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Disclaimers:

Copyright: The characters of Xena: Warrior Princess are owned by MCA/Universal and used here without permission. References to certain theories of dark, enigmatic, computerized futures belong to whoever.... The genre is so far gone now, I cant really say it only belongs to Gibson. Everything else is mine.

Warnings: This story contains same-gender sexual subtext throughout to include at least one rather steamy scene of two women having a very good time. There are the standard scenes of violence. This story contains several expletives as well. This story has references to drugs/alcohol to include usage, sales and distribution of same. If you're under the age of consent, leave. If it's illegal where you're currently residing, move. If any of these bug you, then bug out.

Suggested listening: 'The Last of the Mohicans' soundtrack.... My inspiration! And, by extension, anything by Clannad! (Pretty weird when you consider this is a CYBERPUNK story.....) Consider this a 'Mohican/Johnny Mnemonic' crossover.....

Author's Note: Since finishing and posting this CyberUber tale in August 1998 I've been a little put off by it. I'm not the only one, either, since I heard from several of you folks out there that it just didn't seem.... finished.... Well, at the time, there'd been some major things going on in RL (doncha HATE it when that happens?) and I lost interest in the story. Couldn't seem to get the gumption to finish the blasted thing.

Now, I'm not saying that it's any better. For the most part, I've merely shuffled scenes around a bit. But I've added a smidge more cybernetics and, ultimately, maybe another scene or two.... We'll see how it all turns out, eh?

Comments to Redhawk. No bad mouthin', lippy, attitude stuff. Honest criticism would be appreciated.

Illustrated CyberEpic

CyberEpic

by Redhawk

Part III: The City

The Asian man was fidgeting at a late lunch for all the regionals and deputies and vice presidents and ad nauseum of the Azteca Corporation. It was a real time type of get together, so working through it was out of the question. He pretended enthusiasm for yet another president of some such department's speech, index finger tapping mindlessly on the rim of his plate.

"Mr. Shimizu?"

Looking up, he saw a well dressed waiter holding out a silver tray with a piece of paper on it. Snatching it up with a sense of glee, he thanked the waiter and paused as the man moved away. He popped it open and quickly scanned the contents with a frown. Shimizu refolded it and put it in his pocket.

With a minimal amount of fuss, he stood and whispered apologies to his neighbors for the interruption. Quietly, he made his way out of the banquet hall.

Out in the foyer, he flicked his wrist and accessed his phone line. Dialing quickly, he activated the subvocal routines. Now he wouldn't have to speak aloud to be understood over the line.

"Harrelson."

"Shimizu! What do you have?"

"Some good, some bad, sir." The underling sounded fearful.

"What's the bad?" the man asked grimly.

"We were unable to appropriate the original courier, sir."

"No survivors again?" he asked, acid in his voice.

"Actually, sir, most of the operatives involved in this confrontation survived. Only twelve casualties."

"Well, demote the rest of them." He chewed his lip. "What's the good?"

Harrelson's voice lightened. Shimizu could even hear the smile. "We picked up another Canadian courier, sir. This one was heading for Boise, as well."

"Where'd this courier originate?"

"Edmonton, Alberta, sir."

Shimizu digested that data bit for a few moments, eyes moving back and forth as he considered options. "Good, good," he murmured. "Drain the courier, let's see what GovMin's doing with Uncle Sam."

"Yes, sir!"

"Harrelson?"

"Sir?"

"Not a bad job, boy. You're due for a promotion soon?"

The voice blithered. "Yes, sir! My review's in forty days!"

"Excellent. I'll put in a good word for you." The Asian disconnected the line despite the continued gushing of gratitude from the other man. "Well, well, well," he drawled to himself.

Adjusting the collar of his 'suit, he reluctantly returned to the lunch.

After completing her conference with Gina Conway, Shannon played hell trying to relocate the room the Wolves had been held in. By the time she was able to find the corporal who had escorted her and returned, the room was empty. All that was left were a few blood and whiskey stains on the table where Shake had been sewn up.

The courier was saddened that she hadn't gotten the chance to at least thank the nomads. She allowed the corporal to show her to her quarters inside the complex. They were small but well appointed with a sitting room, a bedroom and - Lord have mercy! - a shower! Thanking him with her best blue eyed smile, she shooed him away and locked the door.

Before she even reached the bathroom, she was as naked as the day she was born. She luxuriated in the warm flow of water, lathering up with the government issue soap. Rinsing off, she leaned her hands against the shower walls and let the water cascade over her small frame. As the water turned colder, she shut if off and stepped out, toweling herself dry.

Wrapping herself in the towel, she returned to the bedroom to investigate her clothing. The skivvies were a goner. Her shoes could be cleaned up without much problem. She sniffed at the jumpsuit and wrinkled her nose. Yick! It had only been two days, but the 'suit was ruined. Bloodstains from the HumV crash, her own sweat and fear, road grime and the acrid odor of incendiary rounds all made for a rather pungent cocktail on the cloth.

Well, now what? I can't very well run around in a towel, she groused, eyes glancing around the room. She noticed the closet and decided to investigate. Bingo! Several different sized jumpsuits of olive drab hung inside. Poking around, she found one that wasn't too large. Roll up the cuffs and legs and I'll be set!

Finally dressed, she dug through the pockets of her old 'suit. A small gold keychain with three keys on it, a lighter, a receipt for the trashed 'suit, her credstick, and a small round disc holder for her earring. The redhead shook her head mournfully. She hadn't owned much to begin with and now it was even less. Maybe on the way back, I could swing by and see if anything got left behind...... She really doubted that would be the case, however.

Well, at least I still have creds, she thought brightly. Time for a new set of rags. Transferring the items to her new 'suit, she headed out the door. It was early evening and food was a priority. Besides, a night in an American city? She couldn't pass that up.

After finding a cafeteria and filling her stomach with something besides military rations, Shannon had hopped a public transport and proceeded to wander about the downtown area, looking at the sights. She had found a clothing store and spent a good hour looking through the choices available before settling on one. When she had stepped back out onto the street, she was wearing a simple black strap dress that came down to mid-thigh and flats. A golden belt around her waist carried a small bag that held her worldly possessions. She had made arrangements to have the olive jumpsuit returned to the base and continued on her stroll in the late afternoon August sun. Eventually, her jaunt had brought her to the famed Ritzy.

The warehouse was five stories tall and made of stained concrete bricks. The first three floors of windows had been boarded up and painted over. From the looks of it, the paint job had been done about a hundred years earlier. She had been able to feel the beat of the music throbbing in her ears as she neared the building. The entrance had been located at the loading dock and was already looking pretty active for such an early hour. She had remembered Shake's words at lunch. "We gonna go to Ritzy's, Dusk?" And, with a hopeful smile and a shrug, she had made the decision.

'Pretty active' had been an understatement of epic proportions. It seemed to the Canadian that the entire population of Boise was housed within the walls of this place. And it was still early. She could hardly imagine what it would be like after the sun set. Shannon pushed her way through the crowds pressing around her. Bright lights flashed, the music thundered, and the smoke machines in the warehouse colored the air with hints of herbal scents. Cigarette and stimstick smoke and other odors of a more potent variety mixed into it, causing a heady aroma. Patrons were dressed in all manner of garish or somber colors, cybernetics and tattoos that sparkled incandescently, hairstyles of varying lengths and hues. The wait staff dressed in clear plastic swimsuits, male and female, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. The courier had been in similar bars in Canada, but the American equivalent had a rougher, harder, darker edge to it than she was used to.

Shannon clutched her drink firmly and made for the stairs she had seen on the other side of the dance floor. There was another level above of balcony seating. She'd been unable to spot the nomads in this mass of humanity. Maybe she'd have a better chance up top.

Above, the redhead moved a bit away from the stairs and leaned against the railing, peering down at the dance floor. Watching the people jump around in time with the beat reminded her of the dance that Dusky had performed that morning. Another memory, one of warm lips on hers, tongue questing, came unbidden and she closed her eyes with a shiver. She calmed herself, her breathing normalizing once more, before opening her eyes and continuing her search. I'm not here for that, she told herself primly. Just wanna say thanks and good bye. The little voice inside her head said, Yeah, you keep on telling yourself that, Elias, and she grimaced and drained her drink.

Not sighting her quarry below - which was tantamount to looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack - she decided to check the balcony area. This level was a bit less frenetic than the one below. It seemed darker, too, as most of the lights were focused downstairs. Hanging from the ceiling over the dance floor were several square cages at eye level with her. At first glance, she thought the people inside were dancing. Upon closer inspection, however, she discovered that they were doing something quite a bit more intimate. With a blush, she continued to walk along and peruse the balcony, eyes avoiding the cages. As she neared a corner, the flash of a stimstick lighting up caught her eye. Peering into the darkness she could see movement.

A tall round table was littered with glasses and bottles, a dim light in the recess of it the only illumination. Four barstools were around it and two of them were occupied. On one was a pale woman dressed in very little. Black boots, tiny clinging skirt and almost nonexistent tube top contrasted against her skin. Her white blonde hair was short and spiky. A tattoo of a dragon spiraled her left arm to her shoulder, golden hues catching what little light there was and glowing. She was the one who had the stimstick, inhaling the euphoric smoke and laughing at something her partner had said. It was her partner that drew Shannon's complete attention.

Dusky had changed from her leathers into a pair of dark pants and a crisp white sleeveless shirt, the buttons undone to the navel. Her hair was down about her shoulders in long, luxurious waves. Her tan arms also contrasted with the blonde's skin where she had wrapped herself around the woman. Even as the courier watched, the Red Wolf nibbled on the woman's long neck, her right hand coming up to roughly knead the left breast through the cloth of the tube top. The blonde moved her head to allow Dusky easier access to her neck and took another jaded drag off the stimstick.

Shannon froze at the railing, blue eyes wide. Emotions boiled within, seething. Shock at the dark woman's apparent disregard for public displays of extreme intimacy. Excitement and desire, wanting to be the blonde. Anger at herself for even considering it. A stab of jealousy aimed at the pale woman. Too much for her to deal with cognizantly, she whirled around, grasping the railing for support and stared down at the dance floor. Despite the thin cloth of her dress, she felt the heat of arousal mixed with embarrassment and was having trouble breathing.

I have got to get out of here, she babbled to herself, gulping air. This wasn't what I had expected. This wasn't what I wanted. What did you want? I don't know! Just not this! As her breathing normalized, she got herself under control. Okay. Don't turn around. Just go back to the stairs and get out of here. She won't even notice, she thought with a sarcastic snort.

Despite her admonition, she snuck a peek over her shoulder as she moved away from the railing. She felt a pain in her chest as she saw Dusky's hand slide up the blonde's thigh, slipping effortlessly beneath the skirt. And then Shannon bumped into someone.

"Hey, gringa!" Shake said loudly with a grin, wrapping his good arm around her waist. He had changed, as well, wearing tan leather leggings and breechcloth, soft boots and little else. His shoulder sported white wrappings to cover his wound and that arm was in a sling. Dark eyes looked her up and down in frank appraisal. "You looking good enough to eat! C'mon! The party's over here!" He steered his reluctant package back towards the table she had been avoiding.

Not knowing what to do, she did nothing, letting herself be guided towards the two women. Shannon was glad that it was darker here, because she could definitely feel the blush rising. When they were within hearing distance, Shake hollered, "Dusky! Look who came to chip in with us!"

The pack leader, lips currently occupied with the blonde's, opened silver/green eyes to have a look. Those eyes narrowed and she broke off the kiss when she spotted Shannon. "Gringa," she said with a sultry smile. She ignored the blonde's grimace at the interruption and plucked the stimstick from the woman's hand, taking a puff off of it.

The teenager eyeballed the blonde and said, "Whaddya say, Dusk? Wanna trade?"

With a wicked lopsided grin, the dark woman nodded. Within seconds the two bewildered women in question had swapped places, the blonde firmly wrapped in Shake's arms and Shannon seated on a warm stool with the pack leader.

Shake pulled the disappointed woman away. "Hey, querida. Did ya hear about the Corps firefight on the wall today?" he began, steering her towards the stairs and the dance floor below.

The dark woman watched them go with a smirk before returning her attention to Shannon. Strange eyes regarded the lithe form and she smiled. "Nice dress."

The redhead fidgeted, smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle in the fabric on her thigh. "Um... thanks." Dusky's nearness intoxicated her and she fought for some control. Rather than meet the dark woman's eyes, she glanced quickly around. 'Where's Remy?" she asked brightly.

Shannon's discomfort wasn't lost on the leader. She grinned and reached for her drink. "Upstairs. As he said, one drink and then he unplugged." She drained her glass and waved for a waitress. Glancing at the glass still clutched in the courier's hand, she asked, "What are you drinking?"

"Um... what?" Strong tan fingers brushed hers as Dusky took her empty glass. She gulped. "Uh... I dunno. Just ... something...." Shannon rolled her eyes. God, yer a zero. Feeling the need to explain, she continued, "It was just something that they were handing out at the entrance."

Dusky nodded in amusement before giving the waitress their order. She took another hit off the stimstick. Seeing royal blue eyes watch her warily, she held it out to Shannon. "Want some?" The redhead eyeballed the smoking cylinder and gave a little shake of her head. But, her tablemate wasn't about to be denied. "C'mon, it's just a little stimulant. Takes the edge off, nothing more." The other woman looked doubtful. Hedging her bet, Dusky leaned forward and stared into wide eyes. "That's an order, gringa." She watched, curious to see what the woman would do.

Shannon blinked. Twice. She'd had her share of stimulants, back in her wild misspent youth. You make it sound like you're ancient, Elias. It wasn't that long ago. She recognized that it wasn't discomfort with the thought of having any, it was the presence of the woman offering. A spark of anger glowed deep inside at the realization. She saw the challenge in the silver/green eyes and took it.

With a practiced air, she took the stimstick from the dark woman and inhaled the smoke. Piqued, she purposely exhaled the smoke into Dusky's face, ignoring the slow grin that played across it. For good measure, she had another puff before returning it to the Wolf's hand. As the dark woman sat back, Shannon saw the look of concession on the beautiful face. Score one for the home team, she thought, beginning to feel a bit more relaxed as the drug hit her system.

Their drinks arrived and Dusky paid for them. Turning back to the courier, she asked, "So, why are you here, gringa?"

Shannon shrugged, her hands once again occupied with her glass, eyes avoiding the dark woman by watching the passing people. "Just out looking around. I remembered you and Shake talking about this place. When I saw it, I thought I'd see if I could find you." She felt the woman beside her shift.

Stubbing the stimstick out, Dusky took a sip of her own drink. Her eyebrow raised and she studied the redhead. "You found me. Now what?"

"Now....." The courier chewed the inside of her mouth. Now what, is right! "Well, I just wanted to thank you for getting me here," she continued. "When I got back to the room, you guys had already left and I didn't get the chance." She drained her glass and set it down on the table, her mind a turmoil. This isn't about a thank you, Elias, and you know it. You want her and you're just too chickenshit to say anything. The vision of Dusky with the other woman passed through her mind. But I want more than that.....

Dusky nodded in understanding. "I see." She looked away, watching the crowd, as well. She couldn't deny that she'd been attracted to the gringa from the very beginning. And after our kiss this morning, there isn't much doubt on how the little preciada feels. There was a danger here, however. The nomad could sense it clinging to the redhead. This wasn't a situation of mutual gratification and that was that. An undercurrent of something else was flowing between the two women and, truth be told, it scared the big bad pack leader down to her toes.

She looked back to Shannon who was distractedly staring at the blinking lights. The lights caused her eyes to sparkle and her red gold hair to shine. And this dress! Black and shiny, Dusky longed to feel its texture as it slid against the woman while her hands explored its length, wanted to peel it slowly away from the light skin as she caressed breasts and hips and thighs. She closed her eyes and inhaled, smelling roses. No more thought, she told herself.

Dusky reached out her hand and grasped the gringa's chin, turning the pretty face towards her. She captured the royal blue eyes and leaned over, brushing her lips against Shannon's. The redhead's eyes closed and she sighed softly, further exciting the nomad. She demanded entry as she had that morning, and it was readily granted. Eagerly the two women tasted of each other, a sense of urgency present that had been missing earlier.

Again, a soft hand grasped Dusky's wrist, feeling the wild pulse. I caused that, the redhead marveled. Encouraged by the rapid heartbeat, her tongue battled with the dark woman's and she devoured the nomad's mouth. Dusky retreated, sucking on the redhead's tongue and Shannon moaned deep in her throat as she explored this warm new haven.

The hand on her chin was gone. Shannon transferred both her hands to the dark mane of hair, feeling its thick silkiness run through her fingers. Her mouth continued to move with the other woman's, even as she felt the thrill of strong, warm hands settling on her waist. In seconds, she was no longer sitting on the stool, but across Dusky's lap, the heat of the nomad's body pressing against her right side. She thought fleetingly that they were in a public place and should stop, but when Dusky released her tongue and went to work on her throat and ear all mental activity ceased. She could only feel the warm, wet mouth on her skin. Shannon's right arm extended around the nomad's shoulders, her left hand remaining buried in dark hair.

Dusky nibbled the redhead's throat hungrily. She used her left arm to cradle the woman, her right hand fondling the sensitive side and hip and thigh. The texture of the dress moving against skin was exactly as she had hoped it would be - slippery and sliding, erotic. As her teeth and lips blazed a trail to a tender earlobe, her hand moved up to slide over a breast, teasing the nipple to attention. She felt Shannon's arm grip her shoulders convulsively and heard the low moan in her ear. The nomad traced the other woman's ear with her tongue, breathing warm air into it and causing the body in her arms to tremble. "You taste very good, preciada," she said in a low voice, delighting in the sound rising from the redhead.

Shannon was amazed at the passion and intensity she was feeling for this woman. She'd slept with others before, but no one had done this to her. Her body was on fire and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. Hearing Dusky's voice in her ear sent sharp pangs down to her center, a gush of wetness following in its wake. She tilted her head, licking and sucking a path along the dark jawline until she reached the ear. She sucked the lobe into her mouth and bit down gently, reveling in the sighing moan she heard in her own ear. The hand on her breast never ceased its movement, kneading and pinching the nipple, increasing the fire between her legs. Her body arched into the contact.

The redhead slid her hand from the back of Dusky's head, down the side of her neck to the front of her throat, and drew a slow line inside the white shirt down to the nomad's belly. She felt the muscles tense and shiver as if tickled, smiling as she nipped at the earlobe between her teeth. Shannon brought her hand back up to cup the breast under the cloth, brushing her thumb across the already erect nipple.

Dusky growled and renewed her attack on the woman's neck with a voracious appetite. With deft fingers, she slid the strap off of the pale shoulder and followed the path of the collar bone to the shoulder with her mouth. From there, she moved down, biting firmly into the chest muscle above the low dress collar. Her callused palm stroked the length of the redhead's body, slowly moving up the outside of her thigh.

"Dusky?" A throat cleared nearby.

The nomad growled again, this time in frustration and glared at Shake. "This had better be good," she grated. The bundle of female in her lap shifted, appearing to be in retreat. Dusky stopped that rather quickly, clamping her hand on the woman's upper arm and trapping the hand on her breast. Shannon looked startled but stayed where she was.

Despite the threat in his leader's voice, the teenager smirked at the women. "It's good, Dusk." His own arm was still around the blonde, who was glaring daggers at Shannon. Next to him was a very large man. "You remember Delva?"

Dusky squinted at the big man. He stood two inches taller than the teenager beside him and was about seventy pounds heavier, all of it muscle. He wore a white tank top that clung to his muscular frame, tucked into black, silk pants. His face was clean-shaven and his dark hair was done in a military buzzcut. Ritualized scars on his upper arms were done in the design of a private first class and on the skin outside of his right eye were two tiny red wolfprint tattoos, exactly like Shake's.

The dark woman grinned and reached out a hand, taking the man's forearm. "Delva! You stationed here, you dog?"

The large man smiled back, firmly gripping the packleader's arm. "Yep. Got here six months ago." He took the stool offered and settled down. "One more year and ETS."

Shake and the blonde also sat down at the table, the woman looking haughty and ignoring the other women at the table. The teenager snagged a drink from a passing waiter and sucked it down before reattaching his good arm to her. He was delighted with her jealous decision to pay more attention to him by moving closer and nuzzling his ear.

As the three Red Wolves caught up with each other, Shannon was silent and listening. Dusky idly grazed her upper arm, playing occasionally with the dress strap that was hanging there. Unable to help herself, the redhead used her thumb to excite the dark woman's nipple, brushing against it in slow, circular movements. Her reward was a sensual smile and a slight squeeze.

At one point, the conversation turned solemn. "Heard about the Aryan thing on the news," Delva said. "Shake mentioned something.....?" he trailed off, questioning.

Dusky looked down, marshalling her emotions. She inhaled deeply, wondering how many times she was going to have to do this. She looked back at Delva, silver/green eyes intense. 'All dead. Only us and Remy made it through."

A flash of pain and anger shot through dark eyes and Delva ground his teeth. "The Aryans?" he grated, eyes narrowed.

"Gone for good," his leader assured him. "We picked up the last one five days ago." Dusky leaned forward slightly, eyes boring into the man's. "Your family died on their feet, fighting. Your brother killed six of them before they could bring him down." She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "When you get out, I have a scalp for you - the one who took your father's life is no more."

Shannon had frozen at this turn of conversation, not believing what she was hearing. Sudden bloody images of nomadic warriors screaming battlecries and killing indiscriminately filled her vision and she shuddered. She felt a strong arm hug her and she looked up into an amused gaze.

Delva had nodded. "Thanks, Dusk. I'm just sorry I couldn't have flatlined him myself." He took a long swig from his glass. Looking the redhead over, he asked, "Is that the gringa I heard you brought in?"

"Yes, it is," the dark woman said proudly, for all the world like an indulgent parent. Her right hand reached up to brush red gold hair away from Shannon's temple and tuck it behind her ear, running her thumb over the delicate organ. The smaller woman shivered at the touch, trying to hold onto the spark of anger that had arisen at Dusky's possessive actions and failing miserably. "She's pretty, isn't she?" Dusky asked the big man with a lopsided grin.

Delva nodded in agreement and glanced at Shake, eyes flicking to the blonde that was running black painted nails up and down Shake's chest.

Catching the look, the teenager's face became regretful and he nodded. "Querida," he said to the woman. "Chip out. Family business." Within seconds, she had been pushed off the stool and away from the table. "Maybe later, sweetcheeks," Shake leered.

The woman stared at the Red Wolves for a second before marching off in a huff. Delva grinned and shook his head while the dark woman simply ignored her. Shannon wondered if she was going to be as unceremoniously dumped, but found that she was held in a firm grip on Dusky's lap. She frowned in thought.

Without pussyfooting around, the big man nudged a chin at the Canadian and said, "They want her flatlined."

"Kinda figured," Shake said with a nod. "The Corps lost a lotta manpower trying to get her."

"No," Delva said. "The government wants her."

Dusky's weird eyes narrowed. "What?" she snarled. The redhead in her arms stared at the American, shrinking away from the anger. It wasn't easy considering her location.

"The government wants her dead. Whatever she's carrying, they don't want."

"Of course, they do," Shannon broke into the conversation. "GovMin in Canada sent the file to them." She looked around the table at the speechless Wolves, realizing she might have stuck her foot in it. "I mean... um... What's the point of sending me here if it's just to be killed? Right? It doesn't make sense." She scanned the table. The three nomads stared for a second longer at the gringa, apparently amazed that she could speak for herself. She felt the slow burn of anger spark inside and she pursed her lips. I am not an idiot!

"She's right," Dusky said. "What would be the point of hiring her, paying her, and then rewarding us for getting her here?"

Scrubbing at his face, the large man shrugged. "I dunno... Uncle Sam moves in mysterious ways. You know that, Dusk," he indicated her cyberoptic implant. "They've been looking all over the post for her for over an hour. It's only a matter of time before they send soldiers out through the city."

Shannon shook her head. "No! That's not right! I spoke with my contact already." She looked into silver/green eyes, still shaking her head. "She knew I was coming and where I was from. They have my download codes! She said there was no problem with me leaving post so long as I hung around during business hours. It's a done deal as soon as I download!"

"Preciada, you still have the file?" Dusky asked in amazement.

"Yes. She said their computers were buggy and crashing. They didn't want to risk the data in a crash during download....." She trailed off as she saw movement across the table.

Delva was shaking his head no. "We haven't had any crashes, gringa. Not for the six months I've been here."

The Conspiracy

Shimizu stopped what he was doing, interrupted by the insistent buzzing of his phone line. "Shimizu!"

"Sir, sorry to bother you, sir, but you said...." Harrelson stammered.

"I know what I said. What have you got?" The Asian man sat up in bed, the red silk sheets pulling away from the prostitute beside him.

"The courier, sir, the second one. We've drained the data from the processor. It's really weird stuff, sir."

"Any ideas?" The woman stirred, stretching deliciously against the silk ties that held her hands and his eyes watched her move.

"Well, sir, the lab seems to think that it's some sort of virus program." Harrelson's voice sounded doubtful. "But it's set up for only one virus and nobody's ever seen it before."

"The program," he asked, "or the virus?"

"The virus, sir. As far as we know, it doesn't exist."

Shimizu frowned, thinking over the problem. "Is it possible to extrapolate from the program what the virus does?"

"I don't know, sir. I'll get the lab working on it now."

"Good. Let me know as soon as you find out anything. And I want a full report on my desk by morning."

"Ye--"

Shimizu disconnected the line. His finger traced the path of a red welt on the prostitute's back and he listened to her moan with a smile.

The three nomads crowded into the leader's room, Shannon in tow. With Delva's bulk, the room seemed even smaller than it was. Dusky sent the teenager to collect Remy. Shannon curled up at the head of the bunk, the big man seated at the foot. The dark woman stared out the floor to ceiling window at the city below.

It was just beginning to move into late evening. The sun was still shining fairly high in the sky, but darkness was coming and the denizens of the night had begun to roust themselves. Looking down to the loading dock below, the crowd of people demanding entry to the warehouse had doubled from the time of the Wolves' arrival.

How many are soldiers? Dusky asked herself. How many off duty malandros seeking the gringa's blood? She glanced over at the redhead, seeing royal blue eyes swimming in a pallid face. The dark woman gave a reassuring grin and turned back to the window, the grin fading. And what has this to do with the Wolves? Nothing.

She closed her eyes when she heard the door open and the elder come in with Shake. I am not looking forward to this. Trying to convince elders to do anything was practically impossible. Trying to convince Remy, considering the target was the gringa, was going to be worse. She remained silent as her uncle and Delva greeted each other with quite a bit of enthusiasm. Staying silent, she waited until the talk in the room had stopped. Instinctively, she knew when all eyes were on her.

While Remy had been glad to see a familiar face, he was a little put out that the gringa was there. Didn't we get rid of her already? he mused as he had spoken with the big man. Shake said it was a family meeting. What's she doing here? The welcome reception finished, he settled down on the small bunk, his back to the redhead and his attention on his niece.

Without turning around, Dusky said, "Tell him, Delva."

The elder turned to the big man on his right and listened to what he had to say. His brow furrowed in confusion. "So?" he asked.

"Preciada," the dark woman said, her back still to them.

Remy's eyes narrowed at the use of the term. He frowned and turned to glare at the redhead behind him. When her story was finished, he turned back to his niece once again. "I repeat.... So?" he said, knowing exactly where this was leading.

"So." Dusky turned around and faced the Wolves, arms crossed in front of her chest. "I'm gonna get her out of the city."

Shake rolled his eyes and leaned heavily against the door. The big man at the foot of the bed raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her, mouth dropping open a bit. Shannon ogled her in shock.

Remy rose smoothly to his feet and stepped up, toe to toe with the dark leader. "What did you just say?" he hissed.

The woman glared back, bristling with a dangerous air. "I'm getting her out of the city."

"What the hell for? A fuck?!" the elder demanded. "Have you even bedded her, yet?! What makes this gringa," he sneered at the word, "so special that you'd endanger your clan, Dusky?" Remy turned to glare at the redhead. He waved a hand at her. "A puta is a puta. This one's no different than any of the others you've fucked."

Shannon shrank under the onslaught, knowing that the elder was right about one thing. There was no reason the dark woman should get involved. They're after me, not her. It'd only put her in danger. The other things.... Well, now was not the time. If there was one thing she had ever learned, it was to never get in between a family fighting.

The teenager by the door watched as Dusky swelled up behind the elder. He shook his head, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Delva closed his mouth and swallowed, staring.

With a quick movement, the dark woman spun her uncle around to face her. She placed a hand on his chest and began pushing as she spoke, walking him backwards until his back met the wall. "This is not for a fuck," she said, her voice and face feral. "And what I find special about her is none of your concern. Mi preciada is not a whore and I will never allow you to say it again. Is. That. Understood?" she grated, punctuating her last three words by poking his chest with a finger.

He looked down at the finger on his chest before glaring back up at her. Softly, he said, "You forget who you're talking with, niña?"

"No, uncle. You forget. You are the elder here, not the leader. You advise. I decide."

They stood there for an interminable time, matching each other glare for glare. The other three occupants of the room held their breath and tried to be invisible. Minutes ticked slowly past, the tension palpable and alive, the contest of wills rampaging through their minds and hearts.

Remy searched the eyes before him for the girl he had known and found nothing. She was gone as if she never was. And maybe that was for the best. A leader couldn't afford the luxury of being a child. The elder hadn't expected to have this battle so soon. He had miscalculated the young woman's strength of purpose. So like her father. Stubborn. Opinionated. Seeing his brother glaring back at him through her strange eyes caused a shiver to course through his system. Strong willed. Proud. Wise. He conceded, dropping his gaze. It's time for the youth to take over.

The leader's eyes softened at the victory, saddened that it had to come to this. She brought her hand up to the back of his neck and gripped it tightly, placing her forehead on his and peering into his eyes. With a final squeeze, she released Remy and stepped away. Cold eyes scanned the other nomads, searching for any threats.

Shake blew out a sigh of relief, blinking at her. The large man on the bed nodded in recognition and respect. There was no menace here.

"Alright," she said. "Here's what we need...."

Gina Conway glared at the sergeant that was currently standing at attention in front of her desk. He was beginning to find out what many a soldier had discovered over the course of her career. The frumpy, overweight exterior hid a mind and heart of steel. She'd only been stationed in Boise for two weeks, so word hadn't gotten around to him and it showed. While she glared at him, he stared over her head, eyes cold and face arrogant.

"Let me get this right," she said. "You didn't put a guard on her door or lock her in the room."

"No, ma'am," the sergeant barked. "You said to be discrete and not draw attention."

"You didn't have her followed when she left base."

"No, ma'am. She was wearing a bug."

Conway picked up the olive drab jumpsuit that had been delivered to the main gate. She pulled at one of the buttons, revealing an electronic device. "And you, in your infinite wisdom, thought the bug would be all that was necessary?"

"Yes, ma'am," he growled. "I wanted to use it as a training exercise for my men. They don't have many opportunities to work with seeker tech."

"A training exercise." She sat back with an angry sigh, crossing her arms in front of her bountiful chest. "And now we have loose in the city a woman who could conceivably destroy everything we've fought for." She studied the sergeant. "What were your specific orders regarding this woman?"

"Maintain surveillance, wait for her to leave post, and terminate her."

"Well, one out of three ain't bad, is it, sergeant?" she asked sarcastically. Conway's eyes narrowed as she considered what to do. She already had the post up in arms hunting for the courier. The next step would be to send soldiers out into the city to locate her. As for the sergeant, she already knew what to do with him. "You're relieved of duty." The gray haired woman continued, ignoring his break from attention to stare at her. "Demoted to private and... oh, I don't know...." She studied his paling features idly. "I think a transfer to Death Valley is in order."

"But..... But..... You can't do that!" he sputtered.

"That's where you're wrong, private," she growled as she stood, leaning her hands on her desk and jutting her chin forward. "Now get the fuck out of my office."

The soldier appeared to be gearing up for an argument, but her steely eyes stopped him. Something alien sparkled back at him and he realized deep in the murky depths of his mind that he was getting off lightly in this confrontation. He swallowed his fear and returned to attention, snapped a salute and left.

Conway sat back down, shoving the jumpsuit aside to access her keypad. As she entered the soldier's new orders, her mind worried at the problem of locating the Canadian. At least she can't leave the city, she thought with some sense of satisfaction. If things turn out alright, she'll come waltzing through the front gates in a few hours and an accident can be arranged later.

The Darkening

The evening had been spent hashing over the different options the nomads had available to them. Dusky had ordered food and drink delivered and the five of them ate dinner as they talked. Eventually, the three men were sent out on their missions.

Remy left the warehouse to see if he could hunt down another set of wheels for Shake. They had planned on just waiting until they reached Seattle to find something, but it was better if the teenager had his own transportation should things go horribly wrong.

Shake, in the meantime, was off to ride Dusky's wheels around the wall to look for anything that they could use to their advantage, any weakness either in the wall itself or the guards at the gates. And when he returned, he was to stake out the bar, watching for any malandros looking for the gringa.

Delva had been dispatched to a few of his contacts in the city. His hunt was for a computer that met the specifications given to him by the courier so she could download the file. Dusky felt that the less Delva was used, the better, and her uncle agreed. No need to mess up his service time on charges of treason. The Red Wolves needed all their people to come back to them from the various service branches to become strong again.

It was now almost full dark. The moon was three quarters full and provided the only illumination in the leader's room. After putting the food trays out in the hallway for pickup, she had locked the door and went to the window. Silver/green eyes stared out, unseeing.

Shannon watched quietly from her perch on the bed, drinking in the moonlit vision. She couldn't think of the right words to describe what she saw. 'Beautiful' doesn't cut it, she thought. Not that she isn't. God, is she beautiful. Her eyes roamed up and down the woman's body, memorizing the play of light and dark upon it.

And the feelings she invokes in me..... Not just the physical, but the emotional, as well. Is this what it feels like to fall in love? The redhead frowned at the thought, looking inward. Am I in love with her? She shook her head. I hardly know her. She's just a kid. How can I be in love with her? Unable to resolve the issue, she set it aside for future consideration.

Another question came to mind, one that she couldn't answer.

The dark woman heard the movement behind her, felt a hand on her shoulder, heard the soft voice.

"Why are you doing this?"

Several answers came to Dusky's mind - some acidic, some flippant. Instead, she said, "I don't know. It's just something that I have to do." She glanced over at the redhead with a small smile. "Why did you come find me?" she asked suddenly.

A grin played across Shannon's face. "I dunno. It was just something I had to do." She allowed herself to be pulled into the tall woman's arms, leaning her head on Dusky's chest and wrapping her arms about the slim waist.

The dark woman luxuriated in the feeling of the body she held close. She had been right earlier in the evening. It's already too late. Just the intoxicating taste of the courier had hooked her and now nothing else would do. Dusky had to admit that she was very apprehensive about the foreign emotions roiling around within her heart. But now that she had plugged in, she couldn't disconnect. Too late.

Unbidden, her hands moved, rubbing the woman's back and shoulders, hearing the silky dress whisper as it shifted under her ministrations. One hand slid up into red gold hair, tilting the head back. Dusky looked down into hooded royal blue. She bent and tasted again the elixir that had claimed her in the bar downstairs, kisses rapidly changing from gentle to voracious, claiming the lips for her own.

Shannon felt a strong hand move down the center of her back and she shivered even as she brought her own hands up to clutch at well muscled shoulders. The hand kept moving to points further south, running past the small of her back and over the swell of her buttocks. Fingers dug into the soft flesh, pressing her against the nomad's body, delicious pressure from front and behind. The redhead moaned, the passion flaring once again to the flashpoint, liquid forming between her thighs.

The dark woman felt the muscles flex under her hand as the courier pressed her hips into Dusky's. The sounds the woman made incited her, inflamed her. She had to hear more. She released Shannon's mouth and focused attention on the long, graceful neck, biting and licking and nipping. She was rewarded for her efforts, soft pleasurable sounds tickling her ear.

There was movement, and the smaller woman felt something hard and cool against her back. She found herself pressed against the window, a wild nomadic warrior devouring her from the front. Even as it excited her, a thrill of fear coursed through her. What if the window doesn't hold? Turning her head to the side, she looked down at the crowds awaiting admittance. They'll be able to see! came the second thought, which caused her to blush furiously.

Her quarry pinned, Dusky had both hands free now and she made good use of them. They roamed up and down the lithe frame at will, caressing, kneading, pinching. Her lover gasped at the onslaught, turning her head to the side and exposing the tender throat. She descended upon it, biting firmly with a growl, as any good Wolf would do. Shannon's belt was removed and it dropped to the floor. The hands on Dusky's back moved to the front of her shoulders and began pushing her away, the courier's body squirming against her.

The attempt to break free further stimulated the nomad. Her teeth bit down harder on the offered throat, hands rising to grip the smaller wrists. She pressed harder into Shannon, enjoying the woman's struggles against her. She took both wrists and held them in her right hand, raising the woman's arms over her head. Her left hand stroked the firm breast, bringing the nipple to a peak. Leaning back a bit, she studied the woman. "What's the matter, preciada? Too rough for you?" she asked, a slight tinge of disappointment in her low voice.

"Mmmm... No," Shannon gasped, trembling, torn between wanting the woman to stop and wanting her to continue with the fierce attack on her body. "The window," she husked. "The people..."

Dusky looked at the window and then down to the crowd awaiting admittance to the warehouse. She nodded in comprehension, a small smile playing across her face. She took her hand away from the breast, causing the redhead to whimper at the loss. Using her knuckle, she rapped on the window. "Plastisteel," she said. "It's not going to break." Her hand then moved to slide behind Shannon, working on the fastenings of her dress as she leaned closer to whisper in her ear.

"As for the people, who cares what they see?" she asked, licking the lobe. "They'll see a beautiful woman," soft kiss, "in ecstasy," nibble, "being ravished," another lick, "and they'll be so jealous," warm hand slipping inside of the dress and sliding on the skin of her back, "because they'll never have you." The hand on Shannon's back moved inexorably down, fingers tickling the base of the spine. Dusky groaned in the redhead's ear when she realized that the woman wasn't wearing anything under the dress. "You're mine, preciada," she hissed, pressing against the courier's warmth once again.

"Yours," the redhead moaned, her struggles resumed with a different purpose. She rubbed her body against the nomad, tried to bring her arms down from their warm prison to touch and stroke the dark skin. Her mouth was captured in a rough kiss and she accepted it, craving more. Shannon broke off the kiss, scooting down against the window in a fervent effort to partake of the smooth neck. She whimpered when she was denied, the dark woman pulling away just enough to keep it out of reach. Suddenly, her arms were free and she reached for Dusky who fended her off, blocking her arms and forcing them to the redhead's sides.

"Stay," the nomad growled.

Shannon swallowed and licked her lips, fighting the need. The silver and emerald eyes flashed seductively at her and she nodded.

The pack leader smiled, releasing her lover's arms and raising her hands to the smaller woman's shoulders. She took a step back, ignoring the woman's sigh at the loss of body contact. Slowly, she drew the straps of the shiny black dress off, moving the dress downwards, revealing creamy skin. Black material fluttered to the floor and the redhead flushed at the frank gaze that caressed her body. "You are very beautiful, preciada."

She stood uncertainly at the window, her pulse throbbing with her desire, naked to her lover and the world behind her. In an unconscious gesture, she started to reach for Dusky, but stopped herself. It wasn't allowed. Not yet. And the nomad simply watched and waited. Not able to stand it, Shannon brought her hand up to touch her breast, a finger circling her areola softly. As the nomad's nostrils flared, Shannon grew bolder, teasing her nipple, bringing it to erection. Her other hand slid over to her belly, dropping down to play with her curls. The courier's royal blue eyes closed to slits as she felt the wetness on the tips of her fingers. Running one finger over her sex, covering it with her own juices, she held it up and out to the dark woman before her, an offering.

Dusky licked dry lips, fighting for control. She eyed the redhead intently, and began to remove her shirt. "Taste yourself," she grated, the white shirt falling to the ground. She nearly lost it as her order was followed and Shannon brought her finger to her mouth. There was a tentative lick, a smoldering look, and the smaller woman's eyes closed as she put the finger into her mouth to suck it clean, humming with pleasure.

A mouth found Shannon's, tongue pushing inside to swirl with her finger and the taste of herself. Again she was pressed up against the window, warm naked skin against hers. Shannon brought her left leg up, rubbing the knee against the outside of a strong thigh, pushing her wetness against it. Dusky's hand stroked the leg, nails scratching lines from her rear to the tender skin behind her knee. The courier gasped at the feeling of strong muscles against her and ground her hips into the dark woman's thigh. Her hands found Dusky's bare buttocks and she pulled her closer, reveling in the feel of it.

The dark woman allowed the heated rubbing, matching the smaller woman thrust for thrust. The redhead's breathing became more erratic, as she was brought closer to the peak. Dusky returned to the pale throat, sucking and biting. When she felt that Shannon was close, she pulled away just a bit, ignoring the discontented sigh. The hands on her rear tried to pull her close again, but they were no match for her determination. She got hold of them again, transferring them to one hand and pinning them between Shannon's back and the glass.

Dusky held her body just out of reach of the redhead. She leaned her head against the window to one side of the red gold hair, her own dark hair hanging and tickling Shannon's breasts and neck. "What do you want, preciada?" she asked softly.

The smaller woman couldn't find the words. She tried to catch her breath, to still her heart, to try and think, but it was all for naught. Her body ached to be touched, her center dripping and throbbing at its lack of attention. She inhaled sharply as long fingers ran the length of her, barely touching but inciting the throbbing to triple. Her brow furrowed.

"What do you want, preciada?"

Shannon shook her head angrily, a tear leaking from beneath closed lids. Again the fingers slid against her wetness. Again they were withdrawn. She moaned loudly in frustration.

"What do you want, preciada?"

"You," she was able to finally whisper. She felt lips on her shoulder, kissing. They moved slowly down, stopping at her breasts to suckle. It seemed to take forever as the mouth and tongue traced a fiery path down her body. She felt a warm hand caress her inner thigh, teeth nipping at the tender flesh, before guiding it, draping it across a broad shoulder.

Shannon's hands were still being held behind her, but the dark woman braced her against the window to keep her from falling. She leaned forward, inhaling deeply of the musky arousal. With her tongue, she cleaned the wetness from the redhead's thighs where she had overflowed, reveling in the soft cry. With her free hand, she moved aside the fleshy folds, caressing.

The sensation of Dusky's strong tongue stroking her almost put the redhead over the top. "Oh, God," she groaned. And then the nomad was doing exactly as she had said she would do, ravishing her with an audience of a hundred in the streets outside. She felt fingers thrust into her, filling her, and she rocked against the woman beneath her. Loud sounds came from her mouth as she panted and moaned and begged. Dusky released her hands and they flew to the dark head, pressing it closer. When the nomad took her swollen nub in her mouth and began suckling, it was the end, and she convulsed against her lover's mouth, calling her name over and over.

Dusky rode out the woman's orgasm, drawing it out, increasing its intensity. As she felt Shannon go limp, she guided her down until she was leaning against the window and seated on the floor. Long arms gathered the redhead up and the two sat in the darkening, watching the moon.

The Asian man was awakened by his phone. Blinking wearily, he answered it, looking at the chronometer on his arm. "Shimizu!" he insisted, noting that a new day hadn't started yet. Not even midnight.

"Harrelson, sir. I think we've figured it out." The younger voice sounded excited.

"Well, spit it out, man!" Shimizu sat up in bed again, this time alone.

"The program we acquired - the virus it protects against.... Sir! It's a marvelous piece of programming!"

The Asian sighed in frustration. "Get on with it, Harrelson," he growled.

"Um... yes, sir! The virus appears to be a mutating one, sir. Just when a program has been able to detect and clean it, it'll shift just enough to propagate further! This proggie we've gotten mutates along with the virus, apparently keeping it at bay."

"And we don't have the virus?"

"No, sir. Presumably it's with the other courier. The one that we didn't get hold of."

Dark eyes flashed. "Report in the morning, Harrelson." And he disconnected the line. After a few minutes thought, he accessed his phone line again, this time dialing out.

Shimizu's entire manner changed from arrogance to submission. "Yes, sir, Shimizu, sir. I realize the hour, sir, but this is very important. Yes, sir. No, sir, but it has to do with Canada GovMin and Uncle Sam. Sir? I would suggest that we hit BoiseGov now."

CyberEpic continues in Survival

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