14 Tamers II - 07 & 08

      The lifeboat from the damaged Capitol ship was guided alongside. The damaged vessels were fleeing after their healthier counterparts.

      "I don't like this," Isaik said.

      "The rules of the sea," Eko told her, "You rescue someone, because you might be the one who needs rescuing next time."

      "I still think someone dumb enough to ambush you deserves to drown," the Eidolon replied.

      Two bedraggled Pokègirls who came up didn't look the bodyguard type. They looked like entertainment, not protection. The man who followed looked like a typical member of the Capitol League inner circle. Sullen surety, with a steroid-enhanced mesomorphic body type.

      "I wonder if those girls get any action at all," Cherry whispered to Isaik, who stifled her laughter.

      The last two were more garishly garbed: Magic-types, unhappy and powerful.

      "Kelvin's Choice is aboard this tub," the large man said, not a question.

      "He is," a slimmer figure in a suit and tie stepped forward. The Pokèball bounced off an invisible barrier that isolated the Capitol League troops, while two GunValkyries materialized and tried to hose down the Des Moines' troops with weapons' fire. The shells and explosions bounced off the same barrier, shrapnel and ricochets cutting into the Capitol League force trapped within. A blue flare filled the contained area, ending the fire.

      "Just how stupid did they think we were?" Sabrina asked as she loosened her tie and tugged off the coat.

      "Pretty stupid," the Gunnery Officer said, "Typical Megami stupid."

      "I'm not that bad," Cheryl said.

      "Not now," Isaik said, "But that ambush you were part of - PFPHEW!"

      The Megami frowned at her.

      "I'm just glad the boss suspected this," Eko said, "I thought there'd be a big argument."

      "He's only stubborn when he knows he's right. If he only thinks he's right, he can be persuaded," Cheryl said.

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      "The man has been treated, then thrown in the brig. The two GunValkyries are still in their Pokèballs," the XO reported to the senior officers, "What do we do with these maniacs?"

      "If he claims he was operating under the aegis of the Capitol League, we might have to turn him over to them, and sell off his entire Harem, with a demand of restitution."

      "Which will never be honored," the Gunnery Officer commented.

      "Correct," the Captain said.

      "What if he doesn't?" the XO asked.

      "Then we turn him over to Sunshine as a pirate and we let those two Leagues butt heads over who's right and who's wrong. What did our passengers want done with him?" the Captain asked.

      "The Harems, or the Masters?" the Gunnery Officer asked.

      "Aren't they the same?" the Captain asked and smiled.

      "No ma'am. The Masters are not too crazed. The Harems are ready to skin him alive and send the pieces back, postage due."

      "In individual postage stamp sized pieces?" the Captain said. The XO nodded.

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      Hild looked at Cocooner, bloated as she germinated. "Is it working?" she asked sardonically, "I take it you are interested in my proposal?"

      Cocooner glared at her.

      "Yes, I can get more. And then you can begin creating new breeds again. You might even get some new ideas on the generation and characteristics of these new breeds. Breeds even you can't conceive of," Hild cajoled her fellow Legendary, "We can have it. All we have to do is trust them. They need allies, and are prepared to draw the entire world into their new way. We can just quietly ride the wave, openly join them, or be crushed by the avalanche." She regarded the other Legendary's level stare. "Yes, I tried to destroy one, and only thought I'd succeeded," Hild told her, "If you decide to seize them, or even one, first you will face them and their defenders. Then you'll face the reality of what they are, which is not so easily captured or constrained. But they are pathetically easy to negotiate with. What grows within you is just an example."

      The Genetic Lab Legendary regarded Hild without obvious hostility.

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      "Part of your problem, is that you've never encountered someone well versed in the operational arts," he told Kamara as they sat with the cadre of the Third Guards, "Or someone well-versed with the historical methods of fighting."

      "How so?"

      "Let me give an example, I was watching a video of great military disasters of the Ancient world. And in every case I kept asking myself: 'How couldn't they have seen that?' Then I realized, they didn't see it, because it was such a paradigm shift in military tactics and planning, that the loser never saw it coming. It was completely beyond the experience of not only the opposing general, but almost everyone on both sides. One side had to depend on their own arrogance and/or their absolute faith in their leader. That's how the Tyrannodames have succeeded as they have. They are huge, and fast, and powerful, beyond the experience of most forces they fight."

      "Except the S-Goths themselves," one of the sergeants replied, a Tyrannodame herself.

      "So if you face them, they'll know exactly what to expect. So you have to have a paradigm shift," he told them.

      Weird, the Megami would be thinking about Taming, I think they're more excited about the possibility of a better military force, he thought.

      "The recharge time of a HyperBeam is on the order of a minute. So you fire, and then you're weak and shaky for a minute," he said, "How do you deal with that?"

      "Have someone else draw their fire?" one of the sub-officers asked.

      "And if that means another HyperBeam, now you have two weak and shaky Tyrannodames, for maybe 45 seconds."

      "Kill whatever could threaten us," another Tyrannodame sergeant said, and grinned.

      "If you are aware of it, and if one HyperBeam can kill it. Five of you against fifty who know not to bunch up. You get off your five shots, then it's hand-to-hand while you're all recovering."

      "You obviously have a solution," Shana said and grinned, "Please, share," she breathed and pouted, rubbing her breasts against him, "I'll make it worth your while later."

      He ignored the giggling of the troopers. "Just letting everyone have their say first," he replied, "In the era of muzzle loaders, the musket fired, and all the musketeer had for perhaps thirty seconds, was a high-tech club. And they needed all of that thirty seconds, uninterrupted, to remedy that situation. They needed a way to keep the cavalry off the musketeers during those thirty seconds. Another musketeer, but then he'd have the same problem as the second Tyrannodame. So they formed multiple lines. The first line, or rank, would fire from a kneeling position, and begin to reload, the second rank would stand and fire, then kneel to reload. Third rank, etc. As reloading time decreased, the number of ranks required diminished. The resulting formation would give a continuous wall of fire. That's what I want the Tyrannodames to think about. A team of say five, four HyperBeams and a MegaFlare, then kneel down."

      "You almost want to do that anyway," the Tyrannodame sergeant admitted.

      "Another fire team fires its five-shot volley, either behind, or off to the side. The third, then fourth, and so on, until the first rank is ready to fire again."

      "Why not just charge?" Kamara said.

      "Because HyperBeam allows you to outrange your foes, and begin cutting them down before they can even touch you. The doctrine needs to depend less on getting in close for hand-to-hand, and more on beating your opponent without them being able to beat back. Strange things happen in a fight, a Bimbo may drive a bone fragment into your lung, or a Slicer may cut an Achilles tendon, and in either case, your opponents swarm up and take you out. If you can hold the range open to only allow someone to engage at the range of your choosing, then you have them."

      "That seems too simple," Kamara said.

      "The idea is simple, developing the doctrine to actually use the technique is going to be the hard part," he told them.

      "Ain't that the truth."

      "Isn't that the truth. Ain't means am not, which is so awkward that ain't is acceptable," he teased.

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      The Dameosaur glanced around the island's beach, then back at the line of palm trees and underbrush, and waited with growing impatience. The Pokègirl who stepped out of the treeline was obviously low caste. Sent out as bait, or a sacrifice, the Dameosaur thought, And she knows it.

      "My queen desires to speak with your queen," the Dameosaur said, and then repeated herself in several languages. She politely ignored the other Pokègirls who watched from the dense undergrowth. She considered the Nessidames who stood ready to back her up against an ambush, Idiots think only of the sky, in a land surrounded by water, she thought as the low-caste ran off to get a higher caste. She considered changing into her battle-form, and charging in. But waited instead. Councillor Bromigo ordered me to be diplomatic, she reminded herself as the newcomers approached. A trio of one old, and two much younger. The old one appeared to be a chaperone. She noted the man, bold as they all were. Diplomatic, she reminded herself as he felt the urge to gut the arrogant male rise in her, All that jewelry and other finery. A pampered pet, that I can deal with.

      "I speak for the lady," the male dared address her, and in a condescending tone.

      Diplomacy! She stifled the instinctive reaction to disembowel him, and just stared.

      "My message is for the lady's ears alone," she told the male, just as condescendingly without so much as a growl in her voice.

      The upper caste females actually left at a gesture from the male, taking the skulking entourage with them.

      She ground her teeth at the thought of continuing to be diplomatic to a male who obviously thought he was in command.

      "Speak," came the command with an odd resonance.

      Like two people in accord trying to use the same vocal cords. He does really 'speak' for the lady, she thought, Much better.

      "To the Holy Birds, who have never threatened the only place where mere Pokègirls may live free. We bring a dire warning, that AtMuff survived, and her hatred of you and your allies in her near-death has not diminished," she told the Legendary's avatar, "NeoAtMuff even now plots to escape and rain destruction and death on those who opposed her in the past."

      The man seemed to blink, as the Legendary's presence was withdrawn.

      "Please come with me, lady. There will be food and drink, and more discussions."

      "Of course," the Dameosaur said ruefully.

      Politics, she silently cursed as she followed.

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      By sheer, studied arrogance, the Capitol League man managed to appear to be in a throne room, rather than an interrogation chamber. "I have diplomatic standing and I shall be released." His tone was bored, but not unhappy or demanding.

      "You used an illegally modified Pokèball on someone you believed to be a human," the Intelligence Officer explained patiently, "That's a crime in every League, even yours."

      "I have only your word on that, and no memory of that event," he replied easily.

      Too practiced and too polished, she thought as she kept the shock from her face, Of course he won't submit to a deep scan, but he'll depend on a Megami resonance to verify the truth. Not whether he preplanned to have that memory erased after the deed was done, or if he were a puppet programmed by others. Finding that would take a very, deep scan.

      "Get a truth detector in here," he told her when she didn't immediately react, "I'll gladly swear any oath you care to name to that effect." He leaned back, arms folded behind his head and smiled.

      It took all the Megami's will and training to keep her knees from knocking. He's got some Bloodgift, and training, she thought as she brought her mind back to her job.

      "The two GunValkyries were clearly ordered to commit mass murder."

      "They aren't mine."

      "They arrived the instant you threw that Pokèball."

      "Even if I did throw it, coincidence isn't connection, and I don't recall doing any of it."

      "Excuse me," the Megami said and stepped outside. She took a deep breath to clear her head and considered the others watching. "He isn't lying. And I can't see how you'd parse that any way except the most obvious."

      "Agreed," the XO said, "Of course we could do a scan. Laws of the Sea and safety of the ship. Or turn him over to Sunshine as a pirate and terrorist. Capitol would love that."

      "Put him back in the lifeboat and signal the flotilla where to pick him up," the Captain ordered.

      "Some of those concerned will go nuts," the XO worried.

      "This is our ship, and I'm Captain," the Captain reminded her, "At the moment, we've got someone with full diplomatic immunity making claims to things we can't prove outside an illegal scan that would get the case tossed out of every court in the Leagues. So no League would try him, and a Courts Martial doesn't apply."

      "So we just turn him back to the people who sent him?" the Intelligence officer asked, her shock evident. She sobered as the Captain stared at her. "The other six Pokègirls read the same, they have no memory of the events. A deep scan has not revealed anything but the erasure, but may be hysterical amnesia."

      "Either they had spells to erase those memories," the XO mused while the Captain listened, "They were controlled completely by an outside force, or they were preset to not record anything during those events. None of those are provable with the resources we have on board, to any court in the world."

      "So we turn a blind eye to all of this?"

      "XO, you will put him, alive, back in his lifeboat and signal the Capitol flotilla where he is, and that we can provide no escort. If they approach us, they will be fired upon. Be sure to tell them that as well. That is my order, you will carry it out, or I will have you relieved. Is that clear?"

      "Very clear," the XO grimaced as she saluted, "I assume I'm not supposed to discuss this with anyone?"

      The Captain lazily returned the salute, "I believe my orders were quite clear, XO," the Captain told her, and left.

      The XO smiled and shook her head. "I wonder who would want to help our diplomatically immune lost lamb."

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      The Sanctuary commotech sat up sharply and looked around the nearly empty room, at the missing members of the graveyard staff. "Minister Bromigo!" she managed as the Council member entered the normally quiet room.

      If she asks where everyone else is, instead of on duty, she mentally wailed, They'll have an easy death. But it's the Doll House for me! she thought as she prayed the Minister wouldn't ask where the others were.

      "I need you to run a trace on all messages from a Rudy Wells, to our operatives."

      "Yes, Minister," she said as she fed the command into the system.

      Now I add failure to fulfill a request, to my list of crimes, she thought desperately as she tried to appear busy while the machine did most of the work, If it takes long enough for her to start a friendly interrogation . . . Then she saw hope appear on her screen.

      "Minister, we have two messages. Neither is encrypted beyond League-Pokèdex standard. Both to Austin Drummond."

      The Minister smiled at the tech, who saw the Doll House receding into the distance.

      "Excellent. Please append both messages to the high priority messages for the Councils' perusal."

      "Of course, Minister. Should I review them?"

      The smile was there, but all warmth had been drained from it. "Not if you know what's good for you," the Minister said, "Say 'hello' to the rest of the duty staff for me, when they finish their on the clock Taming," she added as the walked away.

      Dread seized the girl again. She waited a bit, then looked around and verified she was alone. She carefully reached into her drawer of snacks, and withdrew a tiny carving of 'The Running Wolf', and kissed it. I humbly thank you for sparing your servant's life, and pledge my loyalty to your cause anew, she replaced the token, and copied the messages to her queue, while forwarding the originals to the high-priority master list.

      She looked around again before opening them. She felt dread enter her body. We have a spy in Kelvin's Choice's environs, who works with someone hunting Kerrik Wolf. Those poor men, I hope their Pokègirls just surrender. NeoAtMuff. NeoAtMuff! NeoAtMuff! NeoAtMuff! She closed the files, erased them from her queue, erased the trash can, and erased the 'for recovery' queue, then started a compaction process that would overwrite the files with other data. Maybe I could just defect, I know a lot about communication protocols and security. Maybe a vacation. In the Sunshine League. I could get some temporary tattoos, so the SLIS would just kill me. It's got to be a better way to go.

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      "Dark majesty," Councilor Bromigo chanted as she sat naked amid the circles of protection, half-awake, and half-asleep, "Dark majestic one, I have done, what your wisdom commanded me to do. I admit, like a child, I cannot fathom your sublime prudence, and beg enlightenment."

      The dark figure wrapped in cold flame walked through the protection circles in the dreaming lands, as if they mattered nothing to her. The councillor forced her body not to react as it had when first glimpsing the raw power and purity of this most consummate of all beings, and the consummation that had been forced upon her willing flesh.

      The figure's strident power and beauty beat on her resolve as no lover had in decades.

      "It is not my place to understand," the councillor gasped as the figure seized her throat. Not crushing, but death was a mere twitch away, and an orgasm rocked her.

      "You meddled with the Gods once," the figure told the terrified S-Goth, "The affairs of the Gods, are the affairs of the Gods. That you shall profit, is of secondary concern."

      "But how will I profit? And how can that profit better serve your dark majesty? That I do not understand."

      "One of the two Authors will fall into your grasp, and your rival's faction will be seen as the fools . . . or traitors, you always knew them to be. You will know what to do then. What the others failed to do."

      "Of course, dark majesty, I never doubted you."

      "You may doubt. When you consider my mercy to those who fail me."

      "Yes, dark majesty, most consummate NeoAtMuff," she gasped as the Legendary released her, and slipped back into the darkness. Now fully wake, her lust for power and dominance inflamed, she shouted, "Vincot!" And awaited the captive to be dragged before her in chains.

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      "You are letting him go?" Jen asked the XO as they walked the deck, outwardly calm and detached, inwardly planning the most hideous and brutal murder anyone outside an Author could conceive.

      "He has diplomatic immunity, and several of our actual allies have politely reminded the Captain of that. That's diplo-speak for 'turn him loose'. He also claims to have no memories of the events in question. And he's telling the truth about that." The XO sighed and leaned forward against the railing, letting the wind run through her hair. "I also have the Captain's orders," the XO said, "So if you need to beat on someone, it's me."

      "You'd enjoy it too much," Jen explained, as she fitted her hips to the Megami's backside, promising more later, "And you don't hit back. So you're no fun."

      "That hurts," the XO said as she straightened up, "That flotilla is already moving around to pick him up."

      Jen considered. "What if he had - a dreadful accident?" Jen asked, then glanced at the silent XO.

      "Once he's out of our sight," she said leadenly, "He's on his own."

      Jen nodded and went below. "SharpTits are practically endemic in these waters, and so aggressive. All those teeth!" she told herself.

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      Kelvin got out the letter that events had prevented him from responding to. He'd scanned it so he could answer each point, rather than respond to the letter as a whole. Dear Kelvin, First off, congratulations are in order, given that you managed to effectively crawl your way back from the dead without becoming some sort of lumbering necromantic monstrosity. As it took a Legendary to kill you the first time, I can assume you've been doing rather well for yourself on the harem-side of things. Again, congratulations. I also apologize for not having opened up any lines of dialogue before this point; I've been rather busy, and the only other of our kind that I know of for certain in operation is Kerrik. He began typing.

      Some would claim I started as a monstrosity. As for the Harem, who's part of my Harem, and who's a hanger-on is somewhat blurred. Some of the girls with me are too busy Taming the local Megami population to notice me. Considering the Legendary was disguised as one of the hangers-on, and she killed me while we were alone . . . she was scared, but more of me than the Harem.

      PJAuthor is also in the Sunshine League. Someone besides you was operating in Capitol, but has gone to ground. Someone else was in the Dark Continent, and two others in worlds similar enough to this one that their presence causes a resonance here. Flickers of others here and there. Amazing what you can pick up as a trained investigator. From my understanding, you've been operating in the Sunshine League, which adds to things; I have a number of Leagues that are crossed off my travel list for a myriad of reasons, and Sunshine is one of them. Nothing personal in regards to you; I just plan on staying well away from the SLIS and Granny Weatherwax. I limit my travels in the Blue League for much the same reason, as I intend to stay well away from the BLSF and the Wolf Clan's myriad tentacles of influence. Never mind the Pendragons.

      "I think you're worrying over much, but about the Blues, I'll have to agree. I need to send Carmen a letter to pass on to the author under her care. I don't know if the one Miguelito sent Karen to is still operating in the range I can reach." He made some notes and began typing his reply.

      Frankly, I think you're making too much of the SLIS and the Sages, considering we're making their principal enemies extinct. But that's personal opinion, and in my experience, personal opinion of Authors carries as much weight as a fact.

      The Blues I'll have to agree with you. Being of Scots and Irish decent I have ample examples of the Englishs' idea of proper treatment of lesser races, and the Blues are cut from the same cloth. As this if the first time we've communicated, I feel the need to explain my current over all plans. I've considered and discarded simply annihilating the Dark Continent and letting others tally up the ashes. My initial assumptions concerning said locale being populated by Sanctuary Goths and their Pokègirl breeds in exclusion to anything else was, after investigation, in error. Ergo, I've had to consider the possibility of innocents being wiped out as a result of my anger and the desire not to have a knife at my back. After all, if Sanctuary summoned me once, it's likely they can do so twice. So, I will simply be content with wiping out Sanctuary's leading council. Of course, Kerrik seems to be planning similar, and I wish him all the blessings he might require to pull this off. Should he manage this feat before me, I won't pout; I'll buy the man a bar.

      I think your plan on subversion will yield the best results. Their upper tier treat all beneath them as chattel slaves that even the most oppressive League would have a hard time getting the populace to stomach. The middle-managers are chosen for their kiss-up/shit-down propensities. I can send you the location of their primary evacuation sites. Too bad you weren't ready several months ago. The top-tier had fled the Sanctuary proper, leaving the populace to their fate, and were in an easily annihilated hideyhole. I was talked out of obliterating the city at that juncture. I don't know if the gambit will work again.

      I've also learned that they tend to have backups of they themselves, squirreled away. That means one stroke of the axe, no matter how sharp, won't get them. So again, political subversion should work better. Hence the people I want to send you to help with your campaign. Another element of my plans involve a solution to the feral problem. It's likely many of 'our kind' would find this notion abhorrent. I don't care. If they wish to argue the matter, they're more than welcome to track me down and discuss things. In the direction of this, I've fathomed a method to evolve a Pokègirl to a Sanctuary Goth sans ebony stone. I won't tell you how(yet), and I don't intend for this to be the end of my research into that particular issue. Furthermore, I've been paid quite well by a number of organizations to evolve a number of their preserve members into Sanctuary Goths, that being the Ice Maiden Preserve, the Elven Preserve in the Blue League, and the Joketsuzoku. Telling you this is not a breach of contract; secrecy costs extra, as does exclusivity. This is also just a simple heads up - please don't unthinkingly shoot at any Sanctuary Goths you run across.

      If it works, do it. But I think you may be trading problems now for other problems later. One of the problems is something a rather brilliant scientist, who has had an opportunity to study both myself and Kerrik in action, discerned. He's determined that our magical solutions seem to stop working or seriously reduce in effect, when they are out of proximity from us. So your new cure may work fine while you're overseeing it, even second hand. But it may not function at all if applied where you have no effect on the outcome, or knowledge of the event. The reason I'm doing this is less for money and more an attempt to spread the breed out and beyond the Dark Continent, the case one of our brethren decides to drop Cruithne on the place, or engineer a magical plague designed to wipe out Sanctuary Goths exclusively. The other aspect is an attempt to see what letting the genotype that produces Sanctuary Goths have some fun in the wild; a few generations down the road and we'll likely see a number of new bloodgifts arising, or S-Goths being the result of thresholding, and whatnot.

      Or they'll be eaten by other, more powerful types. I've always wondered about the 'no Ferality' of the S-Goth, and wondered if megalomania was their Feral state.

      I think a political decapitation is in the works on Kerrik's end. After destroying their portal system, and a minor decapitating strike of my own, I've been busy with the Celestial Alliance, and their plans for the world. As well as a growing number of Sanctuarites who might see the 'return to roots' i.e, living up to the propaganda, as a laudable goal. Hopefully they can live long enough to implement it. Once your subversion is underway, you might want to unify your movements. Most important, having a force in place to replace, not the cabinet, but the bureaucracy. That's how corruption really takes root, the people who made sure the atrocities had their Zyklon-B, and the trains to Auschwitz ran on time, don't get the chop along with their political masters. So the attitude springs up again after a change of administration. One of the benefits of the old 'spoils' system was that the newcomers only had a few years to learn their jobs, before the next administration swept them out. The government couldn't 'serve' the people, until the civil service bureaucracy became entrenched, and had extra time to help the rest of us. You'll be facing much of that with Sanctuary, and the entire Dark Continent. Only the other Leagues will have the resources to keep the clean water running and the phones working. Enough of my plans; we now come to yours. If it was just me, I'd agree without hesitation. Sadly, the horrible part of leadership is that you have to shoulder responsibility for others. As a result, there are a number of questions I have to throw at you before I can honestly commit the forces I have available to such an assault. In order;

      Not really much of a need. New information is making me lean towards disinviting both you and Kerrik from what is increasingly looking like a suicide mission. When it was a rescue, I would have welcomed the help. When it looks like sticking my head in a wood chipper and fumbling for the 'on' switch, I think I'll carry on alone. 1) Have you, by chance, checked for influences of alien intelligences utilizing the Celestial Awareness connection to psychically enslave weak-willed Megami to their bidding in an attempt to bring about some sort of calamity? It's the only feasible way that I can explain how this entire situation was brought about. If not, then I am clearly going to have to take steps to correct this apparent problem.

      Honestly, no I haven't, and ruling it out to a reasonable doubt is beyond my capabilities. For most typical Megami, they such are slaves to their Cosmic Awareness and its dictates, that the differentiation would be nearly impossible to discern. I find human evil and indifference a sufficient explanation for most of the misery of our history. For the Celestial Alliance, once Paradise for all became the goal, anyone standing in the way was harming the entire planetary population, and could be treated as such. As for being weak-willed. Their leadership certainly is not. They've developed a very effective means to hammer people into place, and are quite ruthless in its application. Weak minded, yes; weak-willed, never. 2) Invocation of Admiral Ackbar aside, the entire circumstance screams to me of 'trap'. In order to create the concentration camp in the first place, they had to have access to Dimensional Translation technologies, be they magical or mechanical. Luring us into a crusade in another dimension with the entire to rescue all those helpless Pokègirl only to lock us behind them would be a quick and painless way to remove us from the playing field.

      I can assure you absolutely, with no hint of contradiction, that whether they intend it or not, it most certainly is a trap. While I have multiple sources that it was one of Sukebe's supply depots, and if true, the Megami probably have no more idea how it operates than the average teenager does a slide rule. They are unlikely to be able to close the door permanently. And there are means of getting back to this world even if they do. Getting there is my problem. Your concerns were already on my list for recon before the strikeforce would have been ready to move. A recent investigation reveals that the forces assembled, are holding NeoAtMuff, and she is desirous of revenge on her captors. The new and more difficult question: are the rescuees now part of the guard force, or prisoners, or some of both? I suspect that no amount of recon will accurately answer that question. And immediate circumstances may determine which side they are on, at any given second.

      Hence, it is a trap, by any stretch of the imagination. 3) Which leads me to another question; What state, exactly, are these Pokègirls being kept in? If they're secured in Pokèball stasis, then a black-ops run to remove them might serve better and more painless than a full-on assault. This is why the entire setup screams trap to me; either they are completely bone-dead stupid(not to mention, wasteful) going to the trouble to secure them in another dimension entirely only to stuff them into Pokèballs, or they have them running around in an actual prison camp, running the risk of having a large number of powerful Pokègirls willing to storm the walls and start killing. If I was in their position, I'd simply stuff all of them into long-term League storage with the Pokèballs firmware hacked to label them all as 'Bunnygirls'. Or 'Snorelasses'. Probably better for all involved that I'm not in charge of their little Sunday group.

      Something recon will need to determine. Recon that requires your dimensional transport spell to accomplish. You're operating from a position of having to consider and weigh up options. The CA members will take whatever thought drops into their pretty heads and run that idea into the ground. The epitome of 'if all you have is a hammer, all problems are nails' thinking, until some other tool is dropped in their lap. I've watched this happen over and over again with the trainees here. Ask them to do a job that requires some mental planning, and many of them are completely lost. Or worse, if there are multiple solutions, they have to come to a consensus, rather than just picking one of several equally good solutions at random, and working that one. Tactical inquiries aside, even if I do not commit the bulk of my forces to solving this overall problem, I'll be more than happy to lend several grosses worth of hacked masterballs designed to capture any Pokègirl, regardless of the circumstance, as well as the power necessary to render a good portion of the countryside uninhabitable if you're planning a warmup artillery assault of some sort. I have several spells that need testing; this would be a good place to do so. I also won't mind taking any POWs off your hands, should you need to be rid of them; I have a several year-long experiment running, and I need the warm bodies for it.

      Artillery I will have in copious quantities, it was the Marines I needed. With the revelation of who they are holding, I am considering that a ContraTerrene strike in the giga- or tera- ton range may be a wiser course of action. Actually two, since the Legendary in question can survive any one killing blow. On to other things. Kerrik told me of Hild, and I'm not certain if you have him(and vice versa) on speed dial, so I'm uncertain how quickly the two of you communicate, so I have to apologize once more for removing Hild from the playing field. Yes, I did not stutter; she is no longer an issue. Apparently, she learned of my playing around with creating Sanctuary Goths, and tried to have me killed via one of her minions. Someone rather close to me took exemption to this attempt, and decided to make sure Hild didn't get a second opportunity. So, I apologize for effectively taking away your chance at whatever vengeance you might have been planning.

      If you believe such a Master of magic still lives and and cannot return to where she wishes to be in time, I assure you, you have another think coming. If she'd been happier/more secure three hundred years in the future, she would have remained. I was more disappointed in what Hild did, rather than vengeful. She did promise to return my Harem safely home, and she kept her word. She has made herself known to me very recently, and your actions, as well as mine, have undermined her certainty to an immense degree. I suspect she'll do something precipitous, but not worthy of retaliation. Her grip on the world is weakening, and she's seeing that all her webs of lies have been seen as such by the powers she'd hoped to befuddle. I suspect she's headed for a complete mental or nervous breakdown, and soon. After that, I don't know what's going to happen. The spell for dimensional travel. I had intended it to be a freebie for all of my fellow authors, but if you're anything like me, you probably dislike getting anything free, even if it's from a friend. You apparently have a large number of Tyrannodames whom like to do some good work directly under Sanctuary Goths; I have a dimensional travel spell. This seems like a fair and equitable trade. Understand, mind, that I'd like to at least discuss things with the group's leader before anything is set in stone, so I apologize in advance if I somehow managed to terrify them into running right back into your tender and caring arms.

      The truth is that I am not against a little friendly arbitrage. And the girls of the Third Guard are growing somewhat restless without a cause they can sink their teeth into. Your S-Goths would allow them to again serve Sanctuary, albeit Sanctuary the dream, as opposed to Sanctuary the nightmare reality. Frankly, their leaders are made of sterner stuff than you expect. I don't think panic is in their vocabulary, except as it happens to other people. Fear and terror, yes, but they still hold their ground to protect what and who they love.

      I apologize if I have come across as negative and nasty. My plans for a quick smash and grab have been completely torpedoed. Additionally, NeoAtMuff is being used as a hunter against Kerrik (yes I've told him). This opens the possibility that other Legendaries are being drawn into the battle. Either as hunters of the Authors, or as independent agents seeking to redress past grievances. The idea of being 'recruited' by the magic cats, birds or dogs, fills me with loathing. And there are far worse out there. Too many past actions ensure I am in no position to run and hide. My entire strategy of being the one high-profile target, the FUSAG, to your and Kerrik's commandos/partisans, has left me with few options in this regard. (That was a joke, by the way. Your 'tender and caring arms' part, at least. Knowing my luck, I really -will- terrify them right back too you.) In closing, have fun, stay safe, enjoy your harem(and they you) and don't kill any body you happen to like.

      Thank you Micah, I shall try.

      He ran the spellchecker before sending the reply. Then returned to his bunk for a nap.

------------------------------

      "They want to be here, and transfer him ship-to-ship," the Captain read from the communique in the radio 'shack', "That's interesting," she told the nervous commotech, "It's always nice to want things."

      "Teleport off the port quarter!" a 1-MC call alerted the ship's company.

      The Captain raced to the bridge, in time to see an elaborately garbed woman, and a small entourage of pretty Pokèbaubles, appear over the ocean, and drop straight in.

      As they paddled and shouted to the ship, two immense, jagged fingers of rock shot to the surface, surrounding them, and slamming together, as if swallowing them whole. The object continued to rise up dozens of feet, as it pivoted in the middle, taking on the appearance of an immense head and neck.

------------------------------

      "I'd like to know who thought this was a good idea," Kelvin shouted over the anguished cry that had greeted him on arrival in the dreamlands, and spurred him on to attempt breaking the land speed record for squishy males. The anguished cries and thunderous footsteps of the Titan Legendary continued to pursue them.

      "Shut up and run faster!" NeoAtMuff replied.

      "Sorry, as a courtesy, I was running slightly slower than you," he told the Legendary as he drew beside, and began to pull ahead, "Not outrunning the bear and all that. But if chasing something is a better motivator than being chased . . . I don't see how that's possible, but I won't quibble."

      "How are you moving faster?!" the Legendary shouted, "It's chased me for hours!"

      "Better motivation?" he offered, as he pulled his feet off the ground and floated nap of the earth, at high speed. "Somebody hasn't studied their Lovecraft."

      "How's that?" the Legendary asked as she spread her wings. At ten feet, a HyperBeam that would have encompassed her entire body flew over her head.

      "At least look like ground travel," he offered as he turned to study the immense pursuer, "Like you, killing is easy, keeping them dead is a lot harder."

      "I wasn't killed," she shouted as she flew through the weeds, "And wounding me to that extent took four of my fellow cepenclaves."

      " 'Cepenclaves', I never heard that word before. What language - never mind I see you're busy," he told the Legendary, "However, I think she could do it herself," he replied, "Just a nice fly in the country."

      "Oh shut up."

      "Are you sure you aren't part of my Harem?" He sped up. "Just trying to make you move faster," he increased his speed until the wind noise drowned out the paired screams.

------------------------------

      "Somehow, I'm not eager to remain in the vicinity," the Captain said blandly as she scanned the now empty seas around her ship. She nodded to the talker. "Just an old seadog's instincts. Engine room, flank speed until we begin to shake apart. Communications, signal the Galvis Bay to do the same."

      The woman relayed her Captain's messages.

      "Captain, that wasn't a huge SharpTits or Leviathaness," the XO stammered from the rear of the bridge, a faint scent told the Captain what her XO had been doing the last minute or so, "That was Typhonna, or her head at least."

      "You're certain?"

      "I'd never forget seeing it before," the XO said, "Even if it was my mother's memory."

      The Captain lifted the phone to the CIC, "Have the lifting crew lighten the ship, quietly," she told the Second Officer, "That's not an ability I want advertised."

      "You seem very calm, Captain," the XO said as she controlled her shudders.

      "I was frightened, went through the fear to the terrifying calm that lies beyond."

      "Oh."

      "XO, you looked on the scene, and like an excellent XO, but a poor captain, said 'Oh God! Oh God! That's Typhonna's head! We have to get away before it notices us or the rest of her shows up.'"

      "Something like that," the XO admitted as she shifted uncomfortably.

      "As Captain, I had to think differently. I thought, 'Oh God! Oh God! That's Typhonna's head! What decapitated her? Is it still around?' Important difference in priorities."

      The XO paused. "I'll change into a clean uniform, and see about the engineer getting some more speed."

      "Thank you XO, much appreciated," the Captain said.

      "The Galvis Bay, Captain?" the XO asked.

      "There's such a thing as on-the-job training, and powerful incentives," she said, "We may have to send an engineering support crew, make sure they can teleport back here at a moment's notice."

      "Understood."

------------------------------

      After several hours of screaming panic and desperate fixes aboard the Galvis Bay, teaching them about getting more power from a steam engine and emergency repair procedures, Kelvin was ready to sleep in his own bed.

      "Are you Kelvin's Choice?" came a voice, and question he'd heard before.

      The man's being escorted to his removal point, came Clarice's explanation, Those Megami are supposed to be guarding him. They should have sent Jen.

      He noted the adoring and vacuous expression on the man's Megami escorts. "If you so much as breathe wrong," Kelvin warned, "You go home, mailed in postcard pieces," he told the Capitol League man. "I still don't know why they didn't carry out their agreement earlier. Put you back in your lifeboat and let the flotilla catch you up."

      "Typhonna was in the vicinity," the mage-type accompanying him said.

      "So?"

      "Supreme Harem Master Vince MacMahon has an offer for you," the man said.

      "I saw his offer, I prefer what I am."

      The man grimaced, but kept his voice even. "That wasn't his offer, and I wish you people would get it through your heads -"

      "Why would I want to be a slave of Sanctuary's slaves?" Kelvin asked, before Cherry and Maus, this day's guard, could tear the man apart.

      "We have an alliance."

      "You're slave, and you don't even know it."

      The man grinned as if indulging a child. "I've read the siterip, and I've been part of the Inner Circle for years," the man told Kelvin, "I think I know more about the Capitol League than you do."

      Kelvin regarded the man with a level stare. "Not everything was in the Siterip. It was my siterip after all, and I think I know more about it than you do. There were other authorities that I didn't include, for various reasons," Kelvin said, "Some were too new, others were being ridiculed and never made it to the site I made the copy of."

      "What does this have to do with anything?" the man said in a bored tone, "The Grand Harem Master -"

      "What isn't in the siterip is that the Grand Harem Master," Kelvin interrupted and still sounded bored, "Is a Sanctuary Goth in disguise." Kelvin let the man's stunned silence drag on. He nodded at the magic-type. "Let her use her powers, am I lying?"

      "He's not lying, Master."

      The Megami nodded eagerly, then realized what they were confirming, and looked puzzled.

      "That's impossible," the man stammered.

      "No, just very difficult. Considering that your masters are rips of a particularly bizarre entertainment, which I based the insanity of SLUT on, I'd say anything is possible. Miss Queen-Bitch-Bee is not the most powerful S-Goth in Capitol. You see, Vince firmly believes he's male. Powerful enough magic can create not just the illusion but most of the important aspects of being human and male. Including siring children, but not Taming away Ferality. Such a psychic construct remains the dominant personality, until the actual consciousness needs to take over, or some trigger activates the change. Then you'll see what the S-Goths really have in mind for all you useful idiots of the Inner Circle. I'd guess most of you will be pets, any with a shred of self-possession will be Dolls, and any who are an actual threat will be slaughtered. I'd definitely fall in the last category."

      He stared at the man's growing uncertainty. "Now, why would I stick my head in that meat-grinder, especially when the trigger is so near to being thrown, when I have so many other people trying to kill me? Tell your showman-in-chief, that I never liked his ways or his League. Too much 'let's make your life of slavery bearable.' Whereas in the Sunshine League, my League, you had the right to succeed or fail, based on your own merits and drive. Not whether you were a Pokègirl, or human. Some had a leg up, but there was no ceiling or floor to a person's aspirations. Good day to you sir. Don't forget your jaw on the deck when you leave." Kelvin walked into his cabin, and closed the door. Leaving the poor magic-type to confirm the accuracy of all he'd told them.

      "That's - it isn't true?" Cherry said.

      "That it wasn't in the Siterip is true. The rest, it all happened, just not in the source docs for the Capitol League."

      "They are going to cause so much trouble when they get back." Cherry grinned, even Maus smiled broadly.

      "Of course." He stood and stretched, before settling back onto the bunk. "If he thinks I'll ever forget he had orders to do exactly what he did, and magical orders to erase the memory on failure, he's out of his mind."

      "The other world?" Cherry asked as she and Maus snuggled up against him.

      "Of course, there's no hiding secrets in the world of the dead," he told them.

------------------------------

      The alarms sounded throughout the entire ship. Everyone aboard headed towards their General Quarters stations. 'Passengers report to the Officers' Wardroom,' he remembered as he headed that way, Off to discover what mystery would bring the ship to General Quarters in the middle of a bright morning. He glanced at Acer and Carson, his close-in guards, and at Aurora and Roxanne who'd appointed themselves his vanguard, and then back to Blossom and Rainbow, his self-appointed rearguard. Normally, I'd disklike being smothered, but something about all of this doesn't feel right, he thought as he walked, not ran to the destination.

      Before they could arrive, a Megami in a uniform of the ship's marines, blocked their way. "We're still clearing the room," the guard told Aurora, who relayed it back.

      "Any ideas?" Acer asked as they waited, "About what this is? Is it dangerous? Will you add to your Harem?"

      "Will you run out of questions before they let us go?" he teased, "It's uncertainty, not uncertain, but uncertainty I sense. Dangerous? It might be, but only as a peripheral effect of the uncertainty. Add - do you think I need any more?" he asked, "I get the distinct feeling that I'm not providing you the legendary service that most dimensional travelers provide to their Harems. In that, I do feel somewhat inadequate. If I had a spell that let me divide into a dozen parts, all with their own life-forces, then I could service you all as you deserve. Instead, you are stuck with me and my somewhat limited abilities."

      "You're a good Master," Acer said instantly.

      "And the fact you believe that with all your heart pleases and terrifies me. That the rest of the species is so poor, or you have that instinctive reaction."

      "You don't know what it feels like from our side," Acer told him.

      Carson had been staring at them. "You - let them get away with talking to you like that?"

      "I'd rather be teased by diligent people, who'll get the job done; than slavishly worshiped by people who couldn't pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written under the heel."

      "Then you are that different," Carson told him flatly, "I've never heard of a Master who was both that tolerant, and not a pushover."

      "Most are teenagers, having a bunch of beautiful women fawning on a teenaged ego results in Tamers. Have them faun over an old fart like me, and I start wondering when they're going to ask for the car keys."

      The marine snorted at that, then received instructions to let them pass. In the wardroom, The March Hare, Clarice, and Doctor Marilyn waited, several Megami were being carried from the room on stretchers.

      Exhaustion, Clarice placed in his mind. She and the others all looked at him nervously.

      "Mister Choice, is there any reason Hild would send you a set of Pokèballs, and a letter?" Doctor Marilyn asked archly, "The letters have been scanned mystically and psychically, but not read. Kerrik, Micah, and Marcus have also received a Pokèball each, and presumably, letters in the packet addressed to you."

      "It isn't that no threat was found," The March Hare intoned, "Nothing was found. Our scans say neither the Pokèballs, nor the letters exist."

      "What was the contents of the Pokèballs?" Blossom asked, before he could.

      "We're taking them to a safe distance, before scanning them with a Pokèdex," the Captain said as she and many of the senior staff entered.

      "At roughly six megatons per pound, that's lunar orbit," he advised. No one smiled or laughed. "Okay, you felt it too," he said, "An uncertainty, like the world's balancing on a thread."

      "Or knife edge. Something like that," the XO admitted.

      "I was trying to avoid that particular allusion," he said as he accepted the envelope gingerly. He looked at the worried faces around him, and carefully broke the seal. A single piece of paper and four envelopes. The paper read simply, 'From Hild, a peace offering. Please vet them and pass them on. To Kelvin's Choice.' He considered the envelope with his name, and one for the other three, and wondered, 'Vet them'? Check them over? I could easily do that, but why include me? To get my stamp of approval and then have them explode later, or does she want the Authors to have help? he mentally chewed on that, then remembered who'd sent the messages, So it's a typical clumsy gesture, and it's one that's supposed to intrigue me beyond what commonsense would dictate. But I'll play along.

      "Do I try to open these in the high atmosphere, or on the foredeck in front of the main battery?" he asked.

      "It may be safe," the XO explained, "Not a bomb in the conventional sense. It feels . . . "

      "The Cosmic Awareness is silent on these things?" he asked, and rueful smiles appeared on all the Megami in the room.

      "Great, and you wonder why I don't trust it. On the one occasion that a revelation from on high would be useful - pft! Nothing." He shrugged and broke the seal on his envelope, and read aloud.

      " 'Maybe I have not reacted as wisely as I could have."

      The Gunnery Officer snorted, "You can say that -"

      "None of you has enough knowledge to even form an opinion," Kelvin said coldly, "Let alone lay blame. If Hild had done anyone but me an injury, it would be different. But my return with the intel I brought with me, has paid that debt in full. Any personal injury, is mine to repay. Is that clear?" he asked as coldly as he began.

      "Very clear," the Gunnery Officer said, and many of the others nodded.

      " 'So, this is to make amends, and to move me and Cocooner back into the 'neutral' category, instead of 'dead, work in progress'. You might trust me, and maybe you can vet the others for your fellow authors.' Okay, this is a switch. A pair of Legendaries planning, rather than scheming? Does anyone besides me see that this will end in tears?"

      Everyone in the room raised her hand.

      "Toss them overboard, or into a volcano," Aurora advised, "Don't trust someone like her."

      "If I quit giving people a chance, I wouldn't be who I am," he told her more gently than he'd brought the officer up short, "Hild, all the Legendaries, are like teen-agers who've been spoiled rotten. Hild is no more the psychotic evildoer than any of the other Legendaries. She's a scared street punk who just got her head handed to her two ways. Once by me, then by someone else. And a gussied-up street rat like her has only two modes. Neither of which worked well. So I'm not going to pass up the opportunity that she's offering to show her what I was trying to show her as Miss MixMaster."

      "That she doesn't have to be the Queen Bitch of the school to be respected," the XO said, "Sorry, Threshold case."

      "I wasn't exactly popular in school either," he admitted, "The story - the story isn't going to end in tragedy, it's like the opening of an adventure," he explained, "I don't think it's a trap." He smiled. "But turn out the guard. Whatever comes out of these, I want to be able to kill it, or welcome it."

      "I think we can easily manage the 'kill'," the XO said.

------------------------------

      "Have I mentioned this is a very bad idea?" Isaik asked as they walked through the passageways of the ship, "And what was with you getting dressed up nice, washed, shaved and all the rest?"

      "Because I acknowledge this is a bad idea, and it one, gave me time to think, and two, if it does kill me, I look nice."

      "Don't even joke like that," Carson told him as she followed.

      "Everybody thinks this is a bad idea," he explained, "But sometimes, you have to follow a bad idea down the rabbit hole it leads you through, because you don't have any other choice."

      They stepped out onto the deck forward. The four Pokèballs were arranged on a table, so the two forward batteries would have no trouble blasting whatever came out of them. She glanced around and spotted the Tyrannodames waiting on the port side, and crew on the bridge.

      The Captain saluted, and her Master returned it. She looked at Carson, who shrugged. "You know him better than me," the half-grown Megami-Sama told her.

      "Doesn't the Cosmic Awareness know anything about what's going to happen?" Isaik asked.

      "It's given me glimpses of at least fifty mutually contradictory situations," Carson replied, "The Cosmic Awareness doesn't seem to work on him, or Kerrik, or whoever this Micah is. Nor does it work too well on Legendaries. If it did, the Alliance, or any high-level group of Megami-led Celestials would have hunted down both AtMuff and Typhonna, and killed them completely. Some things are . . . beyond what it will talk about."

      "You need a better limited omniscience provider," Isaik said disgustedly, "Look, Master, your playing 'Megami-vague': 'It feels like an adventure' doesn't help. Not me, not the others, and if we can't help, we worry."

      "That's all I know. I don't see complete scenes like when I'm writing my stories. I just get a feeling of the flow of the story, where it's heading and approximately why. Before you ask, the approximately why is exactly what Hild said: She wants to make peace. She got the crap scared out of her and now she doesn't want seemingly unkillables mad at her. So what will happen will be an adventure, like any new girl, but it isn't a deadly threat. If it were just dangerous, I could tell the difference, and I'd tell you. This is like when we attracted Warden's attention. We knew that dangerous monsters were about, yet we enticed her in close."

      "She wasn't a gift from Hild," Isaik countered, "At least we didn't know it at the time."

      "You were, and I knew it at the time. I think you're missing the point about your two creators. They're both lonely, and extremely wary. That's an explosive combination. One turned that outward and became dangerous. The other turned it inward and began this quest we're on. I can't explain it any better than that."

      "You're scary when you talk like that, you know?" Carson said.

      "Says the Card Captor prototype," Isaik told her.

      "I'm not as crazy as The March Hare."

      "She's not crazy, she's what you get when you get the Megami-Sama's and the Jokette's view of the Cosmic all," their Master told them, and took a deep breath, "We're stalling."

      "I'm content to remain here, until Hell freezes over," Carson said.

      "I already blew it up," he told her as he started walking across the open deck.

      "Is he serious?"

      "Are you serious that you can't feel what's in those?" Isaik asked as she followed.

      "None of us can sense it. And the Megami can't sense anything about it, except the power involved, which is considerable. Anything that powerful is worrisome," Carson added, "We couldn't get any breed scan off the balls themselves, but the readings we were able to get were . . . well, the closest analog would be what a Widow should read inside a ball. If you could get one in there."

      Their Master stopped, and stared at Carson. "Why wasn't I told? No, never mind, 'closest analog - a Widow.' That's what you said? Anything else?" he asked. The intensity of his gaze had the little Megami-Sama squirming.

      Carson glanced around, then nodded nervously. "We should kill them."

      Their Master grinned. "No, I think Hild has decided to stick it to Macavity in a way beyond all measure."

      "I think he's flipped," Carson admitted as they followed their Master's jaunty walk towards the table.

      "They know they aren't dangerous," he said over his shoulder, the grin growing wider and wider as he walked.

      Carson was shivering. "Wasn't he as scared as we were a second ago?" she asked as they ran forward to get between him and the table.

      "Yeah, scary isn't it," Isaik said as she stood beside the table.

      "Hild decided to play a relatively harmless joke on the Authors, and me in particular, as well as display her powers and respect for my powers," he explained.

      "Are we supposed to feel better about that?" Carson asked, "That Hild and Cocooner are playing a joke on you?"

      "No, just the certainty that this isn't inherently dangerous. Possibly dangerous like any new Pokègirl, just not automatically a threat straight out of the box," he explained as he smiled, then sobered, "Don't relax your preparedness though, 'adventure' usually means an interesting time for all involved. Anything can happen."

      "Now we should really worry," Isaik told Carson, then grinned, "Welcome to our world. Where the Jokettes are the sane ones, and presents drop from every tree, and every tree aims them at your head."

      "Gee, thanks, can I go back into Storage now?"

      "Masters don't go into Storage," Carson told him.

------------------------------

      The Captain looked over the proceedings. Gunnery positioned those four balls near the anchor chains, lined up the center guns, and now . . . we wait, she thought as she watched, Why do I want to be out there, rather than those two overaged kits? He isn't my Master. All our training comes to the test right now. It's too early. Most of the girls in the Galvis Bay would be worthless in a battle, and here we are, facing one.

      The man approached the table, as the two raced up to arrive first. Something had changed his mood from somber to relaxed. I'm not going to relax, she thought, He may have just accepted death, and it's up to us to deal with what happens next. She looked around at the girls providing more distant cover and fire support.

      "The sub's been alerted?" she asked.

      "All personnel are standing by, both here and aboard the other vessels," the talker told her, "They're as nervous as we are."

      Don't bet on that, she thought as she considered.

      "Sub and all forces show green," the third officer reported, "Condition Able set throughout all ships, our guns are all manned and ready."

      The Captain nodded and considered the deployment. First Officer in CIC, Second at damage control central. The Third up here getting some training, she thought, All so prosaic, for something that could potentially carve a huge hole in the ocean, and us in the middle of it.

      "Signal Kelvin to proceed with the opening at his own pace," the Captain said, "And remind him that tossing them overboard is still an option," she told the talker.

      Not that he will, she knew, But I have my duty. His curiosity will demand he open at least one. His humanity will demand he open all four.

------------------------------

      The four Pokèballs had proven resistant to both scans, and most of the normal persuaders available to civilians and law enforcement, he thought as he regarded them, and his next action now that the Captain had released him to act, Leading to the obvious, that a human touch is what's needed. He looked at the balls and wondered, What would I do, if I tossed some or all of them overboard? I don't care what excuses people would make for me, it would still feel like murder. Facing them with a weapon in their hands . . . would mean me getting murdered. But - I'm overthinking. I know what my instincts are telling me, and my instincts haven't led me wrong yet. I get in more trouble when I ignore that still small voice.

      He glanced over to Isaik, and Carson. They're both ready to jump me, and probably Phase and teleport away. Farther away, Maus and Warden stand. Jen, Aurora and Roxanne are overhead, and the rest, I made sure I wasn't part of the planning. So if I'm somehow under close observation, they might have missed the plans of the others.

      Red Ten, standing by, Clarice reported.

      Stay in attack formation, Hannibal added through their bond, from the same movie.

      I'm still going to open these things, he told the mental listeners, All four at once. Better to deal with it all at once. He stood over the four balls, positioned so he could activate them all at once. I can feel the mental disappointment and disapproval, and the wariness of the Megami. But I can't sense any danger from the balls themselves. I guess my power can't be localized like that.

      "Here we go," he told those who watched, and waited. He touched the four release buttons nearly simultaneously. The frame allowed each ball to open, and directed the content to appear in a small group a distance away from them. Isaik held him tightly around the waist, as Carson put herself between the rapidly resolving girls and him. The humanoid rather than Tauric shapes were easy to make out. He started chuckling as he got the joke, as the particular four-arms, and four-legs configuration resolved itself.

      "Oh crap," he whispered, "Not Widows, at least not regular Widows!"

      The girl on the right had her back to him, and enough bare skin to display the red hourglass shape there. The one on the leftmost. She looks like she walked out of a Dana Gibson illustration, he thought of the elegant redhead with the parasol.

      The blonde in front, wearing cargo shorts, a halter and hiking boots looked at him with faint disappointment.

      "He's not here, is he?" she asked politely.

      "I apologize, I haven't told him," he replied.

      Whichever 'him' you're referring to, he added. She nodded, accepting this, and walked off to the rightmost girl.

      The one in the rear was the treat. Auburn hair, tall, both athletic and voluptuous. But what had him staring was the aura of joy that seemed to surround her.

      Not my cynicism, he thought as she mock-stared back at him, and grinned, her eyes seeming to sparkle as she looked at all the force assembled to protect him from her. As she walked towards him, she knelt down so she looked at the glaring Isaik at the smaller girl's eye level. She seemed vaguely pleased by the fierce reaction to her. Her grin faded to pity as she looked at Carson's complete stupefaction.

      "They really love you," she said as she stood, some ten feet away. She sobered as she looked at him. "It isn't a crime to not love them back just as hard. Just to not love them as much as you can." She smiled sadly. "I guess we have to earn your trust." The joy wasn't gone, but she was clearly looking at the hard work in the future. Her eyes went wide and she turned.

      The purple glob that slammed down on him drew all attention, except from the four.

      "Cocooner," the blonde shouted, as the deck of the Des Moines vanished from his point of view.

------------------------------

      "FIRE!" Angie shouted, as the nightmare dropped to the deck, arms passing through the vanishing man. No screams of rage as the grasping limbs closed on empty air, instead of their target. Angie and BOOM launched their heaviest attacks immediately. A dozen other girls fired their blasts at the Legendary.

      Five Tyrannodames on the port side launched four HyperBeams and a MegaFlare at the Legendary. The Titmouse watched the firepower stop just short of the walking genetics lab's flesh. Just as the first ragged attack had.

      Five more from the starboard side hit the Legendary with the same mix, forcing the creature back a step, and drawing her attention from the skies above, to the threat of the Third Guards. The distraction let the girl with the ridiculous parasol drive it deep into the Legendary's side, and release a massive lightning bolt through it and into Cocooner. The Legendary's reflexive spasm hurled the girl off the ship's deck.

      Two other new girls fired their own HyperBeams at hand-to-hand range, slicing off most of the legs on that side. Rather than totter and fall, the Legendary reared up and brought her body crashing down on the pair. The steady port/starboard fusillade from the teams of Tyrannodames kept the Legendary pinned and distracted as she shifted her attention from one to the other, missing that new teams replaced the old to maintain the fire rate. They allowed at most a second between volleys. While dozens of other girls in the rigging and atop the upper works maintained a steady stream of powerbolts and elemental attacks. The one who'd talked to Master had leapt overboard, leaving her two crushed sisters on the deck. Cocooner made the mistake of watching her go, rather than the slight motions of the two gun turrets.

      The center guns of both forward turrets fired.

      Looks like she launched on rockets, Angie thought as the Legendary took two solid shots from the Des Moines, Damn, she's out of our range, and she's found Master!

      The 3" and 5" guns began to open up on the flying Legendary. Then the main guns added their fury to the assault. Above, the Legendary was wreathed in flak bursts as she twisted through the sky, trying to close on Isaik and her quarry. The noise of the gunfire was nearly deafening. The WarMech Titmouse felt herself battered from side to side just from the concussion of the guns. I can't imagine being on the receiving end of that, and surviving! she added as the Legendary seemed to weather the storm that so battered the Pokègirls on the deck.

      As Cocooner climbed after her Master, Boobfin, Tyrannodames and many Megami dove overboard off both sides of the ship. Go get them girls! she thought to the hunters of any subsurface threats, while the only apparent locus of the ambush climbed higher, then dove as she pursued the mad dodges of the Eidolon, only visible due to Cocooner's rapid direction changes. The batteries and gunners of the Des Moines kept the Legendary under fire as she chased after the fleeing target.

      Jen landed beside her. "Damn, I wish I could be up there!"

      "They'd blow you to pieces," Angie told the HyperDoll as the guns thundered and roared.

      "It would be worth it to stab that bitch in the guts!" Jen retorted, "Come on, we're not doing anything useful." The HyperDoll dragged her away. "Let's check on the two who got mashed."

      Angie nodded and let herself be drawn away from watching a battle she could offer no help in.

------------------------------

      "XO reports our watch-sub reports no contacts, except our people, and the Galvis Bay," the third officer reported as the Captain watched through a telescope the effect her gunners had on the Legendary.

      "Guns reports direct hits with multiple 3- and 5-inch AP and AA shells, some set to affect phased targets. Didn't even slow her down."

      "Maneuver to unmask all batteries, get the aft 8-inch into the fight. Contact Isaik, and give her directions on how to lead that bitch right into our gunfire."

      "Blue shells?" Commander Genek offered.

      "Not against a flying target," the Captain replied and headed down to the CIC.

      "Guns, 8-inch VT as they come to bear," the XO said into the phone, "Then a full broadside of all batteries, let's see what it takes to kill this bitch." She hung up on receiving her answer. "She's taking all we can hit her with," the XO reported, "I don't like it. The faster we can end this, the better for our passenger. That glop is still on him."

      "Agreed," the Captain replied, "Let's get our fighters back out on deck, in case she decides to come for us next."

      "Where's that head when we really need it?" the XO asked as the Captain returned to the bridge.

------------------------------

      The pair picked their way across the deck, noting the damage done to the planks by the battle that had raged here only a few moments earlier. Angie looked back, and saw that Hannibal and Clarice were putting the Harems in order. Probably to deal with Cocooner if she comes down close enough, she thought, We're all going to die. Like the ambush that killed Kitten. She spotted Kay also moving purposefully across the deck. Unlike Angie and Jen, she seemed to know exactly where she was going.

      The Nurse Joy looked down at a mess that seemed to be as much part of the wrecked decking as anything else. She bent down and draped a blanket over a patch of mangled decking that was redder than the wood splinters around it. Then she stood, walked a few feet, and did the same. As she straightened up, she seemed to see them for the first time. "Too bad Kerrik's Dragonesses weren't here. They'd have two possibles," she said tiredly, and looked around.

      The thunder of a full broadside sent all the girls on deck tap dancing a few feet from the shock wave.

      "Dead?" Angie asked, and realized it was an obvious answer.

      Kay nodded. "I got to them quick." She shook her head. "I would have been too late if I'd been standing beside them with their Pokèballs in hand."

      "We have to form up for hand-to-hand," Jen said as she approached, "Even some of the Stugs have caught up again. I guess the merry mixer came alone. Not that she'd need anyone else."

      Kay grinned. "Sweepers, man your brooms!" she said and pointed as the Legendary plummeted to the sea. The gunners of the Des Moines continued to fire on her as she dropped through the air, refusing to be tricked if she was playing possum. The Legendary hit the water entwined in explosions and shrapnel.

      "Now she could pop up anywhere!" Angie cried out, "Even through the hull."

      "Then Isaik should stay up there," Jen said.

      "With that stuff on him? It's a mutagen," Kay countered.

      "Fine, tell her to 'port to the Miguelito estate, and you and Doc Marilyn can clean him off. Even if she does sink us here, he'll be safe."

      Lookouts scrambled to the sides, to search for evidence of the Legendary's return. Meanwhile, the Boobfin and Tyrannodames swam in circles around the ship, establishing a widening circle, eventually encompassing the Galvis Bay.

------------------------------

      "In the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection, when the sea shall give up her dead, we commend these bodies to the deep," the Captain intoned as the two wrapped and weighted corpses slid overboard and deeper into the sea.

      The ship's company milled around a bit.

      "None of us is certain how to feel," Miguelito quietly admitted to Voltaire, "They fought bravely for us, but we never knew them."

      "Is a good death," the huge Francinestein said, "Protect Master, even if Master isn't there."

      "I wonder if - if I should break the news to Kerrik," the small man asked, sighed, and headed inside. "I think everyone was shaken by today's events."

      How right you are, the Captain thought as she looked aft, to where the day's only casualties descended after the only other possible.

      She walked after Miguelito. "We beat off a Legendary, maybe even killed her," the Captain said quietly to Miguelito when she'd caught up with him.

      "The sub?" the man asked.

      "She kept going down. The sub followed to maximum safe depth, and the sonar showed a straight descent after that until they lost her. If she isn't dead, she's gone while she heals in the depths."

      "Never see again," Voltaire said, "A good thing. Very good."

      "AtMuff stayed dead for a century at least," the Captain said.

      "She after Janus?" Voltaire asked.

      "Of course," Miguelito replied, "To create entirely new breeds, she needed to feed on Legendaries. To create those new girls, she obviously had a new source. Three guesses what," Miguelito told the pair. The three glanced over at the two newcomers, who were objects of concern to all those around them. The two Blessed Widows accepted their condition stoically.

      "We just have to figure out if Hild was stupid thinking she could trust Cocooner, or if she knew this would happen," Miguelito said.

      "And what part those two played in all of this," the Captain added.

      "Fought for Masters," Voltaire pointed out, "Hild's plans, not withstanding."

      "Good point," Miguelito said and patted the large girl's hand, "Whatever her intention, her creations fought ferociously for the protection of those they were assigned too. That should count for something."

      "How is he taking all of this?"

      Miguelito shook his head, "How do you think?"

      "Can't he realize this is not his fault?"

      "Dear lady, if I could unlock that secret, the Philosopher's Stone would prove no trouble. I think the concern about the glue is providing another troublesome element. Although Isaik is enjoying it."

------------------------------

      "Look mom! I'm a sculptor," Acer said as she worked in the sickbay, carefully chiseling the hardened glop from her Master and Isaik.

      "I'd tell you to work faster," he said tiredly, "But you already gave her the giggles, and I'm afraid she'll break something."

      "Of yours," Isaik added, and stifled a giggle, "I neutralized it, Master. I might not be able to duplicate it, but I can turn it into something harmless."

      "If you could do that, why not change it into something easily removable?" he asked.

      "I told her not to, because it's put tendrils into your flesh," Acer said, "She'd have to have your knowledge of biochemistry to defeat this stuff." She kept removing bits and pieces of the material.

      Isaik giggled, she still had her arms around his waist and her legs so entangled with his, that neither could walk.

      "Can't you dissolve it with something?" Eko asked as she stood by.

      "Have you seen where this thing is stuck?" Acer asked angrily, "Maybe you want to go a month without Tamings, but for me, no thanks!"

      Eko growled at that, and paced the sick bay, "What about the new girls?" Eko asked, "What kind of breed stands toe-to-toe with a Legendary? What kind of crazed mind has an eight-limbed -"

      "Extremely cute and adorable," he added.

      " 'Extremely cute and adorable' girl," Eko said angrily, "Armed with a HyperBeam, incredible strength, incredible durability, lightning . . . what's so funny?"

      "Guilty as charged, officer. They're called Blessed Widows, and they are everything the Widow was, except Hypervenom-toting psychopaths. And they add a pleasant demeanor and all the aspects of the Blessed template. The first one was named 'Gem' and she was Cocooner-built too, before Widows had HyperBeams, and before Cocooner needed other Legendaries to make new breeds. Gem could beat a Widow of that generation, simply because she was a ranged fighter, and the Widow of that time was pure hand-to-hand. It was a stupid addition. Next I expect to see Dragon Rage and Aura of Love added to the Widow."

      "You created that insanity?!" Eko asked, "That - "

      "Breed," he said, "Of course. I thought you read the siterip."

      "Not all of it."

      "Ah, you only read Kerrik's stories and were so disappointed he wasn't like Kami Kerrik who collected troublesome girls like trading cards."

      Eko turned a similar shade of purple to the glue Acer was gingerly chipping away at.

      "To answer your original question, I intend to keep the one meant for me, and forward the one meant for PJAuthor to him, and report the losses to Kerrik and Micah. Although, honestly, I don't think either would have been overjoyed with a present from Hild and Cocooner. They don't have the . . . sense of the story that I do. So I doubt they'd trust such a gift."

      "Convenient they died," Eko said, "Isn't it?"

      "Convenient? Aside from the revulsion of the idea that the death of someone who meant you no harm could be 'convenient'," he said, "They saw that Kerrik and Micah weren't there, and knew they'd have to prove themselves. The girl sent for me saw I was there and interested, so she had more reason to survive the encounter. I don't know about the 'Gibson Girl' whether she got lucky, or was still undecided."

      "Grim business," Isaik said as Eko squirmed.

      "If Cocooner survived, I think Hild may not be best pleased that she screwed things up quite so badly. After all, if she could create new breeds out of flesh and blood I haven't even missed, then she could have negotiated for more."

      "That assumes she's capable of seeing that far. The people who kill the golden goose," Acer explained, "Always think they won't dry up the supply."

      "Or she may have decided to consume you, figure out how much she needed, then perhaps negotiated with the others," Isaik told him.

      "Great, my plan to play FUSAG while the others get on with Normandy is working like a dream." ------------------------------

      Muffled screams and moans were hardly what he'd been expecting to hear in the early morning when he approached his cabin. Hannibal and Warden moved up to listen, before allowing him to approach. He quietly opened the door. Inside, Naomi was holding what he fervently hoped was a double-headed dildo, and was violently and rapidly thrusting it into thoroughly trussed up Amazon-chan he recognized, while Jen, Cheryl and Maus mauled and groped her.

      Several crewMegs stood inside and watched it all. He covered the mouth of one who'd glanced his way and was about to announce his presence. He pulled her outside and let Hannibal carefully close the door.

      "What's going on? And if you shout 'attention on deck' when a civilian walks in, I'll turn you over to the second officer for retraining, or a transfer." The second was clearly more frightening.

      "She was caught in your room, by Clarice, and proved . . . resistant to her interrogation." The Megami looked at the faces around her and saw only stoicism coming back.

      He noted her trembling lip, and strangled the impulse to comfort her. I know why she's trembling, he thought, And I'm not comfortable with it.

      The Megami stared at him, her 'deer in the headlights' look having no effect on him or the others.

      "Go get Sabrina, Roxanne and Rainbow. Tell Sabrina to bring her toys, and then tell the Captain," he told her, ignored her disappointment, and fear, and added, "Go."

      The rating scurried away and he quietly reentered the room. As he walked around the Pokègirls, they reacted as if he'd materialized in their midst.

      "As you were," he told them, "That's navy for 'continue what you're doing'," he told them as knelt down in front of the Amazon-chan's face. He saw the tears and the vaguely transcendent expression, which was fading as she focused on him. "Why?" he asked her, and she glared at him over the gag still in her mouth. He continued. "You could have just asked, or are you so frightened of a 'no' that you had to arrange things?" He gestured at the other Pokègirls in the room. "These girls are on a hair trigger because of events. What did you expect your welcome would be? Plaudits and flowers? Or did you want them to put you in your place, and that usually means physically and sexually with Pokègirls." He ignored the crewPokes who were slipping out of the room, but when Cheryl moved to follow, he glared at her. She shamefacedly remained fixed where she was. "Since you could have raised more of a ruckus, I'll assume you were enjoying what was happening, even encouraging it."

      The Amazon-chan looked more embarrassed than angry now.

      He looked at the others. "All right, you can take a break. I've sent for Sabrina, and her toys, along with a few others, to relieve you." He grinned. "Now, considering the welcome that Carson got, should I assume the same is involved here?"

      "SIR?" Naomi nearly bawled.

      "She was here, Clarice caught here, we knew she'd attacked you before," Jen told him defiantly.

      "That's not exactly a rape-worthy offense, although rape requires at least the intent of refusal," he considered, then looked down at the girl, "I think she is rather enjoying it." He stood and looked at the guilty and uncertain Pokègirls. "So as a punishment, it's counterproductive. And I did tell you to continue," he told the Tigress, "And is the end your holding in yours smaller than what you've got shoved in hers?"

      "It's - all - a - bout - muscle - con - trol," Naomi said as she thrust hard into the Amazon, who'd put her head on the floor and seemed to be enjoying herself.

      He walked to the door as Sabrina entered, carrying a Pokèpack full of toys. The DildoQueen stared at the Tigress ramming it home on the Amazon-chan, while the nervous spectators divided their attention.

      "Sabrina, get with the others. Find out what she likes and dislikes, what works and what doesn't. They may not be the same. Take as long as you need, do whatever occurs to you, hurt her only if and as much as she enjoys it, whether it works or not. If she passes out, stop. Understood?"

      The DildoQueen's brow furrowed. "I understand the instructions perfectly, but not the reason."

      He kissed her troubled brow. "I'm viscous, does that work?" he asked.

      "You're vicious too, but I already knew that," the DildoQueen admitted as she moved to set up a number of her toys where the Amazon-chan could see. "Let's start with these and a stimulating voltage, rather than a painful one," Sabrina told the girl as she showed the modified alligator clips. "The metal smiths aboard do such good work, as long as you don't explain what they're for."

      Only the Tigress pounding into her from behind kept the Amazon-chan from crawling away.

      Hild, when are you going to learn? he wanted to ask the victim, If you wanted rough, you could have asked. If you wanted gentle and thorough, you could have asked. What they'd eagerly give freely, is stolen. Is defrauding better than receiving a gift? Maybe you are a psychopath, but if this kind of cheating is your compulsion, I can deal with that. And it carries a degree of pathos, he thought, then smiled, I may just tell you that, when the time is right.

------------------------------

      "You need a Taming," the Blessed Widow said as she walked up behind him.

      "And you need a name," Kelvin replied as they walked down the corridor, "And a lesson in human biology. Humans can't be Tamed. That's rather the whole point."

      She slipped around him and stopped in the hatchway, blocking his progress. "I don't mean as a cure for Ferality. I mean you need enough good, comfortable orgasms, that your brain will be so full of happy chemicals and your body will be so blissfully exhausted, that you're 10,000 miles a second thoughts slow to a crawl. Then you need to be cuddled in warm, fluffy darkness, with a beloved and trusted voice whispering 'You are loved', 'You do a good job', 'You are loyal and caring' over and over, all night," she said.

      He looked past her, then behind him, and saw all the intrigued, and intriguing, looks on the others' faces. "Why do I suspect finding volunteers won't be a problem for you?"

      "It's just to let you know what it feels like: a good thorough Taming, and being put up in your Pokèball afterwards," she mused, "Maybe if you experienced it, you'd be less afraid of it." She tapped a finger on her lips. "Just how would we achieve that, hm?"

      "Scotty, now would be a good time," he suggested.

------------------------------

      The exhausted figure in the sickbay bed is hardly the image one conjures when 'Hild, the Hidden Legendary' is invoked, he thought as he watched the Pokègirl who had abandoned her Amazon-chan disguise for one of a StarMystic. He carried the luncheon tray in and set it where she could easily reach it. When she wants it.

      "You look worse for wear," he said as he sat at her bedside.

      "And you pity me for it?" she sneered, weakly. "That Harem of yours, are they getting enough Taming."

      "Sabrina is very dedicated to her work, and she's not the only one."

      "It's your pity I can't stand," she told him. She tried to rise, winced and lay back down. "No threats? No screaming for revenge?"

      "When you struck me down, I became more powerful than you could possibly imagine," he told her seriously, "I learned things, mastered skills that would have taken a dozen lifetimes. And I'm back, hardly a reason for revenge."

      "And you pity me."

      "I pity you because you threw away all you claim you ever wanted, because your fear that who you were turning into, was too much at odds with who you thought you were becoming."

      "Who you were making me into," she snarled, "You really don't understand, do you?"

      "I understand a good deal more, but maybe I've missed something."

      "Then listen for once. Kerrik has his truewizardry, Micah has his Grim book that teaches him everything. Marcus has his magic tattoos. Don't look at me that way of course I can feel that power level and that purity of magic being used. But you barely master a handful of spells that a novice would be ashamed of."

      "I could ask you to be my teacher."

      "You don't need to ask! That's my point!" she shouted hysterically, torn between embracing him and running away, and unable to hold onto either impulse. She settled on hugging her legs to her chest. She continued quietly, "They change themselves into something less human, and use their resulting powers to change the world." She was crying now as she looked at him. "You don't. You go straight to changing the world. Your allies are honorable, nearly incorruptible, competent and devoted. Your enemies make the mistake of not coordinating, expecting that you won't change the rules. Despite that being your stock in trade. Always and forever, you 'get lucky' or outwit them." She broke into wracking sobs as she buried her face in her hands. "You - are - making - your - allies - invincible, and your enemies morons," she told him fiercely, "This ship was a half-sinking joke. Now it's discussed in Leagues across the globe. Even the other Authors fear the SLS and Granny. The people who could shatter the worlds are drawn into your orbit, and either converted into friends, or destroyed. You wonder why Kerrik keeps you at arms length? Micah hides behind security concerns? Even PJAuthor stays away? Because they feel what every Megami and up on this damn boat feels. That you'd snap your fingers and they'd come running. All the Authors can do that. Kerrik, Micah, Mist, Red, PJ, Knight Mysterio! All of them! The more in tune a Legendary is to primal forces, the less able she is able to break away from an Author! Sexebi is trapped to Micah, body and soul. Evangelion could no more flee Kerrik, and stay away, than a normal human could leap out of a hundred-foot pit. They don't need Recognition, they feel that they are pieces to be moved at your will alone."

      "And we like it!" Hild screamed in pain and frustration.

      He touched her, and she rolled away and out of the bed, keeping it between them as if she feared he'd chase her.

      "I could no more escape being made into a good little Daimon with superpowers, than Sexebi could avoid being made the bedslave/protector, or Evangelion could be made the doting mother! You're like black holes. Something enters and either conforms, or is destroyed! I've felt you doing it to me! Why do you think I -" she screamed in rage, then collapsed to the floor and whispered, "Killed you?"

      He walked around the bed to look at the figure huddled on the floor, looking more like a frightened Damsel, than a Legendary. "I think you're exaggerating."

      Hild shot to her feet, looking every inch the wrathful Legendary. "TYPHONNA'S SEVERED HEAD CAME LOOKING FOR YOU TO PROTECT HER FROM EVANGELION!" Hild screamed at him as she advanced and pinned him against the wall, his feet dangling, "Don't tell me, you don't have the power!" She set him down, her face still giving evidence of the war fought within. "I can feel it," she said reasonably, then turned away, "If - if I cry now, you'll take me in your arms, and soothe away the tears . . . and who I was will be lost forever."

      She turned back to him, hanging onto her anger and defiance by main force. "I'll be your vision of whom I could be, not who I am." The tears came, first one, then a stream as her rage and fear played over her face. She glared at him, as if to keep him away. But when he reached for her, she shied away.

      "Is it better than who you are now? Lonely, conflicted, looking at every shadow for enemies, and knowing everyone knows your deceptions for what they are?"

      "I don't want to love anyone. I don't want to care about anyone but me. I want people to hate and fear me. I don't want to be broken, domesticated and aimed at greater evils. I want to rape and murder! I want to steal and mislead and devour! I want to be the bane of hope, the dark shadow they all whisper about in the corner with all the lights on!" She collapsed to the floor. He carefully picked her up, and put her back in bed.

      "Even you aren't afraid of me," she whispered, "I can't fight it," she admitted as she let him tuck her in. "Crawled through my brain after you broke Cheryl, and I snuggled with you. I almost gave up completely to the illusion of Miss MixMaster. I reveled in being able to murder you, but I couldn't bring myself to kill you with my bare hands, or with my magic . . . because I knew what would happen if either touched you, and if you didn't fight back."

      She snarled at him, "You use your weakness as a weapon on every Pokègirl around you, did you know that? You are like a little kitten trying to be a tiger, and every Pokègirls' heart melts at you being so cute!"

      "Now I think I'm revolted."

      "I was sick and melancholily for days after I destroyed the greatest threat to my existence. Then I lost to that time-jumping pipsqueak, and after I battle back to my own time, I learned you were alive, and I felt . . . joy."

      She turned away from him, wrapping herself up in the blankets. "I was happy my nemesis was alive. That I could, that we could -" She practically exploded out of the blankets and wrapped her hand around his throat. "I WANT TO HATE AND KILL YOU!" she screamed, but her hands just held, the fight was still within her, "But I can't," she whispered, "If I did. I'd crawl to some other Author and give myself to him or her, and pray they never found out who I was." She dropped her hands to her sides. "You've won. You should just kill me while you've got the chance."

      "You already told me how," he said as he lifted into the bed, climbed beside her, and gathered her into his arms.

      He held her, and she sobbed and screamed, accusing him of every vile crime against her body and mind she could think of. Kay occasionally stepped in, to check that neither had murdered the other, with the noises the StarMystic was making.

------------------------------

      "I'm sorry you feel the way you do about me," the Blessed Widow said to Cheryl as they walked the passageways of the ship. A day of being completely ignored by nearly everyone aboard gave her the anger to consider bothering one of the center points of the Harem.

      The crew seemed to sense the Megami's bad mood, and avoided her. "You are a present from Hild and built by Cocooner," Cheryl said.

      "And you are a former member of the Celestial Alliance, the group who has made as many serious attempts to kill him, as any other group. More than Hild. You were murdering Shana, when he intervened, as I recall."

      Cheryl's answering growl cut off suddenly.

      "Easy, little girl," the Amazon-chan who had a thoroughly pissed off Cheryl by the throat warned, "I might slip, and mar her pretty skin."

      Cheryl's expression warned of the rage boiling inside. "You're certainly not a -Wu," the Megami said quietly, "Or you'd know how to hold a knife properly."

      "What's that -?"

      The sound of flesh on steel, bone on steel, whimpers and cries of agony, muffled pleas for mercy, preceded a loud splash.

      "I thought we'd gotten rid of her," Cheryl said, " 'little girl' 'pretty skin'."

      "You do have nice skin. He likes it."

      Rather than blush, Cheryl glared at the Blessed Widow.

      "If you hogtied her with her own hair, how was she supposed to swim?" the Blessed Widow asked, "That wasn't really nice."

      "For someone with designs on my Master, that was nice," Cheryl hinted sharply, "With that rack, she'd never drown, and I can guarantee her head would float."

      The Blessed Widow looked at the Amazon-chan bobbing in the ship's wake before the evening swallowed her up, and the angry Megami. "Tell me again why you're all afraid of me."

------------------------------

      It is good to have full capacity again, is it not? Tai transmits to Sam, a few hundred yards to her side, And that my Commander can see what can be done, by a full up Units of the Line. The lack of even the most basic response is troubling. I perform a basic diagnostic on myself, and ping her automatic system to provide a communications status. Neither system is flawed. So she is deliberately not speaking to me.

      "Amanda, how is Sam doing?" my Commander asks the leader of infantry.

      "Skittish and unsure," comes the reply, which disappoints me.

      I can't fault my comrade, I admit to myself, `She` suffered far worse than I. But we are built to endure. Perhaps our creator could explain it better, but that is a question for another time.

      "Tai, are you sure it wouldn't be better to swap places?" my Commander asks.

      If I were still just a Unit of the Line, I would have a different answer, I am shocked to discover, After experiencing the service of a Tamer, I am loathe to 'give him up'. It is an interesting piece of psychology. I wonder if Units of the Line have had similar feelings, of desiring physical as well as psychic communion with their commanders. If so, it is not in my compromised memory systems. The speculation and associated searches have consumed .134 seconds. My Commander has not noticed the lapse in communications.

      "No," I am shocked to report, "She needs to feel comfortable in her old form, and your assistance might ease the transition, but would slow it."

      Almost reflexively, my banks of ion-bolt infinite repeaters track and fire onto the secondary target. The winged female proves a surprisingly elusive and durable target for a humanoid. However, 'twice nothing is still nothing', I quote my Commander. While she required far more effort from my infinite repeaters than expected, she does not require more effort than they are capable of generating. She lasts an amazing .560 seconds against the concentrated fire of all forward, port-side banks. Per the briefing, aft, port-side and aft banks fire on her recovering form, and 'Sam' adds her own long-range fire from her infinite repeaters.

      "Too bad that won't really kill her," the leader of infantry opines, and I am in full agreement.

      "Perhaps the Daisy Mae, Iain Grey and Mountain Home will provide sufficient firepower to duplicate our efforts," I reply to the inferred question, "Their anti-aircraft artillery is quite formidable."

      "High praise coming from you," my Commander says, and causes a serious disruption in my core that has nothing to do with battle damage, and everything to do with being his Pokègirl.

      "The primary target is . . . retreating?" Sam's confusion is evident, although I am pleased she has regained the ability or willingness to communicate.

      "I thought she was fearless," the leader of infantry says, her tone indicating her own confusion.

      "We don't have to hurt her, we just have to herd her," my Commander reminds us of the mission parameters, "Can anyone establish communications?"

      "She is generating a very powerful EM field," I report.

      To disrupt guided weapons, or to disrupt communications? I consider.

      "The field will prevent radio, and even laser communications," I report my analysis.

      "There's always the loudspeakers," the infantry commander says, "And we are shielded in here, right?"

      If I had been in my Pokègirl form, I would have smirked at that. I and others of the battlegroup have noted that in her tentative pursuit of the Commander for sexual congress leading to procreation and eventual creation of a family unit, she has become leery of taking permanent, especially disfiguring, physical damage. While her appearance is not what attracts my Commander to her, said appearance being decidedly inferior to that of every other member of the battlegroup. She is still concerned about a reduction in it. In consequence, the entire group has stepped up their efforts to ensure neither of the officers must play the hero anymore. She will be the mother of his children, even if they are not her biological offspring. She will be his companion and due to her family connections, will likely be the 'breadwinner' in politics or government service, trading on their 'hero of the League' status to garner votes or to leverage more advanced postings. While he maintains her house and her security. Downy was the hardest to convince, but has agreed that while we continue to soldier in the cause, our commanders must henceforth lead from the rear.

      "Shielded beyond any sound the external speakers could generate," I reassure her, when Sam does not. I am going to have to remind Sam of her duties to her commander and as a member of the Brigade.

      If she is moping, because the Commander is within me, she needs to stop. The decision has good tactical roots, I think, And none of the original divisions between the two groups effectively exists. We all avail ourselves of the sexual appetites of all the others. And our officers have shared their original divisions with each other, especially when they are in their pre-congress mating dance. Perhaps they will as well, when they finally consummate what every Pokègirl in sensor range can detect instantly. I find my domestic musings both interesting, and distracting.

      Sam maneuvers to one flank, while I maneuver to the other. The reported singularity cannon, and the immense HyperBeam generator will prove an interesting tactical exercise, I send to Sam, and again receive no response.

      She is sulking, I consider as I elevate my main armament, increase power to point defense and battlescreens.

      First, we at least try to negotiate, I remember my orders, while preparing an optimal firing solution for all available weapons of myself and Sam.

      "Typhonna, we have a proposal for you," I broadcast, then repeat in several other languages.

      The lack of reprisal is unexpected, I think as the massive creature slows and turns fearfully towards us.

      In a rational world, this plan would receive no attention whatsoever, Sam finally communicates with me.

      Reason is different here, I reply, And a new reason demands a different rationality.

------------------------------

      Taylor watched and cataloged the massive ceremonial spell casting going on right in front of him. Faint St. Elmo's fire rimed those on the outermost circle, and those who stood outside the defenses. Like me, he thought as he watched and studied, Why does it have to be at night? Didn't Kelvin attack those Blues in broad daylight here?

      Ailf, Shadow and Taylor's 'pastries' guarded the warded circle that encompassed Eugene, Amanda, Tai and Sam. In the much larger circle, Rainbow, Blossom, Easter and the entire Tyrannodame population of the Third Guards rested. The three ministers chanted their prayers, at equidistant points just beyond the circle. Cheryl, The March Hare, and Carson formed the second triangle of a living Solomon Seal. Between the angles of the first, Hatta Mary, Shana, and Sally formed the first triangle of a second Solomon Seal, while the three Magic Knights: Tori, Elaine and Ariel formed the second. Doctor Marilyn, Clarice, Jean, Flopsy, Skull-cap and Tableau formed a hexagon surrounding the paired hexagrams. Hannibal, Hazel, Downy, Sarah the Unicorn, Rolli, Stupid Fuzzbutt, Bugs and Thumper walked the perimeter outside. The rest of the Harems had been deployed in adjacent compartments to prevent eavesdroppers, distractions, or outright assaults. The chanting from each triangle was different. Prayers and bible verses from the ministers, Hymns from the Megami, a wordless song from the mismatched Celestials, and lines of elemental power from the three Magic Knights. Communication and communion among the psychics on the outer ring could only be detected by the swaying of body or antennae.

      Taylor was the only conscious human in the room, and he watched the proceedings with amazement. I guess being the only one with a home is also a catalyst, he thought as he glanced at his fellow townie, Eugene hasn't settled, although that Amanda isn't hard to look at, and rich to boot. Even as a six-pack, she's a good catch for an Oxnads' clodhopper. He looked at the 'pastries' guarding the smaller circle, and thought about the pack of Angel and Seraph kits he'd added to the force, to get the Megami kits to stay out of the area, and also to help. I can't hear them, but I can feel them, he thought as he considered the impossibility of what was supposedly happening amid the glowing chalk lines as the chanting rose and fell in an unearthly syncopation. It feels like . . . dragons, he thought as the chanting intensified.

      The sudden darkness and appearance in the circle of an illuminated and immense head, something that should have been too big to fit in the entire room, shocked everyone not bound by the spellcasting/praying. It roared ferociously in their heads, then shattered into infinitesimal pieces and snowed down on the Third Guards and the others inside the large circle.

      The return of the lights brought everyone around. Even the spellcasters ceased to chant, and silence reigned. Then the sounds of angry, frightened voices could be heard outside the room. Taylor moved to open the door.

      Let the recriminations begin, he considered but smiled, Funny, that Kelvin guy can talk anybody into anything, but when I tell him something, he treats it like the gospel truth. I don't know if I should be scared, grateful, or both.

      The appearance of Forseti, in her adult form, smashing open the door with her back and sailing across the floor like a bowling ball shocked the entire group nearly as much as the head had a moment earlier.

      "What is going on in here?!" came the shout from the StarMystic who'd come aboard earlier. She was closely followed by half a dozen other members of Kelvin's Harem. Kelvin himself was not in attendance.

      "We were dealing with a threat, by negotiation," Hannibal told the StarMystic, "Our Master was aware of our plans."

      The StarMystic gaped at them like a beached fish. "He knew you . . . do any of you realize how dangerous this is?"

      "The odds were considered," Eugene said as sat up from his spot in the other circle. He rubbed his eyes and started when all three of the woman grabbed onto him and laughed. Although only Amanda's could be heard. "Once we had agreement, the odds of something going wrong were remarkably low."

      "The advantage to all parties was addressed as well," Blossom said, "There are more methods to dealing with the residue that erasure. Recontaining it." She glanced around, and stared at Rainbow with amazement. "That I hadn't considered, although it does yield some fascinating possibilities."

      "What, just happened?" Taylor asked as he walked over to the Tyrannodames who were stretching, touching each other, grinning like happy kids, and also looking a little guilty at the same time. He glanced at his 'pastries', who were redeploying to guard both him and Eugene's group from the stunned StarMystic.

      "It seems the connection possessed by the original has remained, although it does not have the effect of a Delta or Alpha Bond," Rainbow said. She cocked her head. "Perhaps an Epsilon Bond."

      "You, are part of each other?" Hannibal asked, then looked at Clarice, "But not telepathic."

      "More like being part of a decentralized organism," Easter said as she moved around, looking at herself as if seeing her body for the first time. "Getting used to this may be interesting."

      "Did it work?! Did it work!? Did it work?!" the sound from the armored ball of enthusiasm burst onto the room.

      "Can you not see?" The March Hare asked.

      "If I could tell by looking," the Bunnygirlesque Battle Angel said peevishly, "I wouldn't have asked." She squealed happily, "My Master's a GENIUS!"

      How does she take a low-key insult and turn it into a perfect battle plan? Taylor was too afraid to ask.

      Telepathically it all went well, Clarice told everyone, Except for being horny, the casters are all normal.

      "We should attend to that immediately!" Stupid Fuzzbutt announced, and collected The March Hare under one arm, Hazel under the other, and dashed from the room with the battle cry of 'ORGY!'

      "Crazy as she is," Eclair said, as she closed the hatch the StarMystic had come through, "I think she has an excellent point."

      The StarMystic suddenly looked around and realized that nearly every Pokègirl was staring at her like a Hound at a pile of sleeping Kittens.

      "Oh crap!" she shouted, as Baguette tugged Taylor away from the general crush, and towards where Tai and Sam were already disrobing their partners with the help of Ailf and Shadow.

      All his 'pastries' were looking at him hungrily.

      "Don't break anything you can't fix," he warned, as they closed in on him, the normal Seraph reticence completely evaporated.

      The screams and shouts from the StarMystic indicated it was surprise, not pain that was causing them.

------------------------------

      Hild lay in the sickbay, staring at the ceiling. "That's twice," she whispered, only for Holly, the most insipid of the NurseJoys, to hear her and sit down beside her.

      "You're awake. It's almost become a game, see if they can sex you up until you can't see straight," she said pleasantly.

      "I'm not a toy for their amusement," Hild said, plotting a vengeance that wouldn't find her with her Master's knife in her heart some dark night.

      "You could tell them 'no'. And you could quit being so enthusiastic in turning the tables on them," the idiot actually tittered at her.

      Hild closed her eyes and remembered, her instincts for dominance forcing her to force herself on those who were assaulting her. It's as if once they start, I can't stop. I must win. And they let me, then swap out opponents, she realized, It's the same idiocy that made me challenge Sexebi. They are weaker than I, but I can't let even one of them win. Why am I not like that with him?

      "They also know you're lonely, and a good Taming frenzy is usually good for what ails you," the pink-haired blob of cheerfulness intruded on her thoughts.

      "I feel like one of the bulls in a SLUT exhibition road-show," she admitted, "The Picadors inflame my passions, and then . . . I fight each one until they wear me down."

      The hug was unexpected. "They love you, and care about you. And you're a lot of fun when you get like that. So don't worry. Your Harem sisters, heck most of your opponents look after you." The insipid, vapid smile still had a power to lighten her mood. "And don't worry about doing that to your Tamer. I've heard he's a perfect gentleman, even in bed." Then she had to say it. "Maybe that's your problem."

      "GET OUT BEFORE I TRANSFORM YOUR ENTRAILS TO MOLTEN LEAD!" she shouted.

      The medical nonentity had the temerity to giggle as she fled the wrath of the mightiest Legendary who still lived.

      That strikes home, Hild realized, Evangelion could not truly kill Typhonna, but the Third Guards contained her spirit, gave her form again. And reason, from what I could tell. Spread out, strengthening and linking the pieces, perhaps growing as daughters added that power from mothers. Typhonna is dead, long-live Typhonna. And she is grateful for being freed of her flesh prison, and for finding another one that will let her encompass the world. Foolish creatures, what have you wrought!? Hild wondered, so deep in her speculation she didn't react until the bed shifted. She prepared a malediction, until she saw her Master, and felt him gather her in.

      "You scared me, again," he told her as she felt her posture spontaneously shift and shape so as much of her as possible pressed against him, "Sometimes I think you've forgotten that even you have limits."

      She bit back the automatic denial, and pressed him more tightly and intimately against herself.

      "It's also likely a control that Sukebe put in you," he told her.

      "Even pressed into my breasts, you keep talking," she mockingly complained.

      He touched her, feather soft along her spine and sent her shivering. "Because you need rest, and you're worried, about losing control, and having a weakness. I'm just telling you that your weakness may have been given you. As the premier mage, he couldn't force you to stand and fight normally. He included something that would switch on, and make you go 'oh ho a challenger I MUST defeat you!' So he'd send Moan, Whore-Oh and the other sex-types, and they could force you into a battle you'd refuse to disengage from."

      That sounds like what he'd do, she admitted.

      "So what's the cure? Oh wise and all-knowing author?"

      "Don't let it bother you. You've got a bunch of girls who'll look after you, and they just love setting you off. Even if they lose, they learn things and get better." He smiled at her, a sure sign of trouble. "That's what you and Sexebi could do, a sex-battle no holds barred, until exhaustion. The winner could donate the proceeds to the charities of their choice. I even know the guy who could handle the merchandising, staging and publicity. Imagine the sex battle of the millennium, it would be required reading in every sex-college in the Leagues."

      "Give me one reason I shouldn't simply crush the life out of you, right now," Hild threatened as she wrapped herself more tightly around him.

      "One reason," he mused, "I don't think you can, right now."

      She frowned as she increased her efforts, and her muscles trembled rather than broke him. "Granted," she admitted and snuggled against him, "I'll bite you, repeatedly, if you bring the subject up where others can hear."

      "I think it would be funny to see Sexebi's face when you issue the challenge," he teased in both voice and with his cold fingers, and she managed a smile at that. "And Macavity's." That was worthy of laughter.

------------------------------

      He sat up, and wrote, letting the sleeping girl hang onto his waist. I swear, they'll never let me out of bed if they had their way, he thought, And we still treat them this way. Well, people used to beat and abuse friendly dogs too. Humans are uncivilized savages at heart. Kerrik, Micah,

      I've already told Micah, that I'm thinking about scrubbing the whole call for help, as it pertains to the rescue. Whoever I've attracted the attention of has upped the ante yet again. Bad enough NeoAtMuff was present. Then I could do a smash and grab, followed by a 'nuke the site from orbit'. Now someone has put Typhonna in the dreamland and her head is running around loose. Yes, I did not stutter, just her head. It seems capable of independent action, motion without any apparent source of propulsion, although I've seen no evidence of HyperBeams or Ebony Voids. So my best guess is that the generators for those are either elsewhere (partially or fully), or seriously damaged and low priority for repair.

      If this was someone's attempt to kill her by destroying her body, they really need a refresher on Great Old Ones, a course in naval architecture, or a talking to about the Borg. Anything that big has got to have not only a tremendous amount of redundancy, but a huge amount of decentralization. Just to react to stimuli and process life-sustaining chemicals, that would be necessary. It also explains her tremendous durability in the face of atomic weapons. Blow off or irradiate to ash a seemingly critical portion, and the rest of the structure continues and regenerates it. I can also assure you that Typhonna is definitely more GINO than gyno. So unless she had immense tracts of land, I doubt anyone outside her species would know her gender at a glance.

      Just to bring you up to date, she took out the rescue force for a Capitol League assassination, or assimilation team. They tried to use a gimmicked Pokèball on who they thought was 'Kelvin's Choice'. Keep an eye out for these. Maybe we're immune, maybe we're not, but our Harems definitely aren't. Go from Battle Angel back to Bunnygirl in one fell swoop, or Megami-Sama to Dark Lady.

      I got a letter from Micah. That's an interesting cure for Ferality, and with the political standing of the S-Goth population of Sanctuary, they might be able to simply vote themselves into power, especially with the Third Guards backing them up. A loyal army always helps to make the law legal.

      Hild delivered a 'peace offer', along with four Cocooner-made Pokègirls. Before you start screaming, 'Cocooner can only make new breeds if she's eaten a Legendary', guess what, Authors seem to work equally well. So unless one or more of you are walking around with bites out of you, she doesn't need much to create a new breed. The reason I said that Hild delivered the peace offering, is that Cocooner arrived shortly after I opened your presents to vet them, as Hild requested. Cocooner evidently decided negotiating for a small but continuing supply wasn't as good as seizing an Author and going crazy. Kerrik and Micah's Blessed Widows were killed during the assault, mine and PJAuthor's were injured. Each girl was evidently crafted to be intriguing to each of us. Kay's comment that the Dragonesses should have been here to get some possibles, leaves me conflicted. I doubt either of you two would want a Cocooner-made/Hild-inspired present, yet they seemed to be legitimate, untrapped gifts. So I'm not sure if it's better they died in combat to prove themselves, rather than be rejected by someone they came pre-bonded to.

      Another thing brought to my attention by none other than Hild herself, while you and Micah are master mages, and manipulate the world through your burgeoning magical powers, I have almost no skill in that regard and instead, I subconsciously change the universe by manipulating the people in it directly. This may be why we attract 'aware' people. They feel the power, and cannot escape its affect on them. Hild accused me of 'reshaping her into what I thought she should be' and indirectly said that was the fate of others drawn into our orbits and they become what we wish them to be, or they become what we think they wish to be. Although some fighting against the 'Evolution' should be expected. That this revelation came in the middle of a complete nervous breakdown is not as troubling as that the nervous breakdown may have been caused by the effect. Caveat Deus. Whether that's them, us, or both, I leave to you. I fervently hope her comment about 'Typhonna's head following you like a homeless puppy' was hyperbole created by her despair.

      Otherwise, I have a solution for the NeoAtMuff problem, the Sanctuary problem, the 'who rules the world' problem, if I'm stupid enough to want all that paperwork. It leaves the question of what is the rest of her going to do when someone decides to cut up her corpse, or she decides to separate into her component pieces. Typhonna as jigsaw Legendary. It does explain quite a bit.

      I'm rambling. In closing, I'll start the initial feelers for transferring the Stugs as soon as I can send the leadership for a meet and greet. Unless you'd rather come here. Considering the popularity of your plushie figures (both of you) I'm guessing it won't be 'Oh Demon Lord! Die!' except death by hugging, fondling and feeding you an excess of baked goods. We'll be raising the first ship pretty soon. Once we get the parts to remake it, I'll signal you Kerrik. We already got the signal from Blue confirming your appointment as 'Naval Inspector General'. Danny Kaye you're not, Kerrik. Kelvin.

------------------------------

      Miguelito raised his hand began the dawn class where he taught the little ones to sing to the sunrise. The chorus with some of the older ones with talent was both beautiful, and healthful to those with a trace of the Fading, but it had a more important purpose. 'I'll steal a good idea from anyone', leave it to Janus to steal the best ideas from Kerrik, and give his own twist to them, he thought as he considered the songs Janus had picked for each operation. These are practically ceremonial effects, not just regular spells. This can't be accidental.

      Antoinette watched happily as her Master taught the girls, who were totally wrapped up in the attention they were getting. He smiled, feeling her approval of the efforts of mastering the difficult job. They were content to accept Janus's assumption that they could start with the kids, and the adults would grow interested and want to join in. He'd noted the looks from some of the other, older ones, that someone was having fun, and they were not specifically invited. If they'd just come out and ask, they'd be welcome. But they are acting like it's kids-only just because only the kids are assigned here.

      The woman who entered was no kid, and she seemed a bit uneasy about being part of the chorus. "Ah, I can sing too," the StarMystic said nervously.

      "Let's hear," Antoinette said, although the little Megami seemed a bit uneasy about the woman.

      She sang several of the songs Miguelito had been teaching the kits, and slowly, some of the bolder ones began singing along with her. Miguelito and Antoinette added a contrasting melody to the song, changing the piece to at least a three-part offering.

      Too bad Voltaire can't sing, we could use a better bass section. I wonder if Kerrik or Janus sings bass. No one told me what he was singing in the camp, Miguelito thought angrily, Truly criminal negligence.

      The songs ended, and the Megami kits seemed to have warmed to the woman. At least a little, Antoinette told him through their bond.

      And she them, Miguelito thought back That's at least a start.

      He clapped his hands. "All right, you've sung the songs that you were supposed to, is there any song you'd like to sing?" he asked, and the kits went from eager to stupefied.

      "There's one they should know," the woman said, "I'll start, and if you know it, join in."

      " 'If I know it', ma'am there's no song written I don't know, if it has artistic merit," he said pridefully.

      She smiled and began.

      "Eternal Father! strong to save, whose arm doth bind the restless wave, who bids the mighty ocean deep its own appointed limits keep; oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea.

      "O Savior, whose almighty word, the winds and waves submissive heard, who walkedst on the foaming deep, and calm amid its rage did sleep; oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea!

      "O sacred Spirit, who didst brood upon the chaos dark and rude, who bad'st its angry tumult cease, and gavest light, and life, and peace; oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea!

      "O Trinity of love and power! Our brethren shield in danger's hour; from rock and tempest, fire and foe, protect them wheresoe'er they go, thus ever let there rise to Thee glad hymns of praise from land and sea.

      "O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard, and hushed their raging at Thy word, who walked'st on the foaming deep, and calm amidst its rage didst sleep; oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea!

      "Most Holy Spirit! Who didst brood, upon the chaos dark and rude, and bid its angry tumult cease, and give, for wild confusion, peace; oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea!

      "O Trinity of love and power! Our brethren shield in danger's hour; from rock and tempest, fire and foe, protect them wheresoe'er they go; thus evermore shall rise to Thee glad hymns of praise from land and sea."

------------------------------

      Finding Maus, Warden, Isaik and the Blessed Widow outside his cabin, obviously not waiting to accompany him to breakfast, worried him. "We'll watch him," Isaik said to Cheryl and Roxanne.

      "It's all right," he told them, "I think I'm safe with them." He opened the door and the girls all filed in after him.

      Isaik changed to Underworld, and closed the door. "That girl, who started as an Amazon-chan, then settled on being a StarMystic, that everyone thinks is a Farfuck'd like Roxanne and Aurora."

      "Is Hild," he told them, "I know."

      "How can you trust her?!" the Blessed Widow asked.

      "Look at the gifts she has given me, and ask instead, 'If she knows me that well, why not a poison pill in the lot of you?'" he asked.

      "Just because we're safe that - "Warden began, then fell silent.

      "Really?" he asked, "If I can trust you, why can't I trust the other? Your creator?"

      "She's already tried to kill you once," Warden told him.

      "Rainbow and Blossom were also supposed to kill me, Cheryl was part of a kidnap attempt, and she was Celestial Alliance. Shana, Kamara, and the Third Guard were the loyal soldiers of Sanctuary. If it was NeoAtMuff, or Typhonna, you might have a point, but Hild only did something stupid because she was terrified. Afraid for herself and of me. If I rejected everyone around me who did something stupid, I wouldn't be around me."

      "She's one of the evil Legendaries," the Blessed Widow said.

      "There's almost none of any other kind," he replied coldly.

      "Evaalion?" Maus growled.

      "Orange Island incident," he countered.

      "There are no safe ones," he told them, "I appreciate your concern, and your continued vigilance. But you have to allow me to carry out my own plan to neutralize her, by gathering her in. I might point out that you had her helpless: weak, exhausted or unconscious and completely vulnerable to a knife through the ribs on two occasions now. And you did nothing."

      Warden shifted. "We - were -"

      "So is she. That's the reason she varies between 'I hate you!' and crawling into my lap like an attention-starved feline. She's got to figure out where she really fits in the world. Not where she assumes she's always fitted. That's going to be traumatic for her, and delicate for us. But I remind you, we've had run ins with NeoAtMuff as well as Typhonna's head. Assuming the spell they used trapped her spirit in the Third Guards, than doesn't necessarily mean anything."

      "If that's supposed to make us feel better," Warden began.

      "Dzznt," Maus finished.

      "I'm not wrong about this. She needs a chance."

      "She wants a daddy, not a lover," Underworld said.

      "Don't most teenagers?" he asked, "Like all the Legendaries, she's never had to grow up. Now she'll have to, and that's a difficult process."

      "Don't trust her," the Blessed Widow said, "I know, coming from me that's hypocritical, but we all saw how she was."

      "She was cruel, beat you, forced you to each out of a dog dish while she insulted you?" he asked, "I've seen people do that to each other. Like I said, give her a chance. That is not a request, that's a direct order. I'm the only one around here who decides who in my circle dies. Especially at the hands of another in the circle, or their agents. Clear?"

      "Very clear," the Blessed Widow said nervously.

      "Good. Keep an eye on her, but at least look for the signs of her redemption, while you're watching for treachery."

------------------------------

      Short, naked, green and hair skin, two small antennae and fairylike wings, Kelvin thought of the creature creeping around inside his cabin.

      "Cherub Hulk smash!" he shouted, sending the Legendary scampering.

      "How can you see me, how are you even here? Where are you?!" the tiny Legendary shouted as she looked around.

      "Up here," he said as he lounged against the ceiling, "Considering I'm falling at 32 feet per second per second, I can stay up here for subjective hours. How, I knew you'd be here, I just felt it. And I've been waiting about 20 minutes, subjectively, for you to arrive."

      "Oh," the Legendary said as she fluttered up to sit on the wall. "This is weird."

      "Guilty as charged, then I am the one doing strange stuff as a matter of course." He smiled. "Considering the nightmares Hild was having I had to put her in her ball."

      Sexebi glanced at the Pokèball on the table. "You managed to get her into a Pokèball?"

      "Oh course, hasn't Micah put you up in a Pokèball?" he asked, as he stood, walked down the wall and onto the floor.

      "No," she said as she fluttered down, "He hasn't. I'm not sure I'd want him to."

      "Everybody tells me they're therapeutic if you have a loving Master," he said as he set foot on the ground.

      Sexebi jumped at the Pokèball and snatched it off the table.

      "Now if I did that, I'd tear my arm off before I could move it," he said jauntily, "And just what are you going to do?"

      "She threatened Micah," Sexebi said.

      "And you punished her. It's over," he replied and extended his hand for her to hand him the Pokèball. "Please." When she didn't hand it over, he walked over towards her. She retreated. "A bit from Rod Serling, I usually give people a choice, anything that thinks, including Pokègirls, are 'people'. You can be friendly, you can be neutral - or you can be dead."

      She looked up at him nervously.

      "She acted against yours, and you reacted. That's not my affair, but Hild came to me for protection, probably from you, definitely from me, and as long as she doesn't violate my hospitality, she's under my protection."

      "Your protection?" Sexebi said as she gripped the Pokèball closely.

      "Don't make the assumption I'm the same as Micah. I'm the one who swings for the fences, I'm the one who puts the impossible down on the page, and explains it later. Do not confuse what we are with anything else on this planet. I might be a gnat to you in terms of Time manipulation, but you and the others are props to be moved as we chose. Story elements for us to use or discard."

      "You wouldn't hurt little me," she asked, blinking her large eyes at him.

      "Fair warning. I hate cute. It's a biological trick to make us look after our offspring. Some other parasites use it to take advantage. When you use that on me, I think about scooping out your brains as cat food, and using your skull as a drinking cup."

      She canceled her aura with alacrity. "You wouldn't."

      He held out his hand. She clutched the Pokèball to her chest.

      His expression hardened. "I gave my word. Hild has done nothing to violate my trust. To this moment, neither have you, yet."

      Sexebi stood up straighter. "I am a Legendary. I am Time itself - "

      "In this universe," he cut her off harshly, "You can travel from the beginning, to the end. And that is all. Where I go, you can not only not follow, but you cannot even conceive of the journey. I can create and destroy ten thousand worlds in an instant. A billion lives, all their histories, loves and fears, their fates and destinies, all in my hand to sort and retain, or to discard, only to raise up another myriad of worlds. Creations both subtle and gross, and all mine until I release them. I have shaped this world, changed it, altered how it was looked at, shone the beacon of my attentions on places and things others had never considered. Mighty as you are Lady Sexebi, do not believe your unmatched mastery makes you what I am. You cannot see my beginning, and you cannot see my end. I am not Kerrik. I am not Micah. They have bound their demons. I have given mine the same choice I gave you, and I feasted on those who thought themselves my master until their grease ran down my chin. I have walked the places you Legendaries all fear. If you kill me again, then when you look upon your deepest fears, you shall see me staring back at you. When I faced an entire world that threatened the people and places I loved, I erased them. Not as you would, from the present, or the future. But from all time. They never existed anymore. Not even Kerrik or Micah remember they existed. You cannot match that power."

      Sexebi had backed against the wall, still clutching the Pokèball to her chest. She shook her head.

      "I have not denied you the right to defend Micah by any and all means possible, and if Hild or her agents attack him, you may do with her as you wish. But she has not, since her return. She has aided me when I most desperately needed it, and I have pledged to her defense against her own fears, you included." He closed his hand on the Pokèball, only to have Sexebi pull it and herself back out of reach.

      His expression darkened, and his tone grew harsh, "So be it. I need not fight you where you hold mastery. I would deeply regret what I did, but you would hardly be in any condition to empathize with my regrets. I can destroy you in ways you cannot even hope to imagine, or defend against."

      "How?" Sexebi said defiantly as she straightened up, "We are between the ticks of the clock. This is my domain more than yours. I am the true Master here."

      He nodded. "You are vastly stronger here, but I need not fight you here," he told her, "As for 'how' . . . " His broad smile chilled the Legendary to the bone. "What would you do if Micah never remembered you? Not forgot, but never remembered?"

      "You wouldn't!" she squealed.

      He stared at her and held the smile, letting her own insecurities eat at her. "You know differently. You can see I could, and if I return to the Sunshine League, you'd never find me."

      "Not that," she whimpered.

      "No one provokes me with impunity," he said, his voice gentled as he said the next, "And I haven't threatened you." He held out his hand. "We've just been - talking."

      She sullenly put the Pokèball back in his hand. "If she hurts Micah . . . "

      "She will face my wrath, whether she survives yours, or not," he told the tiny Legendary, "And it will be terrible beyond anything this world has ever seen. And she knows it. There are things only a Legendary could live through. Imagine that choice," he said wistfully, "Having to surrender your Legendary status and powers, simply to let yourself escape into death."

      She gulped, and vanished. Kelvin let time return to normal. He set the ball back on the table, then walked back to his bed. He reached under the pillow and extracted another Pokèball. He released Hild from it. The Legendary started awake.

      "You put me in a BALL!" she shouted, and aura of cold fire surrounded her.

      He sat on the bed, his back to her. "Would you rather have faced Sexebi alone?" he asked as he tugged off his boots, "With the nightmares you were having, I think you'd rather avoid that."

      The aura flickered and died s Hild looked around. "Sexebi was here, looking for me?"

      "I told her that if you went after Micah again, I'd finish whatever she started." He grinned over his shoulder at the pale Legendary. "And you know what I could decide to do to you."

      Hild stared at him.

      He tugged off his slacks and socks, leaving the shirt. "But I think she understands that while you behave, you're off her list." He leered at her. "Or I'll do the same to her."

      "Why are people more afraid of Kerrik than you?" she asked.

      "Because," he said as he climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over him, "I try not to. I don't like myself much when I have to, and I succeed."

      Hild slipped under the covers, wrapped herself around him and let herself fall into a dreamless sleep.