Forewarning:  This story concerns adult fantasy topics, especially

in the area of (big surprise for this site) breast enlargement.  It

also hopefully contains characterizations and a plotline interesting

enough to make the reader briefly forget about where the sex scenes went

to.  Since all of the above are considered to be adult topics, especially

the idea of plot, you have to be over the age of discretion in your home

country to read further.  Sorry about that.



Comments and correspondence can be sent to sam_tuirel@nac.net, with the

understanding that the tone of the missive will be the tone of the reply.



Minor note:  in the absence of text tricks, I use < > to indicate thought

and { } for typed communication.  _ _ underlines words in between.  If

you've gotten this far without RTF, you may have trouble going back -- but

I'll still put out that version sometime after the ASCII edition is over.



For benefits of file space, mailing ease, and continuity, this is Part

VII.  Take a deep breath and gather your strength once more.



Once upon a time...







































                                In Sequence



                 37. 111-113:  Angels see thee to thy rest



     "We've got to get out of here," Pamela said.  Sadira could hear the

pain in her voice.  The bullets had punctured her jacket and blouse:

Sadira could see gray material underneath.  It looked so out of place...

"There's probably still a few guards around."  She took a deep breath and

winced.  "Oh, that hurts...  Mouse, help me get her in the chair."

     Jason stepped over Nigilo's body.  Sadira looked at the corpse, then

at Pamela.  The injection was starting to work:  the lights were

stabilizing.  "You killed him," she said plainly.

     Pamela nodded.

     "Good."  Jason picked up the chair.  "We've got to go back to the

elevators.  Carmody was still breathing --"

     "Carmody?"  Pamela got her arms around Sadira, sliding her grip under

the breasts, trying to work up.  She took out the remaining stuck

Powerbars, then tried again.  "Then he was trying to help?"

     "Nigilo shot him," Jason said.  "If he's still alive, we've got to

get him out --"

     -- and the air went silent as the sounds of crashing walls vanished.

There was one massive final grinding -- and then a crackle of static

before the intercom went on.  "No more guards," Jasmine announced.  "All

clear."  They all looked up at the speaker.  "They're all sleeping or

isolated, along with their friends.  And everything's working."

     "Jasmine?" Sadira asked.  Surprise, shock, and a touch of something

else.

     "Upstairs," Pamela verified.  "Hang on..."

     Jason took Sadira's legs, Pamela braced her upper body, and they

lifted her back into the chair.  Her breasts came down on top of the

armrests, refusing to completely slide down into her lap.  The chair began

to spin --

    -- Sadira quickly shoved her left breast off the joystick, wedging it

into the available space, and the chair stopped, facing Jason and Pamela.

     They _looked_ at Sadira as the heat of combat faded, seeing her size

for the first time...

     "No time," Sadira said, and wheeled down the hall.

     A second later, Jason and Pamela caught up.  They each took one side

of the chair and pushed.  The movement rate drastically accelerated.



     They found him with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling, not

blinking, barely breathing.  A pool of blood had spread out from his body,

and was quietly seeping across the floor.  He blinked as they came into

view.

     "We need a stretcher," Jason said.  "Jasmine, if you can hear us,

send someone down --"

     Carmody's lips moved, and his voice drifted past them, a ghost of

breath.  "Don't bother.  I'm not in much pain, at least.  He hit my

spine."

     Jason knelt down next to Carmody, his pants soaking up the blood.

"Pamela, the accelerator --"

     "Jasmine has it."  Surprise briefly flickered across her face as the

dancer's name registered, then vanished.  She joined Jason on the floor

and examined the wound --

     -- then looked away.  "It won't work fast enough, Jason.  It's

completely through."

     "I told you," Carmody whispered.  "Sadira?"

     Sadira looked at the others, and they quietly came around and took

her out of the chair, lowering her to the ground, positioning her in a

legs-out sitting position so that she could look down to her right and see

his face -- and he could see her.  "I'm here."

     "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have been so scared."  A shallow breath as

Pamela and Jason knelt down.  "He caught me, so many years ago, and then

when I saw you, when I realized what had happened -- I should have run.

The drug was gone.  But I was a coward..."

     She took his left hand and gently squeezed it.

     A long blink, and his eyes opened again, and tried to find her.  "I

should have run.  I wanted you to run."  His hand trembled in her grip.

"I wasn't very good at lying on my own.  I tried to give him the beginning

of information so he'd let me follow it, instead of finding it on his own

and finding you --"  Another breath, softer "-- but he kept moving on his

own, and I couldn't stop him.  So scared --"

    "It's okay," Sadira told him as she brought their linked hands to his

cheek.  "He's dead now.  No one ever has to be afraid of him again."

    "Good..."  His eyes moved across her face without seeing.  "I did some

horrible things, Sadira.  I made one mistake, and it took over my life.  I

didn't want you to be trapped by an accident..."

    "I'm free."

    He didn't seem to hear her.  "Disk in my jacket.  Took some files for

later...  Go in my office.  Go...  in his, search every room.  There's...

more evidence.  He hid things, but there's little mementos around.  It'll

be enough... to bring the whole thing down."

    And then his eyes became bright, and focused on her, and Sadira knew

the look, because she'd felt it from the inside before she'd collapsed on

the cold Minnesota ground.  It was the last spark.

    "I keep thinking of a short story I read when I was a kid," he said.

"There was a street kid, sinned to stay alive.  But he died saving another

kid off the subway tracks."  One more breath.  "He went to Heaven.  He led

a sinner's life, but he died a hero."  A final blink.  "Do you think it's

possible?"

    "God forgives," Sadira whispered, "and so do I.  You were trying to

save my life, Carmody.  You're a hero."

    And the last breath, the last words emerged.  Sadira listened, the

only one to hear.

    He smiled, a beautiful expression, and closed his eyes.

    She gently lowered his hand, then reached out and crossed his wrists

on his chest.  "Good night, sweet prince," she said softly, then looked up

at Jason and Pamela.

    Jason's eyes were closed, and his hands were clasped in prayer.

Pamela --

    -- she fiercely blinked the moisture away, tried to wrench her face

back into neutrality, and failed.  "Ebony --" she began, then stopped and

was at Sadira's side without seeming to move --

    -- and then she was hugging Sadira, somehow finding room and a

position that fit, crying, and Jason was there too, they were all bound

together by joy and sorrow --

    "What did he say?" Jason whispered.

    "He said his name was Angel."



    They pushed her into the control center, and she saw a temporal mirror

spin, her own face and the body of two weeks ago -- and Jasmine ran to

her.  "Sadira!" and she was at the center of another hug, Jasmine almost

lying on top of her breasts, arms pushing down her back, squeezing -- "I'm

sorry, I'm so sorry, I can't --"

    The thought dove through.  <Who are you and what have you done with my

sister --> and then she saw Jasmine's tear-filled eyes, and managed to

return the embrace.

    "Hi, sis," Jasmine whispered as she finally pulled back.

    "My heart rejoices to see you --" there couldn't be more than _one_ of

those voices in the world --

    -- Sadira spun the chair.  "_Douglas_?!  How...?"

    "I was recruited."  He nodded at Pamela.  "I would have volunteered.

Welcome back."

    "There's someone you have to meet," Jasmine said.  She stepped back

and gestured towards the computers.  "Sadira, this is Cypher."

    Sadira looked at the area and found two people tied to their chairs

with their own clothing, still awake, with angry eyes --

    -- and a walkie-talkie sitting on the console.

    She wheeled closer.  The bound prisoners watched her.

    "Hi, Sadira," the transceiver said.  "Pleasure to finally meet you."

    "The same," Sadira replied, slightly stunned, and spun the chair.

"A computer expert?  The walls --?"

    "Hacker," Cypher corrected.  Sadira could hear the grin.  "Hey, don't

talk about me like I'm not here."  A pause.  "Sorry about the walls,

though.  Things got out of control for a while there."

    Pamela came up next to Sadira, rubbing a finger against her color-

streaked cheek.  "No kidding.  Was that trick with the fire extinguisher

accidental or --" She took a breath, and a soft groan escaped.  Her arms

went forward and she leaned against the console, eyes gazing blankly at

the screens.

    Douglas hurried over.  "You may have cracked ribs.  When we saw you

shot -- we thought you were dead.  Kevlar or no, that was too much

impact."

    "I noticed," Pamela said dryly.  "I wasn't lying there out of some

misplaced sense of dramatics.  I _couldn't move_.  I couldn't even

_breathe_ for a minute."  She looked down at her breasts.  "Give them a

target this big and they'll aim at it every time.  I'm going to have some

colors:  black and blue..."

    "We may have to bind your ribs.  We should have enough bandages in the

first aid kits."

    "Later."  Pamela straightened up.  "Just give me a few aspirin.  We've

got to grab what we can and get out of here.  The new shift will be here

in --"  She looked at her watch.  She kept looking.  "-- about an hour..."

She glanced at Douglas.  "Ten minutes?" she asked rhetorically.  "That all

happened in ten minutes?"

    "Less," Douglas said.  "Combat time is on its own clock, separate from

the rhythms of the world.  Since few people come to work any sooner than

they absolutely must, we should have most of an hour."  He looked back at

Jason.  "How are your energy levels?"

    "I'm fine," Jason said.  "I was eating on the run.  Thank God I

finally heard you --"  Sadira was looking at him, eyes narrowed.

    "Energy levels?" she slowly repeated.  The wheelchair rolled a little

closer.  "Why do you need to watch your energy levels?"  Her face said she

already knew the answer.  "You took the accelerator.  What da hell made ya

try a crazy stunt like dat!  Ya could haf _died_, ya --"

    Pamela stepped in front of her, cutting her off.  "Then yell at me,

because I gave it to him."  Sadira's face froze.  "We'll talk about it

later."

     Spontaneous defrost.  "_Ya_ gave it ta him?  Are ya outta yer --"

     "_Later_."

     Sadira took a deep breath -- then slowly nodded.

     Pamela nodded back.  "Jasmine, where are the guards?"

    "Trapped," Jasmine said.  "I got our friends --" she pointed at the

bound technicians "-- to bring the audio link back up and give them

directions to the intruders -- which meant everywhere but where you guys

were:  we used the cameras to keep track.  They really wanted some orders

to follow:  nobody questioned where they were going.  The outside ones

even came in.  We had them chasing each other's tails until Cypher got the

walls back under control -- and then we locked them in."  A shrug at the

computer operators.  "They'd be asleep, but we still might need them." She

looked at Sadira.  "You always said orcs were stupid."  A glance at

Pamela.  "We didn't get _all_ the cameras up until the end, and I didn't

spot your link -- I was trying to misdirect traffic."

    Sadira stared at Jasmine with undisguised amazement.

    Pamela duplicated the expression.  "You had them running around after

each other."  Jasmine nodded.  "Pretty good for a first try."  She patted

the screen.  "I felt it vibrate a few times, but I thought it was just my

trying to run...  How about the other people?"

     "The rest of the staff is locked in their rooms," Cypher told them.

"The building's closed off:  no one's getting in until I let them in.  But

you guys still have to get out."

    Jasmine thoughtfully regarded the phone.  "I should start calling the

next shift and see if I can get them to stay home."

    "It might get their backs up," Cypher argued.  "Are they gonna believe

a night off?  I can give you back the phones, but they might try to alert

Helena.  No one got any alerts out when you guys went in, but they lost

phone communications and computer links when the system went."

    "Follow the original plan," Jason suggested.  "We could hole up here,

but it doesn't feel like a good idea."

    Pamela looked at the others.  "Then let's get out of here fast.

Jason, you and Douglas are the fastest:  go down to the fourth floor, find

Car -- Angel's office, and Nigilo's.  Grab what you can.  Take the hard

drives from their personal computers.  Get the cell phone on your way

back.  Cypher, copy out everything new, then wipe all their data:  you can

send it back to us as we need it.  Open up an outside line.  Reconnect to

Helena's computer and tell anyone who's asking that the problem is fixed.

We'll use our friends to call if they need confirmation.  Sadira, is there

anything written down we need to go after?"

    "If you give me a map, I can probably direct you to my lab.  If you

break into all the filing cabinets, you should get everything."

    Pamela nodded.  "We could turn off the fire extinguishers and burn the

place down, but it would take an hour to get all the people out first.

And it won't be necessary if this works.  Still, don't miss anything.

Once Cypher's got the data, we should put virtual holes in the database.

Maybe real ones.  Grab all the disks, too.  I don't want anyone to bring

this data back.  But we've got to leave the security systems up."  Another

glance at the screen.  "Cypher, bring up the outside view.  Jasmine, keep

an eye on the monitors:  let us know if anyone's coming.  We'll use the

intercom and transceiver to keep in touch.  And go into Sadira's rooms and

grab some bras.  And some other clothing.  And extra food.  Go!"

    They went.

    Pamela looked at Sadira.  "And now that they're on the way," she said,

voice suddenly wracked with pain, "I can think about something else."  She

moaned softly.  "I think my adrenaline just wore off.  Jasmine, pass the

aspirin."



    It went smoothly.  Jason and Douglas found both offices and Sadira's

lab with only minor delays.  The filing cabinets were locked.  The bullets

opened them.  They filled a heavy-duty garbage bag with the files they

needed, then took a few more for evidence.  There wasn't time to search

every office:  they simply removed whatever they encountered.

    Jasmine kept an eye on the monitors.  Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty.

No one arrived.

    Pamela went into the bathroom.  Careful, painful touch seemed to

indicate intact bones, but the bruising was already starting to settle in.

She lined the bra with a thin layer of tissue paper -- which didn't help

-- and went back to watching to the monitors.

    As they waited, they updated each other.

    "The doctor?"  Pamela had started to feel better as the aspirin began

working, but the news sent her reeling again.  "From Minneapolis?

_That's_ how they found us?"

    Jasmine slumped as memory materialized.  "I saw a couple, but I never

thought --"

    "Who would?" Sadira said.  Pamela nodded.  "Married hunters?  I

probably have thought they were lost tourists.  Considering what was

happening when I first saw them, I don't think I would have recognized

them."

    Jasmine looked away, back at the screens.

    Pamela stepped over to her.  "It's not your fault, Princess," she told

her.  Slowly, "It wasn't mine, either.  Blind luck."

    The transferred guilt was blocked by the truth -- and dissipated.

    Sadira glanced at the monitors.  Douglas was expertly rifling through

a file cabinet.  "I don't believe how calm he is."

    Jasmine grinned.  "We lost him for a few seconds once things settled

down.  He finally got a good look at the cameras, and when he really _saw_

you, his eyes..."  She stopped, and her own eyes tilted to the left and

sought the floor.  "Sorry."

    "I'm -- actually getting used to it -- a little," Sadira said.  "I can

understand why he stared.  But by the time I got up here, he stopped, and

didn't start again.  That's what I'll ask from people.  Take a look, but

then adjust."

    Pamela automatically looked.  It was hard to adjust.  Sadira had been

considerably smaller when she'd been taken from the lab, and "considerably

smaller" had still been very big...  "I saw you stand up."  She smiled.

"I couldn't move, but I had a pretty good view where I was."  Pamela

didn't tell her the first part:  her initial glance at the wheelchair had

terrified her, she'd thought Sadira had been crippled...  "I don't think

he was expecting that."

    "I wasn't sure I could do it, but I wasn't thinking about that.  I

just got up.  It didn't last, though."  Dryly, "At least I didn't throw my

back again."

    Jasmine gave Sadira an appraising look.  "Mom can design an exercise

program for you.  You'll be back on your feet full-time in a few months."

    Sadira briefly smiled.  It felt so strange to _talk_ to her sister.

She kept waiting for the punchline...  "Which means I have to tell her."

The smile collapsed.  "And it means that we have to stop this while I've

still got something that I can theoretically carry..."  A small sigh, and

she looked at Pamela.  "When you pulled out that needle, I was hoping..."

    Pamela slowly shook her head.  "All we've got is the decelerator, and

it goes too far.  And I'm not going to spare the time to take you back to

New York.  We're going to get some local help."

    "Helena?" Sadira guessed.

    Pamela's face snapped into snow leopard mode.  "Whether they like it

or not."  She reached into her left pocket.  "I did bring one other thing.

I figured you might have been deprived."  A golden rectangle was

withdrawn, and presented with necessary flourish.  "Chocolate?"



    Jason and Douglas passed out the bags, and Jasmine grabbed her

transceiver.  Pamela casually tranquilized the computer operators before

loosening their bonds, and they headed for the elevator.

    They quickly reached the empty lobby.  Douglas looked around and took

a picture.  It was well if simply designed, with a pleasant carpet,

several nice chairs, and a fine reception desk that doubled as a security

station.  "You'd never know it, would you?" he softly asked.

    Sadira looked up at him.  "No," she answered.  "I never did."  Jason

nodded.  "Let's go."

    Jasmine looked at her watch:  9:43 p.m -- then at the doors and

windows, blocked by steel.  They went up to the doors, put down the bags,

and got in position.  "On five, Cypher.  Lift the wall and open the front

door."

    "Five," the hacker counted.  "Four..."

    Jason took his rifle from his shoulder, aiming it forward and high.

Everyone else drew their tranquilizer guns.

    "...one, go."

    The wall dropped into the floor at something just under the speed of

sound.  A scrap of ripped carpet fell from the ceiling as the computer-

controlled door swung open.  Jason fired, the blast flying well over the

newcomers' heads.

    The five men outside, already on the edge of panic after seeing the

locked-down complex, reacted.  Two automatically reached for their

weapons --

    -- which were kept in the armory within the building.

    The one standing in front of the door dropped to the ground.  The

others froze.

    The darts flew through the open door.  Four of the men fell.  The one

who had hit the deck slowly looked up.

    Jason was pointing the rifle at his head.  The others were aiming for

their favorite targets.  Jason nodded at the rifle, then at Sadira's

tranquilizer gun.

    "Pick one," he ordered.

    The man nodded at the trank pistol.

    "Good idea," Sadira said, and shot him.

    They hauled the unconscious guards inside the lobby as quickly as

possible, then settled back to wait for the new shift to finish arriving.

Fortunately, no one had tried to call in sick and hit the blocked lines:

all of the remaining ten showed up, with six walking in at 9:54, and the

last arriving twenty minutes late.  It was quiet, simple, and effective:

they came in, saw Douglas smiling behind the reception desk, and got

picked off.  No fuss, no muss, and only a little bother, as they had to

haul the newly-sleeping guards into the lobby bathroom after each round.

    At ten-thirty, they walked out of the Cascade site.  Cypher locked

down all the exits, and made sure the air vents were open.

    Jason and Pamela pushed Sadira's wheelchair down the road to the van,

with Douglas scouting ahead and Jasmine trailing behind.  One car passed

them.  Sadira got a flash-vision of a gaping face, staring out of the

window, jaw dropped and eyes opened as far as they could go -- and then it

sped out of sight.

    They loaded their files into the van, and lifted Sadira in.  Pamela

made a few quick queries about the likelihood of radar guns, checked her

directions, then headed for Highway 15, taking the direct route to Helena.

    It took less than an hour to reach GenTree's headquarters.  They used

the time to read some of the files, and finalize their plans.

    Cascade had been a high-security site.  Helena, as Sadira had

personally experienced, had somewhat lower standards.  Cypher pulled up

the computer codes and used a few of them.  Less than eight minutes later,

they had control of the Helena building.

    They set up sleeping shifts, removed makeup, and ate.  Pamela waited

until four a.m. to begin making her phone calls.  She had always thought

of it as the single most annoying hour to wake up.



                       38. 115:  Severe negotiations



    Pamela smiled.  No one else at the table looked happy.

    With Cypher's help, she had gotten the phone numbers for GenTree's

owners, and called them all in for a little talk.  She'd phrased it as an

order, then explained why they should regard it as one.  Cypher had

cracked Nigilo's protection codes, and Pamela had done some reading.  They

had driven, flown, and run in as needed, but all eight had arrived.

    Sadira and Jason were back in her old lab, working on the virus.

Douglas had gone on to the next part of the plan:  Pamela had waited for

his call before beginning, merrily stalling the ownership until seven p.m.

Jasmine was sitting in a large chair at the far left of the screen,

flipping through GenTree's financial reports.  The dancer had a natural

talent for breaking apart monetary statements that almost approached an

accounting degree.

    There was no one else in the building.  After a few subtle hints, the

ownership had convinced the staff to take the day off.  Cascade was still

locked down.  More than enough time had passed for everyone to wake up:

Pamela thought the most closed-off occupants were probably getting

desperate to reach the bathroom, and the body odor had to be approaching

fatal concentrations.

    She glanced at the last images she'd placed on the screen:  Sadira's

company newsletter photo on the left, a picture taken eight hours ago on

the right.  It was the last image of the first part of their hastily

constructed, extremely effective multimedia presentation.  Pamela had

their attention.

    "This is a very interesting company," Pamela said, beginning a slow

walk around the table, "with interesting people working in it.  The

unedited files make for a fun read."

    Sadira had told her that Nigilo held blackmail information on most of

the executives.  In this if nothing else, Nigilo had been fairly

methodical.  He had some of his blackmail information on the computer, and

it was done in hypertext.  He hadn't trusted the location of the physical

backup materials to his company hard drive, so Pamela didn't have any of

them.  The knowledge of their location had died with the bastard -- but it

didn't matter yet.  _They_ didn't know that, and she had so much _else_.

"Criminals.  Ethics violations."  She picked out the majority stockholder,

with his odd turkey neck, and focused on his eyes.  "Mass murder."  He

shrank into his chair.

    "Now I'm sure you can say that none of this is your fault," she said

conversationally, continuing to walk as she spoke.  It's that evil Mr.

Nigilo, he blackmailed all of you into silence, made you dance to his

tune.  One or two of you might not know anything at all.  Just invested in

this company on a lark." The next words hissed out between her teeth.

"Good luck proving it."

    Several of the men looked down at the files in front of them.  They

had been personalized.  Those who had information on the computer had been

provided with a brief summary as a reminder.

    "The enhancement project," Pamela jogged their memories, "was a very

noble concept.  Re-engineer the immune system to produce super-strong

white cells, capable of fighting off nearly _any_  disease that infected

the body, from the common cold to ebola.  I like that idea.  Use the

body's own defenses, just equip them with bigger guns.  Wouldn't help much

with bacteriophages, only with those diseases that the body could identify

as such -- but for those, it would have been a miracle.

    "So you had what looked like the right sequences, but you didn't think

initial cell sample testing was good enough -- after all, so many diseases

hit the body as a unit, and you really needed to see the white cells

fighting them in an active bloodstream.  You didn't plan on talking the

government into giving you a testing permit, because you thought there

might be serious side effects, and if they turn up, even with a permit,

there goes the reputation.  Fifty-fifty chance of their cropping up,

remember?  Sometimes the computer just can't tell you enough.

    "But you didn't bother trying to refine it, and you didn't bring in

more people to help.  You just went ahead and tested it in Mexico.  Ten

street kids.  Forty adults.  Ten of them were pregnant.  That was okay.

You had to see how it would affect the fetus."

    She walked halfway around the table, coming back to the majority

owner, then continued.  "You found out, didn't you?"

    And she grabbed the man's throat and began to squeeze.

    His arms flailed, trying to reach back, get at her, but Pamela was too

strong, she was holding him down, the pain was too much, he couldn't

stand, couldn't breathe --

    Three of the men started to move -- and stopped as they heard the

click of a safety being turned off.  Jasmine pointed the gun at the

one closest to Pamela.  They all took the hint and quickly settled down.

    Pamela kept slowly squeezing as she calmly talked.  "The new white

cells were very strong.  You gave them a ton of muscle power.  But they

lost something along the way.  Kind of like cell steroids.  The price for

the strength was their intelligence.  They couldn't tell a bacterium from

a brain cell.  Everything was an invader."

    She tightened her grip and leaned in to whisper, "_They killed every

single cell, until the body died_."

    And she let go of his turkey neck, then calmly stepped away.  Jasmine

kept the gun out.  The man gasped for air, trying to find some purchase in

the intangible atmosphere.

    "And that's all they were to you.  Bodies.  _You didn't even record

their names_.  They barely existed for you.  No families, no jobs, no

homes, no one who would miss them.  So you just cremated the lot."

    More walking.  She stopped at the embedded keyboard.

    "Well, no."  She looked up at them.  "You didn't actually _burn_ them.

That would have taken brains.  I was trying to figure out why no one

thought of that, but then I saw who the project director was.  I think

Nigilo just liked throwing dirt in people's faces."

    She tapped a few keys.

    The picture came up.

    "Two years," she said placidly.  "Lots of decomposition."

    Two men threw up.  Pamela waited for the retching to end.  No one else

moved.

    "I had a friend recruit a few people he knows, and he went to the

gravesite, and they all did a little digging.  Remember that file I told

you about?  If all of us don't check in with my other friend every day,

with our prearranged codes, then he doesn't trigger his own codes, and

that file gets sent to every newspaper, radio station, and TV news program

with an Email address.  This went into it.  And that's in addition to all

your personal little scandals, and everything else this company ever got

away with.

    "Of course, I don't feel like being within three seconds of a phone

every day for the rest of my life, so he's also retained several lawyers

and sent them hard copies.  We all have to write them every so often, or

they release what they've got." She looked directly at the screen without

flinching.  "You can tell someone else that you were afraid to act.  The

penalty for having your secrets released was too terrifying.  You were

scared."  A long pause.

    "I knew a man who was scared, and a woman."  A quick nod to Jasmine.

"They stopped.  They acted.  They were both ready to give their lives, and

one did.  You weighed _your_ lives against those of everyone this company

killed, and somehow, you wound up on the living end of the scale."

Slowly, softly, "And the rest of you just didn't care.

    "We can show all this information to the legal system.  We'll give

them the bodies, and then you'll be thrown in the ground with them."

    Pamela waited.

    "You can't," one of the men said.  "Archer constructed the virus of

her own accord.  That's a violation of company policy.  If you take us to

court, we turn her in.  She'll go to jail.  You broke into our facility,

took hostages --"

    Pamela looked at him.  Small, thin, and scared.  "Sorry," she said.

"You were clutching at a straw, and it just snapped under your weight.  I

don't know what Nigilo told you, but I know what I've got."  She tilted

her head slightly to the right, took a deep, painful breath, put her hands

on the table, and leaned forward slightly.  "According to the files I've

pulled, Nigilo ordered the virus built, then infected Sadira with it as a

test run.  Want to see?"

    "Those files are forged..."

    Pamela straightened up, turned, tapped a few keys, then resumed her

position.  "No, those files were written by Angel Carmody.  An employee of

long standing and high security clearance.  Killed by your project

director, I believe.  He also provided a nice selection of other memos,

from other projects.  You'll have a lot of fun explaining every one of

them.  Sadira broke a minor rule of her contract by building the virus

without the proper paperwork.  Fine.  _Fire her_.  Break the bond.  It

doesn't matter anyway, because you're going to tear it up, and Jason's.

You're never coming near us, not if you want to live free.  If you got the

most sympathetic judge and jury in the world, Sadira might do some

community service.  But this isn't California."

    She stared at the small man.  "Our 'crimes' in rescuing her versus all

the ones this company committed?  Are you really stupid enough to think

you can win if we _all_ go public?  Want me to read off the acts of the

really stupid people on this blackmail list?  Just grunt when I get to

your name."  She reached for one of the folders on the table.  "Assarto.

Collins.  DeSparin."  He flinched.  "Oh, right, you're the one who was

cheating on his wife.  With his stepdaughter.  I bet she'd love to know

about that.  Seeing as how her father is a judge..."

    "Stop..." came the weak voice.

    Pamela ignored it, "I bet he could get you for statutory rape.  What's

the maximum sentence on that?  Fifteen years?  More?  How long do you

think you'd last in prison?"  Another brief group survey.  "Bring your

money.  Maybe you can buy a _good_ boyfriend."

    A long look around the table.  "Maybe you think I don't want the

public to know about the possibility of a breast-enlargement virus.

You're right there:  I'd prefer that they don't.  Eventually, someone else

might think of it and do the research -- when the political climate in

this country permits it.  Years from now, minimum, and then if the viruses

are refined and _safe_, _we'll_ publish.

    "But if we all go to court, then Sadira goes on the witness stand, and

she tells the truth about everything.  Think about how people are going to

react to her on the stand.

    "It's the same old blackmail, but a brand new _whitemailer_."

    Silence.  She brought up the burial site again.  "You're going to pay.

For what Nigilo did, for your own inactions, and for everything this

company has done.  Jasmine, tell them how."

    The dancer stood up.  Pamela sat down and listened as Jasmine laid out

the details, staring at the picture all the while.



    They walked into Sadira's re-commandeered lab four hours later.  "We

got everything we wanted," Jasmine told them, patting the folder she was

carrying under her right arm.

    "Okay," Jason said, looking up from the computer.  "But what exactly

did 'we' want?  You and Pamela worked it out without us."

    Pamela grabbed a chair and sat down.  "As far as the legal stuff goes,

we leave them alone, they leave us alone --"

    Sadira rolled forward.  "But we've got evidence!  Computer files,

print, pictures..."

    "Not the deal.  Sorry, Ebony, but I promised I wouldn't call the cops

on them."  Sadira started to protest.  Pamela cut her off.  "Our agreement

is a little different.  Basically, GenTree no longer exists."

    Sadira and Jason blinked in concert.

    A nod of white hair, and Jasmine picked up the thread.  "Well, it does

exist, but it's ours.  I think we'll want to rename it.  _Rubble_ sounds

good."

    Jason fully straightened and looked down at Pamela.  "Details."

    Pamela calmly looked up at him.  "As of this moment, the four of us --

 plus Douglas and Cypher -- control the company.  We own all the stock.

We can hire, fire, whatever we want to do.  We can take the assets and

run.  It's all ours.  That, and the former owners threw in a little cash

bonus to take it off their hands."

    "How little?" Sadira suspiciously asked.

    Jasmine grinned.  "Well, we've got to break it up between us, and give

Douglas and Cypher their shares.  We could do extra money for extra work,

but it might be easier to give half of it to you, and then go equal shares

all around --"

    "How much money?"

    The grin got wider.  "About two million each for us.  Ten million for

you.  They all liquidated some assets.  The bearer bonds are in transit --

and they know that we'd _better_ get them fast."

    Jason slumped backwards against the computer.  Sadira's eyes glazed

over.

    "That's just a little incentive bonus," Pamela added.  "We can divide

up the company profits any way we like.  There's more than enough money to

pay all the outstanding bills and take a few more million apiece

afterwards, especially if we sell the assets."  She looked around the

room.  "I wanted to build up my own business.  I never wanted to inherit

one -- and I don't want _this_ company.  There's too much corruption here,

even with Nigilo gone and the owners out.  The atmosphere sucks.  I wanted

to acquire it so we can destroy it.

    "As one-sixth of the ownership, I vote we start selling it off

immediately, piece by piece.  Equipment, buildings, whatever we can get

for them."  Softly, "And Angel asked us to bring them down."

    Sadira looked like she was trying to get past the numbers.  "But if we

own the company, aren't we liable for --"

    "Their crimes?  No.  Legally, everything is the fault of the previous

administration.  And twenty minutes before we took over, all operations

were suspended indefinitely, so there's nothing going on now.  You were

the most illegal operation in progress.  They had a slow month.  All

employees were sent home with pay.  We signalled Cypher from the

presentation room, and he notified the sites.  Everyone's left the

buildings -- even at Cascade, and _they_ know that if they say a word

about what happened, they go to jail."

    Jasmine pulled out the folder.  "I've got the bill of sale.  The only

copy, for the moment.  It'll take a while to get it notarized and copied.

They weren't happy about that, but I didn't think they were qualified as

neutral witnesses."  She winked.

    "All right," Jason slowly said.  "At least for the moment, we own the

place.  Let's use that.  There are one or two good people here:  we may be

able to get some extra help with the viruses..."

    Pamela reluctantly nodded.  "If there's anyone we can trust...  You

and Sadira draw up a list, I'll cross-reference with the blackmail files,

and we'll call them in -- if we even get anyone."

    "Forget the team they gave me," Sadira told them.  "They're worthless.

We can use some of the people from the leukemia project.  Alan, maybe."

    Pamela thought it over.  "Find some people in accounting, too.  We'll

get a good price for all the stuff while we're at it."

    Sadira sighed.  The others looked at her.  "Just make sure the rest of

the data finds a good home.  There were some good projects here, things

that other companies could keep working with." Jason nodded.  "And not

everyone deserves to lose their jobs."

    "We'll try to build a few golden parachutes for the ones who deserve

them."  Pamela tried a deep breath, and her face twitched with pain.  "But

if I can manage it, some of these people are never working in genetics

again."  She looked around the room.  "Well, let's see.  We've blackmailed

all needed parties.  We're millionaires.  We're all tired, and none of us

have showered in more than a day.  Any ideas on what to do next?"



                             39. 116:  Sisters



    "The honeymoon suite?"

    Pamela looked around.  "You wanted an extra-large bathtub.  This was

the only way."

    "Sure.  Set in the floor."

    The room was almost overwhelmingly red.  There were hearts everywhere,

in the pattern of the wallpaper, the shape of the numerous pillows, and

the little table next to the honor bar.  It was too tacky for Niagara

Falls, and just short of Las Vegas.  Jasmine looked around the room.  "Who

honeymoons in Helena?"  No one had a good answer.

    Sadira looked at the door.  It seemed to be wide enough for the chair

and the portion of her breasts that swelled out beyond it.  She wheeled

in, and the others followed, carrying boxes.  "Okay," Jason said.  "This

should be everything.  I'll go back and get our things, and then we'll go

to our own rooms."

    "And then you hit the hotel gym," Pamela corrected.  "We took the

elevator, you took the stairs, and you still almost beat us.  Bribe them

to open it up for you."

    He nodded and put his stack of boxes down.  "Sadira, do you need

anything else?"  Jasmine walked past him and started experimentally

feeling the mattress.

    "Help."  They all looked at her.  "I've been wearing this bra for over

a day.  The cups stretch a bit, but I've got to get it off -- and I can't

get the new one on alone without a lot of problems.  _Off_ isn't easy,

either."  She sighed.  "I haven't even cut my toenails in over a week.  I

can't find a good position.  And I'm _jammed_ into this chair..."

    Pamela and Jason looked at her, then at each other.  The silence

stretched out --

    "-- enough!" Jasmine declared.  "Both of you, _out_.  I'll take care

of her."  She glared at the two geneticists and began advancing on them.

Startled, they both backed up.  "That's it.  Both of you go get some

sleep.  Away from here.  Leave.  Goodbye.  Don't forget to write --"

    She slammed the door and turned back to her stunned sister.  "At least

that's over with," she said.  "They would have stood there for a week

trying to figure out what to do."  Jasmine walked past Sadira and knelt

down for the Jacuzzi controls.  "You've never used one of these, have

you?"

    "Whirlpools after baseball games," Sadira answered, still in some

shock.  <Alone, long after everyone else had left>

    "This is more fun.  It'll get going while we get you undressed."  She

looked at the tub.  "This thing is huge.  You could have a party in here."

She straightened up.  "All right.  Let's get that damn muu-muu off."

    Sadira stared at her.  "You're going to undress me."

    "You said you needed help.  Would it help if I undressed first?"

Jasmine sat down on the bed and started taking off her pants.

    "You're impossible --"

    "I'm practical.  In order to do this by myself, I'm going to have to

get into the tub with you.  This way, my clothes don't get wet."  She

pulled the pants off.  "Maybe you couldn't touch me, but I'm a little more

open about this stuff.  And with those two locking themselves down..."

    There was a knock at the door.  Jasmine checked the security port,

then opened it.  Jason was standing there, looking a little stunned

himself.  "You forgot your room key," he said.  "And your bags --"

    Jasmine reached out and took the items from him.  "Thanks.  Go sweat."

She closed the door on him.  "Solves that problem."  She took off her

blouse and bra, then removed shoes and socks with nimble toes as she

walked towards Sadira -- who was impressed in spite of herself.  She

didn't know how good Jasmine was at _dancing_, but as far as _stripping_

went, she was an expert.  "Now let me get that ugly orange thing off you

so I can see what we're up against."

    Sadira, who on some level was still expecting Jasmine to turn the

whole thing into an insult, checked her sister's eyes.  "We're going to

get in that tub together."

    "There's no one else available," Jasmine pointed out.

    Sadira thought it over, then reluctantly nodded.

    Jasmine started with her feet -- "You weren't kidding about those

toenails" -- then worked up, carefully working the muu-muu loose --

     -- Jasmine stared at the bra.

    Sadira closed her eyes.

    "You know," Jasmine said softly, "there are a lot of men who would

consider you to be the sexiest thing they'd ever seen."

    Sadira's eyes snapped open.  "I knew it wouldn't last."

    "What?"

    "You're reverting.  That's one of the nastiest --"

    -- and Jasmine looked _hurt_.  "I'm telling the truth!  There are guys

who love your kind of body!  They've never _seen_ one, but they dream a

lot!  Some women, too!"

     "Bullshit!"  Sadira pushed the chair forward:  Jasmine stepped back.

"Look at me!  What you can even _see_ of me!  Fine, some people like large

breasts -- your size, Pamela's -- but _this_?"

    "_That_."  Jasmine took a deep breath.  "You have to see some of the

letters I get.  'Dear Princess, while I love your body, have you ever

considered what it would be like to --'"  She grinned.  "Some of them go

pretty far."

    "You're kidding."

    "I keep my old letters with my agent:  I could have him mail us some.

There's a fetish for everything.  I got this really disgusting letter from

a woman who wanted me to piss on --"  Sadira's jaw dropped.  "She enclosed

enough money for a ten-page reply.  What was I supposed to do?"

    "So you wrote her back?"

    "Sure.  It's her fantasy.  She paid for it."  Jasmine shrugged.  "On

paper, it's harmless."

    Sadira looked at her breasts.  "This is reality, Jasmine."

    "I know.  They'd faint."  Jasmine met her eyes.  "But even without

that fetish, you don't have to worry about being alone."  A long pause.

"Jason and Pamela are both -- _stop that_."

    "Stop _what_?"

    "That look.  That 'I'm a nerd, I'm ugly, no one is ever going to love

me' face.  I _hate_ that look."  Softly, "I put it there."

    The twins looked at each other, until Jasmine's eyes closed.  "You're

sexy and I'm smart," she whispered.  "I wish I'd figured that out twenty-

two years ago.  We've lost so damn much..."  She turned and looked at the

churning water.  "Look, I've still got some vacation time.  I can get

more.  We should spend some time together."

    Sadira's voice was dry, disbelief visible at the edges.  "What would

we talk about?"

    "I don't know.  Read any good books lately?"  Jasmine turned to face

her sister.  "Sadira, this isn't easy for me, either.  Being a nice person

isn't easy, not when I've got a two-decade bitch habit to break.  I'm

going to slip here and there.  Just -- give me a chance to try, okay?"

    Sadira gave her one long, slow nod.

    Jasmine nodded back, then grinned.  "Now let's get in that Jacuzzi."

    "We haven't been in the same tub since we were _three_."

    "Then we're overdue.  Now try to move forward a little so I can get a

look at the back."

    "I've been closing it at the sides."

    "The sides?"  Jasmine looked.  "New one on me..."  She kept examining

the bra.  Confusion washed over her face.  "What is that supposed to --

you'd better give me directions."

    It was awkward.  Sadira was firmly wedged in the wheelchair:  in order

to keep her breasts from hitting the controls, she'd pushed herself down

and in as much as possible, and still had to use her left arm to prevent

overflow when the motor was turned on.  It had resulted in an upward push

and a great deal of discomfort.  It took a few minutes for the sisters to

get the bra off, and then there was more fun getting out of the chair.

Jasmine was fairly strong for her size, and Sadira's strength was still on

the rise as new muscle cells came in, but there was a lot of weight to

deal with...

    Somehow, Sadira wound up in the Jacuzzi.

    She sighed deeply as they went into the water, feeling the warmth --

and the partial buoyance of her weight.  "That's _nice_.  I forgot how

good these felt."

    "If you want it to feel _really_ good, shift into one of the water

jets."  Sadira blushed.  "You can afford one now," Jasmine pointed out.

"Customize something."  She picked up the discarded bra and looked it

over.  "I wish I could sell this..."

    "No, you don't."

    Jasmine ran her fingers across the back.  "Brace..."

    "What?"

    "A back brace."  She turned and looked down at her sister.  "That's

what you need.  We have to get you a new wheelchair, but if you had some

sort of back brace, it might help you get on your feet sooner.  We'll go

to a medical supply house tomorrow and check into it."

    Sadira's eyes widened.  "That might help.  Why didn't I think of

that?"

    "Picking up on overlooked details seems to be my specialty," Jasmine

said dryly, and walked over to the hotel's toiletry supplies.  She took

expert inventory.  "These are crap.  I'll grab some soap, washcloths,

shampoo, and brushes from my bags: we've got to do your hair."

    "You brought your beauty supplies with you?"

    Jasmine shrugged.  "We had to bring all that makeup, so --"

    "I can reach my hair, thanks."

    Jasmine went to her bags and began digging through them.  "But you

can't reach your nipples.  Or bend to get to your feet."

    Sadira closed her eyes.  "Not for a while now.  I was pushing a long

brush between my breasts to wash my feet, but I couldn't cut my toenails

that way.  I thought that if I tried to pull my legs up close, I'd hurt my

back or overbalance..."

    Jasmine continued searching.  "And we don't have any long brushes, so

I'll wash you and do your nails."

    "I feel like an invalid."

    "You're not.  You just need special measures."

    "You sound like Pamela."

    Jasmine gathered her items, arrayed them around the edge of the

Jacuzzi, and got in.  "Look, I'll make you a deal.  I'll cancel the

enlargement surgery -- if, when you get the viruses perfected, I get the

first dose."

    Sadira sat up as straight as she could.  "Are ya nuts?!  Ya wanna be

dis big?  Dere's no way I'm gonna let ya get ta dis size --"

    "No!  Just for thirteen inches!  If I can't be the largest Archer,

then I want to be the largest _dancer_.  I'm bigger than all the other

girls right now -- but who knows how long that'll last?  Seventy even, and

then I'll stop."

    "So you're going to keep dancing?"  Jasmine nodded.  "But you can

afford to retire --"

    Jasmine shrugged, then met her eyes.  "Sadira, I'm an exhibitionist.

I like my body.  I like showing it off.  I like most of the reactions I

get _when_ I show it off, and I can live with the others.  Maybe that came

out of this rivalry we had going -- but it's not going to change.  I'll

dance as long as people want to watch."  A wry grin.  "I might even start

actually _dancing_.  And maybe I'll go back to my own hair color..."

    Sadira calmed slightly.  "Then you'll have to fix your pubic hair."

Jasmine took a brief, slightly embarrassed glance down:  it was still

blonde.  "And if another girl comes along who's bigger than you?"

    Jasmine considered, then shrugged.  "I can carry seventy inches," she

said.  "I've been working out, getting ready for the implants.  But I'd

rather have them real."

    "Jasmine, I might never get the permits --"

    "So work everything out on the computer and give it to me when it's

safe.  I won't tell -- and I'll wait.  Just promise."

    Sadira sighed.  "It's the only way to keep you out of the operating

room, isn't it?"  Jasmine said nothing -- and she realized that her

sister, in a strange way, was trying to offer another apology.  "If it's

completely, one-hundred percent no-doubt-about-it safe, fine.  First dose.

I'll test a million samples and run the data through the most powerful

computer I can get.  Promise.  But what are you going to do if it _isn't_

safe?"

    "You'll perfect them."  Jasmine's tone suggested failure wasn't an

issue she had considered.

    Sadira gave her a wry head tilt.  "You've got a lot of faith."

    Jasmine nodded, picked up the scissors, and reached underwater to cut

Sadira's toenails.  "Never got control of your accent, huh?"

    "No.  You?"

    "Ruins da image wen I tawk Brooklyn," Jasmine replied.  "I dumped it."

    They worked in silence for a while.

    "I've got to do your breasts," Jasmine finally said.  "Help me lift --

damn!  You're _heavy_."  The apology flashed across her face.

    Sadira shook her head, forgiving.  "I noticed.  I _still_ wish I had a

scale."

    "In a honeymoon suite?  Why ruin the wedding night?"  Jasmine began

scrubbing.  "So who is it?"

    "Sorry?"

    "Jason or Pamela?"  She glanced up at Sadira's face.  "And no looks."

Sadira was quiet.  Jasmine sighed.  "Jason told me he's been trying to

find the right moment to ask you out for months.  He's just not very good

at that.  Confidence problem.  A lot like you --"  She stopped as the

guilt rose again.  "You want honest?  You know I was trying to grab him.

He turned me away because of you.

    "And Pamela -- you two fucked that day, right?"  Sadira stared at her.

"Okay, made love.  Did you or not?"  Sadira slowly nodded.  "Thought so.

First time?"  A head shake.  "Are you gay?"  Another negation accompanied

by a shrug -- and then Sadira, surprising herself, told Jasmine about the

college days.

    "So you're only half a virgin now," Jasmine finally observed.  "Not

bad."  She lowered Sadira's right breast, arms aching.  "Wow.  That's one

hell of a nipple."  Jasmine had a lot of practice at estimating the length

of erect objects:  she guessed three inches long, two wide, and still

swelling.

    Sadira blushed.  "It's the thoughts, okay?  You got me started."

    Jasmine grinned.  "If this was one of my movies..."

    "What?"

    "Nothing.  Really stupid thought.  Anyway, you're my _sister_.  There

isn't enough money to get past that."  A quick, small, and somehow odd

smile.  "Look, you've got two people in love with you.  Right?"

    "I figured it out --"  She didn't want to tell Jasmine about the

dream, not about the part with the blood.  "Yeah.  It's -- hard to

believe, but they are."  Her eyes closed as the revelation finally,

completely, undeniably sunk in.  <They're in love.  With me.  With _me_.>

And the weight was gone as her spirit rose --

    Jasmine nodded.  "From what I can see, they've got some sort of

deal --"

    "Figured that out, too."

    Jasmine blinked.

    "It's hard to _keep_ believing that part."

    A slow nod.  "They don't want to upset you, so they keep it all

inside.  But I figured you had to know.  I thought it might help you _to_

know."  Sadira didn't say anything:  she was lost in feeling that help.

"So what are you going to do?"

    Sadira crashed back into her body.  "What do you mean?"  But she knew.

    "Some genius," Jasmine backslid.  "Look, they're _both_ in love with

you.  You're not gay or straight, so that means you've got a choice to

make.  Who is it?"

    Sadira breathed deeply.  "This isn't something I've got a lot of

experience with."

    "Hold on.  Left breast."  They lifted.  "Not many people do."  The

next words were tinged with envy.  "You're lucky.  You know, you were

right.  I don't have relationships:  I have sex.  I'm on the road all the

time:  I never really get to _know_ anyone.  I grab guys off the street,

out of the clubs, fast fuck, next town."  She began scrubbing the

underside.

    "How about your fans?  Don't you get any good letters?"  Sadira

grinned.  "_Besides_ the ones that want to see you super-size."

    Jasmine blew a puff of air from her lower lip.  "You mean, people I'd

want to meet from reading their letters?  There's been one or two really

nice ones.  But they don't write regularly."  Jasmine's arms were still

aching:  she decided to wash the front for a while.  Sadira felt her grip

slacken and assisted in lowering.

    "They probably can't afford it.  So stop charging them."

    Jasmine sighed.  "But they _pay_ it."

    "Jasmine --"

    "I'll think about it."  She smiled.  "I'll have some extra cash.  But

I wish I had two people who cared enough to risk their lives for me.

Shit, Jason took that other virus so he'd be in shape to save you.  And

Pamela took bullets for you."  Jasmine sighed and started working around

Sadira's left nipple.

    Sadira gasped.  Jasmine stopped.  "Tell me when you're going to do

that!"

    "Can't you see where my hands are?"

    "No!"

    "Sorry."  She pulled her hands back.  "You're that sensitive?"

    "Nipple orgasm."  And her face flushed again.

    "Just now?!"

    "No.  With Pamela."

    Arched eyebrows.  "Wow."  Jasmine moved back against her seat.  "So

what are you going to do?"

    "Pamela or Jason," Sadira said, fighting back the disbelief.  She

turned it around.  "Jason or Pamela."  It didn't help.  "I don't know.

I've never had to make this kind of decision."

    "I'm still jealous."

    "You wouldn't be if you had to think about it."  The memories flowed.

    Pamela:  that horribly wrong first impression, applying to the

resident board for a room change and waiting, then being laughed at in the

lab, planning revenge, offered an accomplice against her will -- and

finding the connection.  She'd canceled the change five minutes ahead of

the paperwork.  Four years of study, pranks, laughter, and mutual sanity

support.  Getting through it all together.  And those last days, making

love for the first time, and then long months apart, connected by the

phone lines, feeling the distance.

    And Jason had taken away some of that loneliness.  A shy hello,

personal delivery of new data instead of sending it via the modems, then

finally cajoling her out of the lab one day when she'd forgotten to eat.

Meals in the cafeteria, talking, sharing the concerns of the day.  Always

support when she needed it, putting extra time into researching her

arguments without asking anything in return.  She'd played pranks on him,

perhaps testing, and he'd laughed, made attempts at counter-attack that

she'd foiled, never stopped trying.  An ally, a friend who helped her deal

with her new home and job, who had tossed his life away without hesitation

to try and save hers.

    "I don't know," she repeated softly.

    She saw something new in Jasmine's eyes:  sympathy.  "Take your time.

But don't let them know I told you, okay?"

    "All right."



    Jasmine helped Sadira onto the bed and stepped back.  Sadira lay

back and stared at the ceiling.  Jasmine looked down.

    "It's okay," Sadira told her.  "I'm looking, too."

    Jasmine wondered, followed her sister's gaze up -- and spotted the

mirror over the bed.  "Oh."  Given permission, she looked.  In the

Jacuzzi, there had been washing, conversation, and while she'd _seen_, she

hadn't _looked_...

    She had last seen Sadira naked just before she left for college:  her

sister usually hid while getting dressed, avoiding direct comparisons.

While she'd seen Sadira's new endowments beneath her clothing, and watched

them increase day to day, Jasmine's mental picture had remained that of a

slim, athletic body:  a thin waist, nice legs and hips with what Jasmine

had admitted to herself was a very nice ass -- and then derided Sadira by

calling it skinny at every opportunity.  Two little nubs for nipples, and

that was all for the torso.  The image had persisted.  It was called

denial.

    It finally shattered back into memory.

    Sadira's breasts began just below her collarbone, and then swelled out

and up and to the sides -- it seemed as if they were simply trying to take

whatever space was available, and they'd overrun most of that.  They had

swelled down past her waist, hips, and were well on their way down her

thighs, proceeding with quiet determination towards her knees.  The

visible portion of the legs had become very muscular.

    There was another smooth flow out to the sides.  Each breast was wider

than her torso, and they crowded each other off to the sides.  Out of the

bra, they sloped down to the mattress and well outwards -- but there was

still cleavage, as Sadira's arms were just outside the edges, pushing in

slightly.  They had compressed slightly under their own mass, but still

swelled ever upwards as they proceeded down Sadira's body.  Jasmine

guessed something over two feet of rise -- and near the highest point, the

nipple, dark against the deeply tanned skin.  The lengthening had

increased since they'd left the tub, closer to four inches now, and a

little thicker.  No stretch marks, no sagging, just _size_, the teardrops

continuing to swell.  She pulled her eyes up, and met Sadira's smile.

"There's men who would find this sexy?"

    "And women."

    A quiet, sincere, "Wow."  And then, "Would Jason?  Or Pamela?"

    "Jason loves you, period."  Jasmine smiled.  "For your mind, for your

_spirit_.  If he didn't, then he'd adjust for you -- but I don't think he

minds.  And Pamela -- well, she loved you flat, and when you were just

short of me..." Jasmine had seen Pamela's reaction to Kay's pictures.  She

carefully considered her next words.  "And she's pretty damn big herself.

I think if she didn't like that size, she would have had a reduction."

    Sadira nodded.  "So that's no help either."

    "No."  Sadira reached for the covers:  Jasmine started pulling them

up for her.  Pillows were carefully arranged.

    "There's something else that's gone," Sadira said quietly.  "I can't

roll up in the sheets."

    Jasmine shook her head.  "You'll have company to snuggle up against,

as soon as you decide."  She shrugged.  "Are you sure you don't want the

bra?"

    "I'm too tired to try and get it on.  One night won't hurt.  Gravity

can't hit me when I'm lying down.  I'll be more comfortable in the

morning, too."

    "I'm tired, too.  It's been a long couple of weeks."  Jasmine looked

at her own discarded clothing.  "I don't even have the energy to get

dressed."

    "So run down the hall, exhibitionist."

    "I'm three floors down.  I don't mind showing off.  I _do_ mind

getting thrown out."

    Sadira patted the mattress.  Jasmine looked down.  "You're kidding."

    "It's a pretty big bed.  Let me just move over a bit..."  Sadira

shifted, pushed, lifted, hauled, and gradually wriggled her way to the

right side.  Jasmine was frozen.  "Come on in."

    "About those movies -- I was kidding when I said --"

    "I guessed.  It's the _last_ thing I've got in mind.  So go to your

own room."

    Jasmine yawned, deep and long.  "Right, sure..."  Slowly, "Something

_else_ we haven't done since we were three."

    Sadira grinned.  "Then we're overdue."

    There were plenty of pillows, the mattress looked soft but supporting,

and the sheets seemed so warm...

    Jasmine yawned again, gave up, and crawled under the covers.

    A few minutes later, Jasmine sleepily got out, "You're really warm..."

    "Low fever," Sadira whispered.  "My metabolism."

    "Oh.  Still nice..."

    They fell asleep.



                        40. 127:  Against the rocks



    {We went to a medical supply shop the next morning, but we couldn't

get the back brace.  It turns out that they have to be custom-made for

each person:  I have to be laser-scanned so they can get my measurements

down to the millimeter, and then the brace is built from that.  It can

take weeks.  And one of my measurements is constantly going up, and my

muscles are still developing...

    {We settled for a sort of weight belt with extra back support:  those

come in standard sizes.  The wheelchair wasn't a problem: we just got a

model designed for very overweight people.  We got the width and then

some, but lost the chair-lift feature.  At least it's motorized, and a lot

faster than the other one.  We also got a big board for my lap, so my

breasts could have a little more support -- they're out way past my knees

when I'm sitting -- but it makes hard to turn in a small space.  We've had

to rearrange most of the labs.  Thank God GenTree has wide doors.

    {The really fun part was going into the shop.  Pamela checked the

Yellow Pages, and we went to the one that opened first, getting there just

as they opened the doors.  (Double-doors.  Whew.)  Jason and Pamela pushed

me in, and the jaws of everyone in the store just _dropped_.  I hope we

don't have to go back there, because I think I made an impression.  The

first clerk who came to us just kept looking at me, and -- well, they

weren't the nicest looks.  I felt like a steak being appraised by a

barbecue.

    {He was staring so hard that he didn't notice Jason coming closer

until it was too late.  Sometimes I forgot how tall he is.  This man got

a reminder.

    {"You can leave now," he said, very calmly.  "Someone else can help

us.

    {And he did.  And someone else did.

    {We picked up some clothing -- or tried to, anyway.  Since we're

staying in Helena for the duration, the others needed fresh outfits too.

After a thorough survey of the area clothing stores, we came to a horrible

conclusion:  I'm stuck with the muu-muus.  We even found the store where

they were bought.  I'm currently wearing a sort of pink and purple one

with plums and persimmons in the alternate areas.  I don't know _why_

designers believe they can stop thinking when it's time to design for

large women.

    {We also got -- because I insisted -- a scale.  I've doubled my body

weight.  Jasmine's been reading books on muscle development, and she keeps

telling me I've got nothing to worry about:  fat people carry a lot more

than I do.  I keep trying to tell her that their mass is a little more

evenly distributed.  She insists that I'll be able to handle it with a lot

of work.

    {Maybe she's right.  I hope so.  When no one's around, I've been

taking out the board and trying to stand.  I have to wait for isolation:

Pamela caught me the first time, and chewed me out.  She was afraid that

without supervision, I'd seriously hurt myself.  All the time in the

wheelchair let my back finally heal, and I somehow avoided injury during

that whole stand-and-deliver bit in Cascade -- but I could strain it again

all too easily, even with the bra and belt keeping it straight.  I'm

taking a risk every time I try to get out of the chair -- but I keep

trying it.  With a lot of work, I can get up, and stay standing if I lock

my knees and hold onto something.  If I've got something to balance

against, I can walk stiff-legged -- but not for long.  I'm going to need

that back brace -- but I _will_ be mobile.  Somehow.

    {I keep wondering how.  All these bras I've been getting are designed

to keep my mass above my hips, which makes sense:  it's harder to walk

when you're constantly moving your legs against your breasts.  But these

new bras aren't really trying to push me in from the sides:  I'm still

getting wider -- and even if they did, it would all go with the rest of

it:  towards the front.  My bust measurement is over ten feet total:  in

these bras, I can't even come _remotely_ close to touching the ends of my

breasts.  If I was standing, I'd always be pulled forward and _down_,

whether I was wearing a bra or not -- but worse in.

    {Right now, after I wrestle, struggle, and jam myself into that narrow

bathroom in the hotel, _I_ wind up sitting on the toilet and my _breasts_

are in the shower.  And I have a board in my lap.  If I took off the bra,

I might feel more comfortable in that position -- but I'd be on the floor.

Which is tile, and cold.

    {So I need a more customized bra, maybe with counterweights -- and no

matter what we do, I have to be strong enough to carry all the weight.

Jason ordered the Goldentone machine recovered from Cascade, and we

installed it in one of the labs.  We're both using it.

    {I'm scared for him.  I understand why he took the virus, but he could

_die_ from this.  We're all monitoring him, making sure he works out the

energy regularly.  Pamela practically threw him onto the machine Saturday.

He insisted he had to work.  She insisted harder.}



    "That's not a formula, is it?"

    Sadira looked up at Jasmine.  "Writing Kay.  I told you about that

letter -- the one I almost set on fire..."  Jasmine nodded.  "I got out,

so I'm updating it.  It helps me focus."  Sadira had finally gotten the

hang of writing sidesaddle:  the notebook was weighed down with little

vials of mercury.

    "Okay, I won't read over your shoulder."  Jasmine went back to her

station:  several files were scattered around the desk.  "Do you think I

should start writing her?"

    "I don't know.  Do you think she can afford it?"

    "I _said_ I'd think about going to free replies,"  Jasmine protested.

    "You didn't say what the decision was."

    Jasmine looked at the thick envelopes stacked on top of the monitor.

The last group of bearer bonds from the former owners had arrived by

express courier two hours earlier.  When they had claimed delayed transit,

Pamela had sweetly inquired if they thought there would be as much trouble

getting the police out on a Sunday as there was in getting mail.  "I will.

It's worth a try."

    Sadira went back to writing.



    {...We're both having trouble adjusting to the end of the feud.  I'd

never really thought of Jasmine as a _sister_, and she has some difficulty

staying on her new path.  We both slip now and then.  But Jasmine decided

that she was the one who had to take care of me, with Jason and Pamela

afraid to "hurt" me.  It means we've been spending a lot of time together.

She dresses me -- I'm finally wearing socks again -- washes me -- we

picked up long-handled brushes, but it's not easy to get the hang of --

and does whatever she can to make things a little easier.  Getting into

the bathroom usually winds up with both of us laughing.  I've moved far

beyond her personal experience with size, so she extrapolates a lot when

she tries to advise me -- but she's good at that.

    {We're trying to learn how to love each other, and it's working.

Slowly.  We talk in the Jacuzzi -- about _everything_ -- and we fall

asleep in the same bed afterwards.  Jasmine is a little like a cat.  She

curls up to warmth.  When I wake up, she's practically on top of me --

which means she's been snuggling up in her sleep, and of course I never

notice...  And she's hard to wake up.  Jasmine's always been a really

restless sleeper -- unless she's in bed with someone.  I seem to qualify.

    {We've arranged for Angel's funeral.  He left a file on his disk

saying what he wanted done.  I don't believe he thought he was going to

die:  he just always planned for everything he could.  He wanted to be

cremated, and have his ashes scattered in the ocean -- Atlantic or Pacific

was okay.  We couldn't go to a crematorium without a death certificate, so

we had to use the biggest disposal ovens at Cascade.  His request said he

has no surviving family.  I'll personally go out to the beach on Long

Island and fulfill his wishes.  We're taking the company apart for him,

and for me, and for everyone who was ever hurt by it.

    {We had some trouble figuring out what to do with Nigilo's body until

Jasmine remembered something from a mystery novel she'd read, and asked

just what sort of chemicals we had in the labs.  Several acids were used,

and he was dissolved.  Much like his company.  Angel's files said he has

one surviving family member:  an older brother, a billionaire who lives in

Australia.  They hate each other.  They haven't spoken in years, and James

Nigilo doesn't care if his brother is alive or dead.  Without a body, no

one can prove a murder.  Eventually, his landlord might report him

missing, and in seven years, he'll be presumed dead.  Pamela thinks it's

equally possible that his landlord might steal all his things, clean out

his bank accounts, and no one would ever know.  Jason snuck into Nigilo's

apartment at two in the morning on Saturday with his keys, copied out the

hard drive, and searched the place.  He found some things that back up the

blackmail files, and some possible clues to other locations of source

material.

    {Angel had a little house on the outskirts of Helena.  It barely

seemed lived-in.  He asked that all his things go to charity.  Jason and

Pamela dropped everything off at the Salvation Army last night, with the

printed form from his disk that made it legal.  It only took two trips in

the van to deliver it all.

    {The dissolution of GenTree proceeds apace.  We paid all the bills

first, made sure there were no problems with government funds, and then

put the Accounting department to work selling things off.  Helena will go

only after we get the cure, but everything else is being sold now.  The

project data went to auction:  other companies with similar pursuits are

bidding for it.  _Our_ data -- BE-1 and the metabolic viruses -- stay with

us.

    {The equipment has been easy to sell so far -- Jason insisted on

destroying most of the weapons:  I don't blame him.  We all kept a

tranquilizer gun.  Souvenirs.  The buildings are good for real estate

value:  the U.S. Army is interested in the Cascade site.

    {The hard part is the employees.  Alan Mitchell and Denise Rasa -- the

two best people from the leukemia project -- are helping us with the

viruses.  Jason and I believe we can trust them, and the "squeaky clean"

entry for them in the blackmail files backs us up.  They're mostly going

over old data to make sure we didn't overlook anything.  They've got their

own lab.  Jasmine thinks they're falling for each other.

    {Everyone else is being let go.  Some of them are being "sold" with

the data:  Alan and Denise will go to CorTech when this is over, as part

of the deal for the leukemia files.  Pamela has been going through all of

Nigilo's material, and sending out Email to a lot of companies: she's

trying to get some people blacklisted.  She wants all the original source

material for Nigilo's blackmail notes, so she can back it up.  I don't

know how well it's going to work.  Someone will always have a use for a

corrupt scientist.

    {Some people were easy to fire.  I had the pleasure of signing the

termination order for Temperi, Jonas, and Menken.  Douglas was thrilled to

be the one who fired the Mexican staff.  It was a special treat for his

visit Saturday.  He only stayed long enough to drop off some photos --

he'll be back on Monday:  more legwork to do.  He's helping Pamela run

down that source material.  He also tried to _take_ a few photos.  He now

wants Pamela, Jasmine, and me to be in a layout together.  Look in the

dictionary under "incorrigible," and you'll find his picture.  Jasmine

already posed for a few pictures in the Grafting room, starting out

wearing a stereotyped "scientist" outfit with glasses, a lab coat, pocket

protector, holding test tubes...  She said the floor was cold.

    {But we're using a lot of the money from the sales to give out

financial packages equal to eighteen months of salary, keeping the good

people on their feet until they find work, and buying out everyone's bonds

once and for all.  As Jason said, there _are_ good people here.  Just not

very many.

    {I'm looking forward to one termination in particular.  But I'm

keeping her around as long as possible first...}



    Lisa Trevor carefully put the paper down in front of Pamela.  "The

opening bids for the addiction breaker."  Her voice was measured, barely

controlled.  Most of the GenTree employees had no idea why the company was

being dissolved.  Lisa knew.  She was doing a lot of the selling.

"Jenscript had the highest offer."

    Sadira wheeled into the room.  "Pamela, ready for lunch?"

    "In a second."  She looked over the figures.  "Jenscript says fourteen

million for the breaker, and they'll take twelve of the good guys on as

well.  Laroseni is offering eleven million, but they'll take eighteen

people, and pay for relocation costs to France."  The addiction breaker

project had been one of the few strongholds of morality in the company.

Pamela was trying to blackball six employees out of thirty-five.  Nigilo's

notes suggested that the crack sample he'd shown Sadira at Cascade was

there for Calvin Menken's personal use.  "What do you think?"

    "Is anyone offering to take all twenty-nine people?"

    "Eighteen's the best we're getting.  They'll offer more money if they

have to hire less people.  All of them say they'll give us a lot more if

we take it on installment, but I want this done _now_ -- and I think

they're _still_ trying to rook us on the cash."

    "Find out.  Say no to all of them and try to push the money and

employment up a little.  See how they react."

    Pamela nodded and passed the paper back.  "You heard the boss, Trevor.

I want a new list of bids here in an hour.  And remember, I sign, send,

and keep all the final paperwork myself.  Use the figures before it goes

out, and I'll get you a copy later."

    Lisa carefully picked up the paper and started to leave, her efforts

at control visible in each step.

    Sadira pushed the wheelchair forward just in time to run over her left

foot.

    The heavy-duty motorized wheelchair weighed a hundred pounds.  Sadira

added another two hundred.

    Sadira listened to the howl with quiet enjoyment, then backed up the

chair and waved the accountant out, smiling as she watched her limp down

the hallway.

    "You did that on purpose," Pamela said behind her.

    Sadira didn't turn around.  "No kidding."

    "Can I do it next time?"

    "If you get your own chair."



    {More pettiness, I suppose.  But it made my Saturday.  It's going to

be impossible to keep Trevor from ever finding another job:  there's a lot

more accounting positions available than there are genetics.  So as long

as she's here, I'm going to make her very unhappy.  Pamela's been having

fun with her as well:  she remembered her from my phone calls.  Lisa isn't

getting a penny at dismissal, and Jasmine is double-checking her figures

to make sure she isn't squirreling away money for herself.  Jasmine's got

a real talent for accounting:  she picked up double-entry bookkeeping in

about an hour.  I suggested that she take some courses by mail and work

towards a degree.  She just looked at me.

    {I haven't really thought about the money.  It's too much to really

believe in.  Ten million dollars to start, and more every time something

gets sold.  I tried to change Pamela's "fifty percent for you, ten percent

each for us" rule.  I was outvoted.  Pamela's very good at negotiating

prices:  I saw that at the Brick S. House -- and she's getting a better

grasp on what the GenTree files are really worth on the open market.  God

help the open market.

    {Cypher seems to have a grasp on his numbers.  He couldn't believe it

at first when Pamela called him on that speaker-cellular and told him how

much he was getting.  He was just quiet for a while, and then he said

"Mighty white of you, Shaw."

    {Everyone got really quiet -- and then Pamela started laughing.

    {He's going to upgrade his system, get an apartment of his own, then

finish college and use the rest of the money to start his own company.  We

all wished him luck.  He calls about three times a day to check on us.  He

wants to fly out to join us.  Cypher's got the same class schedule I had

in college:  Saturday courses, Sunday courses -- but he says he can miss a

few classes.

    {I honestly don't know what to do with the money.  Given a windfall

while still working for GenTree, I would have bought out my bond, paid off

my car, moved to New York, new apartment, new stereo, a little shopping

spree -- and then what do I do with the other nine million plus?  And the

amount keeps growing.

    {But then again, _I_ keep growing.

    {I'm going to face the rest of my life at a ninety-degree angle.  I

can probably do some things _above_ my breasts when I'm standing -- when

I'm sitting, they can't drop any farther than the board, and that means

they're sort of slowly humping up towards my shoulders.  But no matter

what position I'm in, I lose nearly all my ability to work with my arms in

front of me.  I might be able to do some things standing, with the bra off

-- but that doesn't seem very likely.  Even out of the bra, they stick out

so far that I can't get close to things.

    {I've made some attempts at getting Pamela's expertise again...}



    "Aren't the Band-Aids doing any good?"

    "No."  Sadira looked up at Pamela.  "It's like trying to plug a black

hole with a cornflake.  They don't cover anything.  And it's

uncomfortable.  I have to wear a larger bra just to give them room."

    Sadira had brought up the complaint to Pamela -- which meant she had

to answer it.  At least Jason wasn't around.  It couldn't hurt to talk

about it...  "I don't think Aunt Susan was planning on this sort of thing.

I'm thinking of flying her out here eventually to take her own series of

base measurements on you that we can scale up --" quickly "-- if we have

to.  Maybe some kind of secondary cup at the end."

    "Or just a softer end..  Would she come?"

    "For money?  Are you kidding?  Besides, she said she _wanted_ to see

you when I called out the order yesterday.  I gave her your 'inches are

bunk' line.  She wasn't offended -- she just said that everyone's

development is unique, and you'd have to be custom-fitted.  She's

improvising right now with those numbers Jasmine got -- but it would help

more if she did it directly.  As is, we're going to get them a day at a

time, unless she puts some more people onto it.  She's actually got some

shops in the States, and spends some time working in them.  Keeps everyone

on their toes.  But England is her home."  Pamela sighed.  "She said she

was _finally_ going to get to test some of the Level III designs and hung

up."

    Slowly, "A bust measurement over twice my height..."

    "_That's_ what Level III means?"  The surprise was mixed with

frustration:  _why_ hadn't she guessed that ?  The inch measurement had

been right on the label, and she knew how tall Sadira was...

    Slightly bemused, "And Level II is 66 to 130.  I'm not at III yet, but

-- you mean you never figured that out?"

    A sigh verging into groan territory.  "I know now.  I just wish I'd

thought of that secondary cup earlier.  Who would take a nipple

measurement?"  She took a deep breath, and hoped Sadira didn't notice the

effort at _control_.  But she'd taken the questions this far -- "How big

are they now?"

    "Jasmine says over four inches long."

    "Oh."  Pamela managed to force out, "And they're still sensitive?"

    "Now more than ever.  Maybe if I used gauze pads?"

    "Sounds good.  I'll go look for some."  Pamela hurried out.  There was

probably a first aid kit in the lab, but there might also be one in the

bathroom.  _Any_ excuse to get to the bathroom.  Gauze for Sadira and some

paper towels for her.  And water in the face, to wash away the guilt.



    {...nipple cups.  Now _there's_ a weird thought.  But I need them.  Or

the softer tips.

    {Jasmine has a very dirty mind at times.  Last night, she started to

suggest a new use for my nipples -- and caught herself.  I wasn't

offended.  I almost wished she'd finished, but I couldn't figure out how

to ask her.  She has these _ideas_ out of nowhere.  She gets my flashes --

but with less intensity and greater frequency.

    {I spent part of the morning trying to figure it out.  I'm her sister,

all right:  I got it.  It was a very weird picture.  But it got them erect

again...  And I couldn't mention _that_ to Pamela.

    {I'd like to think it's the truce that makes her so uncomfortable.  I

don't want to believe she's repulsed by my body.  Jasmine got some of

those letters FedExed in, and I've been reading them.  So as weird as it

sounded -- and still does -- some people fantasize about this sort of

thing.  (Of course, it isn't happening to _them_.)  But I already have two

people who love me, and I can believe that they'll love me, no matter what

I look like...

    {But I'm no closer to a decision.  I'm _loved_, Kay, more strongly

than I had ever dreamed possible.  Jason and Pamela don't know that _I_

know.  They're not very good at hiding their feelings, now that I know how

to look -- and how to believe what I'm seeing.

    {It's funny to think about.  If this stopped six seconds from now, I'd

still be somewhere beyond huge.  I have to tell my parents -- they got

back Friday, but I haven't been able to make myself call them.  I'll need

physical therapy for months, maybe years.  I'll always be stared at:

I can never disguise myself, and I refuse to hide.  I know the full

spectrum of reactions I'll be facing.

    {It scares me.

    {But I have a sister now, and friends, and --

    {Now that we're together again, I can believe that we'll find a cure.

Not just _have_ to believe it:  really _know_ that it _will_ happen.

There's _nothing_ the six of us can't beat.  Let the world say and believe

what it wants to about me, because together, we can deal with it.

    {Do you remember that little rhyme I taught you when you were six?  I

remember it very clearly.

    {"Which one, which one, will I choose?

    {"Which will win and which will lose?"

    {"Do's and don'ts and don'ts and do's?

    {"This one, this one, I now choose."

    {I can't get it out of my head.

    {Back to work.  I have to find that happy ending.}



    Jason glanced at the clock.  Almost seven p.m. on Sunday, April 7th.

He hoped seven was Sadira's lucky number.

    The ladies had gone to dinner:  he had begged out, pleading a need to

exercise, spent an intense half-hour on the machine, then scarfed three

Powerbars and gone back to work.  He knew his metabolism was stable at the

higher level:  it was only his nerves that made him think the danger was

increasing.  All of his muscle groups had firmed, and he was acquiring new

tissue bulk.  He had never been in better shape.

    Jason wondered if that path led to death.  If he became so overmuscled

that he couldn't bend his joints...   <Man dies from getting in shape:

(mostly censored) film at eleven -->

    <-- no.> That was weeks away, even at the accelerated rate.  At the

moment, he just looked like he'd put about a year of very serious gym time

in.  They would find a cure, for him and Sadira.

    But if they didn't, he would die first.

    And he didn't regret it.  Pamela wasn't infected.  If he died, he

trusted Pamela and Sadira to solve the rest of the riddle in time to save

her.  Sadira was out of Nigilo's grasp forever.  It had been worth it.

Jason knew how Angel felt.  He'd done something _good_ with his life...

    But he still didn't want to die.

    Jason picked up an infected tissue sample.  He'd been working with the

pregnancy data -- and now with the samples of breast tissue from pregnant

women that Nigilo had brought into Cascade.  (There was also a large

sampling of adolescent and post-pubescent cells:  Nigilo had gone all out)

It gave him a wider database to examine, since he could study the actual

_cells_ from all stages of development, noting hormone levels throughout

the cycle, and looking for key differences in structures and active gene

areas.  It was better than just looking at numbers and charts.  Despite

her best efforts, Pamela's connections hadn't been able to provide them

with those samples.  Nigilo's had.  He prayed that no one had suffered for

them.

    But he had them, and there might have been some luck in the timing

that had taken the one he'd just spent four hours studying, while the

others were working on the metabolic program.  He'd had another course to

pursue.

    The new virus was complete.  It was time for the latest theory to

fail.

    He pushed the thought away and put the sample in the study area.  It

had already been infected with BE-1.  He added the new virus and watched.

    <Oh.  My.  God.>

    He didn't jump, he didn't scream for joy.  He _wanted_ to, but he had

to double-check, run the test again.  Even if he had it, really and truly

had it, it was only half the puzzle.  They still needed the metabolic

brakes.  But they would be halfway there.  If they halted the growth, and

Sadira channeled all her energy into muscle development, she'd be back on

her feet faster.

    Jason checked the data.

    It was real.  The growth had _stopped_.

    He snatched up the sample tin, spun around, dancing with it, reaching

to extract another group of cells to test, and then he'd use Sadira's

samples, and when those stopped --

    -- the label was wrong.

    He looked at it again.  It wasn't the fresh, leukemia-modified sample

taken from Jasmine.  It was one of the pregnancy tins.  He'd mistakenly

infected it with BE-1, too busy to notice...

    <That just means it works on a generic subject.>  He went and got

Jasmine's samples, and ran the test.

    Then he ran it with Sadira's cells.  And then he methodically tested

every tin in the lab, then brought in leukemia factors, then started

comparing and contrasting the results...



    "I think I can go a few more hours after that."  Pamela smiled.

"Good soup.  We took too long in the restaurant, anyway."

    Sadira nodded.  "I could stand some more work, too."  She looked at

her sister.  "Jasmine?"

    "Me?  I just read."  They both grinned as the elevator stopped.

    Pamela stepped out.  "Let's check on the Mouse.  I trust him to keep

his schedule, but I want to be sure."

    "You trust him _and_ you want to be sure?" Jasmine asked.  "Isn't

there a contradiction in there somewhere?"

    Pamela looked at her, eyebrows raised.  "'I contradict myself?'" she

semi-quoted.  Jasmine saw it coming.  "'Very well, I contradict myself.  I

am large --'" Pamela froze, listening.

    The twins stopped, instantly paranoid -- and then they heard it.

    Sadira pushed the wheelchair to top speed, racing down the hall,

easily outdistancing the others, heading towards Jason's lab --

    -- and she found him sitting, head in his hands, shaking with sobs.

    "Jason?"  <Oh God, something's wrong, his metabolism went wild -->

    He slowly looked up at her, his face streaked with tears, and she felt

the pain radiating from him.  "Sadira," he pushed out, and managed to take

in a breath.  "I couldn't.  I --"

    Pamela and Jasmine got to the door.  Pamela ran in first, passing

Sadira and reaching the desk.  "Mouse?  What's wrong?  Did something --"

and she saw the scribbled notes on the table, the handwriting becoming

increasingly jagged as it raced towards the inevitable conclusion.

    "_No_," she whispered -- and Sadira rolled up.

     Pamela moved, instinctively wanting to block her from the knowledge

-- but too little, too late.  Sadira's reflexes were what they always

should have been:  she turned the wheelchair to the side, snatched the

notes off the table, and read them.

    Jasmine slowly came into the room, knowing only that something had

gone wrong --

    "It's the recessive," Sadira said, and there was no emotion in her

voice.  "The virus turns off the tissue development and growth sequence

_unless_ the macromastia sequence is present.  That shut-down signal has

to be more complex:  there's an extra gene to account for.  Without those

additional factors, the stop command is canceled."

    "But I stopped growing --" Jasmine started to protest.

    Sadira nodded.  "Naturally."  Her voice continued to drop, and her

hands started to shake.  "Because you had that altered command.  We need

data from pregnant macromastics.  But the gene is so rare.  Nearly a

hundred samples, not one with the gene.  We'd be lucky to find one in a

thousand, or more, and what are the odds of their being in a sampling

group...?" The words were a whisper.  "Who's studied macromastics?

Nobody.  Why study that sequence?  It could take months to get enough

samples and build a database.  The time involved to collect all of

that..."

    "Me," Pamela said urgently.  "Get me pregnant.  Study my cells, see

what's going on --"

    "I'll do it," Jasmine interrupted.  "My genes are closer.  We'll learn

more --"

    "Up to nine months," Jason quietly reminded them.  They all

instinctively did the math.  Two hundred and seventy days...

    "The time..." Sadira whispered -- and her head started to loll

forward as her hands trembled  --

    -- Pamela was there, holding Sadira's face between white hands.  "No!"

a primal scream without volume, forcing her words past the tears.

"_Screw_ BE-2.  We can have one virus without the other.  Everything goes

to the decelerator.  We slow the growth to a normal rate and buy you that

time."

    Sadira managed a small nod.  Pamela released her.  "We get back to

work," she said, her voice a little stronger.  "Start trying to gather

those samples.  Somewhere, someone's got to have acquired some cells with

macromastia sequences, just by accident.  But while we look, it all gets

put into the decelerator."

    Jasmine walked across the room and put her hand on Sadira's left

shoulder.  "Does that mean you don't want me to get pregnant?"  She

sounded so -- disappointed...

    Sadira looked up -- and the giggling started, a small current that

turned into a surge, and then a wave of mirth, gallows humor, yes, but if

you couldn't laugh at death, then what was there to laugh at?

    Jason's laughter joined the chorus, surprisingly deep, and then

Pamela's, so much higher than her voice, and then Jasmine couldn't hold it

back any longer, her giggling joining the chorus...

    "Give -- give me a while to think about it..." Sadira panted.  "God

only knows -- how big you would get..."

    Jasmine's face leapt into hopeful anticipation -- and the laughter

began again.



              41.  130-133:  This one, this one, I now choose



    "Special delivery."

    Sadira turned and saw a young black man carrying a box.  He was

wearing denim jeans and jacket -- and then a stunned expression as he saw

Sadira from the front, eyes open as far as the lids would allow, jaw

slightly dropped, box falling to the floor --

    -- "Cypher!"  Jason leapt from the exercise bench and crossed the room

in a flash.  He took the stunned hacker's limp hand and pumped it until

some life came into the return grip.  "What are you doing here?  You're

missing class --"

    "I've got enough class for everyone," Cypher replied, voice still a

little shaky.  "You've never heard of spring break?  I wanted to surprise

you guys."

    Jason frowned as his memory reached back.  "Isn't this a little late

for spring break?"

    The right side of Cypher's mouth quirked up.  "So I'm missing a class

or two.  I'm way ahead of everyone else, and I've got a friend sending me

notes and assignments.  Got a new portable to link in with using part of

that first bond so I can get them and send the homework back, and then I

grabbed a plane ticket.  What kind of fucked-up state is this, anyway?

Fifteen inches of snow forecast?"  Cypher fingered his damp jacket.  "It's

a blizzard out there."

    Jason shook his head, grinning.  "It's my state, and don't you forget

it." He finally released Cypher's hand as Sadira wheeled up and extended

hers, raising it high to clear the side bulge of her right breast.

    Cypher stepped to her side, took her hand, and they solemnly shook.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that.  I mean, I knew what was going on, and I saw

the cameras, but --"

    "I know.  It was your first actual _look_."  Sadira gently smiled.

"You get _one_ free.  Then I run over your toes twice."

    Cypher winced.  "I'll watch my eyes, then."  He picked up the box.

"This is for Shaw.  Where is she?  I called her from the airport, and she

told the guys downstairs to let me in."

    "In the bathroom," Sadira explained.  "She'll be back in a second --"

    -- and Jasmine walked in.  "Cypher?"  The hacker found himself in a

close hug, arms wrapped around him, Jasmine's breasts pushing against him,

her lips seeking his out...

    Jasmine pulled back.  "That was for helping," she told him.

    Cypher didn't seem to be capable of responding.  Sadira looked at her

sister, eyes narrowed with exasperated humor.  "Jasmine Pirouze Archer..."

    "What?  He _earned_ it."

    Cypher blinked.  "I wonder what I get for this?"  He bent down and

picked up the box.

    Sadira looked at it.  Ordinary white cardboard.  "What's --" and

_then_ Pamela walked in.

    "Welcome to the land of the loonies," she told Cypher.  "That's good

news, right?"

    "The best."

    Jason sighed.  "Why does everyone put down my state?"

    Pamela shook her head.  "Have you looked around lately?"  She took the

box.  "So how much did you get?"

    "Quite a bit.  I wanted to deliver it in person.  I can hook into my

main system with the portable and keep going."

    Pamela found a clear spot and put the box down, then sliced the tape

with the van keys and pulled out several sheets of paper.  "Looks good.

When Douglas gets in around five, I'll put him on getting these.  If the

snow doesn't slow him down..."

    Cypher glanced at his watch.  "I might have just missed him:  he

probably got in as I rented the car.  They were still letting planes land.

He should make it in."

    Pamela looked deeper into the box.  "What's that?"

    "The Noodletown duck you mentioned.  And a lot of chocolate."

    Sadira smiled.  "At least I'm getting enough exercise...  So what are

the papers?"

   "Information to help back up some of the blackmail stuff.  I took those

files and did a lot of surfing to some really tight places.  A lot of this

is circumstantial, but you could give people a really hard time with it.

And if your photographer friend can chase down the physical stuff a little

more -- well, I think you've got enough as is, but you can't be too

careful."

    Pamela nodded.  "I want this stalemate locked down..." and an odd grin

briefly appeared on her face.  "This will help."

    Cypher grinned back.  Sadira felt a secret pass between them.  "I'll

just get the rest of my stuff, hook up and keep working from here."

    "Go ahead.  Lots of space available.  And if you see anything you

like, feel free to grab it.  We're having a going-out-of-business sale.

You get a hundred-percent discount."  The hacker nodded appreciatively and

left.

    Sadira checked Pamela's face.  It was guardedly neutral.  "What are

you up to?"

    "Endgame," Pamela said.  "Don't worry, Sadira.  You just work on the

virus.  I'll keep calling the tactics."

    The possibility flashed across her mind, she knew Pamela had seen the

insight --

    -- Sadira nodded and wheeled back to her station.



    Early Tuesday morning.  Not too early:  they had worked late again,

and Pamela had declared a recharge time.  Unfortunately, there had really

been nothing to _do_ in Helena at two in the morning.  It had come down to

sleep.

    Sadira finished her morning check and found something that was rapidly

becoming familiar:  her sister lying against her left breast, snuggled in

tight, lost in sleep.  Sadira sighed.

    Softly, "Jasmine."  A small head tilt, no more.  "Come on, Jasmine, we

have to get up."  A tiny arm shift.  This was ridiculous.  In high school,

she'd been able to wake up her sister by _breathing_ too loudly.  She

reached across with her right arm and stroked her sister's cheek.  This

got better results:  Jasmine stretched towards the touch, her eyes

opening...

    There was a knock on the door.  _That_ woke Jasmine up.  "Who is it?"

she said sleepily.  "I'm coming..."  She rolled away from Sadira's breast

and got out of bed, stark-naked --

    A hiss of warning.  "Jasmine!"  Her sister had always gotten up before

her and snuck back to her own room before the others came around.  They

didn't know...

    Jasmine was still walking through the fog of oversleep:  she padded

softly towards the door, uncomprehending.  A sleepy check of the security

port, then a turn of the knob and a pull --

    "Oh, hi," she said.  "Time to go already?"

    Pamela brought up her left hand up to her temple, as if she'd

instantly developed a headache.  Jason took a small step back.  Cypher

stared.  "Uh -- ah -- yeah," he finally stammered out.  "It's almost noon.

We'd better breast -- book!"

    Sadira and Pamela groaned in concert.  Jasmine's half-lidded eyes

looked down and regarded her breasts.  "Oh, right," she murmured.  "I'll

get dressed."  She went to the side of the Jacuzzi and started picking her

clothes up.

    Cypher kept staring.  He hadn't been warned about _Jasmine_, and there

was no way anyone could run over his toes.  He also wasn't sure how to

_stop_.

    Pamela and Jason slowly walked into the room.  Pamela looked at Jason,

then at Sadira, who had been propping herself up on a huge pile of

pillows, keeping the blankets over her with judicious shifts of covers and

breasts.  She had achieved a sixty-degree angle.  "Sadira," Pamela slowly

began, "is there something you'd like to tell us?"  There was a little

teasing in the tone, but more worry:  if the hormones had finally taken

over...

    The mischief darted through her mind, and Sadira shrugged.  The

blanket shifted a little:  she instinctively grabbed for it and stabilized

the covering.  "Well -- we've been sleeping together --"

    Jason looked behind him.  There was nothing to fall back against.  He

settled for widened eyes and a raised hand, an opposite-side duplication

of Pamela's earlier reaction.  Pamela's face went through a series of

contortions.  Cypher was still watching Jasmine dress:  the information

barely registered -- and then it hardly helped.

    Jasmine heard Sadira as she finally finished waking up, and

immediately caught on.  "Ever since Thursday night," she confirmed as she

pulled on her bra.

    "Every night," Sadira added.  "Completely naked."  An exasperated look

at Jasmine.  "And she won't stay off my chest."

    "You're warm!" Jasmine protested.  "I _like_ warm.  You weren't

complaining last night!"

    "Well, you're not exactly cold yourself..."

    Cypher seemed to be on the verge of passing out.  Pamela and Jason

weren't doing much better --

    "Suckers!" Sadira yelled, and Jasmine nearly fell down laughing.

    Every muscle in Pamela's face went wild as she tried to find an

expression and stick with it.  Jason just picked _slack_ and stayed there.

Cypher collapsed against the door frame.

    "You _believed_ that?" Jasmine laughed.  "Shit!  _Think_ about it,

people!"

    Pamela was the first to recover her voice.  "But you were --"

    Sadira was still laughing.  "Sleeping together.  We didn't say

anything that wasn't the truth.  You did the rest on your own."

    Her voice had been recovered.  The brain cells were still trying to

line up.  "But you said -- your chest --"

    Sadira giggled.  <Oh, I needed that...>  The emotional roller coaster

had, at least for the moment, come to a high point.  "Pamela, look at me,

then look at the bed."

    Pamela looked.  The bed was huge -- but so was Sadira.  If Jasmine had

been on the left, and Sadira had shifted up and over -- <Oh.>

    Jason finally got control back.  "Sadira, that was --"

    "-- funny?"

    "Not my first choice for a word..."

    Jasmine finished getting dressed.  "I thought it was funny."  A few

last giggles escaped.

    "You weren't the butt of the joke."

    Jasmine raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Sadira -- who turned,

nodded and, unseen by the others, moved her lips.  Jasmine read them

easily:  she'd picked up the skill in her second year of dancing.  Some of

the clubs were just _too loud_.  "Speaking of butts -- come on, Cypher."

Jasmine grabbed her purse.  "I'll buy you lunch in the coffee shop."  She

took the hacker's left hand and pulled him away from the door.  He didn't

resist.  Or breathe.

    Pamela watched them go.  "Poor Cypher," she said, smiling.  "I wonder

if he'll be disappointed if they actually reach the coffee shop..."

    "Close the door."

    Jason looked at Sadira first.  She nodded.  He closed the door.

    Pamela turned.  Sadira had continued to wedge and pile pillows:  she

was now sitting up straight.  "Douglas is still sleeping," she mentioned.

"We might have to check out of here.  Bringing you in and out with a

blanket over the chair isn't helping much.  People might start talking --"

    "_Get over here_."

    Pamela found herself taking a step before the words reached the

thinking part of her brain:  there was something in the tone...  She

checked on Jason:  he had also stopped after getting slightly closer.

"What is it?"  And then she thought about it:  Jasmine was gone, and

Jasmine had been helping Sadira.

    Sadira was still in bed.  She needed help.  In her sitting position,

the covered mounds of her breasts seemed to reach her feet.  Possibly

beyond.  Pamela glanced at Jason again, and found him looking at her.

<Well, it's Mouse _and_ me: that won't violate the agreement...>  She knew

Jason had never seen Sadira naked.  Pamela could see Sadira's bare

shoulders:  it appeared the Mouse was about to get his first chance.  She

wasn't sure how she felt about that.

    "I want both of you over here.  Sit on the bed."

    Jason glanced at the spot she was pointing at.  "Is there anything you

need me to get first?"

    "I want you and Pamela to get yourselves over here.  _Now_.  We have

to talk."

    Jason and Pamela glanced at each other --

    -- and psionics took another step towards being proven.

    <She knows.>  One thought, two minds.

    Slowly, they made their way to the bed and sat down, Pamela on the

left, Jason on the right, legs hanging off the edge, bodies twisted to

face Sadira.  Allowing for different heights and builds, their positions

were exactly the same.

    "You."  Sadira pointed at Jason, and Pamela's heart jumped.  "You're

in love.  With me.  Yes or no?"

    Slowly, he nodded, and Pamela felt the pain begin to rise.  <We're

still friends.  There's always that.  Always...>  It didn't help.

    Sadira turned towards her.  "You.  The same.  Right?"

    The pain fell away -- then turned back, confused.  Jason seemed to be

having _her_ first reaction.  "Yes."  Then, quietly, "Always."

    Sadira nodded and folded her arms on top of her breasts.  "I knew

about you two," she began, a lecturer with a class on the first really

warm day of spring, trying to make sure she had her students' attention.

"It took me a while.  I'm pretty good with denial.  I've got the brains to

rationalize a whole bunch of bullshit to back it up.  But I did figure it

out."

    "Sadira, we were trying to  --" Jason, badly presenting the case for

the defense.  "We didn't want to --"

    Sadira tilted her head to the right and looked at him.  "Shaddap."  He

shut up.

    "So," Sadira continued, "you didn't want to upset me.  I can

understand that.  I was under a lot of stress --" she briefly grinned

"-- which has not exactly gone away, and neither of you wanted to add to

it."

    She looked directly at Pamela.  "Did you think it wouldn't hurt when

you stopped touching me?"  But the words were soft and loving.  "When you

wouldn't come in to help anymore?  Because you didn't want to _compete_

and hurt me that way?"  Pamela's gaze dropped.

    Jason looked at them, and his mind said <Let her go.>

    <What?> he demanded of himself.  <I can't -->

    <Look.>  He looked.  <They've known each other for nearly five years,

You've known Sadira less than one.  They lived with each other.  They've

made love.  Pamela loves Sadira, you know that.  And Sadira loves her.

You heard what she just said.

    <Jason, if you love her, then let her be happy with Pamela.  Let her

go.>

    His eyes closed, and his heart cracked, and he found no argument that

would work, nothing he could say to that internal voice.  Jason stood up.

    Sadira and Pamela turned at the movement.  He looked back at them.

"Be happy," he barely choked out, and started towards the door.

    "You _idiot_!"

     He turned.  Sadira was staring at him, the tears starting to form in

her eyes.  "Did you think I was going to just let you go?"

    Pamela jerked back as if she had been shot again -- and Sadira quickly

faced her.  "And you!  What makes you think I'd _abandon_ you?  I can't

let you go out in the world alone!  _Someone_ has to hold your leash!"

    Jason looked at Pamela.  Their faces were mirrors of confusion.  "I

don't understand --"

    "I kept looking at the two of you," Sadira told them, her voice soft

again, almost a whisper.  "I had to decide.  _Two_ people _loved me_.  Two

people that _I_ loved.  I was so happy -- and then I was furious, because

I didn't want to make that choice."  She turned and reached up to touch

Pamela's face.  Their eyes met.  "Ivory, I never understood.  I thought it

was friendship, as deep and true as anyone could ever have.  I didn't even

imagine that there might be something more.  I wasn't _capable_ of

understanding." Her free hand indicated her breasts.  "If this hadn't

happened, I might have never really _known_."

    Another turn, another turn, a hand now caressing Jason's cheek, and

his eyes briefly closed before meeting with hers.  "My Mouse," came the

gentle voice.  "So bold and so shy.  Ready to save me from anything,

including myself.  You had the courage to face Death head-on for me, but

you couldn't find the strength to tell me why."

    And she was touching them, one hand for each, and she said, "I choose

both of you."

    Jason looked at her.  So did Pamela.  They all spent a moment looking

at each other.

    This time, Jason recovered first.  "How?  We can't --"

    "Like _hell_ we can't," Sadira told him.  "We're scientists.

Scientists experiment.  I've think we've got pretty good chemistry."

    "The three of us?" Pamela got out.  "Together?  How would we --"

    "We'll have to figure that out," Sadira said.  "But it comes down to

this."  Her voice dropped, and took on the commanding tone.  "I love you

both.  And I'm not giving either one of you up."  She folded her arms

again and looked at them, each in turn, then stayed with Pamela for a

moment.

    Pamela reacted.  "We can't get married --"

    Sadira sounded vaguely bemused.  "We could have if I picked you?"

    "Hawaii passed a law.  _We_ could have.  But all three of us --"

    "Oh, I don't know," Sadira breezily said.  "I marry Jason in Canada,

a quick trip to Hawaii to marry each other..."

    "Jealousy," Jason said.  They both faced him.  "How do we keep a V-

shape balanced?"

    "That's pretty easy," Sadira said.  "Make it a triangle.  Kiss her."

    They both looked at her.

    "Sadira --"  Both of them, in chorus.  Another glance was exchanged.

    Sadira looked at her startled lover.  "Three years, right?"

    "Huh?"

    "That's the last time you met a man you could stand.  About three

years ago.  Unless you had another date since then that you didn't tell me

about.  You've dated a few men.  You've slept with _one_ that I know of."

    "I like women a _lot_ better," Pamela said.  "Most men are just --"

    "-- do you like that one?"  Sadira pointed at Jason, who blinked.

    Pamela looked at Jason, and her eyes seemed to be trying to pierce

memory, seeing him for the first time again.  "He's a good man," she said

slowly.  "A good _person_."

    It had been over two weeks since the thought had begun.  She'd never

allowed it to finish.  It finally found its conclusion.  "If it wasn't for

you," and the words were hers, but so strange to hear, "if I'd just met

him somewhere and we'd somehow managed to talk to each other --" a quick

smile "-- which isn't all that likely -- then he would have been the first

man that I'd gone out with in three years."

    A slow smile spread across Sadira's face.  "I hoped so," was her

honest truth.  "You care about him."  Pamela nodded.

    Sadira turned to Jason and waited.

    Jason looked at Sadira, then to Pamela.  "Spirit," he said.  "Spirit

and soul.  You both shine so brightly."  Like Pamela, Jason knew the words

were his, taken from his deepest truths.  Somewhere deep within was his

religion, and it was screaming that this was wrong, two women and one man,

God hadn't meant for things to work that way -- but deeper still was his

_faith_, and it said that God was love, no matter how that love was

expressed.  "Rainbows," he continued, looking directly into Pamela's eyes.

"If you had been bonded, and we had worked together --" and he started

laughing "-- I would have been too scared to ask you out!"  Pamela

giggled -- "But I would have _wanted_ to!"

    Sadira was laughing, they were all laughing...

    "It's not exactly normal," Sadira finally said, wiping away tears of

joy.  "But _we're_ not normal people.  And," a big grin, "normal _sucks_.

I think we're all _just_ crazy enough to make this work.  It won't be

easy, and there's going to be problems --"

    Pamela's words emerged without flavor.  "I'm going to need a bigger

bed."

    Jason looked at her, face deadpan.  "Bed?  _Apartment_."

    "The _hell_ with an apartment.  Let's buy a house."

    "Custom-built," Jason decided.  "Lots of special features for Sadira."

    Pamela nodded.  "A really, really big bathtub.  Handgrips in the

bathrooms.  Wide doors.  The bed is going to have to be custom-made, too."

    Sadira stared at them.

    The exchange picked up speed.  "I think we've got more than enough

money for elevators if we go two stories."

    "Elevators?  Don't baby her!  She's got to develop enough strength to

handle stairs!"

    "Well, you can't ask her to do it immediately!  How about one of those

sliding chairs that goes up a rail, and we eventually take it out?"

    "Done," Pamela agreed.  "A good gym, too, so she can work out at

home."

    "All right, that goes in the basement.  Right next to the swimming

pool."

    "I want a hot tub."

    "Well, we can have both.  And the pool can be heated."

    "Point.  How about cars?  A huge van.  Do you think we can get

sidesaddle driving controls?"

    "People!"  They both looked at Sadira.  "Before you plan out the rest

of my life for me, do you think you could do the _first_ thing I asked?"

    They both looked at her.  "Sorry," Jason asked, grinning widely.

"What was that again?"

    "You," Sadira told him.  "Kiss her."

    Pamela got up.  So did Jason.  They walked to the front of the bed.

Sadira watched them closely as they appraised each other, joking gone.

    "It's been a long time," Pamela slowly said.  "I don't have anything

against you, Jason.  I just don't like most men.  I gave up on them as a

gender.  But I meant it:  I would have gone out with you."  She briefly

glanced at Sadira.  "But sleeping -- making love to you --"

    Sadira partially faked exasperation.  "I'm not asking you two to fall

into bed with each other _this second_.  I want you to be in bed with

_me_ first.  But I want us _all_ be happy."

    Jason's eyes found Sadira's, his gaze soft.  "So you want us to love

each other as much as we love you."

    Sadira nodded.  "It's the only way this is going to work.  You already

like each other.  That's how it all starts.  Friendship, then love.  Maybe

this is just me -- but I think it's just degree."

    Jason and Pamela looked at each other, their eyes locking -- and then

Jason bent down, and Pamela stretched, and they met somewhere in the

middle.

    Sadira nodded approvingly as they separated.

    Pamela looked up at Jason.  "You're as bad as she was."

    Jason winced.  "Thanks a lot."

    "Don't worry about it."  The snow leopard was there, but it had come

out to play.  "You'll see how well I taught _her_."  A visual pounce to

Sadira.  "This is going to take some time to figure out..."

    "I don't even know _how_ we're going to work this out," Sadira

admitted.  "There aren't any databases to follow."  A rueful shrug, and

her voice turned back eighteen years.  "And this bed isn't big enough for

three people, and the floor is cold!"  Jason started laughing.  "What

we've got is a place to start."

    Pamela glanced at Jason.  "No, _this_ is a place to start."  She

winked, and he understood.

    By mutual agreement, they each returned to their original sides of the

bed, then kissed Sadira, one on each cheek -- then took turns for the lips

-- and finally, with a lot of effort, laughter, and more wriggling around

than was absolutely necessary, they somehow managed to create a three-way

hug.

    Sadira wiped away their tears as they finally pulled back -- but not

apart.  Never again.  "Since that's settled," she concluded, "could you

two help me get dressed?  Since I can't start the orgy, we've got to get

to work."

    They both sprang from the bed.  Jason headed for the shopping bags.

"What color socks do you want?"

    "White's fine."

    Pamela glanced at Jason as she dug through the pants.  "You do realize

that if we got this right, we might kill you."

    Jason grinned.  "I'd die happy."

    "You'd still die," Sadira pointed out.  Jason ruefully nodded.

"Ivory, aren't you overestimating yourself a little?"

    "Me?  I'm talking about _you_.  Mouse, trust me:  it took a while to

get her eyes open, but then she wanted to see _everything_."

    "Ohmigod."  Jason straightened up, the socks falling from his hand.

Sadira and Pamela both thought he was jokingly reacting to Pamela's last

sentence -- until he turned and looked at them both, eyes serious.  "What

am I going to tell my parents?"

    There was a long silence.

    Sadira sighed.  "'Think things through...'" she said.  "Can we think

that one through later?"  And a smile.  "We'll come up with something.

There's _nothing_ the three of us can't work out.  Let's go find those

brakes!"

    They scrambled to gather the clothing, and Sadira watched them, eyes

misting again, and the only thought was as crazy as the triad, but it made

sense too, beautiful and perfect.

    <I'm complete.>



                       42. 142-144:  Roll the bones



    Douglas handed Pamela a piece of paper.  Pamela nodded, handed it

back, and he left.  Pamela returned her gaze to the electron microscope.

Jason was working out:  Denise and Alan had gone home.  Sadira looked at

Pamela.  "And what was that about?"

    "Oh, he's going back to Cypher."

    Sadira pressed on.  "What is Cypher doing?"

    "Working with Douglas."

    One more try.  "Cypher and Douglas are working on...?"

    "A computer."  Pamela smiled.  "Ebs, I'll tell you when I'm ready to

tell you."

    "It's Thursday.  How much longer can you hold out?"

    "One minute longer than you can ask.  It's a surprise."

    Sadira had a theory, but wasn't quite ready to test it.  If Pamela

wanted to surprise her, so be it.  But it was fun to try for the

information.

    They'd changed hotels on Tuesday:  Pamela had decided they'd pushed

their luck far enough with _that_ secret.  The new one had a _huge_

Jacuzzi, but the bed was smaller.  Sadira had been disappointed:  she'd

been looking forward to their first night sleeping together.  While Pamela

-- and then Jason -- had told her that they thought it might be just

_sleeping_ for a while, Sadira had other theories.  Both of them had told

her that they still needed some time to get used to the idea.  Sadira

thought they were trying to work through the last of their worries about

the triad.  She felt that once she had them in bed with her, the rest

would follow naturally.

    She thought.  She hoped.  She wasn't sure, and she _definitely_ wasn't

all that confident that it would go smoothly even when they were together.

She'd been discussing things with Jasmine earlier as they came back from

the bathroom, trying to get some advice on how to proceed.  Sadira had

figured that Jasmine had to have been in or seen at least _one_ movie with

two women and one man.

    Jasmine, who had been in the middle of exaggerating her disappointment

about losing Sadira's warmth, had shrugged and said, "Movies are scripted.

_Badly_ scripted:  there's no imagination.  With the three of you, it's

going to be improvisation all the way."

    "That really helps, sis."  Sadira sighed and looked down.  She had

a new board.  One hundred and forty-two inches at the morning measurement:

nearly twelve feet of bustline -- which, even after allowing for all the

spreading at the front, meant that when sitting with the board, the

furthest point of her breasts was _still_ several feet in front of her.

They'd added counterweights to the back of the chair.  "I'm still trying

to figure out how we're going to work around _me_."

    "Are you kidding?  That'll be half the fun!  You'll get to use

positions no one else has ever thought of!"

    "Despite my vast intelligence," Sadira said dryly, "I'm having trouble

thinking of any.  Jasmine, _you've_ got the experience with this.  I'm

still half a virgin.  What can we do?  I have to _move_ myself in order to

get to --" she paused:  their rapport was getting stronger every day, but

it still felt occasionally strange to talk about some things "-- the vital

areas, and it's going to get pretty crowded with just _me_ in the bed."

    Jasmine's face turned serious.  "Okay.  You want the honest truth?  A

lot of positions are closed to you."  A small shrug.  "But you never got

to try them anyway, so the hell with them.  You've got two intelligent and

imaginative people with you.  One brainstorm between the three of you,

it'll be settled."

    "It won't always be three of us," Sadira told her.  "We already

realized that there's going to be times when one of us will need some time

alone, or two of us just need to be with each other.  I'm okay with it

being Jason and Pamela --" and she'd shocked Jasmine again:  her sister

had frozen in place while Sadira continued forward.  She backed up the

wheelchair.  "_That_ got you?"

    Jasmine defrosted, then nodded.  "A movie is one thing.  Real life is

another.  You're really comfortable with that?"

    "I want them to love me and I want them to love each other.  Is that

unrealistic?"

    "_Now_ you're asking me?"  Jasmine took a deep breath.  "No.  Maybe

for anyone else -- but I think you three can make it work."  They started

down the hall.  "I'm still jealous."

    "What about Cypher?"

    "We didn't _do_ anything."

    "Why not?"

    "Well, he looked like he really needed coffee --"

     Teasingly, "I think he likes you."

    "Oh, come on, you've already got _two_."

    "I'll stick with that number."

    "What about kids?"  This time, Sadira stopped.  "I mean -- well, you

and Jason, or Jason and Pamela -- half brothers and sisters --"

    "Brothers and sisters," Sadira corrected.  "Period.  And you forgot me

and Pamela."

    Jasmine inhaled sharply.  "How?!"

    Sadira smiled.  "As soon as everything else is wrapped up, that's the

next project.  Or maybe we'll just work on it on alternate Tuesdays while

we're completing BE-2A.  I _know_ we can't get government funding for it

-- but I think we've got enough money to work with on our own.  But kids

are a long way in the future -- and I don't think I should get pregnant."

    "Why not?" Jasmine started -- then saw it.

    Sadira confirmed.  "This is _glandular_ tissue.  I get pregnant, and

it's 'Be fruitful and multiply.'  God only knows what happens when the

milk comes in.  Maybe if we found a way to disable those genes..."

    "I'd be really careful about messing around with your own genes after

this."

    Sadira ruefully nodded.  "Pamela already volunteered to carry.  But

she's got the macromastia sequence, too...  Well, it's a long way off."

She started the chair rolling forward and looked over to Jasmine, again

walking by her side.  "Are you sure you don't have any hints?  It may all

come to me once we start, but..."

    "Sadira, I've made some movies, and some of them were with women.

Good money."  Jasmine's voice dropped as the miles weighed it down.  "I've

fucked a _lot_ of guys because I was lonely -- but most times, I was just

going through the motions.  Honest truth?  It's a lot more fun when you're

making it up as you go along."  A sigh.  "_Two_ people."  A deeper one.

"You're my sister, all right."

    Sadira smiled and steered around a corner.

    "Actually -- one idea." Jasmine looked down at her sister, and then to

the front of her breasts.  The new bras had a soft area at the front to

allow for nipple swelling.  The conversation had started the process.

Sadira had joked that her erect nipples were only one twenty-eighth of her

total bust measurement --which sounded reasonable until the math resulted

in five inches.  Jasmine grinned.  "One nipple each."

    Sadira looked momentarily intrigued.



    Jason walked into the lab, toweling away sweat.  "I wish this thing

made me _think_ faster instead of just _reacting_ faster," he grumbled.

"I'd like to be able to do more in that room than just count repetitions."

    "I've been looking at your latest extrapolations," Pamela said.  "I

think adding this sequence might help, but it _still_ looks incomplete."

 She gently hit the side of the machine.  "Damn it," came the soft voice.

"It still goes too far, and I'd settle for not far enough, just to slow

things down..."  She'd found love, twice over, and both of the people she

loved were still at risk...

    Sadira wheeled away from the computer.  "Can I get a look at that new

printout?  Mine isn't going anywhere."

    Pamela nodded and gave it to her.  Sadira lifted it high in front of

her, staring straight ahead at it --

    -- and then she was seeing something else.

    Pamela and Jason looked at her just in time to see her eyes unfocus.

    They had each seen it before, Jason once, with Sadira looking at a

puzzle on a computer, and Pamela a dozen times over the years, always just

before --

    "Oh, God," Pamela prayed, and for a moment thought Jason had said it.

    They were still trying to find macromastic samples, but they'd

gathered virtually all the metabolic data in the world.  Sadira had read

everything, all the pieces of the puzzle were somewhere in her head, Some

Assembly Required...

    "Come on, Sadira," Jason breathed.  "Put it all together."

    They clasped hands as Sadira continued to look _beyond_ the paper,

twenty seconds, thirty, forty --

    -- and out to the other side.

    Sadira spun the wheelchair, desperately getting back into position at

the computer, and her right hand shot out, alternating between mouse and

keyboard, clicking, typing, occasionally pausing briefly as she checked

for typos, one bad keystroke that worked into the sequence would ruin the

lot, then hurrying forward again --

    -- she stopped.

    Jason and Pamela rushed over.  The simulated double-helix was rotating

on the screen, quietly beautiful.

    Sadira breathed deeply, trying to find oxygen, as if she'd just

finished a marathon -- or simply tried to walk a few feet.  "Let's try

it."



    The six of them had gathered.  Jason and Sadira were sitting.  Cypher

was leaning against one of the computers.  Douglas and Jasmine were

standing, and had been trying to make conversation.  They hadn't been

doing well.  Pamela had been the last to walk in, her testing complete.

She held two syringes, one in each hand:  blue plunger head in the left,

red in the right.  Sadira glanced up at the clock.  Thursday, April 11th,

five minutes before eight p.m.

    "The simulations aren't sure what will happen to the body as a

_unit_." She glanced at Jason.  "Your readings are different from

Sadira's.  She's got additional factors to worry about.  This could work

on one of you, and not the other."  She looked at her left hand.  "That's

the decelerator.  If it works properly, you both go from ten back to

three.  Normal rate.  Mouse, you're cured.  Sadira, we'll have time to

gather those samples: you won't be growing any faster than you would have

during adolescence, and your energy needs will go back to normal."

    "And if it doesn't work?" Douglas asked.

    "It could go too far.  I could give them a shot of the accelerator to

counter it --" she nodded at the syringe in her right hand "-- but both

viruses in that short a time frame is a major shock to their systems."

Slowly, "The computer thinks that could be fatal.  Seventy percent

chance.

    "Involve all the systems at once, every cell, and things get chaotic.

One thing goes wrong, cascade effect, and everything goes.  It can't be

tested on animals.  The sequences only affect humans.  And we sure as hell

can't infect someone else as a test subject."  Pamela smiled, just for a

second, feral again.  "You know, I thought _nothing_ could make me wish

Nigilo was alive.  Wrong."

    Jasmine looked into Pamela's eyes.  Quietly, she recited, "'My

objective all sublime, I shall achieve in time.'"

    Pamela nodded and finished the quote.  "'To let the punishment fit the

crime, the punishment fit the crime.'  It did, didn't it?  But I can't do

it twice."

    Jason looked up at her from his seat.  "When you insisted that we

bring the virus samples into Cascade, it wasn't just for bluffing, or

modification if Sadira had found the cure.  You made sure you had the

decelerator, didn't you?"

    Pamela put the syringes down on a table and walked over to him.

"Mouse, if I had the chance, I was going to kill him.  The virus was in

case I got to do it poetically.  So maybe it was murder.  But I can sleep

at night.  And if I ever can't --" she looked at Sadira "-- will you two

still be there for me?"

    "'Let the punishment fit the crime," Sadira simply said.

    "'The punishment fit the crime,'" Jason echoed.

    Pamela kissed them both, then went back to the syringes.  "So we can

try this," she said, "or we can look for something else.  But we've

learned as much as we're going to by using the samples and simulators."

The next words were slow, like the pronouncement of a judgement coming

down from the high court.  "We have to make a decision."

    Sadira looked at the blue syringe.  "You know the sick part?" she

asked softly.  "After all that, it wasn't even that complicated."

    Jason smiled at her.  "For you," he pointed out.  "But we all did it

together.  My source, Pamela's modification, your completion, Jasmine's

idea to look for it in the first place, Douglas and Cypher keeping us

alive long enough to find it."  His eyes drifted up, and locked with

Pamela's.  "I trust all of us," he said simply.  "I'll go first."

    Sadira started to wheel towards him.  "Jason --"

    He held up his right hand, stopping her.  "Because if something goes

wrong, then you're still alive.  No argument."

    Sadira rolled up and took his hand.  "You've been hanging around

Pamela too much," she whispered.

    "It was your idea," he reminded her, and gently squeezed.

    Douglas looked at the syringes.  "So what do we do?"

    Cypher answered.  "You and I get ready to go with our final stage," he

said.  "They get ready for theirs."



    Nine p.m.  Jason was hooked up to a full battery of monitors, checking

pulse rate, breathing, EKG, brain wave activity -- the works.  They had

been hastily labeled with their deductions of the correspondence from

metabolism to the various activity levels:  ten to zero.  The equipment

had been recovered from Mexico.  Pamela wanted different machines:  all

these had done was monitor death -- but perhaps they were due to see a

cure.

    Douglas and Cypher had stopped their activity to join them:  they had

retreated to the doorway after shaking Jason's hand, and were visibly

trying to project their strength.  Sadira was sitting on Jason's right,

holding his hand and trying to stay away from the wires.  Jasmine was

kneeling on the left, holding his other hand.  They all waited patiently.

Pamela pushed up Jason's left sleeve and sterilized the injection area.

"Mouse," she began, unable to meet his eyes, "if this doesn't work --"

    "Try the accelerator," he said calmly.  "Then we'll look for something

else."  He glanced at Sadira, then back to Pamela.  "We've been beating

the odds so far.  One more success for me, and two for Sadira."

    Sadira looked over at him.  "Lean over," she whispered, and Jason did.

Pamela moved with him, and they both kissed him.  Jasmine came up and got

his cheek.

    Pamela looked at the needle, glinting in the light, to Jason's brown

eyes, reflecting those sparkles back to her, and then around the room.

Sadira's lab.  It ended where it began.

    She injected Jason and moved to the monitors.

    The cells around the injection site took in some of the invading

organisms, accepted it, adopted its code as their own, then sent the

message to other cells.  The rest of the virus raced around the

bloodstream, trying to beat out the speeding transmission -- once a cell

had been modified, further infection would do nothing.  Pamela watched the

screens as Jason's systems were hit, and began to react.

    <Ten,> and she remembered what had happened the last time she had

started the countdown.  <Nine.  Eight.>

    Jason gasped, and began to tremble -- and then the movement

accelerated.  She looked away from the monitors.  Sadira was holding onto

his hand as his body jerked, eyes wide and desperate.  <Shedding

reaction!> her mind screamed.  <The simulations said this might happen,

he's trying to dump any excess still in the cells!>  But her _heart_

didn't believe it, she could hear Douglas crying out, she was already

reaching for the red syringe, glancing back at the monitors --

<Six.  Five.>  He was convulsing, his body vibrating itself to pieces, it

was happening too fast, she had the syringe -- <Three -->

    -- and the indicators stopped moving as Jason's body tightened,

lifted -- and crashed back into the seat.

    Every monitor had stabilized at three.

    Jason took a long, shuddering breath.

    "Now that," he gasped, "we could sell to Disneyland.  Shake, rattle,

and roll."

    Pamela looked at the monitors again, then at Jason.  Somehow, all the

wires and pads had remained attached.  It was all stable.  Human-normal

rate.

    "Let me get a few samples, and make sure things are working properly,"

Pamela got out.  "But if you look okay --"

    Sadira's eyes, and her own, said that Jason looked more than okay.  He

looked like he was going to live.

    "-- then we try it on me," Sadira finished.  "Don't uncross your

fingers yet."



    It took an hour to run the checks.  The virus was out of Jason's

system:  it had infected the cells -- some of it going after already-

modified areas -- and died.  All of Jason's cells had returned to normal

functioning.  The various systems had been hit hard, and together -- but

they had ridden through the storm.  He was cured.

    It was Sadira's turn.

    The positions had changed:  Sadira was in the center now, wires

coming out of the neck of the muu-muu:  it had been a minor bit of fun to

get the heart and lung pads properly attached.  Jasmine had shifted to the

right, Jason was on the left.

    Douglas came into the room, Cypher close on his heels.  "I'll see you

on the other side," he told Sadira.  "One day, I will see you in front of

my camera, giving that smile to the world.  You did promise, after all.  I

will not allow you to escape that."

    Sadira gave him that smile.  "I only promised to _consider_ it."  But

the words were kind, gently teasing.  "Can't you think about anything else

right now?"

    "Only that love is strength, and we will not let you fall."  He bent

down and kissed her forehead, then stepped aside.

    Cypher stepped forward.  "We haven't really known each other that

long," he hesitantly started, "but -- well, you give good trouble.  I'd

like to keep you around this world for a while."

    "Cypher?" She met his dark eyes.  "What's your real name?"

    He shrugged, then looked embarrassed.  "Gates.  William Gates."  A

flash of a grin.  "Now you know why I like Cypher better."  Pamela and

Douglas started laughing.  He looked back at them.  "Quit it.  A little

respect for the humiliated man.  I'm going to have it legally changed."

They forced themselves to stop.  Cypher looked at Sadira.  "Good luck,

girl."  He put out his right hand, realized that Jason and Jasmine had

eliminated the possibilities --

    "-- go ahead," Sadira told him.  He kissed her forehead.

    Jasmine looked up at her.  "We're going to have that time together,"

she stated firmly, and then a kiss.

    "So will we," Jason added, and kissed her as well.

    Pamela approached.  "We all will," she told her.  "If only because my

last memory of you will _not_ be in that outfit."  She pushed up the

left sleeve of the garish neon-pink muu-muu as Sadira started giggling.

"_No one_ would be caught dead in that thing.  That's why you're going to

live."  A smile as she sterilized the injection site.  "Got me?"

    "I hear you, Ivory."  A kiss, and then the needle.

    Pamela went to the monitors.

    The difference was immediately obvious.

    Jason's body had been generally accelerated, all systems at full

power, with special attention diverted to damaged areas -- the bullet

wound, the muscle tissue -- when needed.  Sadira's body had that same

acceleration, but she had hormones streaming through her body, carrying a

specific set of messages.  There was a focus area for the power:

regardless of the state of the rest of the body, energy was _always_ being

channeled into the production of new cells in the breasts.  The system was

inherently unbalanced --

    -- and it wasn't shutting down evenly.

    The monitors fell to eight almost immediately, jumped back up to nine,

plunged to six, then threatened to go off the top of the scale.  Sadira

was shaking violently, her hands squeezing until Jason and Jasmine

screamed in pain, body jerking, the convulsions powerful enough to raise

her out of the seat against the weight of her breasts, and she was

_screaming_ as the monitors plunged to four, then back up to six, a leap

to nine, body vibrating faster, Douglas and Cypher running to try and hold

her down, and Pamela grabbing the red syringe again as the indicator fell

to two, the scream reaching higher and louder as the monitor surged back

to three, fell to two, reached higher, plummeted to _one_ , they tried to

pull her down, Pamela raced towards her, readying the syringe --

    -- Sadira fell back into the chair, breasts shuddering at the impact,

eyelids fluttering -- then closing.

    Pamela risked the tenth of a second it took to check the monitors.

    They had all stabilized at three.

    Sadira's eyes weakly opened.

    "Sadira?"  Pamela held her right wrist, verifying the pulse.  They

were all there with her, at her sides, waiting.  "How do you feel?"

    Her words were weak, the voice still shattered by the pain.  "It's

more like -- how I _don't_ feel."

    "How's that?" Jason whispered.

    "Hungry."  And a small smile crossed her face.

    Pamela started to say "I'd better take those samples," and got as far

as "I" before throwing the rest of the sentence away, dropping the

syringe, and going in for the hug again, and everyone was there with her,

somehow they were all hugging Sadira or each other, there was definitely a

question as to who had who, somewhere in there Sadira got a Powerbar out

and threw it across the room, but they all had each other, all crying and

laughing and ready to live...



                    43. 144.0383561:  A moment in time



    "Hi, Mom.  I _know_ I was supposed to call on the fifth.  Well, I

haven't been in the apartment lately.  Things have been a little busy.  I

just wanted to tell you that I'll be home tomorrow."  Sadira gave the

hotel phone an awkward look.  "No, everything's fine at work now.  It

wasn't before, but -- Mom, this really isn't something I can discuss over

the phone.  Well -- ah -- I'm going to be bringing some friends --

Jasmine's coming with me!"  The words leapt into the break created by the

shock.  "Do you want to talk to her?"  Without waiting for an answer, she

thrust the phone at Jasmine.

    Jasmine slowly took the phone and shot Sadira a wry glance.  "Thanks a

lot, sis."  She raised the receiver.  "Hi, Mom.  Yeah, it's me!  Sadira

and I will be home around nine.  We're leaving in about two hours on a red

eye."  Another glance at Sadira.  "No, she isn't sick.  I'm not either.

Mom -- this is -- I can't really talk about this.  We'll just tell you

when we get there.  _Nothing's wrong_.  We've just got some relatively

minor things to work out.  Well, they're kind of minor by comparison..."

Jasmine desperately thrust the phone back to Sadira.

    Sadira held it up, blurted out, "Love you, Mom!" and hung up.

    They both stared at the phone.

    Jasmine said, "She's standing in the kitchen right now, staring at the

phone, wondering what the _fuck_ would put us in the same room."

    Sadira smiled.  "You know _anything_ we could have come up with is

going to be more believable than the truth."

    A slow smile.  "Maybe we should have told her we were getting

married."

    They both giggled.  "Compared to what I _do_ have to tell her, that

might be easier.  Mom might eventually be happy I've found someone --

maybe even _two_ someones -- but Dad..."

    "He'll scream, and he'll yell, and then he'll let you do what you want

to.  That's what happened when I told him I was going to dance."

    "Yeah, but he knew _you_ would do it anyway.  I'm going to have a

harder time."

    "Just tell him you'll pay for the wedding.  Weddings.  How _are_ you

three going to work that?"

    "No idea."  Sadira grinned.  "Right now, our main concern is finding a

really big bed."

    Jasmine smiled back -- then paused.  "I just pictured their faces when

they see you.  Maybe we should just try to explain the really tough stuff

before the shock wears off."

    "Good idea.  That'll give us an extra hour to think of something to

say about _that_.  I haven't come up with anything in two days..."

    Jasmine sighed and reached for Sadira's bra.  "Well, let's get you

dressed for the flight."  She glanced at the instructions.  "This is

actually starting to make sense."

    Sadira looked at the booklet.  "At least there _are_ instructions."

They'd been removed from the Cascade shipment:  the Shaw name was

everywhere.  "I hope I memorize these faster than Rice-a-Roni." "You'll

get more practice."  They started putting the bra on.  Sadira glanced down

at the visible portion of her breasts.

    She had found privacy -- and a full-length mirror -- in the bathroom

that morning, so had stood up for a look.  _Standing_ hadn't been easy:

she hadn't realized just much extra energy she'd been channeling until her

levels had dropped back to normal -- but she'd done it, forcing herself

temporarily upright against nearly a hundred and twenty pounds of extra

mass.  Sadira considered it to be a good sign.

    Her breasts had descended just past her knees, but most of the last

surge of growth had gone forward and out to the sides.  Lifted and

corralled into the bra, she stuck out several feet to the front, and they

were so much wider than her body even near the base, swelling out even

further to the sides as they moved towards their distant ends...

    But now she could think of them as _her_ breasts, for more than a few

seconds at a time.  They were no longer visibly changing day by day.  She

could start getting used to them.  It would be a long, hard process -- but

she would have all the help she needed.

    And Jasmine, who had been on a creative streak, was coming up with

more possibilities for the bedroom...

    "So how does it look?"

    "Better than the muu-muus."  Sadira appreciatively looked at the

garment.  Jasmine had put together her sewing skills, Sadira's

measurements, a large bolt of grey fabric, and two hours of careful work..

The result was a passable sweater.  "I finally decided what I want to

spend some of the money on." She grinned.  "Shirts.  Sweaters.  Suits.

Coats.  A really big Mets jacket.  _Nothing_ with flowers or fruit.  Money

is no object.  Customize _everything_."

    "It's in your budget," Jasmine agreed.  "How about a bathing suit?"

    "Good point.  We're going to have the pool.  Maybe Ms. Shaw:  she can

build in the supports."

    "Too bad."  Sadira looked up at her.  "Well, that means it has to be a

one-piece.  I was picturing you in a really strong bikini..."

    Sadira winced.  "I'm still trying to figure how we're going to work

the wedding dresses.  And Pamela will insist on wearing black..."



    They finished getting Sadira dressed just as Jason and Pamela walked

in.  "Got everything?" Pamela asked.  "Douglas is waiting downstairs with

Cypher."

    Jasmine nodded.  "I cleaned out every towel in my room."

    "You're a multi-millionaire," Jason pointed out.  "You can _afford_

towels."

    "It's a collection," Jasmine defended.  "I've got one from every hotel

I've ever been to."

    Pamela arched an eyebrow.  "Then why take them all?"

    "Backups," Jasmine explained thoroughly, and went into the bathroom to

see if she'd missed any color variants.

    Sadira wheeled over to the hotel desk and grabbed her notebook.  "I

can't forgot this.  I'll finish it after we explain everything to my

parents."

    "And then to my parents," Jason added.  He didn't sound like he was

looking forward to the experience.

    "My mom," Pamela added, "and done.  Sadira won the dice toss:  New

York first, even if your parents are closer."

    Jason shook his head.  "I mind?  It gives _me_ more time to think of

something.  Your mother sounds like she might accept this.  Sadira and

Jasmine can go in together.  _I'm_ a dead man."

    Sadira smiled.  "Does that mean you want to forget it?"

    Jason returned the expression.  "Not a chance.  But it may be a while

before we can visit for the holidays..."

    Pamela groaned.  "Don't bring _that_ up.  It's hard enough juggling

family commitments for _two_.  We're going to need a computer to work out

the schedules.  We might have to alienate someone to stay _sane_."  Her

eyes twinkled.  "And you're forgetting something, Mouse.  We all face our

respective families together.  They can't beat us all.  No one can."

    Jason heaved an exaggerated sigh, then nodded.  "Then _you_ can stand

at the front when we face my parents.  I'll be hiding at the back."

    "Behind what?" Sadira asked.

    "I don't know.  I could always try to crouch down behind you..."

Jason blushed.

    "Oh, is it going to be fun when we get _him_ in bed," Pamela decided.

"I bet he turns out to be as good as you.  Look at that color."

    Sadira examined Jason's face.  "Would you say that's more apple or

rose?"

    Jason affectionately glared at Pamela.  "Like the human stoplight can

talk."  Pamela glared right back at him.  Jasmine walked between them.

    "Everyone's got everything, right?"  They quickly engaged in a last-

second search of the room, and concluded that if they'd missed anything,

it was probably too late anyway.  "Let's head out."



    Pamela glanced at her watch as they waited for the elevator.  "Nine o'

clock.  It shouldn't be long now."

    "We've still got nearly two hours to catch that flight," Jasmine

reminded her.  "There shouldn't be much traffic on a Saturday night.  And

it's a charter:  the pilot won't leave without us."

    Sadira smiled.  "I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to

squeeze into one of those seats..."

    Pamela shook her head.  "It's a _very_ wheelchair-friendly plane:

Douglas made sure of that.  There's special clamps for the wheels, and

lots of room:  he went on the plane and measured.  But that's not what I

was talking about."  She looked down at Sadira.  "Remember that little

surprise I had planned?"  Sadira nodded.  "I was just thinking about the

timing.  Late on a Saturday -- when everyone would be resting --_and_ on

the thirteenth of April.  I just wish it was a Friday."

     "Pamela," Jason said carefully, "what did you do?"

    "Me?  Nothing.  Cypher and Douglas did most of the real work.  Jasmine

helped." She looked at the floor indicator panel.  Everything was still

stuck on 2.  They were on 15.  "To start with, Cypher wiped out some of

the electronic records of you two at the company, and Douglas destroyed

the paperwork.  As far as employment goes, you two purchased your bonds

and left on March fourteenth."

    "And then there was that bill of sale," Jasmine added.  "I think I

lost my copy."

    "Ivory..."  Jason and Sadira together.

    "Well --" A glance at the indicator lights.  The central elevator had

moved up to 4.  "Basically, the company got sold off completely, the names

of some people who don't exist are in the records for the sales,

everything was bearer bonds, so no one knows who has the money -- we're

going to take a major hit from the IRS when we deposit this:  we'd better

find a good accountant..."

    Jasmine looked at Pamela.  "I'm going to tell them if you don't,"

    Pamela shrugged.  "Well, about an hour ago, after we got the last

bunch of bonds, Cypher pressed a button.  At 11:30, the police and news

agencies are going to get hit with a ton of Email -- including pictures --

detailing crimes, evidence locations, and where they go to pick up the

people who committed then.  We put together enough for all of it to stick.

A lot of people are going to jail for life.  Mass murder, after all.  The

trial should be something.  They'll probably run it on Court TV.  We'd

better get cable."

    Jason and Sadira's eyes widened.  Pamela added.  "All of the evidence

for the information release leads back to a computer bomb planted by Angel

Carmody.  He was killed by the owners to keep him quiet, but they didn't

know about the computer program.  He'll be a hero.

    "And in case someone decides to get cute -- well, everyone at the

meeting, and everyone we were going to blacklist, was infected with one

half of an airborne binary virus, by us or by our agents.  We've been

immunized.  They weren't.

    "All of the ex-owners have computers, and all of the employees we went

after, and they all have Email addresses.  Since Thursday night, they've

all been getting little messages reminding them that at any moment,

someone could open a bag of chips near them and release a puff of air

carrying the second half -- and if anything happens to us, or they even

_mention_ us, that's what happens to them, guaranteed.  Douglas wrote out

the details of how they would go.  It looks just like a stroke, but it's a

lot more painful.  And then the message releases its computer virus and

erases itself.  Cypher checked:  everyone's picked up their mail -- so he

released the hounds."

    "That's impossible," Sadira told her.  "No virus works like that --"

    "-- they know that?"  Snow leopard.  "I told them _you_ built it.

They think you're capable of _anything_.  Ebony, I promised them _I_

wouldn't call the cops.  I always keep my promises.  _Cypher_ hit the

button."

    Jason started laughing first.  Everyone else had joined in by the time

the elevator finally arrived.



    Douglas was setting up a odd-looking camera on a tripod in the parking

lot.  A current of warm air washed across them as they exited the hotel

through the double-doors.  Montana was moving into a spell of good

weather:  the temperature was in the low fifties.  Jason had been unable

to use it as an argument for settling in Montana.  He hadn't even tried to

fight very hard:  they were going to live in New York.

    "What's this?" Sadira asked as she wheeled closer.  The camera was

_very_ odd:  unreasonably wide and tall, with six slots in the front and

three flashes.

    "It's called a copy camera," Douglas said.  "More of a novelty item

than anything else.  I picked it up yesterday.  It takes the light from

one picture and imprints it onto several rolls of film at once.  This one

does standard and instant pictures.  I wanted to get a photo of us all

before we departed.  We will all have a copy instantly -- I will develop

the standard film for myself.  I assumed you would want an immediate extra

to enclose for your cousin."  Sadira nodded gratefully.

    Douglas straightened and looked at the threesome.  "I've lined up an

assignment in San Francisco.  I have no interest in taking credit for the

images that went out in the mail.  I think I'd rather go back to my old

_new_ life, even with my overly-generous windfall -- and that will start

it again."  He looked at the camera.  "If I can just get this thing to

cooperate, we can strike our pose."  He went back to adjusting it.

    Cypher stepped away from the wall and approached them.  "You guys are

going back to work soon, right?"

    Sadira nodded.  "But we're going to take a few weeks off first.  We

have to explain things to our parents, and then spend some time with each

other."  She glanced at Jasmine.  "We've got some more catching up to do."

 A long look at her lovers.  "And a lot of things to figure out."

    "But you're not cured," Cypher reminded her.  "Can you guys _take_

that time?"

    The expression was one of loving exasperation:  she understood the

concern, but...  "We can't spend our whole lives in a lab.  And we've

bought a lot of time.  I'm still growing -- but at a normal rate.  It's no

faster than it would have been as a teenager."

    "That could still be pretty fast," Jasmine reminded her.  "I put on

seven inches when I was fourteen."

    Sadira laughed, long and hearty.  "Oh no, seven inches in a _year_!

And to think it used to take me forty-two _hours_ to pull that off!

Jasmine, just wearing the same size bra for a _month_ is going to be a

luxury.  We've got that time now.  We'll find the answer.  If it takes a

year --"  Sadira grinned.  "I don't think most people can spot the

difference between 144 and 151 too easily."  Her voice momentarily dropped

into wry tones.  "At this point, what's a few more pounds?"  Jasmine

caught the note and nodded.  "Mom will put together that program for me,

and eventually, whatever it takes, I _will_ be back on my feet."

    "Aunt Susan is flying in on Tuesday," Pamela added.  "We're going to

get Sadira custom-fitted, and go for that back brace."

    "Anything you need," Jason said.  "Always and forever, no matter

what happens."

    "Lovers, partners, and friends," Sadira concluded -- then had a

thought.  "We're going to need a new name."

    "I was thinking about that," Jason told her.  "I'll go with Archer."

Pamela nodded.

    "No, our company!  We're all equal partners now.  We can build up the

seventh floor into something great, but we're going to need a good name."

    "What's wrong with Terragen?"

    "Ivory, it sounds like a _spice_."

    They all considered that.

    Cypher responded first.  "How about initials?"

    Pamela considered.  "Shaw, Archer, Pterros.  Sap.  I'll pass."

    Jasmine's eyes went wide.  "Switch the first two.  Asp."  Pamela

recognized the grin type.  "Dangerous when handled incorrectly."

    "Aspgen," Pamela mulled.

    "Now we sound like a ski resort," Sadira pointed out.

    Pamela shook her head.  "I like it.  Mouse?"  Confirmation.  "All in

favor?"  Two hands went up.  "You're outvoted."  She looked at Jason.  "I

_like_ this arrangement.  Three can't tie."

    Sadira groaned.  "I _knew_ I was going to regret this..."

    "Got it ready!" Douglas called out.  "Start getting in position.

Everyone line up in front of the camera, anyway you like.  This is a

spontaneous photo, after all."  He smiled at Sadira.  "We'll teach you how

to be professional later."

    "Douglas, _give up_."

    "The most gallant pursuits are the futile ones.  The most noble are

those that still come true," Douglas philosophized.  "One day, Sadira, you

will be ready.  And you as well, Pamela."

    Pamela groaned.  "You know, the way he says it, it _almost_ makes

sense..."

    "All right," Sadira decided.  "Help me up."

    "Sadira, your back --" Jason started --

    -- and Sadira cut him off.  "I'm on my feet for this one.  Each of you

take one side and help support me.  I've been practicing.  If I use you

two for balance and you brace my back, I can stand up long enough for the

photo."

    Jason sighed and went to remove the board.

    "You've been _practicing_?" Pamela accused as she reached down, taking

the right side.  "You kept taking that risk after I caught you the first

time?"

    "That sounds a little weird coming from a woman who took _five_

bullets.  Not to mention three darts.  Now _you_ can buy the first drink

at Fancy That on Friday."

    "All the drinks are free," Jason reminded her, moving to Sadira's

left.

    "Then she can buy the van that gets us there."

    "Fair enough."  They carefully lifted Sadira.  Cypher scrambled behind

them and pushed the chair clear.

    "Where do I go..." Jasmine mused.  "Got it.  Cypher, come around here.

I'll sit in front of Jason --"  she did so, then scrambled sideways,

getting out of the shadow of Sadira's breasts, and turned so that her body

was in profile to the camera.  "Sadira, tilt over a bit.  Let the camera

see some forward projection.  Kay won't get the best view with that

angle."

    "Jasmine --"

    "You've got it.  Lots of it.  Start _flaunting_ it a little."

    Sadira started to protest -- and found herself being angled.  "Hey!"

    "She's right," Pamela said.  She and Jason continued to adjust

position.  "A little here and there won't hurt.  It'll help your ego.

Believe me, if you get out of control, we'll let you know.  Besides, _I_

think it'll look better."

    "Jason?"

    "Two against one again," was his reply.  They finished the shift.

    "Great..."

    Cypher looked at Jasmine's position.  "Okay, I get it.  So I sit in

front of Pamela and turn like this --"

    "-- that's about it," Jasmine agreed.  "Lean forward a little.  You've

got a good profile:  show it off."

    Douglas looked at their poses.  "And there is no place I can go where

I won't unbalance the arrangement," he said ruefully.  "I did say

spontaneous.  I would lie down in front like a bathing beauty, but that

would do the aesthetics no good."

   "Just go on the left," Jasmine said.  "I don't think anyone's going to

worry about it."

    "None but me," Douglas good-naturedly grumbled.  He gave his settings

a final check.

    "_I'm_ going to have to work out more," Pamela decided.  "You're not

easy to carry, Ebs."

    "She feels pretty light to me," Jason said.

    Sadira glanced at them both.  "You're barely letting my feet touch the

floor."  She focused on Pamela as Douglas approached.  "I wish you would

grow your hair long."

    "Are you kidding?  I'd look like an avalanche in progress."

    "_I_ think it would look sexy."  A significant glance at Jason.

"Mouse?"  Jason nodded.  "You're outvoted."

    Pamela winced.  "And it was so much fun until now..."

    "All right!"  Douglas started moving into position.  "One minute left

for me to find a better spot --"

    Sadira looked to the right, at the edge of the camera's view.  <Angel

should be standing there.>  The guilt began to rise.  <He died because of

me...

    <But soon, the entire world will see him as a hero.  He would have

liked that.  He _deserves_ that.>  And if she looked hard enough,

concentrated, she could call him out of memory, and he wasn't average at

all.  He was handsome, dynamic, and there was an expression on his face:

quiet satisfaction.

    <Better to die a hero than live as a slave,> the inner voice said --

and she wasn't sure it was hers.  <No one else will die because of

GenTree: no more 'testing' on innocent people, and the ones responsible

will be finally pay.  One of them already has.  It was a good death,

better than life.>

    -- and was that just imagination, now?  Could she see him there?  For

a second, it seemed as if she could --

    -- and the guilt faded away.

    Douglas gave up and settled in on Jason's left.  "About fifteen

seconds, people!  Settle in!"  Cypher fidgeted.

    Sadira turned her head to smile at Douglas, the smile he had said was

so beautiful, and the expression was returned in kind and feeling.

Another to Cypher, and he settled in.

    She looked at Jason and Pamela, who were getting ready for the camera,

then Jasmine, who was already perfectly prepared.

    <After all these years, I finally have a sister.  And I found out that

I could be loved, that I _am_ loved, more than I ever would have believed

possible.  I have two people who will be with me forever, always loving,

and we'll never be alone again.>

    "Smiles, everyone!"

    <The books are closed, but the scales aren't balanced.  They tilt

towards me -->

    "In three, two, one --"

     <-- because it was worth it after all.>







    January 3rd -- March 24th, 1997





















                              Closing Credits



                                   Cast:



Starring:



Sadira Scheherazade Archer........................voiced by Jenine Rideri

Jasmine Pirouze Archer....................................Susan Cangelosi

Jason Pterros..............................................Jonathan Trask

Pamela Anne Shaw............................................Kimberly Reed



Featuring:



Angel Carmody................................................Cullan Reese

Cypher (William Gates)..........................................Ty Risken

Kyle Nigilo............................................Nathaniel Landborn

Douglas Pollota..........................................Thomas Stevenson



With (speaking parts only):



Airline Ticket Agent..........................................Trent Wilson

Bartender at Fancy That...................................Alan Stonebender

Billings Cabbie..............................................Peter Sanford

Billings Ticket Agent.............................................Ed Smith

Citizen Negotiator.........................................Lincoln Tirelli

Delivery Man.................................................Vincent Lyons

Female Computer Technician...................................Ellen Sanders

Guard on Fire!....................................................Cal Hawk

Guard in Lab...................................................Jake Rommel

Male Computer Technician....................................Niles Hardesty

Minneapolis Cabbie..........................................Maria De Roche

Waitress at Al's Barn........................................Anna Ragatini

Women in Stairwell...........................................Naia Verwoerd

Young Lady on Train.........................................Betty Robinson

Harold Adams....................................................Jack Cohen

Olivia Anderson.............................................Kaitlin Frakes

Roger Barker...................................................Colin Swift

Neil Benning...............................................Virgil Clawfoot

Gordon Danson...............................................Raymond Glasso

Mikhail Davtenkirtch...........................................Joseph Race

Thomas Desparin.............................................Clifford House

Carter Fallo..................................................Devlin Torve

Henry Ipswitch.................................................Max Simpson

Paul Jonas..................................................Harold LaLonde

Elmora King....................................................Alice James

Emmitt Lewis................................................Cameron Denver

Calvin Menken...............................................Kenneth Murphy

Peter Miral..................................................Michael Paris

Stan Price.......................................................Roger Lee

Angela Rockford..........................................Barbara Haversham

Carlos Santini................................................Archie Fideo

Claire Shalm..............................................Stephanie Alasin

Victor Shalm.............................................Mikhail Rodreguiz

Alex Stanis....................................................Gene Bavasi

Ron Swensen..................................................Amos Atchison

Fred Temperi......................................................Bob Sudi

Lisa Trevor................................................Cristene Culizi

Grace Windsor.............................................Clarissa Wheeler

Stan Zindel..................................................Richard Farze



And quantum-jumping without a license:



Kimberly Reed......................................................Herself

Melanie Skyler.....................................................Herself



    All characters (with the following exceptions) and unique locations

such as GenTree Research in this story are copyrighted to Sam Tuirel, and

may not be used without permission.  Ask politely, because I also reserve

the right to withdraw permission at any time.  And I'll want to go over

your drafts.

    Since everyone should copyright a phrase, I'll take "Inches are bunk.

Not that anyone else would use it...

    The characters of Kay Archer, Rick Danby, Charlotte Davenport, and

Susan Shaw are copyright to SortaDog, which means you get to ask _him_.

Permission was granted for their use in this story, and thanks are hereby

given once again.

    However, the Fancy That club chain wishes it to be known that they

will open a new branch wherever their services are needed.  But the spirit

of the clubs must be kept:  they are places of rest, respite, laughter,

and healing.  If not, the bouncers will show up.



    The author wishes to thank the following people and organizations:



    SortaDog, in all his aliases.  This story could not have been written

without his willingness to help a new member of the _R&D_ mailing list

along with this crazy idea, reading it chapter by chapter as it came out,

making suggestions, spotting typos, and trying to keep my spirits up all

the way through.  None of those were easy tasks.  I cannot give him enough

credit for his assistance -- but that's not a problem.  I'm sure he'll

take plenty on his own.  And if you don't get _R&D_ in your Email every

month or so, write gspot@nildram.co.uk and get started.



    The National Library of Medicine at Bethesda, Maryland, which,

although they probably _wondered_ what the $%^^ I was up to, was gracious

enough not to ask.



    Cheyenne Chaste Moon, for chosing not to rip apart the story in her

_R&D_ review column.  She choose to rip apart the ASCII symbols instead.

Okay, Cheyenne, I'm finished:  _now_ I can try to master the mysteries of

Rich Text Format.  But if I'd tried that _first_, we'd still be in Part I.



    Everyone who wrote in while the story was being posted, week by week,

or said good things about it in the right areas -- including those on IRC

who asked if I was the one writing Sadira's story, and I had to figure out

whether admitting it was a good thing or a bad thing...  If I tried to

list all of you, I'd forget someone, and get screamed at later, so I'll

use the old awards trick:  you know who you are.



    Flashdancers New York, for the look backstage which turned into the

dressing room at Al's Barn.



    The Manhattan branch of Fancy That.  Thanks, Grace:  should it worry

me a little that you let me in that _fast_?  Of course, now people aren't

going be sure whether I'm serious or not...  But I'd like to think that if

you go walking in the Maze region of Manhattan, you might find a white

door with brass numbers and a golden doorknob.  You never know.  People

have found Callahan's.



    The author wishes to _not_ thank the following people:



    My neighbors.  All of them.  Look, people, I've talked to you about

this.  Sure, blasting your stereo at three in the morning does let me get

more writing time in, and I'm sure that you're just squealing your tires

down the street as a means of testing your brakes, and that rancid beer

smell coming from your house is homemade perfume -- but you can't hide in

there forever.  You've got to come out eventually to buy more beer.  I

_will_ get you.  Wise up while there's still time.



                                Soundtrack



    The author associates certain songs with certain characters.  While

the author doesn't have the legal right to put together a soundtrack for

sale or the equipment to do so if permission was granted -- the author can

certainly say what music was associated at the time of writing.  Every

reader will pick their own songs to link in, but I'd suggest going heavy

on Chicago and _Bat Out Of Hell II_, with bits of Van Halen and Survivor

here and there.  Instrumental themes are usually fragmentary, as are many

vocal songs:  cut and paste whatever is needed.  Some of my musical

associations were:



Chapter 2.  Rude awakenings



    It just won't quit, Meatloaf.  [Sadira thinking about the virus]



4.  Jason hears a "What!"



    Making love out of nothing at all, Air Supply:  Jason's song.  [while

waiting for the red-eye flight]



6.  City mice, country mice



    Modern Woman, Soundtrack, Ruthless People [playing on the airport

system during Jason's phone call]



11.  Four of the three musketeers



    The mountain, Soundtrack, Star Trek V  [Sadira at the door through the

reunion]



12.  Tutorial programs (remedial division)



    Keeper of the flame,  Martin Page:  Pamela's song.  [waiting for the

tub to fill]



13.  The court of last resort



    She's A Beauty, The Tubes:  Jasmine's song.  [playing in Al's Barn

when Sadira walks in]



14.  The curbs of Philadelphia



    Ride of the Valkyries, Wagner.  [on the car radio during the chase]



23.  Sic transit Sadira



    Swamps of Sadness, The NeverEnding Story soundtrack [Sadira's dream]

    Sacrifice, Elton John [Jason takes the accelerator]



26.  {Dear Kay,}



    Hold on to the nights, Richard Marx  [writing about Jason and Pamela]



29.  Further developments



    Broken wings, Mr. Mister  [Sadira looks at the wheelchair]



30.  Construction work (column #6)



    1984, Van Halen:  Carmody's theme.  [during the Internet search]



31.  TransAtlantic DataFlow



    When I'm back on my feet again, Michael Bolton [Sadira working out]



35.  Cascade failure



    Break it down again, Tears for Fears  [Pamela looking at through the

fence at the Cascade site]



36.  Dungeon crawl



    Christmas Eve Sarajevo, Savatage  [the whole chapter.  In fact, if

read at _just_ the right pace...]



39.  Sisters



    Hard to say I'm sorry, Chicago  [Jasmine tries to reconcile with

Sadira]



42.  Roll the bones



    Poor unfortunate soul, instrumental end, The Little Mermaid Soundtrack

[Sadira is hit by the decelerator virus]



43.  A moment in time



    When it's love, Van Halen, instrumental opening.  [getting into

position for the photo]



    Every reader will find their own soundtrack -- but if you have an

extensive musical library and ever decide to try a re-read, give those a

shot.



                           Semi-joking statement



    The preceding novel has been shareware.  If you have enjoyed what you

have read, please send me five dollars.



                             Serious statement



    I am, however, curious as to who got to the end of this.  You deserve

a medal -- or at the very least, a hearty congratulations and thanks.

(And I confess to wanting some kind of readership count...)  So even if

you favored me with a letter before, or you read this years after the

completion date, I'd love to see a simple "Done" appear in my Email.  Add

any other comments you like.  Be warned:  I write back.  The address shall

remain sam_tuirel@nac.net.  Or, for those of you paranoid enough to not

want a return address to appear in your Email, or who actually decide to

send in five dollars, the SnailMail address is:



                               Sam. Tuirel

                               P.O. Box 194

                            Keasbey, NJ, 08832



and leave that upper left corner of the envelope blank.  Check, cash, or

money order is fine.  By the way, I handle all physical mail from behind a

bomb shield.

    I would also love to see an illustrated version of this story, if only

for me -- then again, I _know_ what they look like, so it would probably

be for everyone else.  I certainly wouldn't mind seeing a few people

contribute out of the goodness of their hearts...  Feel free to send a

sample in, and we'll talk.  I'm somewhat curious as to what _you_ feel

they look like.



                             About the Author



    Sam Tuirel oscillates between anima and animus fast enough to get

whiplash -- but since there is no _good_ gender-neutral pronoun, shrugs

and settles for the "He" group.   While he is not a formally published

author, he is Really Working On It, Honest.  However, he intends to

continue doing Internet projects:  his next efforts will take him into two

of fiction's most distinguished learning institutions.  And Jasmine feels

she needs a vacation, so he's sending her on a cruise.

    When not staring at a computer screen in frustration, Sam takes long

drives at night, listens to baseball games -- often at the same time --

reads more than is probably good for him, and even makes a living

somewhere along the way.  He doesn't drink, smoke, or take drugs, feeling

no need for artificial assistance to be insane.  He is, however, a Mets

fan, and in any quanta where the team exists, will make one of the

characters a follower, because if _he_ has to suffer...

    He practices an odd sort of moral code where he is polite, helpful,

gracious, and chews out those idiots who bring three shopping carts into

the 12 Items Or Less line.  His sense of humor can be slightly drier than

the Sahara in August, and he's a dirtier fighter than Pamela.

    Sam lives in New Jersey and is depressingly single.  He occasionally

suspects those two facts are related.