see my secret weapon?”

He frowned. “I’m not sure...” He didn’t want to know she was armed.

She laughed and reached into her bag, pulling out something dark gray-brown and withered.

He looked at it. “A ... monkey paw?” he asked.

“Very good,” Peta said, almost growling, “Just the thing for fucking with their little monkey minds...”

She laughed, and Scott wasn’t sure he liked that laugh.

Bill

Bill sat in his living room, looking at his hands, and at the empty space where the piano had been; the movers had just departed. Another sigh -- retirement, with the promise of time to enjoy so many things -- travel, music... Funny how things worked out.

Except he wasn’t laughing.

The doorbell rang. He pushed himself to his feet, steadying himself for a moment. “I’m coming,” he told the emptier room. He glanced at the marks in the carpet from where the piano had been. How long had it been there? The room had been recarpeted a decade ago. Thirty years?

An Asian couple at the door. “You’ve come about the flutes? The clarinets?” he assumed.

The woman smiled but shook her head. “Doctor Prichard, we have a problem we’d like to talk to you about.”

Bill shrugged. It hurt, that damn pain between his shoulders, the back pain that had set the whole thing off. “Sure. Please come in.”

As he offered his guests seats, Bill felt how empty the room seemed without the piano. He’d given the piano, and one of his music cabinets, to a local family. His clarinets and the flutes would go the same way, to those who would appreciate them, play them. He eased himself into a chair.

“Doctor Prichard,” the man started.

Bill half-waved a hand. “Bill, please...” he interrupted.

“Bill,” he continued, “Please hear us out. We have an opportunity we think you will be very interested in.”

“It builds on what you’ve done so far,” the woman started to say, “and ...”

“Does it build on the fact that I have maybe three months to live?” Bill interrupted gruffly.

The man smiled! “Yes, it does! Here is ...”

Bill wasn’t listening -- a thing appeared floating in the room. A creature? Almost like a manta ray, yet... A machine? He stood and reached to touch it. A projection! In three dimensions? How? He bent over a bit to look at the underneath, and the projection floated up a foot or so.

The man said, “Hold it with both hands like this...” He put the palm of a hand on the top and on the bottom of the thing and lifted, “and move to reposition. Tap twice with a finger on a point to zoom in, and tap with your thumb to zoom out.”

Bill played with the image, moving it around the room, zooming in on parts of it, zooming out again, repositioning, looking... The “tail” seemed to flex, to move, yet it looked more machine than creature.

“What is this?” Bill finally asked.

“The image of a new starship,” the man told him.

“We’re recruiting a crew,” the woman added. “Are you interested?”

Bill suddenly felt very dizzy, and did what many an intelligent creature would do in such a situation; he passed out.

Aid

Peta woke suddenly. Ship hadn’t woken her. What was it? She recognized the cry of an infant, baby Lily. She got up and walked out her door, into the living quarters at the back of the bodega. Elsie was distraught, walking back and forth holding her daughter. Lily was crying loudly, obviously in pain. Elsie’s husband stood nearby, looking helpless and exhausted.

Elsie saw Peta approach. “She sick. We don’t know what to do. Doctor Li no answer. We have so little money.”

Peta smiled and held out her arms, taking the crying child as she had Ship do a scan. The tubes connecting nose and ears were blocked by infection, eardrums close to bursting, causing extreme pain.

Peta sat on the edge of the bed and pulled up her sweatshirt on one side, exposing a breast. She had Ship relieve the pressure in Lily’s ears as she held the infant to her breast. It took a while, but Ship relieved the congestion and the pain. Soon Lily stopped crying and was suckling contentedly in Peta’s arms. Ship cleared out the infection, and adapted Lily’s immune system so she wouldn’t be ravaged by another, filled her stomach with nutrients, and swept toxins and waste products from her body.

Peta was surprised at the pleasure her body sent her from the simple act of suckling young. It was more than just her body, though -- it went far deeper. Lily’s suckling slowed, and stopped as she drifted off to satisfied, comfortable sleep. Peta looked up as she lowered the infant from her breast.

The parents looked at her in awe. Peta handed the infant back to Elsie, who placed the baby back in the small crib near the bed. Elsie turned to Peta, with questioning in her face as well as awe.

Peta put her arms around both parents. They were both shorter and thinner than she was. She started Ship relaxing both of them as she held them. “Your baby is fine now. She will sleep well. You are tired and need to sleep. Sleep. Relax and sleep.”

She had Ship lower them to their bed and scan them, doing the usual repairs and rejuvenation. She used their common bathroom, and stepped back outside.

Rather than return to her small room, Peta walked to the alleyway and looked up to the sky. She sighed with disappointment. No stars were visible through the purplish-orange haze of the city, its lights, and its pollution. Damn monkeys and their nightmare jungle! She closed her eyes and felt Ship -- longing to be back in her own form, with her kin, whispering again through the void beneath the stars.

And Ship reminded her that they would do that again, when Peta’s job, and the jobs of her kin were done. Peta sighed, shook her head, and went back to bed.

Redemption

Mara and Hal both twigged Ship as they saw Bill’s color change; Ship caught him as he collapsed.

Mara glanced to Hal, who nodded. They had Ship run full scans, supplementing the more than cursory work they’d done from a distance. They also peered into his mind.

“He’s giving up,” Mara said, gesturing to the open space where the piano had been.

“No, he’s not,” Hal retorted. “Look here,” he indicated a portion of the man’s mind. “Military training -- he’s accepted the final outcome and is marshaling resources as best he can to benefit others.”

Mara nodded, smiling. “He’s the one.”

Hal frowned a bit. “Ship... Ship isn’t sure?” The two looked at each other, questioning.

“Interesting,” one said. “Very!” the other agreed. “Proceed?” “Might as well. Medical intervention?” “Minimal, for now.”

Bill opened his eyes. He felt like he was floating in air. He glanced around, and panicked -- he was floating in air!

“You’re okay,” the man said, as he and the woman stepped to Bill’s sides, putting their hands on him, helping calm him.

“Let’s move you to sitting,” the woman said.

Bill felt himself moving, sitting up, as he floated to his chair and settled into it.

His visitors seated themselves again; the man tapped the thing floating in the middle of the room and it shrank down to about a meter long and settled to about a meter above the floor. The “tail” still moved slowly.

“Toto, I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore,” Bill muttered after a while.

“That means what?” the man asked with a quizzical look on his face.

Bill managed a smile. “You’ve convinced me you’re most likely not from around here... Did I hear you correctly? Did you say starship?”

“Yes, we did,” the woman replied. “Are you still interested?”

Bill sighed, leaning back. His shoulders felt a little better and his usual headache had diminished. “Yes -- but are you still interested in me? Do you know my medical condition?”

Mara started to speak, but Ship told her to hold off. She nodded to Bill.

Bill held out his hands; they trembled slightly. “End stage metastatic melanoma -- I’ve got cancerous tumors in my head, my spine, more. Radiation treatment of the largest spinal tumor killed off part of it, along with enough nerves that I can no longer play music. Attempting to treat the largest tumor in my head would most likely cost me my vision. I have maybe three months to live.”

Mara nodded. She decided to alter their usual approach. She twigged Ship, and before she could override the anticipated objection, the image appeared, replacing the image of the new Ship.

Bill sat back in surprise as a six-foot tall otter-like creature appeared in front of him. He realized that it too was a projection. Or was it? The creature looked at him, tilted its head, pointed, and made a chirping sound that he interpreted as laughter.

Bill thumbed his nose and gave it a loud Bronx cheer. “I think you’re pretty funny looking, too,” he told it. Her? Rows of breasts?

The creature turned to his guests and repeated the gesture, placing a furry claw-tipped thumb to nose, wiggling fingers, and emitting a very good raspberry, standing on one leg for good measure. More laughter, and the image winked off, replaced once again by the Ship.

Hal smirked. “You’ve made a very good impression,” he told Bill.

“With whom?” Bill asked.

“With a ... cousin,” Hal said. “That’s the form we had when we were recruited to join our Ship.”

Mara smiled, watching as Bill sat back and pondered. “You’ve seen our birthform,” she told him, “and the planetforms we’re wearing now. What does this imply?”

Bill looked up in the air for a while. When he looked at his guests again, he was smiling. “If I’m correct, it means I can beat this crap.”

“Essentially correct,” Mara agreed.

Bill closed his eyes; tears rolled down his cheeks. He laughed for the first time in months. It hurt, but he laughed.

Dreams, Nightmares

Brinna worked at healing. She regained basic bowel and bladder control, to the amazement of the doctors. But she didn’t have any sensation in her legs; no muscle control. That didn’t stop the feet that weren’t there from sometimes itching uncontrollably.

The dreams -- she flew almost every night. For a while it was learning, practicing aerobatics.

They became more task oriented; flying, swooping, opening a -- pouch? -- collecting, scooping up something. She could feel the increase in mass as a space within her filled. She, they, had paths projected before them, but those paths were sterile in their mathematical precision. Brinna breathed life, fire, and artistry into them. Flying should be fun! And it was -- purposeful, but still graceful and fun!

More flying games -- swooping up pebbles, catch certain ones, pick them out, don’t run into any!

The psychiatrist returned to talk to her. She wasn’t waking in tears any more? No. He seemed satisfied at that. They talked a little; he mouthed platitudes and went away.

More dreams of flying, soaring, Brinna rolling, looping, feeling more massive, less agile than before. But still they flew, and for the joy of it. They understood the bond they shared -- flying was life.

Waking in the morning, looking out the window to clear blue sky. A solitary tear rolled down Brinna’s cheek. She didn’t wake in tears anymore -- she knew she was losing her mind, and she didn’t care.

But something worse than that happened. Without warning, the dreams stopped.

Conference I

Peta was right.

She sat in the park, watching the twilight parade. They were such silly monkeys! The Cambodian gang members would cruise by slowly in their noisy hopped-up little cars, Peta would have Ship render a headlight or a tail light inoperative, and the police would pull them over. With luck, and possibly a little more assistance from Ship, they would be arrested and the car towed away.

Peta saw two Asian hookers, girls, really, standing on the sidewalk trying to attract passers-by. As Peta got up, Ship alerted her to the three armed pimps approaching. She smiled -- a set-up! Fun!

It was getting cold, and the two girls were very scantily dressed. The two of them together wouldn’t make a decent set of tits... They sneered at Peta as she walked up.

Peta had Ship soften that attitude. “Come sit with me -- it’s cold out,” she told them, and then led the suddenly quite docile girls back to the park bench. Peta put a blanket around them, and had Ship conjure up two cups of hot tea which appeared to come from a local shop. Peta enlisted the help of others on Ship, and spoke to them softly about community resources available to help them escape the situation they were in.

Peta saw the three pimps approaching. She retrieved her monkey paw, concealing it up a sleeve as she stood up.

About ten feet from them, she said, “Over there,” pointing with her empty hand, “I don’t want those girls to see you die.” She turned and walked to another part of the park, forcing them to follow.

Peta stood, her back to a hedge, spotty lighting from a lamp shining through the trees.

The three stood in front of her: thin, ugly monkeys. They drew knives.

She smiled and raised the monkey paw. The middle one took a step back! She pointed it at his groin and hissed, having Ship inflict temporary nerve damage -- he’d be able to have erections again in three or four months, if he lived that long. He cried out and fell to the ground, wetting himself. The one on the left took off running. The one on the right stood his ground, holding his knife, crouching.

She raised the monkey paw again. “Such a brave monkey!” she said, pointing, and had Ship exchange his knife for the illusion of a snake, which promptly bit his arm. He ran off screaming. The remaining one crawled off crying, holding his damp crotch.

She had Ship flick the knives into the ocean. She walked back to the bench; the girls were gone. At least they’d left the blanket.

The next morning, sitting in the park, waiting for the library to open, Ship alerted her -- Asian man approaching, with a gun. Probe him -- here to shoot her. She had Ship lead him into the bushes, out of sight, take his wallet, and flick him and the gun into the Sun. She set Ship on reconnaissance.

Peta stretched and smiled as she left the library before lunch. Noodles would be good for lunch.

She observed through Ship, watching the Cambodian gang boss at a noodle house, sitting with a lieutenant and a bodyguard. As their lunch arrived, Peta had Ship nudge the bodyguard, who got up to use the toilet.

Ship flicked Peta into the hallway as the bodyguard entered the toilet behind her. Peta stepped from the hallway and took the bodyguard’s place at the table, picking up his chopsticks. The boss choked momentarily on a noodle. Peta dropped the gunman’s wallet on the table.

“I offer a deal,” she said in his native tongue, between bites of meat. “You stay away from us, and I let you live.”

Peta was surprised and mildly pleased when he didn’t call out. The lieutenant didn’t know what to think, and after seeing the other two resume eating, he decided that was the thing to do.

Peta added more chili oil to her pho; she liked spicy foods.

The bodyguard was surprised to see his seat at the table occupied -- by the woman who was supposed to be dead? His boss pointed to the back parking lot, and he went quietly where he was told.

They ate in silence, Peta and Ship following the boss’s ruminations. He’d personally interviewed the three men he’d sent after her, and while he didn’t quite know what to believe, he was certain that she’d scared the piss out of them, and now he was sure he’d never see the gunman again. Then there was Ron, who he wasn’t ready to offend. At least, not yet. This had already gotten entirely too expensive. Could she be working for Ron? For one of his suppliers? Someone new to the area?

The noodle shop’s proprietor dropped off the check for the meal. Peta took it, and opening the gunman’s wallet, took out enough cash to cover lunch with a substantial tip. She handed it to the proprietor and told him, “Keep the change.” The man nodded with a smile and left quickly. Peta pocketed the remaining cash from the wallet, making sure the others saw the identification card inside the wallet as she did so.

Peta watched the boss smile and nod.

He hadn’t survived this long without being pragmatic. He considered carefully as he finished his pho. Expanding into that area was proving to be quite expensive; there were other areas he could enter at much lower cost. He’d stay away, at least for now, and learn what he could. This was a very resourceful woman. If he could find a way to use her to his advantage, so much the better. For now, staying away, watching carefully, and letting others test her would be prudent. “I accept your kind and gracious offer,” he told her. “We will not cause you any problems. Please talk to me if you have concerns. I think you know how to find me?”

Peta smiled and nodded. “Yes, I do. Thank you. I am happy we were able to resolve this quickly and quietly. If you will excuse me?”

He replied as he would to an equal, “Yes, of course.”

Peta got up from the table and walked casually to the hallway containing the restrooms and connecting to the rear parking lot. As soon as she turned a corner, out of sight, Ship flicked her to her room behind the bodega. She hugged herself and laughed. The money she’d use for more sewing supplies, and more clothes for the children.

“I don’t know where she went!” the lieutenant cried. “We watched her walk out, she didn’t go into the toilets, and she didn’t go to the parking lot! Where did she go?” He looked around again.

The boss laughed and picked up the wallet on the table as he stood. He pointed a finger at his men. “Get the word out -- nobody messes with those people! Stay away from that area! Anybody goes there and manages to come back, I’ll kill them myself!”

“Yes, boss.”

Conference II

Three days later at the park, Ship told Peta of two armed men approaching. Lieutenant Evans, and another police officer, an Asian man. Scan deeper -- okay, not crooked like some of the others.

“So good to see you again!” Peta told Evans, standing and giving him a hug.

For a supposed bag lady, Mike was surprised at the strength in her hug, and relieved that she and her clothes were remarkably clean.

“Miss Peta, this is Officer Nguyen of our Asian unit. Do you have time to talk?”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Peta said, shaking the man’s hand. “Of course! Please sit down!”

“You have done wonders with this park,” Mike said, looking around.

Peta smiled. “It is a neighborhood effort.”

They talked about the park for a while, interrupted by a little girl bringing Peta some clothes that could be used by someone else.

When she left, Peta turned to Nguyen. “How can I help you?”

Nguyen pulled out a picture of the Cambodian gang boss. Looking in his mind, she knew she’d been seen having lunch with him. “Do you know this man?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know him well. We had lunch together a few days ago. We talked.”

Nguyen nodded. “What did you talk about?”

Peta understood -- he’d spoken to Scott. “He and his people are,” she made small biting gestures with one hand, “vermin. As I told Officer Scott, who has been a very big help to us, we cleaned up this place, and they tried to move in. I told this man that was not a good idea, and he should leave us alone.”

Nguyen nodded. “Miss Peta, your talk went very well. He put the word out that you and your neighborhood are to be left alone.”

“That was nice of him,” Peta said with a smile.

A smile that made Mike shudder.

Nguyen was finding the conversation increasingly surreal. “Miss Peta, he is, as you say, vermin. But why would he agree to do such a thing?”

Peta looked him in the eye. “He may be vermin, but he is not stupid.”

Nguyen sat back, exhaling. He looked to Lieutenant Evans, who smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“What did you do to those people?” Nguyen asked in exasperation.

Peta laughed. “I did exactly what I told Officer Scott I would do. Would you like to see?”

Nguyen wasn’t sure, but nodded.

Peta reached down to one of her bags. “Those monkeys are so superstitious!” she said, and quickly pulled out the withered, gnarled monkey paw.

Even Mike sat back a bit.

“Here,” Peta offered Nguyen.

He accepted her offer, holding it briefly, gingerly. He shook his head. “The stories I heard...”

Peta smiled again. “And if you were in their shoes, what would you say? That you were run off by black magic, or by a black woman?”

Even Nguyen had to chuckle at that. Either way, he had to agree with Evans -- she was a person he would not want to have angry at him!

“Is there anything else you can tell me about this man?” Nguyen asked hopefully.

Peta smiled again, and started talking. She spoke casually as she looked around the park. Soon, Nguyen had his notebook out, writing furiously as Peta told him about the furniture store the man ran his businesses out of, pimping, protection, gambling, loans, drugs, that the girls she’d spoken to were not being treated well and had no loyalty to him or to the gang, wondering out loud how Ron viewed his activities, how he got cash in and out of the area, other details, so many details!

Nguyen looked over the notes he had, notes confirming so much, opening up new areas. He looked to Peta. “How? ...” he started to ask.

“Look around you,” she said, waving a hand around the park. “To these people, I am Tia Peta, Aunt Peta, or Abuela, Grandmother. We are family. When someone threatens my family, I take that very seriously.”

Nguyen nodded.

Mike asked, “Do Eduardo, or Frank, or Ron threaten your family?”

Peta looked at him. “Eduardo, and Frank? Most of these,” she gestured again, “are their families. This park is for all of us, all of them. Most of all, it is for los niños, the children, to have them grow up with something their parents don’t have, happiness and hope for better lives.”

Mike looked at his hands for a moment. “And Ron?”

Peta shook her head, making a sour face. “There is too much of him,” she spat. “Think about Eduardo, and Frank. They are caught between you and Ron. How do we give them a third, viable alternative? A way to live, for them and the ones they love?” Peta was surprised at the emotion in her voice; she cared for some of them, cared so much, especially for the young.

“They are breaking ...” Nguyen started formulaically.

“What laws hold here?” Peta interrupted softly yet angrily. “Who took this park back? We did! Who drove off the vermin? We did!” She looked to Evans and Nguyen, and continued in a low voice, but with just as much feeling, “Look at the problem from their perspective. Who offers them opportunity? You, or Ron? The chance of a way out, if not for them, for their children?”

“The violence,” Mike offered.

“Between them is over,” Peta responded dismissively, gesturing curtly with a hand. “You know that. And who do they sell to? They don’t have enough money to buy these drugs for their own use! And the ones serious about finding a way out don’t use them. They sell to outsiders! You know that, too! Any remaining violence flows from the nature of the business. I ask you again -- what are the viable alternatives for these people? How do we break the cycle? Now, not tomorrow! Here, right here, we’ve broken the cycle of violence between them. Here, now,” she waved at the children and their parents, “both sides, both ethnic groups are learning that they can live, work, and play together, help each other. They are learning trust. Give them viable alternatives, and they will take them!”

Mike didn’t know what to say. The language she used, the insight, hell, the strategy and tactics... “Why are you here?” he asked. “You don’t fit, yet you’re here. Why?”

Peta smiled, a fierce smile. “I’m here for the same reason you are -- to save who I can, to help who I can. With one big difference -- if someone gets in my way, or threatens my family, especially the children, I send them straight to Hell.”

Mike looked at Peta, knowing he was hearing Truth with a capital T. He extended his hand to her. “Mi hermana, I pray we stay on the same side.”

Peta took his hand in both of hers. “Mi hermano, we share the same enemies, and many of the same dreams.”

“Who are your enemies?” Nguyen asked.

Peta scowled. “Laziness. Greed. Stupidity. Ignorance can be cured, but stupid is forever...”

She sighed and shook her head, then looked up, laughing. “Spending time talking to the Law can hurt my rep...” She stood and yelled, pointing at a teenager walking by. “You! Pick up that wrapper! Yah, you! You want me to come paddle your bottom?” She started walking toward the boy. “Pick it up! Throw it away where it belongs! NOW!”

Nguyen and Evans looked at each other in amazement, got up, and walked away.

“Get what you wanted?” Evans asked as they walked to his car.

“Shit,” Nguyen replied. “Mike, I don’t know who she is, or who she works for, I just hope to hell we stay on the same side. Right now, I believe anything and everything those punks said!”

Mike laughed. “So is she a crazy lady, or a holy lady?”

“Hey, she’s your sister -- I just don’t want to be the one to tell her she’s stepping out of line!”

“No shit,” Mike agreed.

Conference III

Brinna’s dreams returned! Soaring, looping, turning in joy! Flying to meet -- another? So like the presence she’d been flying with, yet so new. Suddenly the overwhelming sensation from the new one, the young one -- come fly with me! A begging, offering of partnership -- be part of me, fly with me! Brinna reached out in assent, reached in heart, in spirit, reached...

And woke in tears, arms outstretched to the ceiling. She screamed in anguish, but feigned sleep when a nurse came running.

That afternoon two people, a young Asian couple, came to visit.

She was in her wheelchair, on the patio, studying for a class.

“We wanted to talk about your dreams,” the man said.

“Dreams? What dreams?” Brinna responded flatly.

The woman smiled. “They don’t have to be dreams -- she wants you, she really does. We all felt it this morning.”

“She?” asked Brinna.

“The new starship, newborn sister to the one who brought us here, the new ship you’ve been helping build,” the man answered.

Brinna broke into tears. They moved closer, putting their arms around her, and after a while started to explain.

While the starship was sentient, it wasn’t intelligent. She needed a pilot, one to become part of her. The old ship, their ship, the ship she’d flown with, her pilot, everyone agreed Brinna was the one. Brinna had showed them artistry they’d never experienced before. Again, they told her, she was the one.

If she wanted to be.

Brinna didn’t have to ask what would happen if she turned them down. “When?” she asked.

“Soon,” they said, holding her.

The three talked a while longer. They hugged, and the Asians departed.

Conference IV

Peta entered the small library conference room only a few minutes late.

Tik sat in one chair, looking amused with himself, as usual. The monkey body suited him well -- she’d tell him that, when she wanted to insult him...

And as usual, Mara and Hal sat next to each other, touching, holding hands. Always the same sickening display from those two... Always together...

“Hi Tik, hi, MaraHal,” she said, referring to the two as one.

Tik chortled at that.

“Tik, that monkey body suits you well,” Peta told him as she sat down.

Now Mara and Hal chuckled, and Tik gave Peta a nasty look.

Peta returned the challenge, showing teeth and moving her head slightly side to side.

Tik did the same, so Peta upped the ante by hissing softly, moving closer. She could feel the tingling in her breasts as old cues mixed in with new. She saw the tent forming in Tik’s pants...

“Oh stop it,” Hal said, or was it Mara? “Progress review. How are we doing?”

Tik stuck out his tongue briefly, then turned to Mara and Hal. “You know how we’re doing. Four of six confirmed for science. Five for five on engineering. And you’ve got medical and the pilot. We know that. I’m guessing you’ve got command staff. Why did you drag me out of bed?”

Peta frowned. “Right -- why? You have our reports, and we have yours, except for one Ship doesn’t want me to see. You didn’t come to visit the neighborhood...”

Mara looked to Peta. “It’s the field team we’re concerned about, and one other... Ship says you’ve found a candidate, but won’t tell us who, or for what position.”

Peta smiled. “And I won’t tell you now. We’ll know soon enough.”

Hal sighed and looked to his mate in dismay. He glanced to Peta. “Okay, how about the field team? Two candidate groups, which is it?”

Peta sighed, almost spat in disgust. “One group, they’re it. You know how it works -- you were there -- you can’t pick them before they’re ripe.” The four of them were part of the original nesting group picked to crew their ship. “You know how the dance goes...” They’d been observed, measured, interacted with for months before everything fell into place. How long ago had that been? How far away?

Tik, Mara, and Hal all nodded.

“Which group?” Tik asked.

Peta was disgusted. “You know the difference between a six foot couch and a black man?”

Tik looked confused. Mara and Hal exchanged quizzical looks.

“No,” Tik admitted.

Peta gave them a fierce grin. “A six foot couch can support a family...”

Tik laughed. Mara and Hal frowned, glancing at each other uncomfortably. Mara asked Peta, “Isn’t that considered politically incorrect?”

Peta said flatly, “No, it’s fucking racist, but in this case, it’s also true.” She paused while her nest mates chuckled sardonically. They’d been there, all of them. They and their clan were all black-tips, black tipped fur, not silver tipped.

Peta shook her head. “These monkeys are so strange! They know a lot, some times, but they don’t know what to do with what they know! I mean, even we knew before we left, silver tip was just a genetic variation; the damn silvers occasionally produced a black tip, although they wouldn’t admit it. These damn monkeys! They understand lateral inhibition as it applies to neurology, but refuse to apply the concept sociologically! They’ve understood biological evolution and parallel evolution in differing environments for hundreds of years -- Darwin and Mendel -- and have applied selective breeding in animals for thousands of years, yet they can’t see how those principles apply to their own societies! They understand the equivalence of different symbol systems -- Alan Turing, Alonzo Church, Emil Post -- yet can’t use that outside narrow domains. They have glimmerings of their own internal growth, Maslow summed it up nicely, yet they can’t generalize. They fucking refuse to generalize!”

Peta was standing, waving her arms as she spoke with volume, with ferocity. “They have these stupid belief structures, structures that were dismantled brilliantly by other monkeys four hundred years ago, but they would rather accept superstition than think! You --” she pointed at the three, “you’re working with semi-civilized aspects of their society. The groups I’m working with, one group in particular, compared to who you spend time with, they’re like hive rats at home compared to us... Oh, physically, they’re all about the same, but psychologically, socially, spiritually, they’re savages, animals, hardly more advanced than hive rats! They...” She paused, shook her head and sat down.

Tik whistled. “Peta? Is that really you?” He’d never heard such an ... intellectual ... outburst from his nest mate.

Peta looked to Tik, then to Mara and Hal, who were nodding and smiling. Peta scowled.

“Evolution of the individual and the group within the society,” Hal said.

“Successively addressing Maslow’s hierarchy of needs,” added Mara.

Tik still found it hard to believe. “Peta?” he questioned in astonishment.

Mara and Hal looked to him.

“Take away her fangs, her claws,” Hal said.

“...And she has to use her brain to survive,” Mara concluded.

“Evolution of the individual,” Hal intoned, followed by Mara, “Had to happen sooner or later.”

Peta looked at them in amazement, drew a breath ... and started laughing.

Tik joined her.

Mara and Hal looked at each other quizzically, then to Peta and Tik.

“We’re glad she’s taken this step,” Hal told them.

“Ship was right in picking her for this task,” Mara added.

“What?” Peta asked in astonishment. “I was ... picked ... for ... this?”

Mara and Hal looked at each other as if Peta had said that water was wet.

“Yes,” Mara told her, “Part of your maturation, preparing you for ...”

She stopped abruptly as Hal elbowed her in the ribs. She gave Hal a harsh look.

“I love you,” Hal told his mate, apologizing.

Mara smiled and kissed him.

“Looks like a good idea to me,” Tik suggested to Peta, caressing her breasts.

Peta smirked. “Not here...” as she ran nails up Tik’s thigh.

Tik stood and pulled her to her feet, kissing, as he had Ship flick them to his apartment.

Hal and Mara paused. “Guess the meeting is over,” Hal said.

Mara looked at the pile of Tik’s and Peta’s clothing on the floor. She shook her head; typical of Tik. She had Ship flick the clothes to their owners. “And she doesn’t have a clue,” Mara added.

Hal nodded. “She’d deny it if we told her.”

“Violently,” agreed Mara.

They went back to kissing. Occasionally it was nice being a monkey.

Adoption

Brinna ate, studied, bathed with renewed vigor. She pushed herself, and those around her. She always had, and she always would.

She woke in the middle of the night -- or did she? Brinna wasn’t sure.

She sat up, stood up, looked at the two beside her -- the ones she’d met earlier. They were on a desert plateau somewhere, surrounded by darkness and stars.

“I must be dreaming -- I’m standing! I have legs!” she cried.

“You are not dreaming,” the woman said after they hugged.

“But how?” she asked.

“You’ll understand better later on. We recreated your birthform, complete and healthy, and moved your consciousness into it,” the man said.

The woman, still with a comforting hand on Brinna’s back, asked, “Are you ready to go?”

Brinna nodded. “Yes. So, later, they’ll find the ... old ... me, in bed?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “It’s preferable to having you vanish suddenly.”

“It is,” Brinna agreed with a sigh. She nodded and said, “Let’s go.”

“We have to stay,” the man told her.

“We have work to do,” added the woman, “Do you want to go the quick way, or the fun way?”

Even though Brinna wasn’t sure what she was being asked, she responded, “The fun way!” with a big smile.

The two smiled, hugging each other and stepping back.

“Look up! We’ll see you again in a week or so!” they called to her.

Brinna looked up into the clear night sky.

She thought she saw motion -- she looked down...

And panicked, looking up again, away from the Earth receding so rapidly beneath her! She glanced down slowly, peeking, to see the Earth take on curvature. Her heart beat wildly -- she couldn’t sense any motion!

It was hard for her to tell what her velocity was, not having any perception of acceleration -- part of her mind flashed to physics, realizing something was keeping her in a constant reference frame, a frame equivalent to the pull of gravity she’d experienced on the surface.

Was her path curving? A bright speck in the center of her vision, her target, her goal?

After a few more rapid heartbeats, the speck seemed to grow larger. Yes, her target, getting larger, resolving into an ovoid-shaped craft. How big? From visual cues, she must be decelerating, matching velocity vectors with it. A spot appeared ahead of a stubby wing, growing as she approached -- a hatch?

She barely had time to turn and look out the hatch into the black, starry void as the hatch closed behind her. She was aware of air currents around her, different smells.

A sound behind her; she turned to see another hatch opening, leading into the ship, and a woman standing, smiling, in front of her.

“My dear! You must be Brinna,” the thirty-something looking woman said to Brinna as she entered the compartment and greeted her with a warm hug. “I’m Alice Burke, also part of the new ship’s crew. Let’s get seated and connected so you can get us underway -- I’m as excited about seeing our new home as you are!”

They sat in seats that resembling those in the cockpit of a first-class commercial aircraft, a view of the void in front of them. But hadn’t the front of the craft been the same neutral gray color?

Brinna looked to her traveling companion -- and sucked in breath to warn her of the tendril-looking thing approaching the back of her head -- but before she could make a sound, something bit into the back of her neck.

After a few moments of dizziness, Brinna was filled with an intense, orgasmic sense of belonging, of partnership.

As the haze of pleasure faded, she knew -- she was a part of the new ship, and the shuttle they were in.

As she sensed her new body, information flooded into her; capabilities, sensor data, status data, so much more.

Brinna knew where Ship was, and flung them to her, effortlessly calculating the transfer ellipse and accelerating at thousands of gravities, quickly approaching the speed of light.

Even though Ship was in orbit around Saturn, four light-hours away, their journey would only be a minute to their relativistic senses.

Decelerating hard, she saw them! Orbiting together at a Lagrange point outside Saturn’s system of rings and moons, two ships, separated by a few kilometers. Almost identical, one looking, feeling, younger, lighter? She wondered if there was a “new ship” smell... A laughing voice in her mind told her there was, indeed.

And the new ship, her ship, wriggled in delight as they approached, reminding her of a puppy, unable to contain its joy and love.

Part of her wanted to dock, to join, as soon as possible.

But another part, the Earth part, the professionally-trained pilot part, told her to make a slow pass over the entire Ship.

Doing so brought life to more of the information which had been imparted to her.

Shaped like a sea-borne stingray, she was eighteen hundred meters long, twelve hundred wide, barely ninety meters thick at the thickest, a little over two meters thick at the edges. A composite creature, part living, part grown like the coral of a reef or the shell of a nautilus, part mechanical and manufactured, built and grown from the materials they’d harvested from the rings and asteroid fields.

Passing slowly down the midline from tip to tail, she envisioned details beneath Ship’s hull - skin - chitin.

Running below that skin along the midline was the secondary neural tube, extending from the front sensor/effector node near the nose of the ship, to the rear sensor/effector node at the tip of the tail.

Deep inside Ship, about a third of the way back, was the primary brain, and the start of the primary neural tube. The primary neural tube ran back to the propulsion brain, which controlled the sublight drive, the stardrive, and main defensive systems. Along the primary tube ran multiple connections to the secondary tube. Redundant branches fed off primary and secondary tubes to weapons, sensors, subsystems, and effectors spread through Ship.

She knew that the main corridor ran between the primary and secondary tubes. Along that corridor was a hatch, one that only opened for her, leading to the small module - capsule - chamber where she joined with Ship.

Drifting along the bottom of Ship from the tail to the head, the three hundred meter long tail moved, remarkably flexible.

Next were the openings for the main cargo pods and the two large shuttles.

As they drifted closer, the hatch for their small shuttle, one of two, opened. They drifted into place, Ship closing around them.

Brinna sighed, feeling so alone when the tendril withdrew, severing the intimate connection with Ship.

She opened her eyes and let Alice help her stand.

“I envy you,” Alice whispered as they hugged. Alice let Brinna leave the shuttle first.

Stepping from the shuttle, into Ship for the first time, Brinna paused. She reached out and touched the passageway wall. Her touch sent a tingle through her, electric, exciting, sensual and sexual. On impulse, she leaned closer, and closing her eyes, kissed Ship.

She didn’t imagine it -- Ship responded, shuddering in delight!

Brinna opened her eyes, looked to Alice, and blushed.

“No, look,” Alice told her pointing to the spot.

As they watched, the spot on the plain gray wall where her lips had touched turned pink, as did the spot where she’d placed her hand. An oval frame raised itself around the area, turning deep blue. Raised lettering in a script she couldn’t read appeared around the spots she first touched and kissed.

“That’s so everyone will know,” Alice said, touching the lettering in awe.

“Are we the only ones aboard?” Brinna asked.

“Yes, and the first. Pilot is traditionally first aboard, Captain last,” Alice answered.

Brinna found she was running a hand over Ship, caressing Ship. “I want to walk, touch, see, explore every inch of her!”

“In good time,” agreed Alice, “But now, it is important that you join Ship as soon as possible.”

Brinna nodded, understanding. “This way,” she said, leading Alice along a series of small, tight corridors to a larger room.

“Where do you want to go? Bridge or medical?” Brinna asked.

“Oh, I can find my way to medical, thank you, dear -- it’s down this tube to the main, back, and up one,” Alice replied. “But I do have a favor to ask...”

“What is it?”

“I understand you can adjust the gravity field -- could we go with lower for a bit?”

Brinna smiled; she’d not even thought about it, but they’d been in what felt like a “normal” environment the whole time. Nodding, she put the palm of a hand against Ship and thought about lower gravity, say one tenth normal.

An interesting sensation, lighter all of a sudden!

“Whee!” Alice called, bouncing off the walls. “I’ve always wanted to try this! Thank you, dear!” she called, and flew off along a corridor.

Brinna pulled herself along another corridor, transferring to the main. So new, yet so familiar!

Along the main, transferring to the corridor for bridge crew and officers. At one end, the Captain’s quarters, next to the primary bridge, and at the other end...

The corridor ended, at least until she approached, and a hatchway appeared. The hatch was decorated with a raised relief of a beautiful woman, naked in ecstatic flight, arms outstretched.

Her! She was the woman in the relief!

Stepping closer, the hatch opened.

She stepped into a small cabin, one she recognized as being much the same as any officer’s. Bed, desk, closet, toilet...

She understood; some times she would be separate from Ship, and would need space to meet with others.

She approached another hatchway, small, round, and plain, about a meter and a half off the floor. As she approached, she shed her clothing.

The hatchway opened, soft pale light coming from within the passageway. Brinna smiled and sighed. Like a birth canal, she thought, except in reverse; she would go up this canal, be joined to Ship, and a new creature would be born. That’s where she would spend most of her time, in a small chamber attached to the primary brain, joined to Ship.

Brinna placed trembling hands on the sides of the open hatchway. Apprehension, longing, anticipation, so many feelings! She sighed, closing her eyes, and placing her arms by her sides, stuck her head into the passageway.

The world shifted around her, and she felt herself gliding, up, up to her future.

Alice Burke hurried to her quarters, swimming and bouncing off walls, laughing even though she knew she had to hurry. She turned and moved into the chair/couch in her private office. As she did, she felt herself falling into the couch; some shift in the artificial gravity, she guessed. She closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to relax for ... she barely felt the tendril enter the back of her neck, and hardly had a chance to exhale as she fell into the world of the secondary brain, focusing on the decisions ahead.

Alice had been briefed on her task, and understood it, and the necessity of it. But that understanding was intellectual, not emotional; that she also understood.

Their starship was a complex entity. The ship itself, the structure, could be considered the body. It possessed a rudimentary sentience, but not intelligence. The intelligence, cold and fast, came from the artificial intelligence, the AI, built into Ship. That AI, based on the mother Ship’s AI, was capable of incredible feats.

But the combination lacked -- a soul. The pilot, Brinna, provided the Ship’s soul, joining the parts together.

The combined sentiences who designed and built starships had learned through the eons. This starship design was fairly new, only a few hundred centuries old. It was self-healing and self-replicating. The paradigms and rubrics woven into the basis of its core were general, adaptive, balanced.

The sentiences which designed these ships were not only thorough, they were also cautious.

Ships which travel between the stars are not insignificant entities. They are powered by the direct and complete conversion of matter into energy. In comparison, the fusion powering the stars only converts a few percent of the star’s hydrogen fuel to energy. The amount of energy required to travel between the stars is enormous, but that energy is easily obtained and directed.

One does not place such sources of energy in the hands of unknown beings lightly.

Even the small shuttle Alice and Brinna took from Earth orbit to Ship could lay waste to the Earth, albeit a small portion at a time, and no force on the Earth could prevent it. And Ship itself, if used as a weapon? Smaller Ships had laid waste to entire star systems.

So safeties were built in, overlapping and redundant.

Alice was one part of those safeties. The basic melding of Ship with its AI was safe enough unless provoked. It was the addition of the pilot that was critical. The pilot added stability, or ...

Alice had reviewed the recruiting information on Brinna and the other tentative crew, an incredible amount and depth of information. She’d made a few specific recommendations. She was confident of Brinna. Still, caution was advised. Those first few seconds, when Brinna merged with Ship and the AI were critical. Alice remembered some she’d worked with over the years -- to give those personalities access to such power would be devastating.

Alice was one part of the safety net; she had to give her positive assent periodically through the process, or Brinna would be sedated. They’d need to find a new pilot. But that safety net would take them through the integration process, Brinna’s integration with Ship, and her integration with the AI.

Alice was optimistic, but still cautious. That and resigned; she knew she represented one part, one layer of the safety net.

The designers believed in redundancy. While the energy conversion technology, if applied deliberately, could cause devastation on the order of a supernova, it was relatively simple and self-contained. Ship had a number of small, redundant converters powering different systems. Ship also had a separate set of larger converters, also in a redundant network, which powered the stardrive and major weapons. Each converter, whether the size of a pea or the size of room, comprised the same major subsystems: initiation for initiating the reaction, fueling for feeding fuel to the reaction, extraction for extracting energy from the reaction, and containment to keep the reaction from spreading. In small converters, initiation, extraction, and containment were integrated and interdependent, fail-safe.

But containment was currently disabled on certain large converters. Attempts to use major weapons or the stardrive, powering up those converters, would result in the complete conversion of Ship’s mass to energy. At least, Alice thought, it would be quick and painless.

Brinna knew she was floating upwards, up into the capsule in the primary brain where the primary neural tube formed. She kept her eyes closed, focusing on her breathing, just like preparing for a tumbling run in gymnastics -- focused, poised, and alert, yet relaxed.

She fought to remain relaxed as she felt something brush the back of her neck. A brief flash of pain...

Her body was now Ship. She was Ship! She could see! She could see through a spectral range from long-wave electromagnetic to particles! She could “see” the magnetic fields around Saturn, and by focusing somehow, see how they intertwined in the braiding of the rings!

She could feel -- she felt the tug of Saturn’s gravity on her. She felt the weak particle flow of the Solar wind. If she wanted, she could hear it, hear the particle flow and the way it made the magnetic fields sing.

She turned, effortlessly, to face the Sun. She felt her engines, her drive systems, ready to move them. She could be in Earth orbit in a few relativistic seconds!

But she moved slowly, cautiously. All those things would come, in time. She used thrusters to move around the Lagrange point, pivoting, feeling, observing the other Ship, the Ship that was both mother and sister.

Still pointing to the Sun, where was Earth? Something was missing, something she’d had aboard the shuttle...

Alice smiled; could she have shown as much restraint? She gave her assent for the next phase of integration.

As Brinna wondered, suddenly she knew. She knew where Earth was, a luminous point on the other side of the Sun, there! Her “vision” zoomed in. As she looked and wondered, she felt the underlying orbital mechanics. She let that knowledge, that feeling, deepen to the metrics of local space-time. She felt her relationship to her sister Ship, to Saturn and her moons. Yes, she could move by using thrusters, different drive mechanisms as she’d done on the shuttle, or... She reached out, somehow, and adjusted the local space-time metric, moving closer to her sister, then farther away again.

She remembered Archimedes as she realized -- she could reach out and move worlds.

So much to learn! She visualized the compound elliptical transfer orbit which would take her back to Earth orbit, and the wobbles in it from the pull of other planets. No, the moon -- she could visit the Apollo landing site -- the projected orbit changed slightly at its destination.

No, there’d be time for that, to see so much. And she could send out probes; she felt them come alive at her thought, stirring in their bays, then going dormant again.

Pulling back a bit, she let the fabric of information, of computation, blend into her vision. Looking at an object, she visualized its orbital path, past and future. Merely wondering brought up more information -- the metal composition of asteroids, and she’d no more than wondered about an indium-rich one when a targeting reticle appeared and she knew where it was, and its content.

She turned introspective, looking once more at Ship, at herself. She glanced at her sister, into her sister, teeming with life. Soon she would have a crew as well!

And with that thought, more data poured in, data on the crew-to-be, so much data, more than she asked for, more than she wanted. She did something akin to raising her hands, closing her eyes, stop!

But this too was part of her. Like the memories of the accident, the pain of her recovery -- the lives of so many poured in. Why had she been chosen? Why had they been chosen? So many of them, of us, she thought, so much pain...

She could feel hot tears on her cheeks as she turned once more to focus on the Earth, letting it fill her vision. So much suffering, so much pain...

Alice Burke held her breath.

Brinna sighed. Yes, so much pain, but now -- for her, for the crew, so much hope!

Brinna knew one of the first duties she had as pilot; she took a breath to speak, knowing her sister ship and crew would hear what she said.

That duty was to choose a name for the new entity of which she was now and forever a part.

“We are the Second Chance,” she said, for all to hear.

Monitoring in her cabin, Alice Burke shared Brinna’s tears of joy.

Transition

Bill woke, his head pounding in pain. He lay still, grimacing, fearing that movement would only make it worse. The only sound in the room was the clock ticking on the dresser and the rattle and wheeze of his labored breathing in the middle of the night.

Or was it still the middle of the night? He cautiously, slowly, reached up and pulled off the eyeshades he wore to bed.

And was still surrounded by darkness.

He flailed out of the sheets and blankets, but forced himself to stop and sit, to try and regain composure. Deep, slow breaths. Don’t panic. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for the nightstand. Top drawer -- the emergency flashlight. A turn of the flashlight head; it should be on. He passed it over his face and eyes. He could feel warmth on his skin from the incandescent bulb, but the darkness was impenetrable.

“I’m blind,” he whispered, dropping the light and bringing his hands to his eyes. The pain in his head throbbed with the pounding of his heart.

He hadn’t turned the flashlight off -- what the fuck does that matter now, he chided himself.

He put his head in his hands and cried.

Some time later -- he’d managed to go to the bathroom and find his way back to bed. He’d even found the flashlight, turned it off, and replaced it in the drawer.

Replaced it in the drawer alongside his Glock 9mm pistol -- he’d had that discussion, that argument, with himself before. And no, it wasn’t time -- not yet.

The only sound in the room was the clock ticking on the dresser and the rattle and wheeze of his labored breathing. That sound had changed in the last week; he knew it. It wasn’t an encouraging change, either.

He turned on the radio, to fill the emptiness, as well as to learn what time it was. Another sigh -- he was a candidate for a starship? Their phone number was written down, downstairs on his desk. Hell of a lot of good that was going to do him! He’d call for help later. Doris? She’d help.

Three thirty -- he turned the radio off.

A sound? Apprehension -- he reached for the gun automatically, but stopped, realizing the futility. “Who’s there?” He felt someone in the room with him.

“Bill, it’s Mara,” a female voice said. “I got here as soon as I could.”

Bill flopped back on the bed. Pain throbbed in his head; he imagined the tumor growing inside his skull, taking over, crushing nerves. “What now?”

Mara queried Ship, and her mates. When Ship responded, she queried again in disbelief. They brought more into the problem. There had to be a way! She sat next to Bill on the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort both of them.

When the answer presented itself, it was surprisingly simple.

“Bill, I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news,” she told him.

Bill didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “Bad news first, I guess.”

“The disease has a genetic component, encoded into you -- we’re not sure how to address it.”

“But there’s good news?” Bill asked.

Mara managed a smile. This was going to be fun! Ship thought he had the right mental makeup for it, and ... Peta wasn’t going to like it a bit, and the Captain... But it solved so many problems!

“Are you ready to leave?” she asked him

Bill was uncertain. “What... What will happen?”

Mara put both her hands on his shoulders. He flinched; she had Ship calm him, but only slightly, as he needed to be alert for the transfer. “The good news -- we will move you to a new form, a new body, a young, healthy body. You will wake up free from disease and pain.”

“And what will remain here?” he asked in a wheeze.

“The body, the shell you wear now,” she told him.

He held up a hand; she took it in hers.

“I’m scared,” he admitted in a whisper, tears filling his eyes.

“I know,” she whispered back. “There’s no need to be. I’ve done it many, many times.”

“Let’s go!” he called out loudly, gripping her hand. “Now! Right now!”

Mara closed her eyes, squeezing out tears, and gave her commands to Ship.

Mara flicked back to Ship. Bill’s hand fell limply to the bed and didn’t move.

The only sound in the room was the clock ticking on the dresser.

Recruiting

Peta shook her head, reviewing the information from Ship. This was it! There wasn’t anything she could do to stop it; that damn Ron had set things in motion that even she could not stop, not without causing even greater problems!

She smiled, remembering how she’d been recruited. It was just what she needed!

She walked quickly to Eduardo’s, letting herself in the back, welcomed as family. Most of the gang was there, eating dinner before heading to the streets for another night of commerce.

“Hola, Eduardo -- que tal?” she asked. She was glad to see them eating, and eating well.

“Muy bien, mi abuelita,” Eduardo replied with a smile.

Peta laughed, as did the people around her. Eduardo called her “his little grandmother” even though she was a few inches taller and a great deal stronger. She turned more to Eduardo.

Eduardo put down his fork, recognizing the serious look she gave him.

“What is it?” he asked.

She nodded, sighing seriously. “Eduardo, you need to get all your people together, here in the next hour. No selling tonight. All your people, their families, women, children. Many things will happen tonight, Eduardo, and with God’s help, we will be alive in the morning.”

Eduardo nodded. One of his lieutenants started to grumble, but Eduardo raised a hand. “Do it! Bring them! Half an hour!” He looked to Peta. “Kids, too?”

She smiled. “Those you love. I have a deal to offer you. If you accept, by morning we will all be far away from this place, and never return.” Farther away than you can imagine, she thought with a smile. Her smile faded. Or dead, that was the alternative, and not by her choice.

“Do you trust me, Eduardo?” she asked, extending a hand to him.

He held out a hand. “With my life, mi abuelita.”

She looked around at them as she held his hand. So young... “Quickly! Quietly! Just bring them; we’ll collect things later!” A lie, but needed. She waved her hands. “Ándale!” People scattered.

“What is this ... deal?” Eduardo asked as Peta sat down.

She picked up a fork. “The Chile Verde is almost gone,” she sighed. Tonight had been the last of the good pieces, from the flank. Ship could synthesize more, but the last of the original was gone.

It took almost an hour. Ron’s scouts were looking for her; it was a matter of time before one of them thought to look here. Some of the families had been roughed up on the way. But they were here.

Yvette and Lucinda shared a chair, Eduardo standing behind them. Everyone was nervous; they knew something was happening. Something nasty was happening on the streets; Frank’s people, and even the Cambodians were laying low until things resolved. Nasty rumblings of Ron on the rampage, politicians putting pressure on the cops to crack down...

“Do you trust me?” she asked them.

They nodded, some spoke. She knew they did.

Peta remembered a similar occasion, a long time and great distance from here, her nest mates huddled together while chaos and death sought them, searched for them. And the visitor who’d lived and worked with them for a few months offered them a way out...

She kept her speech short. If they stayed here, what did they have to look forward to? A life caught between Ron and the cops. She had another path -- hard work, learning, lots of travel -- they would never see this place again. They would live together, work together, raise their families.

Would she be there? For a while, yes.

She could see the pain in Eduardo.

“If we go, who will protect the people from Ron and his animals?” he asked.

She smiled, fiercely. “I promise, mi hijo, that will be taken care of.”

Murmurs started. It sounded like the Marines, or the Army, some said. That brought laughter, even from Peta.

They wanted Eduardo to decide. But he went around the room, one by one, asking them.

And one by one, they said, “Yes,” “Vamanos,” or “Go!”

Until he got to Lupe. She hesitated and looked to Peta.

Peta looked into her as she stepped closer; she’d suspected for some time, and operated under the assumption she was correct, but until now had not verified her suspicions. Yes, she saw, Lupe was Ron’s spy, and not willingly. “Lupe,” Peta whispered, “Come with us and never live in fear again.”

Lupe’s eyes widened. Did she know? How could she? Yet she must, she was a holy woman...

Peta smiled and nodded.

Lupe looked around the room. “You’d let me ... walk out of here?” she whispered to Peta.

“If that is what you want, yes,” Peta answered. “Or you can come with us, and be free.”

Eduardo didn’t know what this was about, but he was starting to get an idea... Yes, it fit, all too well... His face hardened, his jaw clenched, then his fists.

Peta saw the look on Eduardo’s face, the anger building in him. She tilted her head slightly. She held Lupe, pulling her head to a shoulder. She looked to Eduardo. Please, she thought, don’t disappoint me, Eduardo...

Lupe clutched her, holding her, sobbing. “Please, mi Tia, don’t leave us here...”

Peta held her, rocked her, and looked to Eduardo, questioning.

Eduardo remembered so many of the things Peta had done for them, taught them. And so many of those things started with forgiveness and acceptance.

He looked to her and even though his jaw was still tight with anger, he nodded his head slightly.

Peta smiled and kissed Lupe on the head.

She turned Lupe to be by her side, and spoke to the group. “You all want to go?”

They mumbled, then called out their acceptance.

“Look around -- would you believe that you’re going to miss this place?”

“No fucking way!” one of them shouted, and others laughed.

“Look around anyway!” she called, remembering -- how long ago? -- when she’d been asked that question, huddling with her mates in the middle of a nest under attack.

And as they laughed and looked around, she commanded Ship to flick them up, sedate them, and run them through initial medical.

Peta stood in the room, quiet and alone.

After visiting so many planets, reading and studying so much, it was still undecided, she thought -- is it best to go into battle on an empty stomach, or a full one?

She finished the last few bites of Chile Verde a Carlos Mendoza, once known as Feet.

On any world, it was wrong to waste good food. Of that, she was certain.

Practice

Bill woke up.

That alone surprised him... He was on his side, another surprise, since he normally slept on his back. He felt quite comfortable and relaxed, yet different -- something wasn’t quite right.

Moving his eyes behind closed lids -- felt different. Breath moving in and out -- felt different. But the pain was gone! The pain was gone! That was a good difference!

He opened his eyes, blinking, not moving. Smiling, feeling his face against bedding. Again, comfortable but different somehow. He raised a hand to his face.

And stopped.

The hand in front of his face was covered in black-tipped brown fur! His hand? He moved the fingers. Sure acted like his hand! The palm was smooth, hairless, tan. Slender fingers, four, and the opposed thumb, each tipped with a dark, pointed nail. Claw? He did something, and the claws extended a bit. He could move them a centimeter, a centimeter and a half or so.

He laughed -- another surprise at the chirping sound. He remembered the creature floating in front of him in the living room. Had that been last week? He laughed again -- now he was one!

Turning the hand, his hand, slowly, touching fingertip to fingertip, clawtip to clawtip and fingertip. Smooth articulation and movement, sensitive fingertips. The clawtip on the index finger was shaped a little different than the others -- tool? What kind of adaptation? The middle and ring fingers were slightly longer than the index finger, not an extensive arboreal adaptation. He thought of small arboreal mammals with greatly elongated phalanges -- tarsiers? Or reptiles, with a different number of bones, the phalanges, 2-3-4-5-3 compared to the mammalian 2-3-3-3-3 pattern.

Interesting sensations, clawtip to clawtip, and clawtip to fingertip. Another chirping laugh -- the claws made keyboard instruments out of the question, or at least noisy, but guitar could be a lot of fun! A sad thought -- the claws wouldn’t interfere with clarinet keys, or even the French keys on his flute. Something else left behind, musical instruments he’d had and played for most of his life. A sigh -- certainly an advanced society would have musical instruments! Still, he thought of the old denim bag in his office, the bag which held his E-flat and B-flat clarinets, standard and alto flutes, and the music for the next two musicals he’d volunteered for, City of Angels and Rhinoceros - the Musical. The bag Elsie made for him so long ago, the bag he hadn’t touched in weeks, not since that last time, realizing that while the disease was taking his life, the treatment had taken his ability to play.

But that was yesterday! He was pain free for the first time in months!

He threw off the bedding and sat up. Interesting sensations, and the surprise at seeing next to him -- a tail! He touched the tip gingerly, and felt the contact -- it was his! That chirping laugh again, and the tail, his tail, twitched as he laughed. He grabbed it, holding it in front of him as he laughed.

He looked around the room -- the bag! His bag! He fell to his knees and snatched it up, hugging it tightly to the rough fur of his chest, feeling moisture on his face as he laughed and cried with joy.

Sitting on the bed, he pulled the flute from the bag, opened the case, and assembled it.

Holding the instrument gingerly, he practiced fingering. His fingers moved freely, quickly, yet it felt different. The offset G felt better, more natural. He felt -- younger? Smaller? Maybe that was it; he was smaller, or his new hands and fingers were smaller. Still, it felt so good to be able to hold the instrument again, hold and finger it without pain. His fingers moved with speed and agility again.

But...

Only one way to tell. He closed his eyes and raised the instrument to his lips.

Doubt crept in -- lips? Did he have lips? Who cares -- take a breath, and ...

Embouchure was different -- eyes closed, rolling the flute slightly, searching, hoping, praying ...

For the good, solid, “G” which filled the room. The tone wavered with his breath as tears filled his eyes.

Again, shift up an octave... A little squeaky, but it cleaned up, old memories and training meshing with new hands. Slow scales, focusing on tone, letting his body clean up the notes. Standing, turning in the room, moving through scales, then on to Macquarre.

He paused, lowering the flute and wiping tears from his face. It was hard -- he could feel the tightness in his forearms. But it was the tightness and difficulty of picking up the instrument after not playing for a while. He laughed, that chirping sound -- somehow he doubted this body had ever played the flute.

Tears filled his eyes again. He closed them as he raised the flute once more. Naples -- so many years ago. He’d had his flute with him at Annapolis, but left it with his sister when he went to flight school. Flight school, advanced training, carrier training, deployment... Then at that party in Naples, Italy, seeing a flute sitting on the music stand, picking it up and playing again...

That had been a day filled with changes -- making carrier landings in the morning, going ashore for the party, picking up a flute again and playing, making music once again.

And now, a different ship, a different time, but making music once again. He closed his eyes and played.

His tone was cleaner now, even though his breath wavered with the passage of so many ghosts.

Practice -- it would take practice. But once again, he had time...

Tempest

Peta had Ship flick her to the alleyway behind the clinic. Too many of Ron’s people looking for her to walk. Another command to Ship, and a bag appeared. She picked it up and knocked on the door.

Doctor Li heard the knocking at his back door. The clinic was closed, but he lived above it for a reason. He looked out the back window -- Peta! He was always glad to see her; well, most of the time... He pulled on a shirt and rushed down the stairs.

“Miss Peta! What can I do for you?” he asked. “Is someone hurt?”

“You won’t accept my offer?” she asked one more time.

He smiled and shook his head. Such a fantastic story, but he believed her. “I belong here.”

She smiled and nodded. “I understand. This is for you.” She handed him the bag.

He looked inside -- full of money! “But...” he started to say.

She closed the bag with one hand, placing her other hand on his shoulder. “Stay inside tonight. It’s for you, and for the clinic. Use it well. If anyone asks, tell them I gave it to you. You won’t see me again after tonight.”

“Where?”

She shook her head. “Far away. Sleep now -- tomorrow will be long and busy for you...”

She had Ship sedate him, and take him back to his bed. She had Ship make one more pass through his body, healing, strengthening; these people needed him healthy for a long time.

She took a breath, shook her arms, loosening muscles. She smiled, a nasty thought. She had Ship check, observed the occupants as they moved. While she waited for the right moment, she had Ship modify her hands and fingers, so her right hand would leave the prints of the Cambodian gang boss, and her left would leave prints of his top lieutenant. Might as well make their lives interesting.

In Ron’s house, Marta got up from the couch and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. A few more steps -- Peta had Ship flick her to the hallway -- now!

From where she stood, she could see into the den. Ron sat on a couch, watching the blaring TV. Nina sat on this right; Marta, who had been on his left, was now in the kitchen behind her. She could see one thug, Tipo, leaning against a wall, and knew the other, Bones, would be behind her as she walked into the room. Two more were outside.

Peta stepped calmly into the room, stopping between Ron and the big-screen television.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, standing relaxed yet alert.

“How the FUCK!” Ron yelled.

The two thugs rushed her, but stopped short.

Peta smiled, a fierce smile.

Ron said, “Search her,” waving a hand imperiously.

Peta looked at Tipo. “Touch me and I break your arm,” she snarled with a vicious grin.

As Tipo moved to backhand her across the face, she moved quickly to the side and back, elbowing Bones viciously in the abdomen as she swept his legs from under him. He hit the floor with a dull thud. Moving forward, she took Tipo’s outstretched hand, twisted down as she kicked a knee, moved to the side as she broke his arm, bending him forward, and finished by snapping his spine at the base of his skull with the back of her fist. He dropped inert to the floor.

She looked at Ron, who was pointing a semiautomatic pistol at her.

“Tell me why the FUCK I shouldn’t SHOOT YOU RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” he hissed.

“You’re not that smart,” Peta told him with a snarl and a smile.

Ron frowned for a moment, then leaned back and laughed, still pointing the gun at her.

“You got guts, crazy lady! You want something to drink?” Ron asked.

“A beer would be nice.”

“Marta! Mas Cerveza! Dos!” Ron yelled over the sound from the TV. Then to Peta he said, “Siétate, Pull up a chair,” gesturing with the gun.

Peta pulled over a cheap plastic chair, knowing she was sitting with her back to a door.

Marta came back into the room, sipping one beer as she held two more in her other hand. She saw Peta, Tipo and Bones on the floor, and spewed beer. She looked at Ron, pointing his gun at Peta, but smiling.

“Déla una cerveza,” Ron told Marta, gesturing with the gun.

“Chinga!” Marta muttered as she handed a bottle to Peta.

“Thank you, dear,” Peta said. Ship scanned and cleared the contents. She took a sip.

Marta looked at the mess again. Bones was moving a little. Tipo wasn’t moving at all. She winced as she looked more closely at his right arm. “What happened?”

Ron took a sip from his fresh beer and laughed. “Crazy lady don’t like people touching her.”

“I guess,” Marta mumbled. “What about Bones and Tipo?”

“In a minute,” Ron said dismissively. “Why you come here?” he barked at Peta.

“Lupe told me you wanted to talk,” she replied.

“Chinga,” he scowled. “What happened to Feet?” he demanded, gesturing with the gun.

Peta smiled. “Carlos Jesus Mendoza... We fucked in the back of the car. Then I killed him.”

“Por Dios,” Marta whispered, making the Sign of the Cross.

“Just like that?” Ron asked incredulously.

Peta nodded. Ship warned her that a thug was coming up the hallway behind her, a knife in his right hand. “Just like that. He went happy. He was in good shape, not ... diseased ... like the driver. So I saved parts of him and cooked him up in Chile Verde.”

Ron shook his head and laughed. “You are some crazy lady.” He kept his eyes on her while Donny moved up silently behind her. “Where’s my fucking car?”

Peta had ship flick the car keys into her left hand; she squeezed them to leave good clean prints, then tossed them on the table in front of Ron. Ship showed her how close the thug was behind her. “In short-term parking at SFO. The trunk is empty -- I gave the money away. The rest of the crap I burned. I would have dumped it in the bay, but it’s bad for the fishes.” She snarled the last part.

Ron snarled as Donny got closer. “You cost me a lot, crazy lady...”

Peta took another sip from her beer, measuring Donny’s presence.

Donny moved closer. As the bitch lowered her beer, he brought the knife around to her throat.

Peta let go of the bottle and moved very quickly to the side as she took Donny’s wrist, twisting it out. She moved behind Donny as she pulled his body in front of her, bracing, so Ron’s first shot hit Donny in the shoulder. Peta threw Donny at Ron and the women on the couch. Ron’s second shot hit Donny as Peta scooped up the knife and moved to the couch.

Both women screamed, and Ron yelled. They were tangled in Donny’s arms and legs, making it more difficult for Ron to get clear.

Peta grabbed Ron’s gun, moving behind the couch, waiting for the remaining thugs to come in.

Ron pushed Donny’s body out of the way just in time to see big Paco take a shot to the head, spinning him around and down, decorating walls and ceiling.

Peta sensed Ron reaching for something in the cushions of the couch; she whacked him on the head with the butt of the gun, then grabbed him by the shirt and threw him into the middle of the room. She moved to the side, back against a wall.

Marta dug into the couch, digging for the gun she knew Ron kept there.

That’s when Pinky came in, responding to screams and gunshots. He saw chaos, bodies all over.

Ron was on the floor, coming up on hands and knees, dazed and looking at the floor when he noticed Pinky. Ron yelled, ”Shoot! Shoot her!” as he slipped to the floor again.

Pinky saw Marta on the couch with a gun in her hand. He shot her twice, and as Nina screamed louder and reached for the gun, shot her once.

Ron looked up to see Peta step behind Pinky and put one shot through his head, splattering the wall and shattering the TV screen. The TV made a squawking noise and went silent.

A quick scan showed everyone accounted for. Peta walked over to Ron, stood on one of his hands, and kicked him in the ribs. “Your hospitality SUCKS, Ron -- I come here to have fun, and your own people get in the way!” Ron twisted and squirmed. She gave him a vicious kick at the base of the spine, making his legs kick out reflexively.

She flipped him to his back and sat on him, pinning his shoulders and upper arms, knife in her left hand and gun in her right.

“You have been a bad monkey, Ron, a very, very, bad monkey,” she told him seriously. “You hurt a lot of other monkeys. Earlier today, I wanted to come over here and take you apart, piece by piece. But you know what, Ron? You’re not worth the trouble. Oh it would be fun to ...” Responding to motion, she whacked him in the head with the butt of the gun, then stabbed his right wrist precisely with the tip of the knife, severing a nerve. “Stop that! Bad monkey!” She held the knife point just below his left eye. She drew the point down slowly, drawing blood, putting the point into his left nostril. She pressed the blade in, and then withdrew it slowly, slicing the nostril with the razor-sharp edge. He cried and shook underneath her.

She watched the tears stream from his eyes, the blood stream down his face. “Oh Ron, we could play like this for hours and hours...” She wiped the blade on his other cheek, letting the point penetrate as she moved it slowly across his face. “And I could tell you stories about the monkeys you’ve hurt, and the lives you’ve ruined, but you know what? I don’t like the way you smell. It’s not monkeys in general, it’s you. You stink, Ron.”

Peta whacked him in the head again as he cleared his throat; she guessed he was going to spit on her. She stood, keeping a foot on his left upper arm, and making sure to leave crisp, bloody prints on the highly polished wood.

“Damn, I’m getting old. One of my cousins would really have fun, slicing you up, figuring out which parts tasted the best. She’d want lots of beer and wasabi, I’m pretty sure. How’d you like to taste your own liver, Ron? She likes doing things like that. But even bad monkeys shouldn’t have to suffer.”

She shot him in the right knee. “Too much,” she added as he howled and rolled, trying to crawl away. A shot to the left elbow slowed him down. Then the right elbow. She flipped him to his back with a vicious kick. She shot him in the left knee for symmetry. He howled more.

Peta aimed carefully, lower abdomen, avoid the spine, but nick a major blood vessel. “Bad monkey,” she said, and pulled the trigger. The sound boomed through the room, and the impact made Ron flop on the floor. He managed to turn over, making a gurgling noise.

She dropped the gun and turned to walk out the door. The thug that had been behind her had pulled himself up on his elbows, his monkey eyes filled with fear.

With Ship’s help, she saw in his mind a little church in Michoacán. She had Ship scramble his memory and flick him there. With a smirk she wrote epithets in Cambodian and Chinese on the walls using Ron’s blood -- might as well share the fun. She had Ship leave more prints around the house.

She stood outside, feeling the heat radiating off her skin into the cool of the night, the post battle buzzing in her ears. She looked at her hands. The knife in her left hand? More like claws, teeth. More personal. She turned and threw it back into the room, then had Ship clean the blood off her. Revenge? What did monkeys know of revenge? She thought of a word in her native tongue, the word for the taste and feel of an enemy’s veins pulsing in your teeth just before you ripped them out...

She had Ship go through the house, collecting money and valuables Ron had hidden away. She left drugs and records, plenty of each, in the open. She flicked through the old neighborhood, distributing. Church collection boxes, “Para sus niños,” into people’s hands, envelopes slid under doors and through open windows. She had Ship flick Ron’s jewelry into the pockets and cars of several competitors.

She was just about done when Ship told her the arsonist Ron had hired was inside the bodega. He’d spread accelerant liberally, placed his remote-controlled charges. As he checked his work and pulled the detonator out of his coat pocket, Peta had Ship make it “malfunction” in his hands. Surprise!

Cleanup

Phone calls late at night are seldom good news. Mike Evans knew that as he rolled over in bed to answer the phone. Quarter past eleven, barely time to fall asleep!

“Evans,” he said wearily.

“Lieutenant, this is Officer Scott. You need to get to the 47th street bodega pronto.”

Mike sat up, taking a deep breath. “Damn. Is it bad?” he asked.

Scott said, “It’s worse than that.”

Mike said, “Okay, be there in ten.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “If something nasty has happened, I want people rousting Eduardo and his gang, Fat Frank and his band, and have someone pay a courtesy call on Ron. Let Nguyen know as well.”

“Already on it,” Scott said.

Mike hung up the phone and quickly dressed. He grabbed a spare clip for his .45 as he headed out the door.

He heard the chaos on the police radio in his car, and saw the mess as he drove up -- flashing lights of fire equipment, smoke and steam rising. He parked two blocks away and flashed his badge to enter the perimeter.

He shook his head and sighed. A major chunk of the block was gone! Not just the bodega, but the used furniture store next to it, and the laundry on the other side. Not much left but smoking ruins.

He flashed his badge to the fire captain in charge. “Any guesses?” he asked.

The fire captain shook his head grimly. “Somebody sure as hell didn’t like these people, Lieutenant. They did a very thorough job -- professional.”

“Bodies?” Mike asked.

The fire captain shrugged. “Too early to tell. Locals say it started with an explosion that shattered windows. Fully involved when the first units rolled up. They weren’t able to go in before it collapsed. Arson and ATF will start digging as soon as we let them. As I understand it, we’re looking for four -- Asian male and female adults with an Asian infant in the bodega, and a woman who lived in the back.”

Mike nodded sadly.

The fire captain pointed off to the barricades which had been set up. “Look at them -- she must have been something special.”

Mike looked to the barricades. He recognized quite a few people from the neighborhood. They were almost uniformly in tears. Some were carrying flowers. More flowers were already placed by one of the barricades. Strange -- he didn’t see any of Eduardo’s crew, or their families.

The fire captain continued, “They’re already calling her ‘Our Lady of the Bodega.’ I heard about her, but never met her.”

For all his years on the force, Mike was surprised at the emotion he felt. He repeated it softly. “Our Lady of the Bodega -- Yeah, she was special.” She’d done a lot for these people.

A beat cop walked up to them. “Lieutenant?” he interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“No sign of Eduardo and his gang. They’ve vanished -- nobody has seen them, or their families and girlfriends since about eight.”

Another officer trotted up. “That’s not the half of it. We just got a report from Ron’s place in the hills. It looks like a war zone -- bodies splattered all over the place. They’ve ID’d Ron, or what’s left of him. Looks like he pissed off some Asians from the decorations on the walls.”

Mike did what he usually did; take command. “Something tells me this is as good as this one is going to get! I want your reports in five minutes, and a cup of coffee Make sure Forensics is on their way to Ron’s. Where’s Nguyen or someone from his squad? Let’s see what we’ve got!”

Interlude

Alice sat at the small conference table looking at the berthing data displayed on her slate. She shook her head. What her brother-in-law wouldn’t give to have one of these! Was the slate an entire computer, or just an input-output device? Didn’t really matter, did it? Slightly larger than a sheet of paper and about a half-inch thick, it displayed whatever she wanted, with breathtaking clarity. It, or the entire system, responded to touch, to her voice...

She glanced up again at her furry guests sitting across the conference room table, her counterparts from the other Ship. She smiled ruefully, realizing that most likely they would not be able to interpret the look she was giving them. Talk about a cross-cultural problem!

With a sigh and a smile she returned her slate to the conference table, letting it drop the last half inch or so with a soft clatter. That got her colleagues’ attention.

“I am very disappointed,” Alice told them, motioning to the slate. “with these berthing plans. You have people scattered all over the ship, some families in cramped quarters with larger quarters empty a short distance away, some families split up... I expected better.”

Alice looked to them, trying to analyze their response. Her colleagues looked at each other, heads tilting a little to the side momentarily. One of them made a brief chirp, almost sounding stifled. They looked back to her.

Aha! A clue? That was a stifled laugh! Was this supposed to be funny? What was the joke in it? She picked up the slate again, looking at berthing assignments. Some of them made sense, others made no sense at all -- or did they? Query: overlay assignments with her risk assessment color-coding. The slate entries changed colors. She frowned and turned away from the table a bit. Okay, project it in three dimensions, berthing assignments color-coded.

A hollow translucent outline of the ship, populated with colored blobs, appeared floating in the air next to her. She smiled and nodded. Part of it made sense now. She’d color-coded people, families green - yellow - red, with green being stable and the red ones the ones to watch carefully. The high-risk ones had berthing assignments that mostly made sense. It was the stable ones who tended to be out of place, and the yellow ones... Groupings of green, yellow, red.

Okay, so not haphazard, but done deliberately. But why? The Gutierrez family, they’d been through such hell, they were well situated. Yet the Mendoza clan, a very stable group, were cramped in, and in the boonies. But why -- some teen kids were separated from their families, some still with families. A cluster off to the side, greens and yellows around a yellow in officer’s country, who was that? Oho -- Bob, a senior physics/propulsion officer was the yellow. Alice smiled and nodded; a widower recast in a youthful shell, surrounded by young women, some of whom could use a male role model. A very interesting healing dynamic! Especially since he was listed not only as physics/propulsion, but the ship listed him as a potential shaman/healer.

She looked back to her colleagues. Damn, she felt at a loss not being able to read facial expressions and body language. She was beginning to associate that slight tilt of the head with amusement, possibly increased attention. “I accept this was planned, but I don’t understand it. Please teach me,” she asked them.

That glancing at each other thing again, heads tilting slightly. Runa, the therapist/healer, spoke.

“Yes, carefully planned, with the help of your keen insight and observation,” Runa agreed, nodding to Alice. “This group,” she zoomed in on the last group Alice had viewed, Bob and the young women, “should become an interesting nest. The male has significant potential, but needs healing. A nest should provide that by developing those qualities in one subgroup of the females, while both that subgroup and the male provide role models, and in your terms desirable objects, to the other group of females. So we would expect this nest to provide mutual healing, development, role models, and genetic diversity of course.”

Alice sat back, surprised at the last remark. “Ah, okay... But why scatter the rest? Why stress these people?” she pointed to some other groups of green spots in cramped conditions.

The other one, Jan, made a remarkably human nodding gesture. “With you, it started with the snake -- who brought the snake into the garden? With us, it started when we left the trees.”

Alice smiled, unsure. Was that a reference to the Garden of Eden?

Jan continued. “One way you can sum up both our species is that we are problem solvers. But what do problem solvers do when there are no problems to be solved?”

Alice smiled more and nodded with the glimmer of understanding. “Yes, when we don’t have problems, we make them. Put us back into the Garden, and we would invent the snake -- we have to!” She laughed out loud. “For those who have been through so much, give them a place to heal. But for others, put challenges in their path -- give them problems to solve.”

Jan nodded once more. “And in doing so, they learn more, and faster, because they are motivated. They have challenges, goals to strive for.”

Alice was still laughing, softer now. She looked at her colleagues with admiration and kinship. “And what challenges are waiting for me?”

Jan and Runa chirped briefly, exchanging that slanted-head glance once again.

“Oh,” Runa said melodically, “We think you’ll find enough to keep busy.”

Alice extended a hand to the center of the table. Her hand was joined by two others, furry, warm, and supportive.

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” she told her colleagues.

Question

Mike walked around the back of Ron’s place in the hills. The carnage inside was pretty bad; even the coroner’s crew had been taken aback. Still, it was satisfying to see Ron like that. From the looks of it, Ron died in pain -- deliberately, professionally inflicted. And however much it had been, it wasn’t enough.

He turned a corner and looked -- she stood there, leaning against a tree. He had one hand on his gun, but... Part of him was happy she was alive; then again he wouldn’t want to tangle with whoever or whatever could take her out. She was wearing a tight tank top and close-fitting sports pants. He was somewhat surprised at how good she looked -- not just sexy, but in superb physical condition. He finally figured that she reminded him of some SEALs he’d worked with while he was in the Navy.

“Miss Peta, this is a crime scene. You need to come with me, now,” he said in a commanding tone as he stepped closer to her.

Peta smiled. Even Ship agreed he was their best choice. “Lieutenant, I have a very interesting proposition for you...”

Mike listened. As fantastic as the story was, he believed her. And even though she didn’t say it, he knew she was intimately involved with the mess in the house. The way she stood, the way she spoke...

Mike looked up into the sky, digesting what he’d heard, what she was offering.

“The others have accepted?” he asked.

She nodded. “Oh yes -- we’ve confirmed our medical, bridge, and scientific teams.”

Mike frowned. A lot different than the last vessel he commanded, that’s for sure. “I don’t know if I can handle...”

Peta shook her head, smiling. “You can. You know it.”

Mike thought about the carnage inside. Another twelve years of this, and retire, to what?

“I’m in. What do I do?”

“Look around. Say goodbye.”

Mike looked around, glancing at the house once more. He shook his head. “Let’s go!” he snarled.

Reassignment

Mara pressed her back against the conference room wall, trying to increase the distance between her and the furious, still-shrieking Peta. Peta shrieked curses in multiple languages, claws extended, fur bristled, ears back, tail thrashing the air...

Mara checked again, and Ship confirmed it wouldn’t let Peta cause her serious injury. What did that mean? Minor injury was okay? An ear? Chunks of fur?

“Peta, listen, please,” Mara said, trying to remain calm.

“No! I am NOT going back into a damn stinking monkey shell!” Peta screamed.

“I agree -- you’ll be as you are now. Please listen!” Mara said again.

“What?” Peta asked, pausing her tirade. “I won’t have to be a monkey?”

“No! Of course not!” Mara told her. “Will you sit down, and listen, please? Calmly?”

Peta nodded, and sat down. Not even back in her in birthform for eight clicks, and they tell her she’s assigned to the new Ship! “Sorry -- I haven’t even had time to ... settle in yet.”

Mara agreed. “They dragged me into this as well. And Hal is still down there.”

Peta made a sympathetic noise; she could guess how hard it must be for Mara and Hal to be separated. “I’m listening. Who got a kink in their tail this time?”

Mara smiled. “It makes sense, as much as any of it. We know we need experienced crew on the new ship -- training, get them used to intelligent beings who don’t look like them, you know the routine.”

Peta frowned. “And I volunteered for this how?”

“Same way I did, cousin,” Mara retorted, showing teeth. “You get the fun part -- you’re going to be their first officer and run the...”

“First officer!” interrupted Peta. “Command? Me? Someone’s been eating funny berries! I’m a malcontent, a troublemaker, a fighter...” She shook her head in denial.

Mara smiled. “And you’re an organizer, a leader, a peacemaker, and more. Those people down there -- some of them are calling you ‘Our Lady of the Bodega’ -- do you realize that? You changed lives, you saved lives down there.”

Peta sat back. “Not on purpose,” she denied.

Mara laughed. “Everyone agrees you’re the right one for the job. You recruited the new captain, the field team, took down some nasties...”

“I also killed and ate one of them!” she cried in disbelief, raising her claws in front of her. “What’s the problem with the other one? You and Ship wanted him to be captain? Why does he get to have all the fun?” Peta demanded.

Mara shook her head again. “And live with us, instead of his own people? The disease he had -- from what I understand, it’s genetically tied to his birthform. So regeneration would just leave him with the same disease, except through his entire body. And acclimation shock would be way too hard on him, trying to slide him into another monkey form; you know how that goes, the one over delta problem, much easier to slide him into a different form. So he gets to have fun with us and train as first officer here while the science and medical types play around.”

Peta rolled her eyes. “Do I get to pick my team?” Peta asked. “If we’re going to be there for a while, separated, I’m concerned about ... compatibility.”

Mara made another face. “We’re aware of that. And speaking of compatibility, there’s another job you might be interested in...”

Peta’s tail unconsciously took a defensive posture. “Oh?”

Mara had Ship bring up a display, showing Bill standing in his small cabin, playing his flute.

Peta watched with interest. When Mara turned down the sound, Peta said, “Him? You certainly gave him a yummy form! But isn’t he the warrior, fighter pilot, tactician, all that?”

Mara nodded. “Oh, he’s that too. Their history is full of warrior-poets -- read about Scipio Africanus.”

Peta was watching the display. “So what is this job? If it involves him, I might be interested...”

Mara could smell how interested Peta was... “Actually, we thought of you because of your experience in this area. You’re aware of the difficulties in adapting to a new form, and we thought you might be able to help him better accommodate to ...”

Peta looked at Mara and laughed. “Oh, I know what you want me to do, and I ought to collect money from anyone who watches... Is Runa available to help?”

Mara was a little surprised. “Yes, she is. When...”

Peta stood up. “I don’t want the poor creature to suffer. I’ll get Runa so we can begin as soon as possible.”

Mara laughed and shook her head.

Accommodation

Bill sighed as he balanced his alto flute. Yes, he must be a bit smaller now, from the way he had to stretch. But it sounded so good, felt so good to be able to make music again!

He sat on the edge of the bed, disassembling and cleaning the instrument. It was going to take practice, a lot of practice. But he had time, and his fingers felt quicker, more nimble than they had in years! He touched the patch of short, stiff hair under his chin -- whiskers, guard hairs? A slight complication in positioning, that’s all. He’d played in high school while wearing braces and survived. Well, except for the time he and Doris Chang spent most of a bus ride necking on the way to a game, and the inside of his mouth was cut up...

He put the instruments away and moved slowly, gracefully in the middle of the little room, getting used to ... being him.

A chime sounded; he paused and turned. The door panel opened.

Two ... creatures stepped in. Guards? They were a head taller, at least, substantially heavier and larger. Both wore bandoliers with little pockets on them.

“Bill, Doctor Prichard?” one of them said to him.

Bill nodded. He understood the language they spoke -- how? “Yes?”

The two moved closer. Bill stepped back, unsure.

“Bill,” the one on the left said, “I’m Peta, and this is Runa. Mara is occupied, but sends her greetings.”

“What do you want?” he asked cautiously, feeling his pulse accelerate.

Runa stepped closer, purring, “We want to help you get used to your new form. We’re well aware of the difficulties and challenges, and wanted to ease you through the process...”

Peta stepped closer; they were almost surrounding him. He felt unsure still.

Bill almost jumped as Peta reached out to him, touching him gently. Runa touched him as well.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” Peta rumbled. Both of them pressed a little closer.

Bill took a breath, and with that breath started to realize -- breathing in their aroma, their scent, feeling how his body responded. These were females! Females in this race were larger than the males! And they were interested in him! “As you say; this is a new experience for me,” he replied, relaxing a little more.

“The first of many,” Runa agreed, running clawtips through his fur in a tantalizing way.

He walked with them down a corridor; he imagined he was on a ship, a starship. He tried to place the construction, the feel. Certainly cleaner than some of the Navy ships he’d been on, more rounded corners and finished surfaces, yet not as clean or soft as commercial cruise ships. And between the antiseptic starkness of Discovery in 2001, and the ramshackle Millenium Falcon? Call it three-quarters of the way to Discovery.

They entered another cabin, a larger cabin. The lighting was dimmer, and the cabin cooler. A good part of the cabin was taken up by cushions, almost a nest.

He watched as one of them slipped off her bandolier; rows of nipples along the abdomen?

He was contemplating when the other one, Peta, ran her claws along his sides, sending erotic shivers through him. He gasped and turned, right into her arms.

She pulled him close and fell back into the nest of cushions. He tried to look up as someone tugged on his tail, but his head was pulled closer.

Bill had taken a cursory examination of his new form; his fur was pretty uniform, like one of the dogs the family had as he was growing up, a mix of softer fur with stiffer guard hairs.

Now he found himself being pulled into soft, dense fur, softer and denser than anything on his body. Peta made appreciative noises as she ran her hands over him. Bill did the same, running his hands, his claws, through her fur, feeling her.

She was solidly built, as he was, well-toned muscles and not a lot of fat. But the difference in her fur! On her back it was much as his was, but along her neck and belly it was so soft, with some spots softer and denser than others.

She was urging his head in a particular direction. He buried his head in soft, dense fur, letting his body respond. He held her, working his claws into her fur, holding on as he worked his head, his nose and snout into her soft fur.

As he did, he was rewarded with her deep, satisfying scent. As he breathed her in, his body responded and he clutched her closer. He made a chirring noise which she echoed, holding him and digging her claws into his fur, holding him closer.

He responded to a touch near his bottom by twitching a leg and his tail, hitting something. Someone? There was a grunt and a giggle, and then a very sensuous touch between his legs, one which sent erotic shivers through him. He burrowed more into Peta, and she squeezed him closer.

As he and Peta snuggled closer, someone was busy between their legs! And from the noise Peta was making, she was getting most of the attention.

Bill couldn’t get enough of her scent, He felt himself stiffening; he’d examined his plumbing earlier, protected in a sort of pouch or slit. Fingers, maybe a tongue, were probing that area occasionally, and each time they did, he made noise and tried to bury himself deeper in Peta’s soft fur.

Oh, it was a tongue! Fingers and a tongue easing his plumbing out of his slit, sucking gently, teasing as he felt himself grow more erect. The mouth went away, but fingers urged him in a new direction.

Hot, moist, inviting -- he eased into Peta gently, gradually. Oh, that felt good, sliding in and out, and from the noises she was making, and her hands on his back, she thought so too.

Another change -- Runa moved, and he was sandwiched between Peta and Runa, squeezing him in deeper, some times just his hips, some times his whole body. He held on, letting his body do what it knew.

Such strong sensations, building so fast, and... A strong rush of sensation -- was that it? Had he come, already? Bill relaxed, unsure, a little disappointed.

But they squeezed him again, squeezed him in deeper -- and he was still hard! Maybe harder than before! He pushed in and pressed against something, making Peta move beneath him. He pulled back -- and stopped -- he could only pull back part way! Like a dog, locked together?

He enjoyed the sensations, settling into a rhythm he felt he could keep up for quite a while. He remembered, adapting ... and when he pressed in, he let the tip of his cock touch her gently, then swirled his hips around. Peta made more noise, moving under him.

He kept it up, thrusting, teasing, enjoying everything, particularly being trapped between them.

He felt something changing -- the barrier he was bumping into was changing, softening? He swirled at it more, pressing more, gently. Yes, changing, softening, particularly in one spot...

With a moan and a shudder from Peta, the sensation changed again. He pressed in, and it felt like a mouth engulfed the head of his cock deep within her. As he moved, it held him, pulled at him. The noises they both made increased, as did the intensity of Runa’s assistance.

Bill felt it building, building, building. He held on, breathing in that deep scent, wanting to drown in it, fill himself with it. Building, building...

With the next squeezing thrust, the base of his tail was squeezed so strongly, pushing him over the edge. He held on, pulsing, almost convulsing as Peta shook under him, Runa squeezing them both.

Bill couldn’t hold on very strongly -- he was wiped out. Peta quivered under him, teasing another spurt from him. He let go, relaxing, enjoying where he was, and enjoying it very much.

On the Bridge

“I said quiet down!” Mike called at the noisy crowd around him. He held his head. What the hell had he signed up for? Had they signed up for? He’d met the bridge crew, scientific crew, engineering, medical team. He was really glad to see the Viet couple from the bodega handling the kitchen. Hell, he was glad to see them alive!

But his field team? All of them, the field team and their families, were together in one of the large open spaces in the Ship.

“Look,” he told them. “Right now, I know as much as you do. This,” he tapped on the bulkhead, “isn’t a joke. And THIS,” he pointed to the viewport, which showed a very nice view of the planet Earth below them, “sure isn’t!”

Eduardo didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “Capitain Evans,” he said, enjoying putting him on the spot, “where is she?”

Mike smiled and shook his head. Never had he expected to be working with Eduardo, or to have Eduardo accept him as authority! But damn, it made sense! “Good question! I think we’d all like a word or two with her!”

Mike heard a hatch open, and a melodious voice call out, “Ask away!”

Silence filled the room as everyone turned to watch a five and a half foot tall, 150 pound otter-like creature with piercing blue eyes and black-tipped brown fur walk in.

“It feels so good to be ... me again!” Peta called out, turning and wriggling with delight. She gave Mike a strong hug, which she repeated with Eduardo.

She looked at the crowd. “Don’t get me wrong, your bodies are ... interesting. The sex was fun, but I don’t think I could ever get used to two big breasts...” She held her hands in front of her muscular chest. “And they upset my balance when I was fighting...”

Two-year-old Christina, in her mother’s arms, pointed to Peta and laughed, “Kitty!”

Peta walked to them. “You remember Tia Peta, don’t you?” Peta said gently to Christina. “I’ve held you so many times...” Christina reached out carefully and touched Peta’s fur.

Some adults did the same.

“Kitty ... Peta?” Christina asked, unsure.

Peta nodded. “Si, tu Tia Peta,” she replied softly.

Christina decided quickly, throwing her arms open and reaching for Peta.

Peta held her arms out, looking at Christina’s mom. Mom raised an eyebrow, then held Christina out a little. Christina scrambled into Peta’s arms. Peta held her gently. Christina laughed and burrowed into Peta’s soft fur.

“It’s okay... You’ve got an awful lot to learn,” she told Christina, and the rest of them.

She turned to Mike. “Captain Evans, I have been officially assigned to lead the group assisting you with training. I am also your First Officer! Pilot and Engineering report that we will be ready to leave orbit in an hour with our sister Ship. Where would you like to start?”

Mike shook his head. You start where you stand, he knew, and by taking command. He started to ask how to make a ship-wide announcement, when suddenly he knew.

He took a breath and spoke. “This is the Captain.” He heard slight echoes of his voice, and knew he was being heard throughout their Ship. “Team leaders and all bridge crew will meet in ten minutes in ...” He paused briefly, and knew where to meet, even though he hadn’t been there yet. “Captain’s conference room two forward. Team leads and bridge crew, ten minutes in Captain’s conference room. All hands will meet in four forward assembly A in one hour. All hands meet in four forward assembly A in one hour. In the interim, please familiarize yourselves with your quarters and duty stations. Captain out.”

He turned to the mob, no, his crew... “XO, Mister Hernandez, you two are with me! The rest of you, get to work!”

FIN
Rev 2009/12/20

Field Work
By silli_artie@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www

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