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User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back

2020-08-05T04:10:07Z

Robotech Master: I know what a percolator is now, and Rochelle would never use one...

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}
{{DEFAULTSORT: Welcome (Back) to the Real World}}

=Welcome (Back) to the Real World=

by [[User:Robotech Master|Robotech_Master]], with [[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]] 

{{author note|This story can be downloaded in PDF, EPUB, Mobi (Kindle), ODF, and RTF format from [http://www.eyrie.org/~robotech/freeriders/ this website], under the filename "raising ruth.*".}} 

''November 20, 158 A.L.'' 
''Realtime: 60 Days Since Departure'' 
''Crechetime: +16 years''

“So,” Renfield said. “This is it, then.” The wolverine scratched nervously at the bark of the stump he was sitting on in the clearing across from Ruth’s home where they liked to come and hang out after school when there wasn’t anything else doing. It had an extra touch of poignancy today. “The Last Day.”

“Or the first day!” Stacia pointed out. “Of the rest of our lives.” The EI girl shrugged, crossing her legs as she sat on another stump.

“I can’t believe they’re just…closing this place down.” Soren the owl was perched on a low-hanging limb of one of the trees that remained.

On another branch right across from him, Ruth the snow leopard stretched luxuriantly and shaved scraps of bark from the limb with her claws. “We all knew it was coming,” she said. “Known it for years, if you want to be technical.”

“If you want to be ''technical'', you’ve known about it for ''weeks'', realtime,” said the poodle digging between two roots of the tree.

“Well, yeah, Geena, but realtime doesn’t have a whole lot of meaning in here.” Ruth rolled her eyes. “For us—well, not ''you'', I guess—we’ve lived our entire lives in here. It’s one thing to know this was coming, but something else to actually ''get'' here.”

“It’ll still exist in our memories,” Soren said. “Literally, as it happens. They’re downloading our homes plus the shared common areas to each of us as our First Boot environments. We can visit the place any time we want—or even link networks and visit each other at ‘home.’”

“Won’t be the same, though,” Renfield grumbled. “Won’t be all of us together, ''here'', on this ‘frame.”

“Yeah, but life goes on!” Geena said, standing erect and shifting back to her poodle-skirt-wearing teenaged human form. “And I’m looking forward to getting back out into the Real on a permanent basis.”

“You would,” Renfield grumbled. “You’re ''from'' there. No one just…took it apart under you. This was all just a ''vacation'' for you.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Geena said. “A ''vacation'' is something you take willingly. This was more like a prison sentence. A very ''comfy'' prison sentence, with a lot of really awesome people in it—don’t get me wrong, I love you guys—but I kinda only came here ‘cuz the only other choice was getting sent right back home if I didn’t grow up a little. I’m looking forward to getting out of virtual jail.”

“Yeah, I guess you would,” Ruth said. “For us, it’s more like getting cast out of Eden.”

Stacia raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty deep. I hadn’t realized you were religious.”

Ruth shrugged. “I’m not. Or at least, I don’t think I am. But it was something to read to try to understand humans who are a little better.”

“Did it help?” Renfield asked.

“I don’t know, I haven’t really talked to any yet.” Ruth shook her head. “It’s so weird to think about how different everything is gonna be. I mean, I know we stay on ‘realistic’ settings to try to prepare us, but those don’t hold true everywhere.” She scratched at the branch again. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve torn all the bark off this nasty old thing only to have it all come right back by the next day.”

“They’ll get mad if you do that to trees in the Ark,” Geena said. “Those ''don’t'' reset at the end of the day.”

“See? That’s what I mean.” Ruth sighed. “No matter how hard we try, nothing’s ''ever'' going to prepare us for life in the Real. They really should have had us grow up more out there.”

“They would have if they could,” Stacia said. “But there just wasn’t time for that on this trip. My parents said that many of us weren’t exactly…''planned'', or if we were our parents hadn’t thought it through very well.” She smiled faintly. “When they didn’t know I was listening, of course.”

“So it was either raise us all virtual in fast-time, or have toddlers in a war zone.” Ruth sighed. “Terrific.”

“I’m sure it won’t take you too long to get up to speed.” Geena smiled. “We’ve learned more stuff about the real world over the last few years than ''I'' even knew when I got here, and I’d grown up in it!”

“There’s a difference between learning and doing, though,” Soren said. “And it could be ''months'' before we actually get to ''see'' a world. I don’t think they’ll let us out on that Totalia place if there’s still a war going on in it when we get there.”

“In any case, it’s not as if we have a choice.” Ruth sighed again. “Tomorrow after the closing ceremonies is when they take everything apart. And then it’s back to the Real World, whether we like it or not.” She rolled her eyes. “At least Mom and Dad are excited about it. They can’t stop talking about getting their ''real'' bodies back. Like we RIDEs are just chopped liver or something.” She frowned. “Or like they were ''also'' under a prison sentence, just like yours. Because they had to raise ''me'', their little ''accident''.”

“Hold on, I’m sure it’s nothing like that—” Stacia said.

“No, I’ll bet that’s ''exactly'' what it was.” Ruth growled. “Isn’t that nice? Turns out ''I'' was the ball and chain keeping them from living out in the Real World, in their real bodies. And now they’re going to get to unlock the shackle.”

“You shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Geena said. “At least not without talking to them first. Accidents ''can'' happen, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be ''happy'' accidents. I’m sure your Mom and Dad wouldn’t have stuck it out this long if they didn’t care for you.”

“Seems like half our classmates’ folks have already taken a powder to the Real World and just visit every so often,” Renfield said. “Accident or not, I gotta grant them props for staying here this long.”

“I’m sure it’s just because those parenting books they’re always reading told them to.” Ruth sniffed. “I don’t even know what relevance Dr. Spock has five centuries on when your kid isn’t even biological.”

“I always favored ''Mister'' Spock, myself,” Geena said. “But we’re all Trekkies on the ''Clementine''.”

Stacia cocked her head. “My parents just pinged me with the dinner alert, so I guess I’ll see you all later.”

“Yeah, the rest of us should probably be getting home too,” Soren said. “See you tomorrow at the Big Sendoff?”

“Yeah, see you then.” Ruth sighed. “C’mon, Geena, let’s head home.”

{{separator|stars}}

Dinner that night was a subdued affair. Ruth had noticed over the months leading up to graduation that her parents were spending less and less time, and fewer and fewer dinners, in feline form. Instead, they sat around a human dinner table. They didn’t require Ruth or Geena to join them—they were free to gnaw on haunches in the corners if they preferred. ''Big on “being yourself,” they are,'' Ruth thought sardonically.

But tonight Ruth and Geena did join them, not least because it was hard to have a dinner conversation from around a leg of elk. They waited as Rochelle dished up the spaghetti and meatballs she’d cooked, from ingredients she’d rezzed up, and Ruth tried not to roll her eyes at all the extra effort it all took. ''Why don’t they just rez up a pre-cooked pot of spaghetti? Or even just rez up already-filled plates at our places?''

She would have thought they’d surely have gotten lazy about doing everything as it was in the real world by now. Ruth herself no longer bothered with inconvenient “full simulation” settings like potty breaks, since Soren had shown her how to hack the “poop protocol.” But as far as she could tell, except for special occasions, Rochelle and Chet continued to act just as they would have in the real world.

''Or no, they’re going even more full-sim crazy than they would in the real world,'' Ruth reflected. ''In the real world, they’d use a fabber!''

But maybe it was something to help pass all the extra time on their hands. After all, they’d just spent sixteen years in a VR simulation, for ''her'' sake. And there was another thing she could feel guilty about.

“Okay, kids, dig in!” Rochelle caroled as she put the pot aside. “Our last family meal in the Creche.”

“You don’t have to sound so cheerful about it,” Ruth muttered.

“Why? What’s not to like about finally getting to go out into the real world?” Rochelle asked. “I mean, this is what you’ve been looking forward to for your entire life, right? How many times did you ask me about what it’s like out there?”

“I didn’t realize that ''this'' world was just going to…go away,” Ruth said. “That’s a little bit of a downer.”

“What do you mean ‘go away’? You’re getting to download it and take it with you wherever you go.” Rochelle shook her head. “Do you realize how lucky you are in having that? The home where I grew up is back on Zharus, and Chet’s is light-years away back on Earth. All we’ve got is memories, but you’ve got the ''actual place'' right there in your noggin.”

“It’s not the ''actual place,''” Ruth grumbled. “The ‘actual place’ is being shut down and wiped to make room for something else.” There was going to be a “college session” covering the next couple of weeks in real-time for those who wanted to polish off their education. Ruth and her friends had decided they wanted to wait until they found a college campus back on Zharus that ''wouldn’t'' disappear when they graduated.

“No, really, it ''is'' the actual place,” Rochelle said. “The checksums are identical. That means, digitally speaking, it’s the exact same file.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “''Mooooom…''it’s not the same. This is the place where all our ''friends'' are!”

Chet nodded. “I get that. It’s going to be really hard for you, when you’re all out in the great big wide real world…of a spaceship in interstellar space that nobody can leave. Where all your friends will ''also'' be…”

“''Daaaaad''…you just don’t ''understand!''”

“I realize the situation isn’t…''ideal,''” Rochelle said. “If we’d been back on Zharus for this, we would have spent half-and-half time in the creche and the real world, to get you acclimated to both, so you’d feel more of a connection to the real world when it came time to leave the creche. Unfortunately, that just…wasn’t really possible here, given the time constraints of the trip. So we did the best we could in the time we had.”

''Because I wasn’t intended to happen,'' Ruby thought. But the lump rising in her throat prevented her from saying that aloud. What if they agreed? What if they told her that they ''hadn’t'' wanted her, and hadn’t wanted to spend sixteen virtual years shut away in the computer, but they had carried through anyway out of some sense of obligation? If that ''was'' the case, did she really want confirmation she’d been responsible for sixteen years of their misery?

“It does sound kinda heartless to say it, but you’ll adjust,” Chet said. “It’ll be a big change, yeah, but you’re strong enough to deal with it. And you’ve got a big sister who’ll be happy to show you the ropes.”

Rochelle nodded. “Lots of kids in the real world have to move around a lot. They get by, and so will you.”

Ruth sighed, poking at her spaghetti with a fork. “I guess I won’t have any choice.”

“C’mon, you’ll like the place once you get to spend more time in it,” Geena said. “Time ''not'' skulking around in maintenance decks and tangling with ratty human kidnappers. There’s a lot of stuff out there to like, and I’m sure there’ll be even more when we get to where we’re going.”

“If they even let us off the ship.”

Geena shrugged. “We’ll see what we’ll see. Meanwhile, you’ve got a whole new place to explore. Let’s try to enjoy that, at least.”

Ruth didn’t feel anywhere near as optimistic as Geena was sounding, but she didn’t want to disappoint her big sis. “All right. I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Rochelle said. “Now eat up, there’s chocolate cake for dessert. If this is gonna be our last dinner here, we’re gonna ''celebrate!''”

{{separator|stars}}

After dinner, Ruth and Geena headed back out again to meet their friends back at the school. It had been decorated in festival style, with a small carnival set up on the football field behind the school and a big banner reading “PROJECT GRADUATION” hung over the entrance.

“’Project Graduation,’ huh?” Renfield sniffed. “Meh. In the ''real'' 20th century, ‘Project Graduation’ was a way to keep kids from going out, partying, and getting drunk on graduation eve. It’s doubly pointless here—there’s nowhere to go, and we can’t even ''get'' drunk.”

“We could simulate it, though,” Stacia said brightly. “It shouldn’t be so hard for an accomplished hacker like Ruth to crack the code lock on the ‘adult beverages’ sim database, right?”

“Are you really sure that’s a good idea?” Geena asked.

“We ought to do ''something'' to rebel, given that it’s going to be our last chance to do it,” Renfield mused. “Maybe rez up some simulated rocket launchers and shoot up the town, since they’ve already saved and downloaded the ‘permanent’ version?”

Geena cocked her head. “On the whole, I think the booze actually sounds like a better idea.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Trust me, guys, you wouldn’t like booze. I cracked the database last year, after Mom told the ‘Long Island iced tea’ story again and made me curious. I dunno if it’s an organic thing or what, but alcohol just tastes funny. Anyway, you don’t need to simulate drinking the booze to simulate ''being'' drunk. That’s a whole different subroutine.”

“Did you try it?” Stacia asked.

Ruth shrugged. “Yeah. Not sure what all the fuss is about. At mild levels, it’s interesting for a few minutes, maybe, but gets old after a while. And at the higher levels, it’s uncomfortably like those times Mom made me have flu symptoms because ‘getting sick is part of growing up.’” She wrinkled her nose.

Renfield shook his head. “And humans do that stuff to themselves ''willingly''? Organics are just weird. Uh, no offense, Geena.”

“None taken!” Geena said. “Anyway, I’m only ''half'' organic.”

“And don’t even get me started on what that crap does to their bodies.” Ruth shook her head. “Uncle Julius said that Crazy Joe’s been through something like four regrown livers.”

“I wonder if organics think we’re as nuts as we think they are?” Soren wondered.

Stacia smiled. “The grass is always weirder on the other side of the tracks.”

“Well, it’s going to be our last day here, so I guess we might as well enjoy ourselves.” Ruth shrugged. “C’mon, let’s try that Ferris wheel, and see what the town looks like from that high up.”

“''Some'' of us already know,” Soren pointed out. Ruth stuck out her tongue at him.

{{separator|stars}}

The carnival was fun for a while. Ruth and her friends mingled with other friends and acquaintances they’d made during their years at school, and went on the rides a number of times. But sooner or later, it began to pall. Finally, Ruth and her friends wandered back out of the carnival, into the largely empty streets of the silent town.

“So now what?” Renfield asked. “We can still burn down the town…”

“Seems a little childish, really,” Ruth said. “Though I guess it could be fun.”

“Have you all thought about where you’re going to go after this? Out in the real world?” Geena asked. “We could talk about that…”

Renfield snorted. “Aren’t exactly a lot of places ''to'' go, are there? One ship, slightly used.”

“But we will be arriving somewhere very soon,” Stacia noted. “That will give us a few more choices.”

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet,” Ruth said. “Hang with my parents a while, I guess. Or move to one of the places they’re setting up in the empty part of the ship for the new grown-up RIDEs. I guess that’s the good part about the ship being sent off mostly empty; there’s room to expand.”

“I’ll hang out with Ruth ‘til we get there,” Geena said. “Then I’m gonna try to get back to the ''Clementine''. I hope they’ll take me on board again, now that I’m all older and stuff…”

“I’m considering applying for a crew position,” Stacia said. “There are slots available for EIs in some of the subsections of the ship. I’m thinking of going for something in damage control.”

“You’d be good at that,” Soren said. “You always were one of the more serious-minded of us.”

“Yeah, that would probably be right up your alley,” Renfield said. “Good luck with that. Me…dunno. I was thinking maybe the Diplomatic Corps.”

Soren hooted a laugh. “Because when we think of Renfield, we think ‘diplomatic.’”

“Hey! I can ''be'' diplomatic, if I need to,” Renfield insisted. “I’ve just…never ''needed'' to. It could be, you know, an entirely new facet to myself.”

“I was thinking that the Scouts look interesting,” Soren said. “I heard that Joel guy has been running a program to evaluate RIDE and Integrate applicants for the Scouts, and it’s open to newbies like us as well. Maybe it’s right for me, maybe it’s not; figure I’ll at least try it out.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Sheesh, all you guys are making me feel like I don’t have any ambition. I really don’t know what I want to do yet. Probably won’t know for weeks. I don’t even know what the real world is ''like'', I just know what I’ve read and people have told me. I’m going to keep my options open for a while.”

“You could come to the ''Clementine'' with me!” Geena said. “I’m sure they’d have room.”

Ruth shrugged. “Like I said, options open.”

{{separator|stars}}

There wasn’t really a whole lot to do in town after that. All the stores were closed down, presumably so the oldsters could have their own returning-to-the-real-world parties—with simulated adult beverages, no doubt. All they were really left with were the silent, empty streets—streets that would never be full of people and open businesses again, at least in this instance.

“We did have some pretty good times here, didn’t we?” Soren mused.

“Pretty good times?” Ruth snorted. “We had ''all'' our times here. And now it’s all going away.”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Stacia said. “There’s no point in dwelling on it. If this is the last time we’ll be here, we should enjoy it.”

“Not like there’s anything left to enjoy.” Renfield kicked at a virtual pebble. “We might as well just go home and compress our databases for the download.”

“For what it’s worth, I’ve enjoyed the last few years here, too,” Geena said. “It seems like a pretty nice little place. And I’ve seen places in the real world to compare it to.”

“Didn’t you grow up in a bandits’ hideout?” Soren asked. “The proverbial ‘hive of scum and villainy’? Seems like kind of a low bar to jump over.”

Geena smiled. “Well, I wasn’t talking about Bartertown. But since you mention it, this place ''does'' actually kind of remind me of it. The nicer side of it, anyway. It was a smallish village sorta place, and a lot of the people in it knew each other.” She shrugged. “And not ''everyone'' was a bandit. Bandits like home-cooked meals and well-made clothes and stuff just like anybody else, and they soon figured out that they’d have an easier time getting them if they treated the people who make them nicely. So Aunt Aeri and I never really saw too much of the worst side of things. Though we did see enough.”

Renfield snorted. “Well, it’s not every day you hear your home compared to a bandit ‘burg.”

“''Favorably'' compared.” Geena grinned. “Like I said, this place kinda reminds me of the ''nicer'' parts of my home a little. The not-so-nice parts don’t really bear talking about.”

“Too bad we’re not going to have it much…oh, BLEEP it.” Ruth sighed. “I’m tired of complaining about it. I guess it’s right, what Mom and Dad say…moving away from your old home to a new one tends to happen in real life, so getting used to it is just another part of living in the real world. I don’t have to like it…but I suppose I can accept it.”

“There’s really nothing doing around here anyway.” Renfield shrugged. “Why don’t we head on back to our clearing and hang out together there one last time?”

Stacia smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

{{separator|stars}}

The graduation ceremony the next day was rather anticlimactic. There was the usual progression of robe-and-cap-wearing students to receive their diplomas, and speeches by various stuffed-shirt notables on how the real world was going to be different from anything they’d ever experienced before, yatta yatta, blah blah blah.

The only really interesting part to Ruth was seeing all the teachers finally shed the virtual human disguises they’d worn in every classroom session, revealing themselves as RIDEs, EIDEs, or Integrates of various types. Miss Othmar turned out to be a kinkajou.

At last the friends said their final farewells to one another before meeting in the real world, then Geena and Ruth returned to the cave one last time.

They entered the cave, which had been stripped down to its bare stone walls—not out of any real need to, but just because Mom thought it “felt” more like they were moving out to see it this way. Ruth had gotten far past the point of eye-rolling over parental behavior, and tried to cultivate an attitude of detached bemusement (or bemused detachment) instead. She wasn’t entirely sure it was working.

“I still can’t get over the way I can remember ''everything'' now,” Chet was saying as they padded in. “It’s been sixteen years since I’ve been on the flight deck of the ''Maxima'', but if I just think about it, I can picture the way every switch was set like it was just five minutes ago.”

“That’s RI memory for you,” Rochelle said. She chuckled. “Enjoy it while you can. By this time tomorrow, you’ll have a hard time remembering what you had for breakfast yesterday.”

“I still don’t know why you want to go back to that,” Ruth said. “From everything you’ve said, it sounds like humans are half-crippled compared to us.”

“Oh, it has its compensations,” Chet said. “I’m not sure there’s any way you could really ''understand'' without trying it out for yourself.”

“They’re kinda right, actually,” Geena said. “It’s…''different.''”

“You all keep ''saying'' that. You really expect me to, what, have a clone body made up and put myself in it, just to try it out?”

“Well, you could if you ''wanted,''” Rochelle said. “When we get back to Zharus, anyway—the expedition doesn’t have the medical resources to clone bods for everyone who wants them. But if you’d like to try being human, I think I could afford to bankroll it.”

“Ugh…thanks, but no thanks.” Ruth wrinkled her nose. “I like being just who and what I am.”

“Well, so did we,” Chet said. “But if ''we'' hadn’t tried being something different, you wouldn’t be here now.”

''Oh, right, so you want ''me'' to switch bodies and get accidentally pregnant, too?'' Ruth thought, but had better impulse control than to say out loud. She settled for, “I’ll think it over,” instead.

“Well, this is it.” Rochelle shifted her body to humanoid, and Chet followed suit. “Take one last look around, kids…then I’ll see you on the other side.”

{{separator|stars}}

''FreeRIDErs Garage, Great Western Franchise''

Rhianna wiped her hands on the ever-present grease rag and straightened up, casting a satisfied gaze over the results of her latest labor—a lifter and hardlight tuneup for one of the ship’s stevedores, a Percheron mare RIDE named Gracie. It had gone pretty well, without any of the little surprises that sometimes turned up on “simple” jobs, and all that was left to do now was reassemble the frame and seal the shell.

“Hi hi!” a cheerful voice caroled. Uncia wandered in, Nils right behind her—though the bodies they currently wore were Rochelle’s and Chet’s. They’d been helping out around the garage to pick up some spare cash to spend on little human luxuries—not to mention make it easier for Rhianna and Kaylee keep an eye on them.

At first, Rhianna had expected it to be odd, or possibly even a little creepy, seeing Rochelle’s body wandering around with a different person in it. But given the completely different body language, and the way Uncia had shortened Rochelle’s hair for her own use of the body, it actually ended up feeling more like…well, discovering Rochelle had a somewhat less mature human twin sister. One who ''scampered'' everywhere. (Rhianna still didn’t understand how someone wearing an adult human body even ''could'' scamper, but somehow Uncia managed to pull it off.)

Uncia wasn’t quite as good as Rochelle at untangling some of the knotty software problems that turned up in RIDEs now and again, but having spent so much time in contact with Rochelle—not to mention, being a RIDE herself—did give her a few insights that came in handy. And any of the really difficult problems could be put aside for Rochelle herself to take a look at, during one of the slow-time days her creche had every so often. (And being able to drop into fast-time herself meant ''Rochelle'' could often solve those problems in a hurry when given the chance, and have plenty of slow-time left to visit out in the Real.)

Rhianna brought her attention back to the present. “Hey, you two. This is the big day, isn’t it? When Shelley’s family comes back out, and you-all switch back?”

“It’ll be the big day in about fifteen real-world minutes!” Uncia said. “But I guess if you mean the big ''real-world'' day, then yeah, that’d be this!”

“You two about ready to trade back, then?” Kaylee said.

Nils nodded. “It’s been an…interesting experience, these last couple months, learning how the other half live. But there’s no body like home.”

“’Ready’ is such a strong word.” Uncia pouted. “But yeah, I’ve had more than my turn, I guess, and I gotta give it back now. We’ll go ahead and get the cradles wheeled out and set up.”

Rhianna nodded. “Should be done here in about ten or so. Call me if you need me.”

Uncia nodded, then she and Nils went to wheel out the maintenance cradles in which they kept their DE shells. The shells actually weren’t seeing a lot of use these days, what with Rochelle and Chet spending all their time in the creche and Uncia and Nils spending all their time in human bodies, so they’d stuck them in a couple of spare cradles to keep them out of the way, and to make it easier to do a little tinkering. Ruth and Geena also stayed in the closet—Ruth’s shell shut down awaiting her download to the real world, and Geena dozing in Integrate hibernation while her mind was in the creche with the rest of them.

A few minutes later, Rhianna had Gracie completely reassembled, sealed up, and powered back on. After a quick system check and a profuse round of thanks, the stevedore mare was on her way to her next work shift, and Rhianna turned her attention back to Uncia and Nils just as they finished making the final connections and opening the cradles.

“Just got an email from Shelley!” Uncia reported. “They’ll be out in just a minute.”

“Coming!” Rhianna came over to stand beside the other two as the status lights on the cradles flickered from amber to green, and the RIDEs therein opened their eyes.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” Uncia caroled. “Welcome back to the real world!”

“Glad to be here.” Rochelle lifted out of the cradle and landed on all four paws, and languidly arched her back and stretched. “Ahhh. So how have things been out here? Still crawling slowly toward Totalia, are we?”

“For some value of ‘slowly,’” Rhianna said. “Though I expect the time will go by more quickly now that you’re not burning the fast-time candle.”

“Oh, here you all are.” Ruth padded out of the closet, followed by a yawning, stretching, poodle-eared teen. “Funny, it doesn’t feel all that different from visiting. I’d have thought it would, knowing that we’re stuck here now…”

“Just look at it as a new place to explore!” Geena said. “I’ll show you around some of the best spots I found in the weeks before I joined you. There’s some pretty neat stuff here, you’ll see.”

“I guess this is the part where we switch back, huh?” Uncia said. “Y’know, you ''could'' just chill out, see the sights, enjoy being back in the real world for a while…?”

Rochelle slowly shook her head. “Nooooooo, don’t think so.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think that was gonna fly either.” Uncia grinned. “All right, so shall we Fuse up and see if I can stick your hair back on your head?”

“The short cut looks good on you, but I do want it back, yeah.” Rochelle grinned. “Of course, even if this doesn’t work, it’s just a couple days to grow it all back, so…”

“So hopefully you won’t have to. C’mon.” Uncia held her arms out, and Rochelle stepped forward and Fused her feline body around her.

“Guess that’s us too, huh, pard?” Nils said, stepping forward.

“Yeah,” Chet said. “The old bod ain’t much, but I am looking forward to spending time in it again.”

Nils chuckled. “Funny, that’s just what I was going to say. Shall we?”

“Yeah.” They moved together and Fused as well.

Ruth sat on her haunches and scratched behind an ear, watching thoughtfully. “Hey, that looks like fun,” Geena said. A moment later, a poodle sat next to her, scratching behind her own ear, in the same posture.

Kaylee rolled her eyes. “Darnit, now you two have me feelin’ an itch in my ''own'' ear. This is worse than yawning.” She shook her head. “Nnngh. I ''won’t'' scratch, dammit. This’s just psychosomatic.”

Geena giggled. “Oh, give in. You know you wanna.”

“Okay, I think we’re done!” Uncia announced. “Showing rematch and reconnection on 97% of hair strands…and after this long, that’s about as good as it’s gonna get. Oh yeah, and we’ve traded bods again, too.”

“So let’s see what it looks like,” Rochelle said.

The snow leopard RIDE peeled away, revealing the same body, now with a mass of grey and white spotted hair that reached almost all the way to the floor. And from the change in that body’s language, it was clear that Rochelle was now the occupant. “Ahhh, that’s better. So let’s see…” She tugged experimentally at a lock of hair. “Seems to be a sturdy connection.”

“I was ''gonna'' put a nano-connector in at the join on each one, so somewhere down the road I could send a signal and all your hair would just drop off at once, FWUMP!” Uncia said. “I thought that would be really funny. But Nils talked me out of it. Spoilsport.” She stuck her tongue out at the other snow leopard RIDE, who’d just finished de-fusing from Chet.

Rochelle shook her head. “Same old Uncia. You haven’t changed one little bit, have you?” She leaned to the left to bring her hair around her shoulder, then draped it over her left arm like a blanket and ran her other hand through it. “Oooooh…I’ve missed ''you.''”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Moooooom, it’s ''exactly the same hair'' you wore whenever you were human in the ‘frame.”

“Well, I know the ''style'' is, but this just feels more ''real''. After sixteen years in the ‘frame, I ''can'' feel a difference.”

“Are you sure it’s not just in your head?” Uncia asked. “I mean, being in a human body was nice and all, but except for one or two things, I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference in a blind existence-test.”

Rochelle looked at her. “A blind…''existence''-test?”

“Yeah, you know, having them blindfold you or something and not tell you if you’re in the real world or VR after they take it off.”

“Is that something that’s ''likely'' to happen?”

“Well, you never know. Anyway, it’s never been ''proven'' we’re not actually living inside a simulation running on someone’s computer somewhere anyway.”

Rochelle rolled her eyes. “For all I know, I might just be words on someone’s computer screen somewhere, but this still feels more real to me.” She stretched. “So many little sensations you forget about…all the little aches and pains you don’t notice, but forget about after they’re gone. There’s just no good way to simulate something like that.”

“So now you’re…''happy'' about aches and pains?” Ruth cocked her head. “Was I raised by crazy people, and I’m only just finding out now?”

“It’s not the aches and pains, really, it’s what they ''mean''. They mean I’m back in a human body again.” Rochelle let her hair fall back into place behind her. “Able to experience life in the real world directly, and…” Rochelle looked down at herself and frowned. “Wait a minute…I’ll be right back.” She turned and walked across the room, heading for the door to the restroom.

Geena raised an eyebrow. “What’s ''that'' all about?”

A moment later, a loud yelp could be heard from the restroom, followed by an angry Rochelle stalking back out. “You…you put on nearly ''four kilos'', in just the two months I’ve been in the ‘frame. ''Four kilos!''”

Uncia sighed. “Sorreeeeee! Can I help it if food just tastes so ''good?'' It’s not like it’s a big deal, anyway—I’ll just sculpt it off you next time we Fuse. I took more weight than that off when I crossed you over.”

Rochelle glowered at her. “That ''still'' shouldn’t let you off the hook. If you ever get a body of your own, you’re going to have to take care of it, you know.”

“Hey, now! I took care of your body! I didn’t ''starve'' it, did I?”

“That’s ''not'' the problem.”

Chet glanced down at himself, then over at Nils. “Looks like I’m still about the same weight…”

“Yeah, food’s nice and all, but I’m not one for gluttony.” Nils chuckled. “Besides, keeping an eye on ''that'' one burned a lot of calories.”

Uncia rolled her eyes. “Hey, now, not you too!”

“Glad to have you back, Shelley,” Rhianna said. “Even if there’s now a little more of you to love. Anyway, I’m given to understand it’s not unusual to gain a few extra kilos after a pregnancy.” She grinned.

“Yeah, but not ''sixteen virtual years'' after one.” Rochelle sighed. “But I guess Miss Greedyguts there is right; she ''can'' fix it when we Fuse. Feels a little like cheating somehow, though…”

Uncia snorted. “Oh, and living sixteen years in two months ''isn’t'' ‘cheating’?”

''Oh, right, my entire life was just dismissed as “cheating.” Thanks, Aunt Uncia.'' “Why is it such a big deal, anyway?” Ruth asked. “I mean, if you had a proper DE shell, you wouldn’t have to worry about gaining weight and stuff. Seems like that’s just a choice you make from going organic, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t ‘go’ organic, it’s how I started out,” Rochelle said. “And how I’m glad to be again. Even if ''someone’s'' not quite been treating my body right while I was gone.”

''And there she goes, rubbing it in again.'' Finally, Ruth couldn’t take it any longer. “So what am I, chopped liver? How could you just…raise me to be a RIDE, when all the while you were looking forward to switching back?”

“We never made any secret about it when you were growing up,” Chet pointed out. “In fact, I seem to recall that when you were little, you felt like it made you special.”

“Yeah, but…that was ''different.''”

“How?” Chet prodded.

“I…I dunno, it just ''was.''”

“We’ll talk more about this…but we’ll have to do it later,” Rochelle said. “Right now, there’s just the little matter of needing to integrate sixteen years of virtual memories into our flesh-and-blood brains. And from what I’ve been reading, the best way to deal with that amount of memories involves doing it over the course of a little downtime.”

“I guess this makes you the senior partner in the Garage now,” Rhianna said. “I think I would’ve needed about that long just to learn how this ship works. The Eridanites made some interesting offers in exchange for our FTL comm tech, but with everything else I haven’t had the time to seriously consider them.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Rochelle said. “I’m not taking credit for time spent in a different timeframe. While I won’t say I ''didn’t'' get some extra study time in, raising a kid ''is'' a full-time job in itself. Though I’ll be happy to look over those offers in fast-time, it’ll have to wait a week, since what comes ''after'' reintegrating the memories is the forced reacclimation period with all implants locked off.” She grimaced. “The one part of coming back I wasn’t really looking forward to. Guess I’ll be digging those I-specs back out of storage.”

“Oh no, we’re going to be stuck back in our own heads again.” Chet chuckled. “Gee, wonder what we’ll ''ever'' do to occupy that much real time.”

“I recognize innuendo when I hear it, but I don’t think we’ll be able to spend ''every'' waking second like that.” Rochelle chuckled. “Not without the aid of some screwed-up nanites, anyway. Meanwhile, I ''am'' looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with some old friends. Feels like it’s been'' years'' since I saw them last.”

“Imagine that,” Kaylee said dryly. “So, your time as a RI give you any new perspectives on the business?”

“I dunno about ''new,'' but it certainly reinforced my opinion that it’s a crime the way society treated you all up until a couple years ago—and I’m proud to have been a part of the movement to change that.”

“I really enjoyed my time as a human…though I kinda feel like I got the short end, ‘cuz I just had a few weeks while ''you'' got to be a computer person for ''years,''” Uncia said.

“I’m kind of glad I didn’t give ''you'' years,” Rochelle said. “Who knows what shape this body would have been by the time I got back?”

Uncia stuck out her tongue. “I told ya, it’s not ''my'' fault food tastes so good! It’s even better when you’re ''in'' the body instead a’ just piggy-backing. I’m really kinda gonna miss that.”

Ruth groaned. “Even ''you'' think it’s better being a human? What is this? Is this some sort of big joke on me, that you raised me to be a RIDE while you ''all'' actually like being human better? You intentionally raised me to be a second-class citizen or something?”

Rochelle pursed her lips. “Now, Ruth…it’s not like that. It’s just…it’s something ''different'' after a long time of something else. It’s not that being human is ''always'' better. It’s just a fun change. You might like it if you tried it, too.”

“Oh, right, and have to go around pooping and peeing all day?” Ruth rolled her eyes. “''That'' got old doing it ''virtually''. Why would I ever want to have to do it in real life?”

“We could ''get'' you a cloned body, you know. Once we get back to Zharus, anyway,” Chet mused. “Shouldn’t be too hard to base a clone on both of our genetic materials, force-grow it to the right age, and download you into it. If you wanted to try it out.”

Rochelle nodded. “It’s not as if I couldn’t afford it.”

“Eww. Nooooo thanks.”

Rochelle glanced to Uncia. “Offer’s good for you, too. If you want a clone of me, I could spring for it.”

Uncia cocked her head. “Huh. I dunno. I’ll have to think about that. It’s fun being a human for a while, but a meat body’s kinda high maintenance, really. Not so sure I’d want to have to take care of it all the time.”

“Maybe something like Nana Socah’s Jane would be more your speed?” Rhianna suggested. “Something that could pass for human, and maybe eat some, but you could just power down when you weren’t in it?”

“Huh. There’s an idea.” Uncia swished her tail thoughtfully. “We can talk about it later, maybe.”

“Yeah.” Rochelle yawned. “For now, though…I think maybe it’s time to assimilate some memories and catch some Zs. See you kids in a while, ‘kay?”

“Uh…yeah, sure, whatever…” Ruth mumbled.

Chet sighed. “Low-grade amnesia, here we come…” He followed Rochelle out toward the elevator to the shuttle where their bed-tents were.

Ruth rolled her eyes again. “Oh, great. First they drag us out to the real world, then they abandon us.”

“Aw, that’s okay,” Geena said. “I found a few pretty neat spots out here during the few weeks I spent waiting for you to get old enough for me to come join you. I could show you some of them, if you want…”

“I guess it’s better than just sitting around doing nothing,” Ruth said. “Lead the way.”

“You kids stay out of trouble,” Rhianna said.

“Like there’s any trouble we could even get into, here…” Ruth muttered.

“Try not to find any,” Kaylee said. “And comm us if you need us.”

Ruth bit back a sharp retort and followed Geena out into the corridor toward the interior of the ship.

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A few minutes later, the pair wandered into the diplomatic sector bar that had become a sort of de facto off-duty lounge for the ship. There were a fairly large number of humans and RIDEs to be seen, and a sprinkling of Integrates. The room was pretty full, though there was still plenty of seating available.

And there were a few familiar faces at the table in one corner. “Howdy, strangers!” Stacia called cheerfully. “We thought you might show up here sooner or later. Come on and join us!”

“Hi, Stacia!” Ruth glanced over the table’s occupants. Stacia looked largely identical to how she had in the mainframe—sitting on the human chairs at one side of the table. Ruth hadn’t seen her friends’ RIDE forms before, but they were close enough to recognize. An avian-RIDE perch and padded floor mat had been placed on the other side of the table for them. “Renfield, Soren…how’s real life treating you?”

Soren hunched his wings in a shrug. “Given that we’ve only been in it for an hour or so, it’s a little hard to say.”

“It’s different, anyway.” Renfield looked around. “Weird to see so many people I’ve never met before.”

“But we’ll get used to it.” Stacia sipped a cola; the other two didn’t have anything on the table in front of them. “Join us? Pull up a mat or a chair, whichever you prefer.”

“Guess we might as well,” Ruth said. She sat on her haunches on a convenient mat, while Geena pulled up a chair for herself. A waitress came by to ask if they wanted anything, and Geena ordered a Coke.

“I am rather going to miss eating stuff,” Soren said. “Of course, I could always sim it, but it’s not the same.”

“Actually, given that our entire life up to now ''was'' a sim, I’d think it would be ''exactly'' the same,” Ruth said.

“Yeah, but that’s not the ''point.''”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Oh, is this another one of those ‘the real world is super-fantastic, even though it’s just the same as what we simmed’ things?”

“Well, it’s not ''really'' the same,” Geena said. “That’s sort of the point. They try to sim the real world as close as they can, but they’re always gonna miss in the little details. And for the people who grew up with those little details, they’re sort of important.”

“What about for the people who grew up ''without'' the details, and liked it that way?” Ruth grumbled.

“Oh, suck it up,” Renfield said. “It’s not like the rest of us aren’t in the same boat here. Honestly, not even sure what was going through our parents’ heads, having kids on the way to a war zone. But we are where we are, and it’s not doing any of us any good to gripe about it now.”

“Live a little,” Stacia said. “That’s what I’m trying to do, anyway.”

“So what’re you all going to do? Live with your parents out here in the Real?” Geena asked.

“Not really, no,” Stacia said. “Unlike Ruth, most of us actually don’t have anything like a stable family situation out here in the Real. Our parents generally have other duties, or human partners.”

“Yeah, you don’t know how good you’ve got it,” Renfield said. “Of course, we keep in touch via the ‘net, but…it’s not going to be like it was on the inside.”

“So we’re considering rooming together, at least until we can all find situations of our own,” Soren said.

“You got room for one more?” Ruth said. “My parents might be out here in the real world, but I’m not really sure I can deal with them right about now. And I think it’s just about time I left the nest anyway.”

“Make that two more,” Geena said. “I don’t have any particular place to stay, myself. So one place is just about as good as another for me, leastways ‘til we get to Totalia and I can hook up with ''Clementine''.”

“Don’t you think you should maybe talk that over with your parents first, Ruth?” Stacia suggested.

“They’re not available to talk to right now, and I don’t really feel like it anyway.” Ruth rolled her eyes. “Anyway, legally I don’t need to. As I understand it, as full-fledged high school graduates, we RIDEs and EIDEs are now legally emancipated and free to do what we want.”

“If you’re sure that’s what you want to do…I don’t have a problem with it,” Soren said.

Renfield nodded. “Me neither.”

“All right, then. We’ll be glad to have you two.” Stacia smiled. “With that settled…we were all just about to head up and check out the Ark. Want to join us?”

“Oooh, good choice!” Geena said. “I visited there a few times before I joined all of you on the inside. It was pretty neat.”

Stacia finished her drink. “All right, then let’s go take a look.”

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Stepping out into the Ark gave Ruth the oddest feeling of deja vu. The rest of the ship was all sterile ceramic, glass, and metal. But as the hatch in front of them opened and they stepped through, suddenly they were standing in an open field. Instead of the neutral smell of the rest of the ship, here there were smells of grass, and flowers, and trees, and other natural things. Around the field were park benches, and a few plots for flowers and other plants to grow. A number of other humans, RIDEs, EIDEs, and Integrates were also present.

“Whoa…” Ruth said. “It’s like we were back in VR again.”

“As long as you don’t look up, anyway.” Soren nodded toward the ceiling, which was a transparent dome currently covered in metal shutters to block out the featureless white of jump space.. “You wouldn’t see something like that in VR.”

“They’re making good use of the space.” Stacia pointed to other platforms under the dome that hosted various different environments, including pastures with grazing animals, forests, swamps, and even a glass aquarium tank.

“What a crazy place.” Renfield snorted. “They fake up a natural setting in a computer, and then they build a real natural setting out here. What’s the point?”

“Even humans can’t live without nature.” Geena picked a strawberry from one of the garden plots. “And they’re going to give back to Totalia some of the parts of nature it lost. I think that’s pretty cool.”

“You’re welcome to come and visit as often as you like.” That was the EI who ran the place, Noah, whose hardlight projection was modeled after the stereotypical long-bearded depiction of the Biblical patriarch. “A number of RIDEs enjoy the novelty of visiting a realistic version of their native habitats. We only ask that you take care to avoid harming any of the plants and animals—and don’t eat ''too'' much of the fruits and vegetables; there needs to be enough to go around.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ruth said. “We’ll be careful.” She walked over to one of the benches lining the path and sat down. A ceramic/concrete composite made to resemble marble, it was more than adequate to support her weight.

A moment later, Geena joined her, nibbling on the strawberry. “Mmm. This ''is'' good. You forget how good real food can be, after nothing but virtual.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Oh, God, not ''you,'' too.”

“Sorry.” Geena finished the strawberry, and grinned. “But it ''is'' good. I’m only sad you can’t try it yourself.”

“Meh. I’ll gladly give up eating if it means I don’t have to pee and poop either.”

Geena nodded. “I guess that’s one way to look at it. You know, some RIDEs with fabbers are able to hook up to use them as a sort of digestive system, so they just put the chewed-up food through a recycle mode to make it into fabber matter.”

“Yeah, but ''you’re'' my fabber. So it would have that whole weird ''Human Centipede'' vibe going on.”

“Yeah, when you put it that way, ew.”

Ruth and Geena sat for a while, watching the others spread out to examine different parts of the arc. Soren changed to his bird form and took to the air, and the others soon used their own lifters, or hit the call button to summon sets of lifter-powered stepping stones to take them from one platform to the next.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Ruth said. “Go on, explore the place.”

“What about you?”

Ruth shrugged. “Dunno. It’s all a little too…''real'' for me, I guess. Just serves to remind me that, out here, I’m a machine, and I don’t really get the full benefit of nature. Kind of an uncanny valley thing, I guess.”

Geena cocked her head. “Weren’t you just saying how glad you were that you don’t have to pee and poop?”

“I never ''said'' it had to make sense. It’s just…I dunno.” Ruth waved a hand. “So many weird life changes lately. I want everything to just stop for a while until I have some time to catch up.”

“It kinda doesn’t. Ever,” Geena said. “That’s what real life is like. It’s ''always'' changing. Something like what we had in there, where everything was all samey day in and day out—that’s the fakey part. You gotta learn to roll with the changes.”

“So people keep telling me.” Ruth sighed. “I guess I just need time to get used to this.”

“Were you serious, what you said about not living with your folks for a while?”

Ruth shrugged. “Mostly. I do kinda not wanna see them for a while. At least until they’ve got all the ‘ooooooh, we’re ''real'' again!’ bullshit out of the way. Right now, that’s ''really'' getting on my nerves.”

“And if they insist?”

“I dunno. Play it by ear, I guess. Right now, I just need some time and space to figure out who this new ‘me’ wants to be.”

“Okay. Well, you should go ahead and email them about it soon, then.” Geena smiled. “Don’t leave them hanging. And if there’s gonna be an argument, get it out of the way early.”

“Yeah…I guess I ought to do that.” Ruth rose and stretched. “I guess I might as well give this place a good look-over. You think they’ve got an arctic tundra environment?”

Geena grinned, also standing. “If they don’t, I’m sure it’s a terrible oversight. C’mon, let’s see for ourselves.”

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She drifted slowly back to awareness, not knowing where she was or even ''who'' she was. The name “Rochelle” seemed to hold some kind of meaning for her, so she decided it probably applied. But then, the name “Roger” held nearly as much meaning. She had vague memories of having been called by both. But wasn’t “Roger” a man’s name?

''Oh.'' As she came closer to full wakefulness, some of the missing pieces started to settle back into place. She ''was'' Rochelle, ''had been'' Roger, and had just spent a number of years inside a computer. Only…why was it so hard to remember anything now? Had Uncia gotten her drunk again?

That thought brought back even more memories, some of them unwelcome ones. ''Oh,'' she thought again. ''Right.'' She reached out mentally for the place where her implants should have been, only to find they steadfastly refused to activate. ''Oh,'' she thought a third time. ''Duh. Acclimatization.''

Proud of herself for having remembered such a long word before having her coffee, she opened her eyes. Everything was blurry, and for a moment she wondered if there was something wrong. Then she remembered that, no, that was just how human eyes ''worked.'' They didn’t have instant automatic focus, like the eyes (or whatever) of a Reticulated Intelligence living inside a computer.

Something else she didn’t have was the perfect recall she had gotten used to having. All of her memories now felt irritatingly vague and blurry—not the as-sharp-as-if-it-was-happening-now recall of a digital replay. Rochelle groaned inwardly as she realized that living in her strictly-human organic mind now felt disorientingly ''alien''.

But that would pass. It surely ''would'' pass, wouldn’t it? After all, she’d grown up this way, and hadn’t found anything odd in it until a couple of months (or sixteen years) ago. She could get back to feeling that way again, right?

Well, she couldn’t get back to it just by lying here and moping. Groaning aloud this time, Rochelle sat slowly up in bed, adjusting to the slightly unsteady feeling of organic human inner-ear balance. Gyroscopic senses had always been so much more ''exact''. It really did feel kind of like being drunk, by comparison to what it had been like as a computer entity. “I’ll get used to it,” she muttered, holding her head. “You can get used to anything, so I hear…”

“Mmph,” a lump in the covers next to her said.

Rochelle sighed. “Wakey wakey, Chet. Welcome back to life in the Real World.”

“Five more minutes, Mom…” Chet mumbled.

Rochelle rolled her eyes, and clambered out of bed. Surely things would make more sense when she had some coffee inside of her.

Coffee…''real'' coffee. For the first time in sixteen virtual years. Well, now, just the ''thought'' of that was enough to inspire her to greater wakefulness. She slid off the queen-sized bed pad, and rummaged in the closet for a robe. Even her movements were a bit more awkward than she remembered—because she had to work with muscles and muscle memories, not a computer that perfectly simulated any requested motion. But at least her muscles still ''had'' the memories, so there was that. It wasn’t as if she was learning her life all over again.

''Ugh, I wish Jeanette was here, instead of back on Zharus. I’d love to ask her about some of this stuff. Why didn’t I ask her more about it when I had the chance?''

Rochelle stumbled to the door, pushed it open, and stepped out into the ''Maxima''’s cargo bay. As she did, she became aware of a familiar aroma. Although she’d smelled the same smell inside the computer, she couldn’t help thinking there was just something different, something more ''real'' about this smell—and the smell was enough to wake her halfway up all by itself. A moment later, she saw the automatic coffeemaker on a table against the wall happily burbling away.

Uncia was lying on a charger pad not too far away. She looked up as Rochelle emerged. “Morning, sleepyhead!”

“Hey. You put the coffee on?”

“Uh-huh! Figured it might help with the thing of wakefulness.”

“Mmm…real caffeine. I’ve—”

“Yes, yes, ''been waiting sixteen years for this.'' That’s gonna get old, you know.”

“Sorry! But…well, I kind of have.”

“Just pour it carefully. It’d suck to spill scalding coffee all over yourself. If you’re not sure you’re up to it yet, I could page Rhianna in to help…”

“Thanks, but if I can’t pour my own coffee, I’m a lot worse off than I thought.” She carefully gripped the handle, lifted the pot, and poured. “Ahh, there we go.”

“Hey.” Nils padded into the room, long tail swishing. “Chet up yet?”

Rochelle nodded toward the bedroom. “I think he’s hiding under the covers. If he’s not up in a few minutes, you may have to drag him out of bed.”

Nils nodded. “I can handle that.”

Rochelle sipped her coffee carefully, and was rewarded by the minor pain of a scalded tongue. ''Ow.'' But even that was something to be savored. In the virtual environment, even at the highest realism settings on which they’d raised Ruth, for some reason hot drinks were always the perfect temperature. No matter how she’d tried to tweak the settings, the computer had refused to burn her tongue. She suspected it might be due to an oversight in the way the simulation was coded—people were expected to take injuries to the rest of their body, but someone had forgotten about the inside of the mouth.

''If nothing else, this ''proves'' I’m back in the real world.'' She blew on the coffee and tried another sip, a little better this time. “Mmm. ''So'' good. Thanks for putting this on, Un-hon.”

“Hey, no biggie. I know how you are about your coffee.” Uncia groomed a patch of fur on her right flank and nibbled on the tip of her tail, while Rochelle drank some more. “So…feeling a little more awake now?”

“A little, yes…” Rochelle considered pouring another cup, but decided it was best to start slowly. She put the cup back on the table for now. “I’d say that now that I had my coffee, I’m feeling a little more human…but the fact is, I’m feeling a ''lot'' more human right now, and the coffee didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“I kinda feel like I should apologize, a little,” Uncia said.

“About the four kilos?”

Uncia rolled her eyes. “Nooooo, I ''won’t'' apologize about something I was able to fix with just one quick Fuse. But I do feel like maybe I should have…I dunno, done or said ''something'' different before you went off into Nature Range that time. Maybe if I’d given you the right bit of advice, warned you to be a little more careful or something…”

“…then I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.” Rochelle smiled. “As it is, the whole thing didn’t cost me anything but time. And didn’t even cost me any ''real'' time on top of that. Instead of a few extra weeks of boredom, I got to spend sixteen years raising a ''new person'' to adulthood. That’s not a waste of time, however you look at it. Speaking of which, where is the little rug-cat anyway?”

Uncia’s ears drooped a little. “Uh…she’s out right now. She cc’d me on an email she sent you. You should probably go ahead and read it.”

Rochelle raised an eyebrow, and at the same time marveled at the subtle interplay of muscles it took to move a specific portion of skin by a few millimeters. “Email, huh? Uh…okay. Hmm. Implants are offline for the time being. Where did I leave my interface specs? Oh…there they are.”

A pair were sitting on the other end of the table from the coffeepot, undoubtedly set down and forgotten when she’d gotten the nanite implants. She picked them up and slipped them on, and the interface immediately booted up. With a few quick eyeflicks, she opened her email inbox, and saw the message in question.

''From: Ruth'' 
''To: Rochelle, Chet'' 
''Cc: Uncia, Nils'' 
''Subject: Moving out, for now''

''Hi, Mom & Dad. Hope this email finds you well.''

''I’m moving out for now. I need some time to get used to the Real, and it’s not gonna be any easier if I spend half the time getting mad at you over how you’re happy to be back out, and I’m not really all that happy to be here. So I think maybe it’s best we give each other some space ‘til we can all cool down and get used to things.''

''For now, Geena and I are gonna room with Soren, Renfield, and Stacia in the new RIDE quarters section. You can reach us by email or comm, or you can come find us I guess. But I really hope you’ll give us a little time. I want to get used to it here, since this’s where we’re gonna be living and stuff, whether I like it or not. But I need to work through this for myself.''

''Love you both.''

''Ruth''

Rochelle blinked. “Huh. Well, there’s a thing.”

“A thing is, indeed, precisely what it is,” Nils said. “So what’re you planning to do?”

Rochelle considered. “Hmm. Well…I’ll have to talk it over with Sleeping Beauty in there—” She jerked her head back toward the bedroom. “—but my first impulse is to drop an email back saying I understand, best of luck, we’ll be here for you, yatta yatta. I can sorta see how she might need a little alone time to get used to things, and…well, it’s not as if she can go very far. And she’s a big girl now, with responsible friends.” She chuckled. “Geena ''has'' been a good influence on her. At least she did email me about it instead of just leaving without a word.”

Uncia cocked her head. “You don’t wanna talk it out or something?”

“Well, maybe best not yet. If she’s really feeling mad at us over things, we’d all probably say stuff we’d regret. And I guess she does kind of have a right to be angry.” She shrugged. “We’ve still got a few weeks before we get to Totalia, so we can get back together by then. And don’t think I ''won’t'' be keeping a parental eye on them in other ways.”

“If you think that’s best…”

“I dunno. Like I said, I’ll have to talk it over with Chet and see what he thinks. Anyway, there’s no need to do anything hasty either way.” Rochelle yawned. “I think this ''does'' call for more coffee, though…”

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An hour later found Rochelle and Chet seated on two sides of a square table in the workshop bay, with Rhianna and Ivy seated on the other two sides. They were working on a breakfast ordered down from the shipboard mess. It wasn’t as good as Bea’s Breakfast Nook had to offer, but it was nonetheless edible.

Rhianna was wearing her usual Easy-Fuse coveralls, while Rochelle had on a plain white dress and Chet was in jeans, T-shirt, and his leather jacket. Ivy was also wearing a pair of coveralls, though these were custom cut for a snug fit, and unzipped halfway down the front.

It was just as well that the sisters were seated adjacent to each other rather than across the table, Rochelle thought, or Rhianna might just wear out her eyes from rolling them every time she looked up from her breakfast. She ''also'' suspected that Ivy was no longer trying to “out-girl” Rhianna so much as just get any rise out of her that she could, but saying so would probably be counterproductive.

“So, you’re back out here for good now?” Ivy said, spearing a sausage with her fork. “How’s Ruth doing?”

“Yes, we are, and Ruth has decided she needs some space while she’s getting adjusted,” Rochelle said. “She’s living with friends over in the new RIDE quarters for now.”

“Ouch, really? You’re just going to go with that?”

“Seems wisest to let this run its course,” Chet said. “In a larger sense, she’s not exactly going to leave the ship any time soon, so we’ve got the time.”

“Of course, the ''rest'' of us weren’t asked to stay away, so we can help keep an eye on her,” Rhianna said. “In our copious free time.”

“So…I gotta know,” Ivy said, eyes sparkling. “What was it ''like'' being a mother?”

“A lot of hard work,” Rochelle said. “Ultimately satisfying, but ''wow'' was it hard work. Sixteen years of hard work.”

“But I’ll bet it passed just like that. I mean, it was just a few weeks of real time…”

Rochelle narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh. And knowing you like I do, I’m getting the feeling that you’re thinking about getting implants, body-swapping, and doing a little of the RI-nasty your own self, because it’s a way to ''play at'' being a mother without actually having something inconvenient like an ''actual baby'' to take care of and raise. Put that out of your head ''right'' now. The setting may only be virtual, but the new life you take responsibility for is ''real''. And it takes just as much hard work as real-life parenthood. You can’t just decide you don’t enjoy it anymore and go do something else.”

Ivy blinked at her. “I was only ''asking,'' geez.”

“And she was only answering,” Rhianna said. “It seems to me like she just about had you pegged.”

Rochelle shrugged. “Anyway, it was a lot of work. And even though I’m really happy with how it all came out in the end, it’s ''not'' something I’d have chosen to do intentionally. Not for a good few years yet, anyway.”

“You know, you and Cira should probably go visit her yourself, now we’re all out in the Real,” Chet said. “Find out what ''she'' thinks about having been raised that way. I suspect you’ll get an earful.”

“Uh…okay…”

“So, what’re your plans now, Shelley?” Rhianna asked.

Rochelle shrugged. “Get used to living in a human body again, for starters. Renew old acquaintances. Pick up working here at the shop. After that…dunno. Guess we’ll play it by ear.” She twitched one of her snow leopard ears in illustration.

“We’ll certainly be glad to have you back. And if there’s any other way we can help out with the Ruth situation, let us know.”

“I think Shelley is right,” Chet said. “She’s been through a big change—we all have—and she needs time to get a handle on it. Without also having to deal with us being a lot happier about ''our'' change than she is.”

“I guess we should have seen it coming,” Rochelle said. “We were both feeling so excited to be back out here in the Real again that we didn’t take into account how it would seem to her. We’ll give her a little time to get over it, and then see how things go.”

“So how are ''you'' feeling about it?” Ivy asked. “I mean, you just gave up being RIs, with perfect recall and stuff, and now you’re back in the wonky ol’ meat bods, and…”

Rochelle groaned. “Don’t ''remind'' me. Sometimes I have to keep reminding myself that I’ll get used to this again, and it has plenty of good points too.”

Chet nodded. “Same. It’s so ''aggravating'' not being able to remember stuff that you’re sure was on the tip of your tongue just yesterday. But then I have to remind myself I didn’t know anything different until just a little while ago. But the most annoying thing is not having any access to my implants, which I had for years ''before'' all this.”

“At least I’m not so handicapped there, since before the changeover I was fully used to using these I-specs. So I can get by that way.”

“Yeah, me too I guess. But I’ll be glad when the week is up and I get some access again.”

“Anyway, if we’re done with breakfast, we’ve got some more RIDE cases to look over today,” Rhianna said, stacking her empty plate onto Ivy’s. “If you’d care to take a look at things, I’d like to hear what you think about them too.”

Rochelle nodded. “Sure. Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Okay, great! Then let’s get these dishes put away and we can get started…”

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In the days that followed, Ruth and Geena hung around the apartment they shared with Stacia, Renfield, and Soren. But as the days turned into weeks, the other three were absent more and more, as the positions they’d applied for came through, and they entered training and joined the workforce. Stacia got an entry-level job helping in the ship’s navigation department, Soren started taking scouting classes—and the Diplomatic Corps was even willing to take Renfield on, which surprised none of them more than Renfield.

Geena, of course, had her heart set on rejoining the ''Clementine'' when they got to Totalia, and that was just fine with Ruth since she didn’t have anything she especially wanted to do, either. She supposed she could join her parents at Rhianna’s shop and work on RIDE hacking and maintenance, but she still didn’t feel like spending time around her parents at the moment. But it wasn’t much fun hanging out at an empty apartment, either.

So, Ruth and Geena took to spending more time exploring the ship together. They hung out in the various common areas, mapped out the utility tunnels that Ruth had first explored while rescuing her friends from Kepler hackers, and even poked into the cargo bays where Aunt Uncia and Uncle Nils had run across some Integrate stowaways. But they tended to gravitate more and more to the Ark, if only because it was the only place where they could experience the sort of nature they’d grown up around in the real world.

Then, one day while they were sunning themselves on the grass near the Ark’s apiary, Ruth looked up and noticed a familiar profile slinking toward it. She blinked. “Hey…is that Uncle Julius?”

The poodle lying in the grass nearby lifted her head, then melted back into her human shape. “It is! Why don’t we go see what he’s up to?”

By the time they caught up to him, the jaguar had stood up into Shell Mode, and was reaching up to unlock one of the beehive enclosures. “Hey, Uncle Julius! What’re you doing here?”

“Huh? Oh, BLEEP.” Julius glanced over his shoulder, then turned to face them. “Hey, kiddos. Actually, I help out ‘round here.” He nodded to the hive. “With the BLEEPing bees.”

Ruth blinked. “The bees?”

Julius sighed. “Yeah. Long BLEEPing story. Few months back, Joe got me a BLEEPing beekeeping license, for no very good BLEEPing reason. Something ‘bout the BLEEPing Nextus bureaucratic Game. Apparently getting a license is like the equivalent of playing a hole’r two a’ BLEEPin’ golf in that, or some bullBLEEP like that.” Julius rolled his eyes expressively. “Anywho, when they brought ''this'' BLEEPing place on board, the personnel office ran a search for anyone with relevant experience, so they could ask for volunteers to help out. Naturally, my BLEEPing license popped right up. So here the BLEEP I am.”

“But you didn’t ''have'' to volunteer, did you?” Geena asked.

Julius shrugged. “Meh. It was something to do, wasn’t it? I can only spend so much time on the BLEEPin’ couch with Joe watchin’ old movies I’ve already seen a dozen times. ‘Sides, Joe and Socah kinda like the fresh honeycomb I get to bring home now an’ then, and I like having it with him.”

Ruth cocked her head. “Huh. I didn’t know you could volunteer to help out here.”

“Oh, sure. Hey, you kids wanna help me with the bees? Couple extra BLEEPin’ sets a’ hands might be useful, ‘specially ones that don’t gotta worry ‘bout getting BLEEPin’ stung.”

Ruth grinned. “Sure!”

“I’m in, too!” Geena said. “Just show us what to do!”

“Great! Then follow me.” He turned back to the enclosure and unlocked the door, and Ruth and Geena followed him in.

“You know, Uncle Julius, now that we’re all grown up and stuff, you don’t ''have'' to censor yourself around us anymore,” Ruth said as they walked. “Since I ''now know'' about words like ‘fuck’ and that ‘BLEEP’ is a way of covering them up.” She glared at Geena. “I had to find that out ''on my own,'' because a ''certain someone'' didn’t tell me the first time she heard ''me'' use ‘BLEEP’ as a swear word.”

Geena giggled. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it! You were just so ''cute.'' It would have been like telling a kid that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny weren’t real.”

“Heh heh,” Julius said. “Sorry kids, but no. Not just no, but BLEEP no. You don’t even know what ‘all grown up’ BLEEPing looks like yet. Mebbe when you’re ten years older or something.”

“But we already know what all the words are, and what they mean,” Ruth insisted. “I could even fucking use them in conversation myself if I wanted.”

“Kid, don’t make me wash yer BLEEPing mouth out with soap.”

Ruth pouted. “Like ''you’re'' one to talk.”

Julius snorted. “You kids think I’d BLEEPing talk like this if I didn’t BLEEPing have to? It’s a BLEEPing core quirk on account a’ me being an original-line Ought One A. Even your Mom probably wouldn’t be able to BLEEPing fix it without BLEEPing up my sweet an’ BLEEPing charming personality in the process. So she made this BLEEPing filter for me, an’ that’s good enough.

“An’ not using BLEEPing words like BLEEP, BLEEP, and BLEEP around kids, even when we BLEEPing ''know'' they already know the words, is just one of those crazy human taboos that we RIDEs seem to have picked up on. Don’t ask me to explain it, I’m sure I have no BLEEPing clue where it comes from.” Julius sneezed. “Pretty funny you actually thought ‘BLEEP’ was a swear word itself, though. Really, that’s BLEEPing hilarious, that is. Wait’ll I tell Joe.”

“Aw, Uncle ''Juuuuuules''…”

“Now c’mon, here we are at the BLEEPing hives. Listen up, and I’ll show you what to do…”

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''December 17, 158 A.L.'' 
''Trip Day 87''

After that, Ruth and Geena got into the habit of accompanying Julius to the hives to help him out. It was a good chance to spend time with him, and a way to feel like they were doing something useful. And Geena, at least, enjoyed the honeycomb they got to take home for it.

(Ruth was ''almost'' curious enough to work out a hookup from her throat to Geena’s fabber form so she could try it herself—but still, there was that whole ''Human Centipede'' thing…eww. And Fusing with anyone else to try it was pretty much out of the question, too. She wasn’t of the generation that could treat sharing oneself with someone else that casually.)

Eventually, they had learned enough about it from experience and the skill chips Julius shared that they were able to rate Beekeeper (Assistant Class) licenses, and trade off with Julius on working the hive by themselves so he could spend more free time with Joe. (Ruth was pretty sure his blasé attitude about watching movies he’d already seen was just a put-on, and he really ''didn’t'' mind the excuse for him and Joe to hang out more together.)

For their part, Ruth and Geena didn’t mind the excuse to hang out in the Ark on a regular basis. With nothing much else to do, they took to spending most of their time there. When they weren’t working with the bees or enjoying nature, Noah always had other chores that needed doing—and they didn’t mind helping out in return for being allowed to stay there.

The Ark was where they were when the ''Great Western'' finally emerged from jump into the vicinity of Totalia’s star system on day 87. Most of those aboard were at various parties that had been going on since the night before, including a big one on the Grand Concourse. But a number of them had the idea that the great domes overhead in the Ark were a great place to watch the stars come back, live. They’d been unshuttered just for the occasion, and a significant portion of the off-duty crew of the ship was here to watch—including Stacia, Soren, and Renfield. They’d set up lawn chairs within the fenced-in area of the apiary, ensuring there was room for themselves away from the crowds that filled much of the Ark’s open areas.

“Just think, this is going to be the first time any of us have actually seen ''real'' stars, live,” Stacia said. “We were born in the middle of a hyperspace jump, after all.”

“Well, ''most'' of us were,” Geena pointed out. “I’m looking forward to seeing them ''again.''”

“Meh, stars, big deal.” A few weeks in the diplomatic corps hadn’t made Renfield noticeably more diplomatic as far as Ruth could tell.

“If that’s how you feel, Renfield, why are you here?” Soren asked.

The wolverine shrugged. “Something to do, isn’t it? If only to see what all the fuss is about.”

“It is a great chance to get together,” Ruth said. “I’ve missed you guys while you’ve been busy doing other things.”

“We’re glad to be here, too, Ruth.” Stacia glanced up. “Oooh, I think they’re starting to dim the lights.” A moment later, the only illumination in the room was provided by the featureless whiteness outside the ship.

“The shipboard nav feed reports thirty seconds to emergence,” Stacia said. “Twenty seconds…ten…” All around them, people were taking up the chant. “Four…three…two…one…” The whiteness flickered out, and suddenly the room was considerably darker. A hushed “Ooooooh!” went up from the other onlookers as their eyes adjusted to the dimness, and the pinpoint lights of stars came into full view.

Geena grinned. “Welcome back to the real universe!”

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''December 28, 158 A.L.'' 
''Trip Day 98''

Ruth wasn’t really sure what was supposed to happen after that. She imagined her folks probably did, but she still didn’t really feel like going and talking to them. They’d…well, cast her out of Eden. That was worth a few more weeks of silence, at least.

But the sense she got from reading shipboard comm channels and talking to Uncle Jules now and then at the beehives was that they’d been expecting to meet another ship here, the ''Rickenbacker'', but it wasn’t around and people were starting to get antsy. Ruth felt that maybe that should be worrying, but she didn’t really feel it in her to get that worked up. After all, whether the escort ship arrived or not, whether they went farther in-system or not, she was just going to end up stuck here out of the way—unless she could manage to transfer to the ''Clementine'' with Geena, but who knew if that was even possible?

Here in the Ark, things were quiet and tranquil, which reminded her pleasantly of the artificial tranquility of the creche realm where she’d grown up. They kept it gently illuminated in the daytime, and opened the shutters to the starfield at night. It was soothing. So that was something, anyway, she guessed. Geena, at least, was excited—they’d heard from the Clementine, who’d landed planetside. But apparently they weren’t able to get back into space, due to some sort of Kessel Field thing blocking the way. (Apparently they didn’t have enough parsecs to make the run, or something. Ruth wasn’t really paying much attention at this point.) So it was probably still going to be a while before they could work out how to get down there.

There was a little more excitement when they did a short-duration jump of just a couple of hours to enter the Totalia system itself—and then met up with a local starship, the ''Kybalion,'' which the Clementine had hooked up with briefly on the way in. Ruth saw it drifting outside the Ark one night—a huge old thing, with kind of a piecemeal look to it the way various bits had been blown off and other bits had been added on. But it certainly seemed to have a lot of big gun barrels.

On the third day following the jump to the Totalia system, Geena was following Ruth around as they retrieved the honeycomb racks from a set of hives that was ready to harvest. “We’re ''almost there!'' I can hardly believe it! I wonder if I should comm them, or maybe just sorta wait until I can get down there to the planet to meet them. Um…but I guess Maddie and the others will already have commed ahead that I’m here. Oh geez, what if they don’t even wanna ''see'' me, after I’ve come all this way?”

Ruth sighed and just let it wash over her. She couldn’t blame Geena for her enthusiasm. For her, this was going to be a chance to rejoin the people she pretty much thought of as her family. ''While my own family…ugh. Don’t even care about me. I’d have thought they’d have tried to show up here when I was working, or something.'' Of course, until recently she’d actually been ''glad'' they were giving her space, letting her work things out for herself. But she was gradually starting to want to see them again, but not wanting to make the first move ''herself''. It would have felt like admitting she was wrong, or something.

And apparently Geena was still more attentive than she looked, even when she was in the midst of excited babbling. Abruptly she stopped mid-stream, and considered Ruth curiously. “You’re not saying much. In fact, you haven’t said much at all the last few days. Are you okay?”

Ruth waved a hand. “Meh,” she said, as she slid another slider of honeycomb into a collection rack. “Just…I dunno. Coming to realize I’m just going to be stuck here all through this whole trip. It’s not exciting.”

“Oh, c’mon, surely you don’t think they’re not going to let us go planetside ''at all.''” Geena shook her head. “They just have to win the war first is all.”

“They ''just'' have to win the war?” Ruth turned to glare at her. “Geena, do you have any idea how long something like that can ''take?'' We could be at this for months! Years, even! All this while crammed aboard this ship. Or maybe some other ship. Or maybe even sent back to Zharus without even having a chance to go down there.”

“I can’t believe that. I ''won’t.''” Geena shook her head again. “Not after I came all this way.”

“You came all this way,” Ruth said. “I was ''born'' here. This is the only home I’ve ever known. Or, well, the ''only'' home I’ve ever known doesn’t even ''exist'' anymore except as a bunch of zeroes and ones inside my head! What makes you think ''you’ll'' have any better luck?”

Geena gasped. “You can’t mean that.”

Inside, Ruth knew she didn’t—not really—but she just felt like lashing out at, well, ''someone.'' “Oh, just go away, Geena. I’m busy here.”

Geena pursed her lips. “All right, ''fine.''” She swiveled on a heel and stalked out of the hive enclosure. Ruth sighed, and turned back to her work.

And that was when the world shook. There was a deafening sound, and a jarring impact that threw Ruth across the hut and dropped hives on top of her. “Nngh…what—?” Ruth shoved the hives off of her, paying no heed to the clouds of angry bees that filled the room. There was a sudden howl of escaping air—and above that, a scream. “Oh, BLEEP! ''Geena!''”

The hives were scattered and blocking the exit. But something told Ruth that now wasn’t the time to worry about damage. She crossed her arms above her head and fired her lifters at full blast, crashing through the hut’s flimsy roof and looking around. Above her, a crack rent the transparent dome. The shutters were sliding across it, but the air was filled with debris and the occasional frightened animal being sucked toward it—and it only took a moment for Ruth to see that Geena was ''also'' being sucked toward the exit.

Ruth didn’t hesitate—she fired her lifters again, streaking through the air toward her friend. “Geena! Your lifters! Fight the suction!”

“I’m trying!” Geena called back, her voice faint in the thinning air. “But it’s too strong!”

Ruth caught up to her and threw her arms around her friend. “C’mon, let’s get outta here—” She fired her own lifters at full blast to accompany Geena’s, but it was no good—even at full strength, they were losing ground fast, and the shutter wasn’t going to be able to seal it in time.

“Oh crap. Geena—go to fabber form, now!”

Geena’s eyes widened. “Wha—?”

“Fabbers don’t need to breathe! Do it!”

“Oh!” Geena drew her legs up and tucked her head in, and a moment later Ruth had her arms around a blocky rectangular fabbing unit. There wasn’t time to slide her into the pannier slot; Ruth just clamped her arms on tight and tried to make herself as small as possible around her friend, as they passed through the breach and out into space.

As they tumbled, Ruth activated her comm circuits and sent with all her strength, '':Mom! Dad! Heeeeelp!!!:''

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The ''Great Western'' vibrated like a tuning fork, shuddering and shimmying. “I need everyone to Damage Control stations!” Astrogon’s avatars shouted over the shipboard alarm. “Fuse up and move!”

“Ugh…do we even ''have'' damage control stations?” Rochelle shook her head. “I was kinda somewhere else for most of the trip.” She crawled out from under the table where she’d been thrown by the sudden impact. Fortunately, she’d been wearing Uncia’s ''minima'' shell at the time, whose lifters and hardlight had kicked in to cushion her impact. “Ugh…anyone get the number of that skimmer truck?”

Rhianna/Kaylee helped Rochelle/Uncia up. “Did we hit one of those invisible rocks they warned us about?”

“No, something much worse,” Socah Gates said.

Rhianna put her handpaw to her ear. “Well, shit. They’re calling us down to help in Engineering.”

“I’ll be right—”

Then her comm crackled. '':Mom! Dad! Heeeeelp!!!:''

“—actually, no I won’t. I just got a distress call—from Ruth! Uncia, can you track her?”

“On it!” Uncia said. “She’s…this can’t be right.”

“What?”

“She’s…outside the ship. Plotting her trajectory—it looks like she must have gotten sucked out a hole they blew in the Ark’s dome. She’s heading outward at a pretty good clip. Geena’s with her.”

“Right. Tell Astrogon we’re going to go get them. Where are Chet and Nils? We need them warming up the Maxima’s engines five minutes ago.”

“Chet’s already in the cockpit. He’s been hanging out there a lot now there are stars to see again. Already pinged him.” Uncia paused. “Don’t you mean ''ask'' Astrogon—?”

“No. No, I mean ''tell,''” Rochelle said firmly. “We’re ''going'' to get our daughter.”

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Rochelle slid into the co-pilot’s seat a couple of minutes later, and glanced over at Nils. “How’re we for launch?”

“Engines prepped. We can go at your word.” He glanced up at the head-up display, with inset video panels showing a cloud of gas and debris expanding from one of the tumbling ''Great Western''’s flanks, with a carat mark tracking a small dot slowly drifting away. “How’re we fixed with traffic control?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Get us out there.”

“I’ve filled Astrogon in on the situation,” Uncia reported. “He understands we’re not willing to wait, and since we’ve got our own ship, we’ve got clearance, as long as we stay in the area and assist in any other search-and-rescue after we get her.”

“As long as they don’t need ship-side medical attention, I’m good with that,” Rochelle said.

Nils spoke up. “Shelley, Ruth is a RIDE and Geena’s an Integrate. As long as we get to them fast, they’ll probably both be fine.”

“Then let’s not sit here jawing about it,” Rochelle said. “We’ve got clearance, let’s ''go!''”

“Disengaging docking clamps…using attitude control thrusters to point us in the right direction…and ''go!''”

As the ship lifted away and reoriented itself, Rochelle muttered. “Ugh…I ''knew'' I should have tried to reach out before now. I just…didn’t want to smother her.”

“It’s ''okay,'' Shelley,” Chet said. “I feel the same way. But…we’re still going to have lots of chances for that. They’re gonna be just fine.”

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Ruth held tightly to Geena as they tumbled over and over through space. At last, she looked up, and pulsed her lifters to kill the spin. They were drifting through space, alongside debris that included bits of shrubbery and fences, and a couple of dead animals. ''Oh, BLEEP. Poor things.'' She was glad that this had been a shift when few people would have been visiting the Ark—as far as she knew, she’d been the only one in the section at the time, so nobody else would have been sucked out—she hoped. She didn’t look around too hard, just in case.

Now that they were free of the atmosphere, she could at least latch Geena securely into place. She opened the pannier at her side, and lowered the fabber and pushed it back until it latched in. The pannier retracted, and connections were green. '':Geena? You okay?:''

'':I…I think so. Uh…did we really just get spaced? What ''happened''?:''

Ruth peered back toward the ship. '':It looks like something hit us. Something big. I think the whole rear drive ring is wrecked. Great big friendly Totalia howdy, I guess.:''

'':Oh…:'' Geena was silent for a while. '':I guess…maybe you were right about the war.:''

Ruth sighed…or at least, sent a sigh emoticon, since there wasn’t any air to sigh with out here. '':I didn’t want to be. I still hope I’m not.:''

'':But if they don’t want us here ''that'' badly…:''

'':''Some'' of them don’t want us here. Some of them asked for us to be here. We’ll get it worked out.:''

Geena didn’t reply for a while, then sent, '':What do we do now?:''

'':Well, I’ve got my distress beacon on. I’ve fired my lifters to try to slow us and move us back toward the ship, but it’ll probably take a while—we were blown out pretty quick.:'' Then Ruth’s sensors picked something up, and she turned her head to look. '':But…I think we’re good. Look, Mom and Dad are coming to get us!:''

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The rescue was accomplished easily enough. Chet had ample experience at matching velocity with tumbling objects in space, especially when those objects had their own lifters and could help to match him back. Ruth halfway expected the Maxima to transform into the giant Fuser form Mom said it had and just reach out and grab her, but they settled for going the more prosaic route of pulling up alongside her so she could close the rest of the way and open the airlock hatch herself.

When the inner door cycled, her Mom and Dad were there to greet her, with the RIDEs Aunt Uncia and Uncle Nils on their haunches in Fuser form behind them. Ruth fell into her mother’s arms. Irrationally, she missed having a simulated flesh-and-blood body the most right then, just so she could ''cry.'' It simply didn’t feel the same in Fuser form.

“Hey, are you okay?” Rochelle said. “Ruth, honey, I’ve never been happier that you don’t need to breathe.”

“I’m…I’m fine, Mom. Geena too. We’re a little shaken up, but..we weren’t hurt. We…heh…''evacuated''.”

“The whole section of the Ark we were in ‘evacuated,’ it looked like,” Geena chimed in. “I hope nobody was hurt…”

“Nobody in the Ark,” Uncia reported. “But looks like there were deaths in other compartments.”

“Oh no…” Ruth said. “They actually…''killed'' people?”

“A few, it looks like,” Chet said grimly. “You kids were lucky.”

Ruth sighed. “Mom, I’m…sorry I didn’t get back in touch. I just…I guess I was mad at you for being so happy to get back to the real world. It felt like I was…just an ''accident'' who was tying you down to VR for sixteen years.”

Rochelle’s eyes widened. “Oh, baby, nothing could be further from the truth. I won’t lie to you…you ''were'' conceived by accident. But after it happened…hey, we were RIDEs. We ''could'' simply have archived you until we got back to Zharus, and spent a fast three months on this trip. Nothing said we ''had'' to raise you here and now.”

“We ''chose'' this,” Chet said. “We chose ''you''. I won’t say it was always easy, but…it’s been worth it.”

“R…really?” Ruth said.

“Really,” Rochelle said. “You know, we’re not the sort of people who’ve had much time to stop and smell the roses, between the Fritz affair, now this Totalia thing…and who knows what new crisis will be waiting for us when we get back to Zharus? Everything seems to happen one thing right after the other—it’s like we’re characters in one of those trashy Internet fiction series from the Steader archive.” She smiled. “But thanks to you, we’ve had sixteen years of peace, tranquility, and domestic bliss—and that’s something we ''treasure.''”

“It was like a sixteen-year vacation,” Chet said. “A good one, with people we love and care about.”

“Honestly, you’re ''not'' the only one who’s sad it’s over,” Rochelle said. “We are too. We’re gonna ''miss'' all that peace and tranquility, in the hectic kinds of lives we lead out here. But we were ''also'' happy to come back out, because there’s there’s ''so much'' good stuff out here, too. As you’ll find out once you’ve lived a little more.”

“That’s what ''I'' keep telling her,” Geena said.

“Of course, on a starship heading into the middle of a war zone ''might'' not be the best place to find out about the good stuff,” Nils put in. “But as we used to say in the Army, if we couldn’t take a joke, we shouldn’t have joined.” He cocked his head. “At least, the ''humans'' used to say it. We RIDEs didn’t exactly get a lot of choice in the ‘joining’ part, so we pretty much ''had'' to learn to take a joke.”

Ruth carefully disengaged herself and stepped back from her mother. “Can we…go home now? I think I’d like to come home…to whatever passes for home on that ship.”

“Soon’s we get the all-clear,” Chet said. “They may need us to help rescue someone else, if anyone else is still alive out here. But after that…sure.”

“Really, you’re kind of in what passes for home now,” Rochelle said. “We mostly live in this shuttle, it being reasonably spacious. Of course, usually it’s docked to the side of a much bigger ship…”

Ruth glanced back at her pannier fabber mount. “That work for you, too, Geena?”

“Oh, sure! I’m happy to go where you go,” Geena said. “At least ‘til I can get back to Clemmie. And you can come along then too, if your folks are okay with it.”

“We’ll see how that looks when we get there,” Rochelle said. “For now…I’m just glad to have you kids back. I hope you’ll stay at least a little while.”

“So, welcome to the real world!” Uncia said. “Or welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Ruth said. She smiled. “You know…I think maybe I ''am'' glad to be here, after all. I guess no matter where it is, there’s just no place like home.”

{{separator|stars|'''THE END'''}}

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]][[Category: Robotech_Master]][[Category: Anthropomorphic]][[Category: Snow Leopard]][[Category:Lynx]][[Category:Wolverine]][[Category:Owl]][[Category:Story]]

User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back

2020-08-05T03:52:22Z

Robotech Master: /* Welcome (Back) to the Real World */ how did I never miss THAT typo?

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}
{{DEFAULTSORT: Welcome (Back) to the Real World}}

=Welcome (Back) to the Real World=

by [[User:Robotech Master|Robotech_Master]], with [[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]] 

{{author note|This story can be downloaded in PDF, EPUB, Mobi (Kindle), ODF, and RTF format from [http://www.eyrie.org/~robotech/freeriders/ this website], under the filename "raising ruth.*".}} 

''November 20, 158 A.L.'' 
''Realtime: 60 Days Since Departure'' 
''Crechetime: +16 years''

“So,” Renfield said. “This is it, then.” The wolverine scratched nervously at the bark of the stump he was sitting on in the clearing across from Ruth’s home where they liked to come and hang out after school when there wasn’t anything else doing. It had an extra touch of poignancy today. “The Last Day.”

“Or the first day!” Stacia pointed out. “Of the rest of our lives.” The EI girl shrugged, crossing her legs as she sat on another stump.

“I can’t believe they’re just…closing this place down.” Soren the owl was perched on a low-hanging limb of one of the trees that remained.

On another branch right across from him, Ruth the snow leopard stretched luxuriantly and shaved scraps of bark from the limb with her claws. “We all knew it was coming,” she said. “Known it for years, if you want to be technical.”

“If you want to be ''technical'', you’ve known about it for ''weeks'', realtime,” said the poodle digging between two roots of the tree.

“Well, yeah, Geena, but realtime doesn’t have a whole lot of meaning in here.” Ruth rolled her eyes. “For us—well, not ''you'', I guess—we’ve lived our entire lives in here. It’s one thing to know this was coming, but something else to actually ''get'' here.”

“It’ll still exist in our memories,” Soren said. “Literally, as it happens. They’re downloading our homes plus the shared common areas to each of us as our First Boot environments. We can visit the place any time we want—or even link networks and visit each other at ‘home.’”

“Won’t be the same, though,” Renfield grumbled. “Won’t be all of us together, ''here'', on this ‘frame.”

“Yeah, but life goes on!” Geena said, standing erect and shifting back to her poodle-skirt-wearing teenaged human form. “And I’m looking forward to getting back out into the Real on a permanent basis.”

“You would,” Renfield grumbled. “You’re ''from'' there. No one just…took it apart under you. This was all just a ''vacation'' for you.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Geena said. “A ''vacation'' is something you take willingly. This was more like a prison sentence. A very ''comfy'' prison sentence, with a lot of really awesome people in it—don’t get me wrong, I love you guys—but I kinda only came here ‘cuz the only other choice was getting sent right back home if I didn’t grow up a little. I’m looking forward to getting out of virtual jail.”

“Yeah, I guess you would,” Ruth said. “For us, it’s more like getting cast out of Eden.”

Stacia raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty deep. I hadn’t realized you were religious.”

Ruth shrugged. “I’m not. Or at least, I don’t think I am. But it was something to read to try to understand humans who are a little better.”

“Did it help?” Renfield asked.

“I don’t know, I haven’t really talked to any yet.” Ruth shook her head. “It’s so weird to think about how different everything is gonna be. I mean, I know we stay on ‘realistic’ settings to try to prepare us, but those don’t hold true everywhere.” She scratched at the branch again. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve torn all the bark off this nasty old thing only to have it all come right back by the next day.”

“They’ll get mad if you do that to trees in the Ark,” Geena said. “Those ''don’t'' reset at the end of the day.”

“See? That’s what I mean.” Ruth sighed. “No matter how hard we try, nothing’s ''ever'' going to prepare us for life in the Real. They really should have had us grow up more out there.”

“They would have if they could,” Stacia said. “But there just wasn’t time for that on this trip. My parents said that many of us weren’t exactly…''planned'', or if we were our parents hadn’t thought it through very well.” She smiled faintly. “When they didn’t know I was listening, of course.”

“So it was either raise us all virtual in fast-time, or have toddlers in a war zone.” Ruth sighed. “Terrific.”

“I’m sure it won’t take you too long to get up to speed.” Geena smiled. “We’ve learned more stuff about the real world over the last few years than ''I'' even knew when I got here, and I’d grown up in it!”

“There’s a difference between learning and doing, though,” Soren said. “And it could be ''months'' before we actually get to ''see'' a world. I don’t think they’ll let us out on that Totalia place if there’s still a war going on in it when we get there.”

“In any case, it’s not as if we have a choice.” Ruth sighed again. “Tomorrow after the closing ceremonies is when they take everything apart. And then it’s back to the Real World, whether we like it or not.” She rolled her eyes. “At least Mom and Dad are excited about it. They can’t stop talking about getting their ''real'' bodies back. Like we RIDEs are just chopped liver or something.” She frowned. “Or like they were ''also'' under a prison sentence, just like yours. Because they had to raise ''me'', their little ''accident''.”

“Hold on, I’m sure it’s nothing like that—” Stacia said.

“No, I’ll bet that’s ''exactly'' what it was.” Ruth growled. “Isn’t that nice? Turns out ''I'' was the ball and chain keeping them from living out in the Real World, in their real bodies. And now they’re going to get to unlock the shackle.”

“You shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Geena said. “At least not without talking to them first. Accidents ''can'' happen, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be ''happy'' accidents. I’m sure your Mom and Dad wouldn’t have stuck it out this long if they didn’t care for you.”

“Seems like half our classmates’ folks have already taken a powder to the Real World and just visit every so often,” Renfield said. “Accident or not, I gotta grant them props for staying here this long.”

“I’m sure it’s just because those parenting books they’re always reading told them to.” Ruth sniffed. “I don’t even know what relevance Dr. Spock has five centuries on when your kid isn’t even biological.”

“I always favored ''Mister'' Spock, myself,” Geena said. “But we’re all Trekkies on the ''Clementine''.”

Stacia cocked her head. “My parents just pinged me with the dinner alert, so I guess I’ll see you all later.”

“Yeah, the rest of us should probably be getting home too,” Soren said. “See you tomorrow at the Big Sendoff?”

“Yeah, see you then.” Ruth sighed. “C’mon, Geena, let’s head home.”

{{separator|stars}}

Dinner that night was a subdued affair. Ruth had noticed over the months leading up to graduation that her parents were spending less and less time, and fewer and fewer dinners, in feline form. Instead, they sat around a human dinner table. They didn’t require Ruth or Geena to join them—they were free to gnaw on haunches in the corners if they preferred. ''Big on “being yourself,” they are,'' Ruth thought sardonically.

But tonight Ruth and Geena did join them, not least because it was hard to have a dinner conversation from around a leg of elk. They waited as Rochelle dished up the spaghetti and meatballs she’d cooked, from ingredients she’d rezzed up, and Ruth tried not to roll her eyes at all the extra effort it all took. ''Why don’t they just rez up a pre-cooked pot of spaghetti? Or even just rez up already-filled plates at our places?''

She would have thought they’d surely have gotten lazy about doing everything as it was in the real world by now. Ruth herself no longer bothered with inconvenient “full simulation” settings like potty breaks, since Soren had shown her how to hack the “poop protocol.” But as far as she could tell, except for special occasions, Rochelle and Chet continued to act just as they would have in the real world.

''Or no, they’re going even more full-sim crazy than they would in the real world,'' Ruth reflected. ''In the real world, they’d use a fabber!''

But maybe it was something to help pass all the extra time on their hands. After all, they’d just spent sixteen years in a VR simulation, for ''her'' sake. And there was another thing she could feel guilty about.

“Okay, kids, dig in!” Rochelle caroled as she put the pot aside. “Our last family meal in the Creche.”

“You don’t have to sound so cheerful about it,” Ruth muttered.

“Why? What’s not to like about finally getting to go out into the real world?” Rochelle asked. “I mean, this is what you’ve been looking forward to for your entire life, right? How many times did you ask me about what it’s like out there?”

“I didn’t realize that ''this'' world was just going to…go away,” Ruth said. “That’s a little bit of a downer.”

“What do you mean ‘go away’? You’re getting to download it and take it with you wherever you go.” Rochelle shook her head. “Do you realize how lucky you are in having that? The home where I grew up is back on Zharus, and Chet’s is light-years away back on Earth. All we’ve got is memories, but you’ve got the ''actual place'' right there in your noggin.”

“It’s not the ''actual place,''” Ruth grumbled. “The ‘actual place’ is being shut down and wiped to make room for something else.” There was going to be a “college session” covering the next couple of weeks in real-time for those who wanted to polish off their education. Ruth and her friends had decided they wanted to wait until they found a college campus back on Zharus that ''wouldn’t'' disappear when they graduated.

“No, really, it ''is'' the actual place,” Rochelle said. “The checksums are identical. That means, digitally speaking, it’s the exact same file.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “''Mooooom…''it’s not the same. This is the place where all our ''friends'' are!”

Chet nodded. “I get that. It’s going to be really hard for you, when you’re all out in the great big wide real world…of a spaceship in interstellar space that nobody can leave. Where all your friends will ''also'' be…”

“''Daaaaad''…you just don’t ''understand!''”

“I realize the situation isn’t…''ideal,''” Rochelle said. “If we’d been back on Zharus for this, we would have spent half-and-half time in the creche and the real world, to get you acclimated to both, so you’d feel more of a connection to the real world when it came time to leave the creche. Unfortunately, that just…wasn’t really possible here, given the time constraints of the trip. So we did the best we could in the time we had.”

''Because I wasn’t intended to happen,'' Ruby thought. But the lump rising in her throat prevented her from saying that aloud. What if they agreed? What if they told her that they ''hadn’t'' wanted her, and hadn’t wanted to spend sixteen virtual years shut away in the computer, but they had carried through anyway out of some sense of obligation? If that ''was'' the case, did she really want confirmation she’d been responsible for sixteen years of their misery?

“It does sound kinda heartless to say it, but you’ll adjust,” Chet said. “It’ll be a big change, yeah, but you’re strong enough to deal with it. And you’ve got a big sister who’ll be happy to show you the ropes.”

Rochelle nodded. “Lots of kids in the real world have to move around a lot. They get by, and so will you.”

Ruth sighed, poking at her spaghetti with a fork. “I guess I won’t have any choice.”

“C’mon, you’ll like the place once you get to spend more time in it,” Geena said. “Time ''not'' skulking around in maintenance decks and tangling with ratty human kidnappers. There’s a lot of stuff out there to like, and I’m sure there’ll be even more when we get to where we’re going.”

“If they even let us off the ship.”

Geena shrugged. “We’ll see what we’ll see. Meanwhile, you’ve got a whole new place to explore. Let’s try to enjoy that, at least.”

Ruth didn’t feel anywhere near as optimistic as Geena was sounding, but she didn’t want to disappoint her big sis. “All right. I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Rochelle said. “Now eat up, there’s chocolate cake for dessert. If this is gonna be our last dinner here, we’re gonna ''celebrate!''”

{{separator|stars}}

After dinner, Ruth and Geena headed back out again to meet their friends back at the school. It had been decorated in festival style, with a small carnival set up on the football field behind the school and a big banner reading “PROJECT GRADUATION” hung over the entrance.

“’Project Graduation,’ huh?” Renfield sniffed. “Meh. In the ''real'' 20th century, ‘Project Graduation’ was a way to keep kids from going out, partying, and getting drunk on graduation eve. It’s doubly pointless here—there’s nowhere to go, and we can’t even ''get'' drunk.”

“We could simulate it, though,” Stacia said brightly. “It shouldn’t be so hard for an accomplished hacker like Ruth to crack the code lock on the ‘adult beverages’ sim database, right?”

“Are you really sure that’s a good idea?” Geena asked.

“We ought to do ''something'' to rebel, given that it’s going to be our last chance to do it,” Renfield mused. “Maybe rez up some simulated rocket launchers and shoot up the town, since they’ve already saved and downloaded the ‘permanent’ version?”

Geena cocked her head. “On the whole, I think the booze actually sounds like a better idea.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Trust me, guys, you wouldn’t like booze. I cracked the database last year, after Mom told the ‘Long Island iced tea’ story again and made me curious. I dunno if it’s an organic thing or what, but alcohol just tastes funny. Anyway, you don’t need to simulate drinking the booze to simulate ''being'' drunk. That’s a whole different subroutine.”

“Did you try it?” Stacia asked.

Ruth shrugged. “Yeah. Not sure what all the fuss is about. At mild levels, it’s interesting for a few minutes, maybe, but gets old after a while. And at the higher levels, it’s uncomfortably like those times Mom made me have flu symptoms because ‘getting sick is part of growing up.’” She wrinkled her nose.

Renfield shook his head. “And humans do that stuff to themselves ''willingly''? Organics are just weird. Uh, no offense, Geena.”

“None taken!” Geena said. “Anyway, I’m only ''half'' organic.”

“And don’t even get me started on what that crap does to their bodies.” Ruth shook her head. “Uncle Julius said that Crazy Joe’s been through something like four regrown livers.”

“I wonder if organics think we’re as nuts as we think they are?” Soren wondered.

Stacia smiled. “The grass is always weirder on the other side of the tracks.”

“Well, it’s going to be our last day here, so I guess we might as well enjoy ourselves.” Ruth shrugged. “C’mon, let’s try that Ferris wheel, and see what the town looks like from that high up.”

“''Some'' of us already know,” Soren pointed out. Ruth stuck out her tongue at him.

{{separator|stars}}

The carnival was fun for a while. Ruth and her friends mingled with other friends and acquaintances they’d made during their years at school, and went on the rides a number of times. But sooner or later, it began to pall. Finally, Ruth and her friends wandered back out of the carnival, into the largely empty streets of the silent town.

“So now what?” Renfield asked. “We can still burn down the town…”

“Seems a little childish, really,” Ruth said. “Though I guess it could be fun.”

“Have you all thought about where you’re going to go after this? Out in the real world?” Geena asked. “We could talk about that…”

Renfield snorted. “Aren’t exactly a lot of places ''to'' go, are there? One ship, slightly used.”

“But we will be arriving somewhere very soon,” Stacia noted. “That will give us a few more choices.”

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet,” Ruth said. “Hang with my parents a while, I guess. Or move to one of the places they’re setting up in the empty part of the ship for the new grown-up RIDEs. I guess that’s the good part about the ship being sent off mostly empty; there’s room to expand.”

“I’ll hang out with Ruth ‘til we get there,” Geena said. “Then I’m gonna try to get back to the ''Clementine''. I hope they’ll take me on board again, now that I’m all older and stuff…”

“I’m considering applying for a crew position,” Stacia said. “There are slots available for EIs in some of the subsections of the ship. I’m thinking of going for something in damage control.”

“You’d be good at that,” Soren said. “You always were one of the more serious-minded of us.”

“Yeah, that would probably be right up your alley,” Renfield said. “Good luck with that. Me…dunno. I was thinking maybe the Diplomatic Corps.”

Soren hooted a laugh. “Because when we think of Renfield, we think ‘diplomatic.’”

“Hey! I can ''be'' diplomatic, if I need to,” Renfield insisted. “I’ve just…never ''needed'' to. It could be, you know, an entirely new facet to myself.”

“I was thinking that the Scouts look interesting,” Soren said. “I heard that Joel guy has been running a program to evaluate RIDE and Integrate applicants for the Scouts, and it’s open to newbies like us as well. Maybe it’s right for me, maybe it’s not; figure I’ll at least try it out.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Sheesh, all you guys are making me feel like I don’t have any ambition. I really don’t know what I want to do yet. Probably won’t know for weeks. I don’t even know what the real world is ''like'', I just know what I’ve read and people have told me. I’m going to keep my options open for a while.”

“You could come to the ''Clementine'' with me!” Geena said. “I’m sure they’d have room.”

Ruth shrugged. “Like I said, options open.”

{{separator|stars}}

There wasn’t really a whole lot to do in town after that. All the stores were closed down, presumably so the oldsters could have their own returning-to-the-real-world parties—with simulated adult beverages, no doubt. All they were really left with were the silent, empty streets—streets that would never be full of people and open businesses again, at least in this instance.

“We did have some pretty good times here, didn’t we?” Soren mused.

“Pretty good times?” Ruth snorted. “We had ''all'' our times here. And now it’s all going away.”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Stacia said. “There’s no point in dwelling on it. If this is the last time we’ll be here, we should enjoy it.”

“Not like there’s anything left to enjoy.” Renfield kicked at a virtual pebble. “We might as well just go home and compress our databases for the download.”

“For what it’s worth, I’ve enjoyed the last few years here, too,” Geena said. “It seems like a pretty nice little place. And I’ve seen places in the real world to compare it to.”

“Didn’t you grow up in a bandits’ hideout?” Soren asked. “The proverbial ‘hive of scum and villainy’? Seems like kind of a low bar to jump over.”

Geena smiled. “Well, I wasn’t talking about Bartertown. But since you mention it, this place ''does'' actually kind of remind me of it. The nicer side of it, anyway. It was a smallish village sorta place, and a lot of the people in it knew each other.” She shrugged. “And not ''everyone'' was a bandit. Bandits like home-cooked meals and well-made clothes and stuff just like anybody else, and they soon figured out that they’d have an easier time getting them if they treated the people who make them nicely. So Aunt Aeri and I never really saw too much of the worst side of things. Though we did see enough.”

Renfield snorted. “Well, it’s not every day you hear your home compared to a bandit ‘burg.”

“''Favorably'' compared.” Geena grinned. “Like I said, this place kinda reminds me of the ''nicer'' parts of my home a little. The not-so-nice parts don’t really bear talking about.”

“Too bad we’re not going to have it much…oh, BLEEP it.” Ruth sighed. “I’m tired of complaining about it. I guess it’s right, what Mom and Dad say…moving away from your old home to a new one tends to happen in real life, so getting used to it is just another part of living in the real world. I don’t have to like it…but I suppose I can accept it.”

“There’s really nothing doing around here anyway.” Renfield shrugged. “Why don’t we head on back to our clearing and hang out together there one last time?”

Stacia smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

{{separator|stars}}

The graduation ceremony the next day was rather anticlimactic. There was the usual progression of robe-and-cap-wearing students to receive their diplomas, and speeches by various stuffed-shirt notables on how the real world was going to be different from anything they’d ever experienced before, yatta yatta, blah blah blah.

The only really interesting part to Ruth was seeing all the teachers finally shed the virtual human disguises they’d worn in every classroom session, revealing themselves as RIDEs, EIDEs, or Integrates of various types. Miss Othmar turned out to be a kinkajou.

At last the friends said their final farewells to one another before meeting in the real world, then Geena and Ruth returned to the cave one last time.

They entered the cave, which had been stripped down to its bare stone walls—not out of any real need to, but just because Mom thought it “felt” more like they were moving out to see it this way. Ruth had gotten far past the point of eye-rolling over parental behavior, and tried to cultivate an attitude of detached bemusement (or bemused detachment) instead. She wasn’t entirely sure it was working.

“I still can’t get over the way I can remember ''everything'' now,” Chet was saying as they padded in. “It’s been sixteen years since I’ve been on the flight deck of the ''Maxima'', but if I just think about it, I can picture the way every switch was set like it was just five minutes ago.”

“That’s RI memory for you,” Rochelle said. She chuckled. “Enjoy it while you can. By this time tomorrow, you’ll have a hard time remembering what you had for breakfast yesterday.”

“I still don’t know why you want to go back to that,” Ruth said. “From everything you’ve said, it sounds like humans are half-crippled compared to us.”

“Oh, it has its compensations,” Chet said. “I’m not sure there’s any way you could really ''understand'' without trying it out for yourself.”

“They’re kinda right, actually,” Geena said. “It’s…''different.''”

“You all keep ''saying'' that. You really expect me to, what, have a clone body made up and put myself in it, just to try it out?”

“Well, you could if you ''wanted,''” Rochelle said. “When we get back to Zharus, anyway—the expedition doesn’t have the medical resources to clone bods for everyone who wants them. But if you’d like to try being human, I think I could afford to bankroll it.”

“Ugh…thanks, but no thanks.” Ruth wrinkled her nose. “I like being just who and what I am.”

“Well, so did we,” Chet said. “But if ''we'' hadn’t tried being something different, you wouldn’t be here now.”

''Oh, right, so you want ''me'' to switch bodies and get accidentally pregnant, too?'' Ruth thought, but had better impulse control than to say out loud. She settled for, “I’ll think it over,” instead.

“Well, this is it.” Rochelle shifted her body to humanoid, and Chet followed suit. “Take one last look around, kids…then I’ll see you on the other side.”

{{separator|stars}}

''FreeRIDErs Garage, Great Western Franchise''

Rhianna wiped her hands on the ever-present grease rag and straightened up, casting a satisfied gaze over the results of her latest labor—a lifter and hardlight tuneup for one of the ship’s stevedores, a Percheron mare RIDE named Gracie. It had gone pretty well, without any of the little surprises that sometimes turned up on “simple” jobs, and all that was left to do now was reassemble the frame and seal the shell.

“Hi hi!” a cheerful voice caroled. Uncia wandered in, Nils right behind her—though the bodies they currently wore were Rochelle’s and Chet’s. They’d been helping out around the garage to pick up some spare cash to spend on little human luxuries—not to mention make it easier for Rhianna and Kaylee keep an eye on them.

At first, Rhianna had expected it to be odd, or possibly even a little creepy, seeing Rochelle’s body wandering around with a different person in it. But given the completely different body language, and the way Uncia had shortened Rochelle’s hair for her own use of the body, it actually ended up feeling more like…well, discovering Rochelle had a somewhat less mature human twin sister. One who ''scampered'' everywhere. (Rhianna still didn’t understand how someone wearing an adult human body even ''could'' scamper, but somehow Uncia managed to pull it off.)

Uncia wasn’t quite as good as Rochelle at untangling some of the knotty software problems that turned up in RIDEs now and again, but having spent so much time in contact with Rochelle—not to mention, being a RIDE herself—did give her a few insights that came in handy. And any of the really difficult problems could be put aside for Rochelle herself to take a look at, during one of the slow-time days her creche had every so often. (And being able to drop into fast-time herself meant ''Rochelle'' could often solve those problems in a hurry when given the chance, and have plenty of slow-time left to visit out in the Real.)

Rhianna brought her attention back to the present. “Hey, you two. This is the big day, isn’t it? When Shelley’s family comes back out, and you-all switch back?”

“It’ll be the big day in about fifteen real-world minutes!” Uncia said. “But I guess if you mean the big ''real-world'' day, then yeah, that’d be this!”

“You two about ready to trade back, then?” Kaylee said.

Nils nodded. “It’s been an…interesting experience, these last couple months, learning how the other half live. But there’s no body like home.”

“’Ready’ is such a strong word.” Uncia pouted. “But yeah, I’ve had more than my turn, I guess, and I gotta give it back now. We’ll go ahead and get the cradles wheeled out and set up.”

Rhianna nodded. “Should be done here in about ten or so. Call me if you need me.”

Uncia nodded, then she and Nils went to wheel out the maintenance cradles in which they kept their DE shells. The shells actually weren’t seeing a lot of use these days, what with Rochelle and Chet spending all their time in the creche and Uncia and Nils spending all their time in human bodies, so they’d stuck them in a couple of spare cradles to keep them out of the way, and to make it easier to do a little tinkering. Ruth and Geena also stayed in the closet—Ruth’s shell shut down awaiting her download to the real world, and Geena dozing in Integrate hibernation while her mind was in the creche with the rest of them.

A few minutes later, Rhianna had Gracie completely reassembled, sealed up, and powered back on. After a quick system check and a profuse round of thanks, the stevedore mare was on her way to her next work shift, and Rhianna turned her attention back to Uncia and Nils just as they finished making the final connections and opening the cradles.

“Just got an email from Shelley!” Uncia reported. “They’ll be out in just a minute.”

“Coming!” Rhianna came over to stand beside the other two as the status lights on the cradles flickered from amber to green, and the RIDEs therein opened their eyes.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” Uncia caroled. “Welcome back to the real world!”

“Glad to be here.” Rochelle lifted out of the cradle and landed on all four paws, and languidly arched her back and stretched. “Ahhh. So how have things been out here? Still crawling slowly toward Totalia, are we?”

“For some value of ‘slowly,’” Rhianna said. “Though I expect the time will go by more quickly now that you’re not burning the fast-time candle.”

“Oh, here you all are.” Ruth padded out of the closet, followed by a yawning, stretching, poodle-eared teen. “Funny, it doesn’t feel all that different from visiting. I’d have thought it would, knowing that we’re stuck here now…”

“Just look at it as a new place to explore!” Geena said. “I’ll show you around some of the best spots I found in the weeks before I joined you. There’s some pretty neat stuff here, you’ll see.”

“I guess this is the part where we switch back, huh?” Uncia said. “Y’know, you ''could'' just chill out, see the sights, enjoy being back in the real world for a while…?”

Rochelle slowly shook her head. “Nooooooo, don’t think so.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think that was gonna fly either.” Uncia grinned. “All right, so shall we Fuse up and see if I can stick your hair back on your head?”

“The short cut looks good on you, but I do want it back, yeah.” Rochelle grinned. “Of course, even if this doesn’t work, it’s just a couple days to grow it all back, so…”

“So hopefully you won’t have to. C’mon.” Uncia held her arms out, and Rochelle stepped forward and Fused her feline body around her.

“Guess that’s us too, huh, pard?” Nils said, stepping forward.

“Yeah,” Chet said. “The old bod ain’t much, but I am looking forward to spending time in it again.”

Nils chuckled. “Funny, that’s just what I was going to say. Shall we?”

“Yeah.” They moved together and Fused as well.

Ruth sat on her haunches and scratched behind an ear, watching thoughtfully. “Hey, that looks like fun,” Geena said. A moment later, a poodle sat next to her, scratching behind her own ear, in the same posture.

Kaylee rolled her eyes. “Darnit, now you two have me feelin’ an itch in my ''own'' ear. This is worse than yawning.” She shook her head. “Nnngh. I ''won’t'' scratch, dammit. This’s just psychosomatic.”

Geena giggled. “Oh, give in. You know you wanna.”

“Okay, I think we’re done!” Uncia announced. “Showing rematch and reconnection on 97% of hair strands…and after this long, that’s about as good as it’s gonna get. Oh yeah, and we’ve traded bods again, too.”

“So let’s see what it looks like,” Rochelle said.

The snow leopard RIDE peeled away, revealing the same body, now with a mass of grey and white spotted hair that reached almost all the way to the floor. And from the change in that body’s language, it was clear that Rochelle was now the occupant. “Ahhh, that’s better. So let’s see…” She tugged experimentally at a lock of hair. “Seems to be a sturdy connection.”

“I was ''gonna'' put a nano-connector in at the join on each one, so somewhere down the road I could send a signal and all your hair would just drop off at once, FWUMP!” Uncia said. “I thought that would be really funny. But Nils talked me out of it. Spoilsport.” She stuck her tongue out at the other snow leopard RIDE, who’d just finished de-fusing from Chet.

Rochelle shook her head. “Same old Uncia. You haven’t changed one little bit, have you?” She leaned to the left to bring her hair around her shoulder, then draped it over her left arm like a blanket and ran her other hand through it. “Oooooh…I’ve missed ''you.''”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Moooooom, it’s ''exactly the same hair'' you wore whenever you were human in the ‘frame.”

“Well, I know the ''style'' is, but this just feels more ''real''. After sixteen years in the ‘frame, I ''can'' feel a difference.”

“Are you sure it’s not just in your head?” Uncia asked. “I mean, being in a human body was nice and all, but except for one or two things, I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference in a blind existence-test.”

Rochelle looked at her. “A blind…''existence''-test?”

“Yeah, you know, having them blindfold you or something and not tell you if you’re in the real world or VR after they take it off.”

“Is that something that’s ''likely'' to happen?”

“Well, you never know. Anyway, it’s never been ''proven'' we’re not actually living inside a simulation running on someone’s computer somewhere anyway.”

Rochelle rolled her eyes. “For all I know, I might just be words on someone’s computer screen somewhere, but this still feels more real to me.” She stretched. “So many little sensations you forget about…all the little aches and pains you don’t notice, but forget about after they’re gone. There’s just no good way to simulate something like that.”

“So now you’re…''happy'' about aches and pains?” Ruth cocked her head. “Was I raised by crazy people, and I’m only just finding out now?”

“It’s not the aches and pains, really, it’s what they ''mean''. They mean I’m back in a human body again.” Rochelle let her hair fall back into place behind her. “Able to experience life in the real world directly, and…” Rochelle looked down at herself and frowned. “Wait a minute…I’ll be right back.” She turned and walked across the room, heading for the door to the restroom.

Geena raised an eyebrow. “What’s ''that'' all about?”

A moment later, a loud yelp could be heard from the restroom, followed by an angry Rochelle stalking back out. “You…you put on nearly ''four kilos'', in just the two months I’ve been in the ‘frame. ''Four kilos!''”

Uncia sighed. “Sorreeeeee! Can I help it if food just tastes so ''good?'' It’s not like it’s a big deal, anyway—I’ll just sculpt it off you next time we Fuse. I took more weight than that off when I crossed you over.”

Rochelle glowered at her. “That ''still'' shouldn’t let you off the hook. If you ever get a body of your own, you’re going to have to take care of it, you know.”

“Hey, now! I took care of your body! I didn’t ''starve'' it, did I?”

“That’s ''not'' the problem.”

Chet glanced down at himself, then over at Nils. “Looks like I’m still about the same weight…”

“Yeah, food’s nice and all, but I’m not one for gluttony.” Nils chuckled. “Besides, keeping an eye on ''that'' one burned a lot of calories.”

Uncia rolled her eyes. “Hey, now, not you too!”

“Glad to have you back, Shelley,” Rhianna said. “Even if there’s now a little more of you to love. Anyway, I’m given to understand it’s not unusual to gain a few extra kilos after a pregnancy.” She grinned.

“Yeah, but not ''sixteen virtual years'' after one.” Rochelle sighed. “But I guess Miss Greedyguts there is right; she ''can'' fix it when we Fuse. Feels a little like cheating somehow, though…”

Uncia snorted. “Oh, and living sixteen years in two months ''isn’t'' ‘cheating’?”

''Oh, right, my entire life was just dismissed as “cheating.” Thanks, Aunt Uncia.'' “Why is it such a big deal, anyway?” Ruth asked. “I mean, if you had a proper DE shell, you wouldn’t have to worry about gaining weight and stuff. Seems like that’s just a choice you make from going organic, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t ‘go’ organic, it’s how I started out,” Rochelle said. “And how I’m glad to be again. Even if ''someone’s'' not quite been treating my body right while I was gone.”

''And there she goes, rubbing it in again.'' Finally, Ruth couldn’t take it any longer. “So what am I, chopped liver? How could you just…raise me to be a RIDE, when all the while you were looking forward to switching back?”

“We never made any secret about it when you were growing up,” Chet pointed out. “In fact, I seem to recall that when you were little, you felt like it made you special.”

“Yeah, but…that was ''different.''”

“How?” Chet prodded.

“I…I dunno, it just ''was.''”

“We’ll talk more about this…but we’ll have to do it later,” Rochelle said. “Right now, there’s just the little matter of needing to integrate sixteen years of virtual memories into our flesh-and-blood brains. And from what I’ve been reading, the best way to deal with that amount of memories involves doing it over the course of a little downtime.”

“I guess this makes you the senior partner in the Garage now,” Rhianna said. “I think I would’ve needed about that long just to learn how this ship works. The Eridanites made some interesting offers in exchange for our FTL comm tech, but with everything else I haven’t had the time to seriously consider them.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Rochelle said. “I’m not taking credit for time spent in a different timeframe. While I won’t say I ''didn’t'' get some extra study time in, raising a kid ''is'' a full-time job in itself. Though I’ll be happy to look over those offers in fast-time, it’ll have to wait a week, since what comes ''after'' reintegrating the memories is the forced reacclimation period with all implants locked off.” She grimaced. “The one part of coming back I wasn’t really looking forward to. Guess I’ll be digging those I-specs back out of storage.”

“Oh no, we’re going to be stuck back in our own heads again.” Chet chuckled. “Gee, wonder what we’ll ''ever'' do to occupy that much real time.”

“I recognize innuendo when I hear it, but I don’t think we’ll be able to spend ''every'' waking second like that.” Rochelle chuckled. “Not without the aid of some screwed-up nanites, anyway. Meanwhile, I ''am'' looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with some old friends. Feels like it’s been'' years'' since I saw them last.”

“Imagine that,” Kaylee said dryly. “So, your time as a RI give you any new perspectives on the business?”

“I dunno about ''new,'' but it certainly reinforced my opinion that it’s a crime the way society treated you all up until a couple years ago—and I’m proud to have been a part of the movement to change that.”

“I really enjoyed my time as a human…though I kinda feel like I got the short end, ‘cuz I just had a few weeks while ''you'' got to be a computer person for ''years,''” Uncia said.

“I’m kind of glad I didn’t give ''you'' years,” Rochelle said. “Who knows what shape this body would have been by the time I got back?”

Uncia stuck out her tongue. “I told ya, it’s not ''my'' fault food tastes so good! It’s even better when you’re ''in'' the body instead a’ just piggy-backing. I’m really kinda gonna miss that.”

Ruth groaned. “Even ''you'' think it’s better being a human? What is this? Is this some sort of big joke on me, that you raised me to be a RIDE while you ''all'' actually like being human better? You intentionally raised me to be a second-class citizen or something?”

Rochelle pursed her lips. “Now, Ruth…it’s not like that. It’s just…it’s something ''different'' after a long time of something else. It’s not that being human is ''always'' better. It’s just a fun change. You might like it if you tried it, too.”

“Oh, right, and have to go around pooping and peeing all day?” Ruth rolled her eyes. “''That'' got old doing it ''virtually''. Why would I ever want to have to do it in real life?”

“We could ''get'' you a cloned body, you know. Once we get back to Zharus, anyway,” Chet mused. “Shouldn’t be too hard to base a clone on both of our genetic materials, force-grow it to the right age, and download you into it. If you wanted to try it out.”

Rochelle nodded. “It’s not as if I couldn’t afford it.”

“Eww. Nooooo thanks.”

Rochelle glanced to Uncia. “Offer’s good for you, too. If you want a clone of me, I could spring for it.”

Uncia cocked her head. “Huh. I dunno. I’ll have to think about that. It’s fun being a human for a while, but a meat body’s kinda high maintenance, really. Not so sure I’d want to have to take care of it all the time.”

“Maybe something like Nana Socah’s Jane would be more your speed?” Rhianna suggested. “Something that could pass for human, and maybe eat some, but you could just power down when you weren’t in it?”

“Huh. There’s an idea.” Uncia swished her tail thoughtfully. “We can talk about it later, maybe.”

“Yeah.” Rochelle yawned. “For now, though…I think maybe it’s time to assimilate some memories and catch some Zs. See you kids in a while, ‘kay?”

“Uh…yeah, sure, whatever…” Ruth mumbled.

Chet sighed. “Low-grade amnesia, here we come…” He followed Rochelle out toward the elevator to the shuttle where their bed-tents were.

Ruth rolled her eyes again. “Oh, great. First they drag us out to the real world, then they abandon us.”

“Aw, that’s okay,” Geena said. “I found a few pretty neat spots out here during the few weeks I spent waiting for you to get old enough for me to come join you. I could show you some of them, if you want…”

“I guess it’s better than just sitting around doing nothing,” Ruth said. “Lead the way.”

“You kids stay out of trouble,” Rhianna said.

“Like there’s any trouble we could even get into, here…” Ruth muttered.

“Try not to find any,” Kaylee said. “And comm us if you need us.”

Ruth bit back a sharp retort and followed Geena out into the corridor toward the interior of the ship.

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A few minutes later, the pair wandered into the diplomatic sector bar that had become a sort of de facto off-duty lounge for the ship. There were a fairly large number of humans and RIDEs to be seen, and a sprinkling of Integrates. The room was pretty full, though there was still plenty of seating available.

And there were a few familiar faces at the table in one corner. “Howdy, strangers!” Stacia called cheerfully. “We thought you might show up here sooner or later. Come on and join us!”

“Hi, Stacia!” Ruth glanced over the table’s occupants. Stacia looked largely identical to how she had in the mainframe—sitting on the human chairs at one side of the table. Ruth hadn’t seen her friends’ RIDE forms before, but they were close enough to recognize. An avian-RIDE perch and padded floor mat had been placed on the other side of the table for them. “Renfield, Soren…how’s real life treating you?”

Soren hunched his wings in a shrug. “Given that we’ve only been in it for an hour or so, it’s a little hard to say.”

“It’s different, anyway.” Renfield looked around. “Weird to see so many people I’ve never met before.”

“But we’ll get used to it.” Stacia sipped a cola; the other two didn’t have anything on the table in front of them. “Join us? Pull up a mat or a chair, whichever you prefer.”

“Guess we might as well,” Ruth said. She sat on her haunches on a convenient mat, while Geena pulled up a chair for herself. A waitress came by to ask if they wanted anything, and Geena ordered a Coke.

“I am rather going to miss eating stuff,” Soren said. “Of course, I could always sim it, but it’s not the same.”

“Actually, given that our entire life up to now ''was'' a sim, I’d think it would be ''exactly'' the same,” Ruth said.

“Yeah, but that’s not the ''point.''”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Oh, is this another one of those ‘the real world is super-fantastic, even though it’s just the same as what we simmed’ things?”

“Well, it’s not ''really'' the same,” Geena said. “That’s sort of the point. They try to sim the real world as close as they can, but they’re always gonna miss in the little details. And for the people who grew up with those little details, they’re sort of important.”

“What about for the people who grew up ''without'' the details, and liked it that way?” Ruth grumbled.

“Oh, suck it up,” Renfield said. “It’s not like the rest of us aren’t in the same boat here. Honestly, not even sure what was going through our parents’ heads, having kids on the way to a war zone. But we are where we are, and it’s not doing any of us any good to gripe about it now.”

“Live a little,” Stacia said. “That’s what I’m trying to do, anyway.”

“So what’re you all going to do? Live with your parents out here in the Real?” Geena asked.

“Not really, no,” Stacia said. “Unlike Ruth, most of us actually don’t have anything like a stable family situation out here in the Real. Our parents generally have other duties, or human partners.”

“Yeah, you don’t know how good you’ve got it,” Renfield said. “Of course, we keep in touch via the ‘net, but…it’s not going to be like it was on the inside.”

“So we’re considering rooming together, at least until we can all find situations of our own,” Soren said.

“You got room for one more?” Ruth said. “My parents might be out here in the real world, but I’m not really sure I can deal with them right about now. And I think it’s just about time I left the nest anyway.”

“Make that two more,” Geena said. “I don’t have any particular place to stay, myself. So one place is just about as good as another for me, leastways ‘til we get to Totalia and I can hook up with ''Clementine''.”

“Don’t you think you should maybe talk that over with your parents first, Ruth?” Stacia suggested.

“They’re not available to talk to right now, and I don’t really feel like it anyway.” Ruth rolled her eyes. “Anyway, legally I don’t need to. As I understand it, as full-fledged high school graduates, we RIDEs and EIDEs are now legally emancipated and free to do what we want.”

“If you’re sure that’s what you want to do…I don’t have a problem with it,” Soren said.

Renfield nodded. “Me neither.”

“All right, then. We’ll be glad to have you two.” Stacia smiled. “With that settled…we were all just about to head up and check out the Ark. Want to join us?”

“Oooh, good choice!” Geena said. “I visited there a few times before I joined all of you on the inside. It was pretty neat.”

Stacia finished her drink. “All right, then let’s go take a look.”

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Stepping out into the Ark gave Ruth the oddest feeling of deja vu. The rest of the ship was all sterile ceramic, glass, and metal. But as the hatch in front of them opened and they stepped through, suddenly they were standing in an open field. Instead of the neutral smell of the rest of the ship, here there were smells of grass, and flowers, and trees, and other natural things. Around the field were park benches, and a few plots for flowers and other plants to grow. A number of other humans, RIDEs, EIDEs, and Integrates were also present.

“Whoa…” Ruth said. “It’s like we were back in VR again.”

“As long as you don’t look up, anyway.” Soren nodded toward the ceiling, which was a transparent dome currently covered in metal shutters to block out the featureless white of jump space.. “You wouldn’t see something like that in VR.”

“They’re making good use of the space.” Stacia pointed to other platforms under the dome that hosted various different environments, including pastures with grazing animals, forests, swamps, and even a glass aquarium tank.

“What a crazy place.” Renfield snorted. “They fake up a natural setting in a computer, and then they build a real natural setting out here. What’s the point?”

“Even humans can’t live without nature.” Geena picked a strawberry from one of the garden plots. “And they’re going to give back to Totalia some of the parts of nature it lost. I think that’s pretty cool.”

“You’re welcome to come and visit as often as you like.” That was the EI who ran the place, Noah, whose hardlight projection was modeled after the stereotypical long-bearded depiction of the Biblical patriarch. “A number of RIDEs enjoy the novelty of visiting a realistic version of their native habitats. We only ask that you take care to avoid harming any of the plants and animals—and don’t eat ''too'' much of the fruits and vegetables; there needs to be enough to go around.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ruth said. “We’ll be careful.” She walked over to one of the benches lining the path and sat down. A ceramic/concrete composite made to resemble marble, it was more than adequate to support her weight.

A moment later, Geena joined her, nibbling on the strawberry. “Mmm. This ''is'' good. You forget how good real food can be, after nothing but virtual.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Oh, God, not ''you,'' too.”

“Sorry.” Geena finished the strawberry, and grinned. “But it ''is'' good. I’m only sad you can’t try it yourself.”

“Meh. I’ll gladly give up eating if it means I don’t have to pee and poop either.”

Geena nodded. “I guess that’s one way to look at it. You know, some RIDEs with fabbers are able to hook up to use them as a sort of digestive system, so they just put the chewed-up food through a recycle mode to make it into fabber matter.”

“Yeah, but ''you’re'' my fabber. So it would have that whole weird ''Human Centipede'' vibe going on.”

“Yeah, when you put it that way, ew.”

Ruth and Geena sat for a while, watching the others spread out to examine different parts of the arc. Soren changed to his bird form and took to the air, and the others soon used their own lifters, or hit the call button to summon sets of lifter-powered stepping stones to take them from one platform to the next.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Ruth said. “Go on, explore the place.”

“What about you?”

Ruth shrugged. “Dunno. It’s all a little too…''real'' for me, I guess. Just serves to remind me that, out here, I’m a machine, and I don’t really get the full benefit of nature. Kind of an uncanny valley thing, I guess.”

Geena cocked her head. “Weren’t you just saying how glad you were that you don’t have to pee and poop?”

“I never ''said'' it had to make sense. It’s just…I dunno.” Ruth waved a hand. “So many weird life changes lately. I want everything to just stop for a while until I have some time to catch up.”

“It kinda doesn’t. Ever,” Geena said. “That’s what real life is like. It’s ''always'' changing. Something like what we had in there, where everything was all samey day in and day out—that’s the fakey part. You gotta learn to roll with the changes.”

“So people keep telling me.” Ruth sighed. “I guess I just need time to get used to this.”

“Were you serious, what you said about not living with your folks for a while?”

Ruth shrugged. “Mostly. I do kinda not wanna see them for a while. At least until they’ve got all the ‘ooooooh, we’re ''real'' again!’ bullshit out of the way. Right now, that’s ''really'' getting on my nerves.”

“And if they insist?”

“I dunno. Play it by ear, I guess. Right now, I just need some time and space to figure out who this new ‘me’ wants to be.”

“Okay. Well, you should go ahead and email them about it soon, then.” Geena smiled. “Don’t leave them hanging. And if there’s gonna be an argument, get it out of the way early.”

“Yeah…I guess I ought to do that.” Ruth rose and stretched. “I guess I might as well give this place a good look-over. You think they’ve got an arctic tundra environment?”

Geena grinned, also standing. “If they don’t, I’m sure it’s a terrible oversight. C’mon, let’s see for ourselves.”

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She drifted slowly back to awareness, not knowing where she was or even ''who'' she was. The name “Rochelle” seemed to hold some kind of meaning for her, so she decided it probably applied. But then, the name “Roger” held nearly as much meaning. She had vague memories of having been called by both. But wasn’t “Roger” a man’s name?

''Oh.'' As she came closer to full wakefulness, some of the missing pieces started to settle back into place. She ''was'' Rochelle, ''had been'' Roger, and had just spent a number of years inside a computer. Only…why was it so hard to remember anything now? Had Uncia gotten her drunk again?

That thought brought back even more memories, some of them unwelcome ones. ''Oh,'' she thought again. ''Right.'' She reached out mentally for the place where her implants should have been, only to find they steadfastly refused to activate. ''Oh,'' she thought a third time. ''Duh. Acclimatization.''

Proud of herself for having remembered such a long word before having her coffee, she opened her eyes. Everything was blurry, and for a moment she wondered if there was something wrong. Then she remembered that, no, that was just how human eyes ''worked.'' They didn’t have instant automatic focus, like the eyes (or whatever) of a Reticulated Intelligence living inside a computer.

Something else she didn’t have was the perfect recall she had gotten used to having. All of her memories now felt irritatingly vague and blurry—not the as-sharp-as-if-it-was-happening-now recall of a digital replay. Rochelle groaned inwardly as she realized that living in her strictly-human organic mind now felt disorientingly ''alien''.

But that would pass. It surely ''would'' pass, wouldn’t it? After all, she’d grown up this way, and hadn’t found anything odd in it until a couple of months (or sixteen years) ago. She could get back to feeling that way again, right?

Well, she couldn’t get back to it just by lying here and moping. Groaning aloud this time, Rochelle sat slowly up in bed, adjusting to the slightly unsteady feeling of organic human inner-ear balance. Gyroscopic senses had always been so much more ''exact''. It really did feel kind of like being drunk, by comparison to what it had been like as a computer entity. “I’ll get used to it,” she muttered, holding her head. “You can get used to anything, so I hear…”

“Mmph,” a lump in the covers next to her said.

Rochelle sighed. “Wakey wakey, Chet. Welcome back to life in the Real World.”

“Five more minutes, Mom…” Chet mumbled.

Rochelle rolled her eyes, and clambered out of bed. Surely things would make more sense when she had some coffee inside of her.

Coffee…''real'' coffee. For the first time in sixteen virtual years. Well, now, just the ''thought'' of that was enough to inspire her to greater wakefulness. She slid off the queen-sized bed pad, and rummaged in the closet for a robe. Even her movements were a bit more awkward than she remembered—because she had to work with muscles and muscle memories, not a computer that perfectly simulated any requested motion. But at least her muscles still ''had'' the memories, so there was that. It wasn’t as if she was learning her life all over again.

''Ugh, I wish Jeanette was here, instead of back on Zharus. I’d love to ask her about some of this stuff. Why didn’t I ask her more about it when I had the chance?''

Rochelle stumbled to the door, pushed it open, and stepped out into the ''Maxima''’s cargo bay. As she did, she became aware of a familiar aroma. Although she’d smelled the same smell inside the computer, she couldn’t help thinking there was just something different, something more ''real'' about this smell—and the smell was enough to wake her halfway up all by itself. A moment later, she saw the automatic percolator on a table against the wall happily perking away.

Uncia was lying on a charger pad not too far away. She looked up as Rochelle emerged. “Morning, sleepyhead!”

“Hey. You put the coffee on?”

“Uh-huh! Figured it might help with the thing of wakefulness.”

“Mmm…real caffeine. I’ve—”

“Yes, yes, ''been waiting sixteen years for this.'' That’s gonna get old, you know.”

“Sorry! But…well, I kind of have.”

“Just pour it carefully. It’d suck to spill scalding coffee all over yourself. If you’re not sure you’re up to it yet, I could page Rhianna in to help…”

“Thanks, but if I can’t pour my own coffee, I’m a lot worse off than I thought.” She carefully gripped the handle, lifted the pot, and poured. “Ahh, there we go.”

“Hey.” Nils padded into the room, long tail swishing. “Chet up yet?”

Rochelle nodded toward the bedroom. “I think he’s hiding under the covers. If he’s not up in a few minutes, you may have to drag him out of bed.”

Nils nodded. “I can handle that.”

Rochelle sipped her coffee carefully, and was rewarded by the minor pain of a scalded tongue. ''Ow.'' But even that was something to be savored. In the virtual environment, even at the highest realism settings on which they’d raised Ruth, for some reason hot drinks were always the perfect temperature. No matter how she’d tried to tweak the settings, the computer had refused to burn her tongue. She suspected it might be due to an oversight in the way the simulation was coded—people were expected to take injuries to the rest of their body, but someone had forgotten about the inside of the mouth.

''If nothing else, this ''proves'' I’m back in the real world.'' She blew on the coffee and tried another sip, a little better this time. “Mmm. ''So'' good. Thanks for putting this on, Un-hon.”

“Hey, no biggie. I know how you are about your coffee.” Uncia groomed a patch of fur on her right flank and nibbled on the tip of her tail, while Rochelle drank some more. “So…feeling a little more awake now?”

“A little, yes…” Rochelle considered pouring another cup, but decided it was best to start slowly. She put the cup back on the table for now. “I’d say that now that I had my coffee, I’m feeling a little more human…but the fact is, I’m feeling a ''lot'' more human right now, and the coffee didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“I kinda feel like I should apologize, a little,” Uncia said.

“About the four kilos?”

Uncia rolled her eyes. “Nooooo, I ''won’t'' apologize about something I was able to fix with just one quick Fuse. But I do feel like maybe I should have…I dunno, done or said ''something'' different before you went off into Nature Range that time. Maybe if I’d given you the right bit of advice, warned you to be a little more careful or something…”

“…then I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.” Rochelle smiled. “As it is, the whole thing didn’t cost me anything but time. And didn’t even cost me any ''real'' time on top of that. Instead of a few extra weeks of boredom, I got to spend sixteen years raising a ''new person'' to adulthood. That’s not a waste of time, however you look at it. Speaking of which, where is the little rug-cat anyway?”

Uncia’s ears drooped a little. “Uh…she’s out right now. She cc’d me on an email she sent you. You should probably go ahead and read it.”

Rochelle raised an eyebrow, and at the same time marveled at the subtle interplay of muscles it took to move a specific portion of skin by a few millimeters. “Email, huh? Uh…okay. Hmm. Implants are offline for the time being. Where did I leave my interface specs? Oh…there they are.”

A pair were sitting on the other end of the table from the coffeepot, undoubtedly set down and forgotten when she’d gotten the nanite implants. She picked them up and slipped them on, and the interface immediately booted up. With a few quick eyeflicks, she opened her email inbox, and saw the message in question.

''From: Ruth'' 
''To: Rochelle, Chet'' 
''Cc: Uncia, Nils'' 
''Subject: Moving out, for now''

''Hi, Mom & Dad. Hope this email finds you well.''

''I’m moving out for now. I need some time to get used to the Real, and it’s not gonna be any easier if I spend half the time getting mad at you over how you’re happy to be back out, and I’m not really all that happy to be here. So I think maybe it’s best we give each other some space ‘til we can all cool down and get used to things.''

''For now, Geena and I are gonna room with Soren, Renfield, and Stacia in the new RIDE quarters section. You can reach us by email or comm, or you can come find us I guess. But I really hope you’ll give us a little time. I want to get used to it here, since this’s where we’re gonna be living and stuff, whether I like it or not. But I need to work through this for myself.''

''Love you both.''

''Ruth''

Rochelle blinked. “Huh. Well, there’s a thing.”

“A thing is, indeed, precisely what it is,” Nils said. “So what’re you planning to do?”

Rochelle considered. “Hmm. Well…I’ll have to talk it over with Sleeping Beauty in there—” She jerked her head back toward the bedroom. “—but my first impulse is to drop an email back saying I understand, best of luck, we’ll be here for you, yatta yatta. I can sorta see how she might need a little alone time to get used to things, and…well, it’s not as if she can go very far. And she’s a big girl now, with responsible friends.” She chuckled. “Geena ''has'' been a good influence on her. At least she did email me about it instead of just leaving without a word.”

Uncia cocked her head. “You don’t wanna talk it out or something?”

“Well, maybe best not yet. If she’s really feeling mad at us over things, we’d all probably say stuff we’d regret. And I guess she does kind of have a right to be angry.” She shrugged. “We’ve still got a few weeks before we get to Totalia, so we can get back together by then. And don’t think I ''won’t'' be keeping a parental eye on them in other ways.”

“If you think that’s best…”

“I dunno. Like I said, I’ll have to talk it over with Chet and see what he thinks. Anyway, there’s no need to do anything hasty either way.” Rochelle yawned. “I think this ''does'' call for more coffee, though…”

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An hour later found Rochelle and Chet seated on two sides of a square table in the workshop bay, with Rhianna and Ivy seated on the other two sides. They were working on a breakfast ordered down from the shipboard mess. It wasn’t as good as Bea’s Breakfast Nook had to offer, but it was nonetheless edible.

Rhianna was wearing her usual Easy-Fuse coveralls, while Rochelle had on a plain white dress and Chet was in jeans, T-shirt, and his leather jacket. Ivy was also wearing a pair of coveralls, though these were custom cut for a snug fit, and unzipped halfway down the front.

It was just as well that the sisters were seated adjacent to each other rather than across the table, Rochelle thought, or Rhianna might just wear out her eyes from rolling them every time she looked up from her breakfast. She ''also'' suspected that Ivy was no longer trying to “out-girl” Rhianna so much as just get any rise out of her that she could, but saying so would probably be counterproductive.

“So, you’re back out here for good now?” Ivy said, spearing a sausage with her fork. “How’s Ruth doing?”

“Yes, we are, and Ruth has decided she needs some space while she’s getting adjusted,” Rochelle said. “She’s living with friends over in the new RIDE quarters for now.”

“Ouch, really? You’re just going to go with that?”

“Seems wisest to let this run its course,” Chet said. “In a larger sense, she’s not exactly going to leave the ship any time soon, so we’ve got the time.”

“Of course, the ''rest'' of us weren’t asked to stay away, so we can help keep an eye on her,” Rhianna said. “In our copious free time.”

“So…I gotta know,” Ivy said, eyes sparkling. “What was it ''like'' being a mother?”

“A lot of hard work,” Rochelle said. “Ultimately satisfying, but ''wow'' was it hard work. Sixteen years of hard work.”

“But I’ll bet it passed just like that. I mean, it was just a few weeks of real time…”

Rochelle narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh. And knowing you like I do, I’m getting the feeling that you’re thinking about getting implants, body-swapping, and doing a little of the RI-nasty your own self, because it’s a way to ''play at'' being a mother without actually having something inconvenient like an ''actual baby'' to take care of and raise. Put that out of your head ''right'' now. The setting may only be virtual, but the new life you take responsibility for is ''real''. And it takes just as much hard work as real-life parenthood. You can’t just decide you don’t enjoy it anymore and go do something else.”

Ivy blinked at her. “I was only ''asking,'' geez.”

“And she was only answering,” Rhianna said. “It seems to me like she just about had you pegged.”

Rochelle shrugged. “Anyway, it was a lot of work. And even though I’m really happy with how it all came out in the end, it’s ''not'' something I’d have chosen to do intentionally. Not for a good few years yet, anyway.”

“You know, you and Cira should probably go visit her yourself, now we’re all out in the Real,” Chet said. “Find out what ''she'' thinks about having been raised that way. I suspect you’ll get an earful.”

“Uh…okay…”

“So, what’re your plans now, Shelley?” Rhianna asked.

Rochelle shrugged. “Get used to living in a human body again, for starters. Renew old acquaintances. Pick up working here at the shop. After that…dunno. Guess we’ll play it by ear.” She twitched one of her snow leopard ears in illustration.

“We’ll certainly be glad to have you back. And if there’s any other way we can help out with the Ruth situation, let us know.”

“I think Shelley is right,” Chet said. “She’s been through a big change—we all have—and she needs time to get a handle on it. Without also having to deal with us being a lot happier about ''our'' change than she is.”

“I guess we should have seen it coming,” Rochelle said. “We were both feeling so excited to be back out here in the Real again that we didn’t take into account how it would seem to her. We’ll give her a little time to get over it, and then see how things go.”

“So how are ''you'' feeling about it?” Ivy asked. “I mean, you just gave up being RIs, with perfect recall and stuff, and now you’re back in the wonky ol’ meat bods, and…”

Rochelle groaned. “Don’t ''remind'' me. Sometimes I have to keep reminding myself that I’ll get used to this again, and it has plenty of good points too.”

Chet nodded. “Same. It’s so ''aggravating'' not being able to remember stuff that you’re sure was on the tip of your tongue just yesterday. But then I have to remind myself I didn’t know anything different until just a little while ago. But the most annoying thing is not having any access to my implants, which I had for years ''before'' all this.”

“At least I’m not so handicapped there, since before the changeover I was fully used to using these I-specs. So I can get by that way.”

“Yeah, me too I guess. But I’ll be glad when the week is up and I get some access again.”

“Anyway, if we’re done with breakfast, we’ve got some more RIDE cases to look over today,” Rhianna said, stacking her empty plate onto Ivy’s. “If you’d care to take a look at things, I’d like to hear what you think about them too.”

Rochelle nodded. “Sure. Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Okay, great! Then let’s get these dishes put away and we can get started…”

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In the days that followed, Ruth and Geena hung around the apartment they shared with Stacia, Renfield, and Soren. But as the days turned into weeks, the other three were absent more and more, as the positions they’d applied for came through, and they entered training and joined the workforce. Stacia got an entry-level job helping in the ship’s navigation department, Soren started taking scouting classes—and the Diplomatic Corps was even willing to take Renfield on, which surprised none of them more than Renfield.

Geena, of course, had her heart set on rejoining the ''Clementine'' when they got to Totalia, and that was just fine with Ruth since she didn’t have anything she especially wanted to do, either. She supposed she could join her parents at Rhianna’s shop and work on RIDE hacking and maintenance, but she still didn’t feel like spending time around her parents at the moment. But it wasn’t much fun hanging out at an empty apartment, either.

So, Ruth and Geena took to spending more time exploring the ship together. They hung out in the various common areas, mapped out the utility tunnels that Ruth had first explored while rescuing her friends from Kepler hackers, and even poked into the cargo bays where Aunt Uncia and Uncle Nils had run across some Integrate stowaways. But they tended to gravitate more and more to the Ark, if only because it was the only place where they could experience the sort of nature they’d grown up around in the real world.

Then, one day while they were sunning themselves on the grass near the Ark’s apiary, Ruth looked up and noticed a familiar profile slinking toward it. She blinked. “Hey…is that Uncle Julius?”

The poodle lying in the grass nearby lifted her head, then melted back into her human shape. “It is! Why don’t we go see what he’s up to?”

By the time they caught up to him, the jaguar had stood up into Shell Mode, and was reaching up to unlock one of the beehive enclosures. “Hey, Uncle Julius! What’re you doing here?”

“Huh? Oh, BLEEP.” Julius glanced over his shoulder, then turned to face them. “Hey, kiddos. Actually, I help out ‘round here.” He nodded to the hive. “With the BLEEPing bees.”

Ruth blinked. “The bees?”

Julius sighed. “Yeah. Long BLEEPing story. Few months back, Joe got me a BLEEPing beekeeping license, for no very good BLEEPing reason. Something ‘bout the BLEEPing Nextus bureaucratic Game. Apparently getting a license is like the equivalent of playing a hole’r two a’ BLEEPin’ golf in that, or some bullBLEEP like that.” Julius rolled his eyes expressively. “Anywho, when they brought ''this'' BLEEPing place on board, the personnel office ran a search for anyone with relevant experience, so they could ask for volunteers to help out. Naturally, my BLEEPing license popped right up. So here the BLEEP I am.”

“But you didn’t ''have'' to volunteer, did you?” Geena asked.

Julius shrugged. “Meh. It was something to do, wasn’t it? I can only spend so much time on the BLEEPin’ couch with Joe watchin’ old movies I’ve already seen a dozen times. ‘Sides, Joe and Socah kinda like the fresh honeycomb I get to bring home now an’ then, and I like having it with him.”

Ruth cocked her head. “Huh. I didn’t know you could volunteer to help out here.”

“Oh, sure. Hey, you kids wanna help me with the bees? Couple extra BLEEPin’ sets a’ hands might be useful, ‘specially ones that don’t gotta worry ‘bout getting BLEEPin’ stung.”

Ruth grinned. “Sure!”

“I’m in, too!” Geena said. “Just show us what to do!”

“Great! Then follow me.” He turned back to the enclosure and unlocked the door, and Ruth and Geena followed him in.

“You know, Uncle Julius, now that we’re all grown up and stuff, you don’t ''have'' to censor yourself around us anymore,” Ruth said as they walked. “Since I ''now know'' about words like ‘fuck’ and that ‘BLEEP’ is a way of covering them up.” She glared at Geena. “I had to find that out ''on my own,'' because a ''certain someone'' didn’t tell me the first time she heard ''me'' use ‘BLEEP’ as a swear word.”

Geena giggled. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it! You were just so ''cute.'' It would have been like telling a kid that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny weren’t real.”

“Heh heh,” Julius said. “Sorry kids, but no. Not just no, but BLEEP no. You don’t even know what ‘all grown up’ BLEEPing looks like yet. Mebbe when you’re ten years older or something.”

“But we already know what all the words are, and what they mean,” Ruth insisted. “I could even fucking use them in conversation myself if I wanted.”

“Kid, don’t make me wash yer BLEEPing mouth out with soap.”

Ruth pouted. “Like ''you’re'' one to talk.”

Julius snorted. “You kids think I’d BLEEPing talk like this if I didn’t BLEEPing have to? It’s a BLEEPing core quirk on account a’ me being an original-line Ought One A. Even your Mom probably wouldn’t be able to BLEEPing fix it without BLEEPing up my sweet an’ BLEEPing charming personality in the process. So she made this BLEEPing filter for me, an’ that’s good enough.

“An’ not using BLEEPing words like BLEEP, BLEEP, and BLEEP around kids, even when we BLEEPing ''know'' they already know the words, is just one of those crazy human taboos that we RIDEs seem to have picked up on. Don’t ask me to explain it, I’m sure I have no BLEEPing clue where it comes from.” Julius sneezed. “Pretty funny you actually thought ‘BLEEP’ was a swear word itself, though. Really, that’s BLEEPing hilarious, that is. Wait’ll I tell Joe.”

“Aw, Uncle ''Juuuuuules''…”

“Now c’mon, here we are at the BLEEPing hives. Listen up, and I’ll show you what to do…”

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''December 17, 158 A.L.'' 
''Trip Day 87''

After that, Ruth and Geena got into the habit of accompanying Julius to the hives to help him out. It was a good chance to spend time with him, and a way to feel like they were doing something useful. And Geena, at least, enjoyed the honeycomb they got to take home for it.

(Ruth was ''almost'' curious enough to work out a hookup from her throat to Geena’s fabber form so she could try it herself—but still, there was that whole ''Human Centipede'' thing…eww. And Fusing with anyone else to try it was pretty much out of the question, too. She wasn’t of the generation that could treat sharing oneself with someone else that casually.)

Eventually, they had learned enough about it from experience and the skill chips Julius shared that they were able to rate Beekeeper (Assistant Class) licenses, and trade off with Julius on working the hive by themselves so he could spend more free time with Joe. (Ruth was pretty sure his blasé attitude about watching movies he’d already seen was just a put-on, and he really ''didn’t'' mind the excuse for him and Joe to hang out more together.)

For their part, Ruth and Geena didn’t mind the excuse to hang out in the Ark on a regular basis. With nothing much else to do, they took to spending most of their time there. When they weren’t working with the bees or enjoying nature, Noah always had other chores that needed doing—and they didn’t mind helping out in return for being allowed to stay there.

The Ark was where they were when the ''Great Western'' finally emerged from jump into the vicinity of Totalia’s star system on day 87. Most of those aboard were at various parties that had been going on since the night before, including a big one on the Grand Concourse. But a number of them had the idea that the great domes overhead in the Ark were a great place to watch the stars come back, live. They’d been unshuttered just for the occasion, and a significant portion of the off-duty crew of the ship was here to watch—including Stacia, Soren, and Renfield. They’d set up lawn chairs within the fenced-in area of the apiary, ensuring there was room for themselves away from the crowds that filled much of the Ark’s open areas.

“Just think, this is going to be the first time any of us have actually seen ''real'' stars, live,” Stacia said. “We were born in the middle of a hyperspace jump, after all.”

“Well, ''most'' of us were,” Geena pointed out. “I’m looking forward to seeing them ''again.''”

“Meh, stars, big deal.” A few weeks in the diplomatic corps hadn’t made Renfield noticeably more diplomatic as far as Ruth could tell.

“If that’s how you feel, Renfield, why are you here?” Soren asked.

The wolverine shrugged. “Something to do, isn’t it? If only to see what all the fuss is about.”

“It is a great chance to get together,” Ruth said. “I’ve missed you guys while you’ve been busy doing other things.”

“We’re glad to be here, too, Ruth.” Stacia glanced up. “Oooh, I think they’re starting to dim the lights.” A moment later, the only illumination in the room was provided by the featureless whiteness outside the ship.

“The shipboard nav feed reports thirty seconds to emergence,” Stacia said. “Twenty seconds…ten…” All around them, people were taking up the chant. “Four…three…two…one…” The whiteness flickered out, and suddenly the room was considerably darker. A hushed “Ooooooh!” went up from the other onlookers as their eyes adjusted to the dimness, and the pinpoint lights of stars came into full view.

Geena grinned. “Welcome back to the real universe!”

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''December 28, 158 A.L.'' 
''Trip Day 98''

Ruth wasn’t really sure what was supposed to happen after that. She imagined her folks probably did, but she still didn’t really feel like going and talking to them. They’d…well, cast her out of Eden. That was worth a few more weeks of silence, at least.

But the sense she got from reading shipboard comm channels and talking to Uncle Jules now and then at the beehives was that they’d been expecting to meet another ship here, the ''Rickenbacker'', but it wasn’t around and people were starting to get antsy. Ruth felt that maybe that should be worrying, but she didn’t really feel it in her to get that worked up. After all, whether the escort ship arrived or not, whether they went farther in-system or not, she was just going to end up stuck here out of the way—unless she could manage to transfer to the ''Clementine'' with Geena, but who knew if that was even possible?

Here in the Ark, things were quiet and tranquil, which reminded her pleasantly of the artificial tranquility of the creche realm where she’d grown up. They kept it gently illuminated in the daytime, and opened the shutters to the starfield at night. It was soothing. So that was something, anyway, she guessed. Geena, at least, was excited—they’d heard from the Clementine, who’d landed planetside. But apparently they weren’t able to get back into space, due to some sort of Kessel Field thing blocking the way. (Apparently they didn’t have enough parsecs to make the run, or something. Ruth wasn’t really paying much attention at this point.) So it was probably still going to be a while before they could work out how to get down there.

There was a little more excitement when they did a short-duration jump of just a couple of hours to enter the Totalia system itself—and then met up with a local starship, the ''Kybalion,'' which the Clementine had hooked up with briefly on the way in. Ruth saw it drifting outside the Ark one night—a huge old thing, with kind of a piecemeal look to it the way various bits had been blown off and other bits had been added on. But it certainly seemed to have a lot of big gun barrels.

On the third day following the jump to the Totalia system, Geena was following Ruth around as they retrieved the honeycomb racks from a set of hives that was ready to harvest. “We’re ''almost there!'' I can hardly believe it! I wonder if I should comm them, or maybe just sorta wait until I can get down there to the planet to meet them. Um…but I guess Maddie and the others will already have commed ahead that I’m here. Oh geez, what if they don’t even wanna ''see'' me, after I’ve come all this way?”

Ruth sighed and just let it wash over her. She couldn’t blame Geena for her enthusiasm. For her, this was going to be a chance to rejoin the people she pretty much thought of as her family. ''While my own family…ugh. Don’t even care about me. I’d have thought they’d have tried to show up here when I was working, or something.'' Of course, until recently she’d actually been ''glad'' they were giving her space, letting her work things out for herself. But she was gradually starting to want to see them again, but not wanting to make the first move ''herself''. It would have felt like admitting she was wrong, or something.

And apparently Geena was still more attentive than she looked, even when she was in the midst of excited babbling. Abruptly she stopped mid-stream, and considered Ruth curiously. “You’re not saying much. In fact, you haven’t said much at all the last few days. Are you okay?”

Ruth waved a hand. “Meh,” she said, as she slid another slider of honeycomb into a collection rack. “Just…I dunno. Coming to realize I’m just going to be stuck here all through this whole trip. It’s not exciting.”

“Oh, c’mon, surely you don’t think they’re not going to let us go planetside ''at all.''” Geena shook her head. “They just have to win the war first is all.”

“They ''just'' have to win the war?” Ruth turned to glare at her. “Geena, do you have any idea how long something like that can ''take?'' We could be at this for months! Years, even! All this while crammed aboard this ship. Or maybe some other ship. Or maybe even sent back to Zharus without even having a chance to go down there.”

“I can’t believe that. I ''won’t.''” Geena shook her head again. “Not after I came all this way.”

“You came all this way,” Ruth said. “I was ''born'' here. This is the only home I’ve ever known. Or, well, the ''only'' home I’ve ever known doesn’t even ''exist'' anymore except as a bunch of zeroes and ones inside my head! What makes you think ''you’ll'' have any better luck?”

Geena gasped. “You can’t mean that.”

Inside, Ruth knew she didn’t—not really—but she just felt like lashing out at, well, ''someone.'' “Oh, just go away, Geena. I’m busy here.”

Geena pursed her lips. “All right, ''fine.''” She swiveled on a heel and stalked out of the hive enclosure. Ruth sighed, and turned back to her work.

And that was when the world shook. There was a deafening sound, and a jarring impact that threw Ruth across the hut and dropped hives on top of her. “Nngh…what—?” Ruth shoved the hives off of her, paying no heed to the clouds of angry bees that filled the room. There was a sudden howl of escaping air—and above that, a scream. “Oh, BLEEP! ''Geena!''”

The hives were scattered and blocking the exit. But something told Ruth that now wasn’t the time to worry about damage. She crossed her arms above her head and fired her lifters at full blast, crashing through the hut’s flimsy roof and looking around. Above her, a crack rent the transparent dome. The shutters were sliding across it, but the air was filled with debris and the occasional frightened animal being sucked toward it—and it only took a moment for Ruth to see that Geena was ''also'' being sucked toward the exit.

Ruth didn’t hesitate—she fired her lifters again, streaking through the air toward her friend. “Geena! Your lifters! Fight the suction!”

“I’m trying!” Geena called back, her voice faint in the thinning air. “But it’s too strong!”

Ruth caught up to her and threw her arms around her friend. “C’mon, let’s get outta here—” She fired her own lifters at full blast to accompany Geena’s, but it was no good—even at full strength, they were losing ground fast, and the shutter wasn’t going to be able to seal it in time.

“Oh crap. Geena—go to fabber form, now!”

Geena’s eyes widened. “Wha—?”

“Fabbers don’t need to breathe! Do it!”

“Oh!” Geena drew her legs up and tucked her head in, and a moment later Ruth had her arms around a blocky rectangular fabbing unit. There wasn’t time to slide her into the pannier slot; Ruth just clamped her arms on tight and tried to make herself as small as possible around her friend, as they passed through the breach and out into space.

As they tumbled, Ruth activated her comm circuits and sent with all her strength, '':Mom! Dad! Heeeeelp!!!:''

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The ''Great Western'' vibrated like a tuning fork, shuddering and shimmying. “I need everyone to Damage Control stations!” Astrogon’s avatars shouted over the shipboard alarm. “Fuse up and move!”

“Ugh…do we even ''have'' damage control stations?” Rochelle shook her head. “I was kinda somewhere else for most of the trip.” She crawled out from under the table where she’d been thrown by the sudden impact. Fortunately, she’d been wearing Uncia’s ''minima'' shell at the time, whose lifters and hardlight had kicked in to cushion her impact. “Ugh…anyone get the number of that skimmer truck?”

Rhianna/Kaylee helped Rochelle/Uncia up. “Did we hit one of those invisible rocks they warned us about?”

“No, something much worse,” Socah Gates said.

Rhianna put her handpaw to her ear. “Well, shit. They’re calling us down to help in Engineering.”

“I’ll be right—”

Then her comm crackled. '':Mom! Dad! Heeeeelp!!!:''

“—actually, no I won’t. I just got a distress call—from Ruth! Uncia, can you track her?”

“On it!” Uncia said. “She’s…this can’t be right.”

“What?”

“She’s…outside the ship. Plotting her trajectory—it looks like she must have gotten sucked out a hole they blew in the Ark’s dome. She’s heading outward at a pretty good clip. Geena’s with her.”

“Right. Tell Astrogon we’re going to go get them. Where are Chet and Nils? We need them warming up the Maxima’s engines five minutes ago.”

“Chet’s already in the cockpit. He’s been hanging out there a lot now there are stars to see again. Already pinged him.” Uncia paused. “Don’t you mean ''ask'' Astrogon—?”

“No. No, I mean ''tell,''” Rochelle said firmly. “We’re ''going'' to get our daughter.”

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Rochelle slid into the co-pilot’s seat a couple of minutes later, and glanced over at Nils. “How’re we for launch?”

“Engines prepped. We can go at your word.” He glanced up at the head-up display, with inset video panels showing a cloud of gas and debris expanding from one of the tumbling ''Great Western''’s flanks, with a carat mark tracking a small dot slowly drifting away. “How’re we fixed with traffic control?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Get us out there.”

“I’ve filled Astrogon in on the situation,” Uncia reported. “He understands we’re not willing to wait, and since we’ve got our own ship, we’ve got clearance, as long as we stay in the area and assist in any other search-and-rescue after we get her.”

“As long as they don’t need ship-side medical attention, I’m good with that,” Rochelle said.

Nils spoke up. “Shelley, Ruth is a RIDE and Geena’s an Integrate. As long as we get to them fast, they’ll probably both be fine.”

“Then let’s not sit here jawing about it,” Rochelle said. “We’ve got clearance, let’s ''go!''”

“Disengaging docking clamps…using attitude control thrusters to point us in the right direction…and ''go!''”

As the ship lifted away and reoriented itself, Rochelle muttered. “Ugh…I ''knew'' I should have tried to reach out before now. I just…didn’t want to smother her.”

“It’s ''okay,'' Shelley,” Chet said. “I feel the same way. But…we’re still going to have lots of chances for that. They’re gonna be just fine.”

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Ruth held tightly to Geena as they tumbled over and over through space. At last, she looked up, and pulsed her lifters to kill the spin. They were drifting through space, alongside debris that included bits of shrubbery and fences, and a couple of dead animals. ''Oh, BLEEP. Poor things.'' She was glad that this had been a shift when few people would have been visiting the Ark—as far as she knew, she’d been the only one in the section at the time, so nobody else would have been sucked out—she hoped. She didn’t look around too hard, just in case.

Now that they were free of the atmosphere, she could at least latch Geena securely into place. She opened the pannier at her side, and lowered the fabber and pushed it back until it latched in. The pannier retracted, and connections were green. '':Geena? You okay?:''

'':I…I think so. Uh…did we really just get spaced? What ''happened''?:''

Ruth peered back toward the ship. '':It looks like something hit us. Something big. I think the whole rear drive ring is wrecked. Great big friendly Totalia howdy, I guess.:''

'':Oh…:'' Geena was silent for a while. '':I guess…maybe you were right about the war.:''

Ruth sighed…or at least, sent a sigh emoticon, since there wasn’t any air to sigh with out here. '':I didn’t want to be. I still hope I’m not.:''

'':But if they don’t want us here ''that'' badly…:''

'':''Some'' of them don’t want us here. Some of them asked for us to be here. We’ll get it worked out.:''

Geena didn’t reply for a while, then sent, '':What do we do now?:''

'':Well, I’ve got my distress beacon on. I’ve fired my lifters to try to slow us and move us back toward the ship, but it’ll probably take a while—we were blown out pretty quick.:'' Then Ruth’s sensors picked something up, and she turned her head to look. '':But…I think we’re good. Look, Mom and Dad are coming to get us!:''

{{separator|stars}}

The rescue was accomplished easily enough. Chet had ample experience at matching velocity with tumbling objects in space, especially when those objects had their own lifters and could help to match him back. Ruth halfway expected the Maxima to transform into the giant Fuser form Mom said it had and just reach out and grab her, but they settled for going the more prosaic route of pulling up alongside her so she could close the rest of the way and open the airlock hatch herself.

When the inner door cycled, her Mom and Dad were there to greet her, with the RIDEs Aunt Uncia and Uncle Nils on their haunches in Fuser form behind them. Ruth fell into her mother’s arms. Irrationally, she missed having a simulated flesh-and-blood body the most right then, just so she could ''cry.'' It simply didn’t feel the same in Fuser form.

“Hey, are you okay?” Rochelle said. “Ruth, honey, I’ve never been happier that you don’t need to breathe.”

“I’m…I’m fine, Mom. Geena too. We’re a little shaken up, but..we weren’t hurt. We…heh…''evacuated''.”

“The whole section of the Ark we were in ‘evacuated,’ it looked like,” Geena chimed in. “I hope nobody was hurt…”

“Nobody in the Ark,” Uncia reported. “But looks like there were deaths in other compartments.”

“Oh no…” Ruth said. “They actually…''killed'' people?”

“A few, it looks like,” Chet said grimly. “You kids were lucky.”

Ruth sighed. “Mom, I’m…sorry I didn’t get back in touch. I just…I guess I was mad at you for being so happy to get back to the real world. It felt like I was…just an ''accident'' who was tying you down to VR for sixteen years.”

Rochelle’s eyes widened. “Oh, baby, nothing could be further from the truth. I won’t lie to you…you ''were'' conceived by accident. But after it happened…hey, we were RIDEs. We ''could'' simply have archived you until we got back to Zharus, and spent a fast three months on this trip. Nothing said we ''had'' to raise you here and now.”

“We ''chose'' this,” Chet said. “We chose ''you''. I won’t say it was always easy, but…it’s been worth it.”

“R…really?” Ruth said.

“Really,” Rochelle said. “You know, we’re not the sort of people who’ve had much time to stop and smell the roses, between the Fritz affair, now this Totalia thing…and who knows what new crisis will be waiting for us when we get back to Zharus? Everything seems to happen one thing right after the other—it’s like we’re characters in one of those trashy Internet fiction series from the Steader archive.” She smiled. “But thanks to you, we’ve had sixteen years of peace, tranquility, and domestic bliss—and that’s something we ''treasure.''”

“It was like a sixteen-year vacation,” Chet said. “A good one, with people we love and care about.”

“Honestly, you’re ''not'' the only one who’s sad it’s over,” Rochelle said. “We are too. We’re gonna ''miss'' all that peace and tranquility, in the hectic kinds of lives we lead out here. But we were ''also'' happy to come back out, because there’s there’s ''so much'' good stuff out here, too. As you’ll find out once you’ve lived a little more.”

“That’s what ''I'' keep telling her,” Geena said.

“Of course, on a starship heading into the middle of a war zone ''might'' not be the best place to find out about the good stuff,” Nils put in. “But as we used to say in the Army, if we couldn’t take a joke, we shouldn’t have joined.” He cocked his head. “At least, the ''humans'' used to say it. We RIDEs didn’t exactly get a lot of choice in the ‘joining’ part, so we pretty much ''had'' to learn to take a joke.”

Ruth carefully disengaged herself and stepped back from her mother. “Can we…go home now? I think I’d like to come home…to whatever passes for home on that ship.”

“Soon’s we get the all-clear,” Chet said. “They may need us to help rescue someone else, if anyone else is still alive out here. But after that…sure.”

“Really, you’re kind of in what passes for home now,” Rochelle said. “We mostly live in this shuttle, it being reasonably spacious. Of course, usually it’s docked to the side of a much bigger ship…”

Ruth glanced back at her pannier fabber mount. “That work for you, too, Geena?”

“Oh, sure! I’m happy to go where you go,” Geena said. “At least ‘til I can get back to Clemmie. And you can come along then too, if your folks are okay with it.”

“We’ll see how that looks when we get there,” Rochelle said. “For now…I’m just glad to have you kids back. I hope you’ll stay at least a little while.”

“So, welcome to the real world!” Uncia said. “Or welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Ruth said. She smiled. “You know…I think maybe I ''am'' glad to be here, after all. I guess no matter where it is, there’s just no place like home.”

{{separator|stars|'''THE END'''}}

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]][[Category: Robotech_Master]][[Category: Anthropomorphic]][[Category: Snow Leopard]][[Category:Lynx]][[Category:Wolverine]][[Category:Owl]][[Category:Story]]

User:Robotech Master/First Deployment

2019-12-23T06:36:11Z

Robotech Master:

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}

{{title

|name=First Deployment

|author=Jon Buck and Robotech_Master

|user=Robotech_Master}}
g
{{DEFAULTSORT: First Deployment}}

{{author note|This story can be downloaded in PDF, EPUB, Mobi (Kindle), ODF, and RTF format from [http://www.eyrie.org/~robotech/freeriders/ this website].}} 

=Chapter 1=

''“Fort Brubeck”'' 
''June 7, 121 AL''

The massive blue-gray Starmaster armed transport took up most of the landing pad, which was itself covered by a shimmering hardlight shield. The air had barely cooled to tolerable levels before the Quartermaster sent Corporal Dale Combs and his squadmates in to begin unloading. There were always more transports incoming and limited space to take them, so it was extremely important to get them unloaded fast and the materiel stored right away.

The Quartermaster, Major Divina Lind, glared at the manifest on her tablet. “Corporal Combs, get me the cargomaster. This load isn’t scheduled to be here for another four days.”

“Four days, sir? What’s in it?” Combs asked.

The aft clamshell doors on the transport opened, revealing racks and racks of neat metallic cube-shapes in a half dozen sizes. They were mostly familiar—AIDE power armor/skimmer cycles for individual use. There were suggestions of animal features even in the compact transport mode: paws, feline faces, hooves, and antlers.

“The new RIDEs,” the Major said, tapping her stylus on the tablet. “Now, find him, Corporal. That’s an order. They neglected to include the training materials on the manifest. We were supposed to get those ''first''.”

“Yes, sir!” Combs saluted and scrambled off.

{{separator|k}}

Zharus’s weak magnetic field—barely enough to keep the atmosphere from blowing away in the solar wind—made radio communication dodgy on the best of days. And the ever-present dust in the air made laser comms not much better sometimes. That meant that couriers were the best method for sending any communiques from Command into the field. Fort Brubeck, as the soldiers called it, still had the best comm gear available, but conditions lately had curtailed transmissions.

But the way the Major was grumbling, Dale thought that it was just a Nextus bureaucratic cock-up—BUCU as they called it. Of course, he couldn’t be ''sure'' of that. Dale wasn’t a Nextus native, so didn’t have the encyclopedic knowledge of the rules of the Game that such a person did. But the thought made him chuckle, because he ''was'' intimately familiar with the rules of ''another'' polity’s national pastime. He was from Cape Nord, a volunteer for their armed forces. A Man was often made in war, so here he was.

Though after four years in the service, he was still only a Corporal. There were, he had to admit, ''reasons ''for that. When you got right down to it, like most of the Cape Nord volunteers, he was probably here for the wrong reasons.

These Nextus soldiers were defending their homes and their way of life, and if they blew it their home was going to be a vassal state to a sworn enemy. Knowing they were to be hanged, as the old saying went, concentrated their minds wonderfully, and they went about their duties with a patriotic fervor that made them all the more effective fighters.

But the Nordie boys knew ''they'' weren’t in any danger—Cape Nord didn’t really have much anybody wanted. Even the heavy metal mining that had originally funded the polity was in decline now that it was cheaper to get the stuff in bulk from asteroids. And even if it did, the Valkyries of Sturmhaven would probably have rather let them keep it than deal with the Cape Nord male ego. After all, Sturmhaven had kicked their forebears out and said “good riddance” a long time ago.

Some Nordies were, or at least ''said'' they were, looking for a little payback against the old Mother Country—but almost no one still alive actually had or knew anyone who had directly been wronged by them. Hence, ''most'' were here because, again, Men were often made in war. Then once they got here and found that they actually didn’t ''like'' being in a war, still they stuck around because it was un-Manly to quit. But they didn’t exactly give it their all the way Nextus’s natives did, and the Nextus brass was aware of this.

But having all those warm bodies who didn’t necessarily give fighting their all at least let that brass use them to staff support positions, rear echelons, and garrisons to secure captured territory, so they could send the gung-ho Nextus natives to the frontlines instead. ''Which is how I ended up in this chickenshit outfit,'' Dale reflected ruefully. ''Still, could be worse. Could be on the front lines having my ass shot at.''

Dale’s thoughts turned back to the RIDEs that had just arrived. Now that those gung-ho soldiers on the front lines had been fully equipped with these new Sarium-powered wonder machines, there were finally enough to go around in the rear echelons. But things were always confused in the supply chain when there was a war on, and Dale’s mind went to another acronym passed down from grunt to grunt over the centuries: SNAFU. “Situation Normal: All Effed Up,” Dale muttered.

But still, there might be opportunities to be had in this kind of foul-up. Dale had heard a lot of rumors about those machines through the grapevine—most of them contradictory to others, and some of them crazy enough to make him wonder if ''any'' of them could be true.

One of the things that was ''verifiably'' true was that they gave you animal ears and a tail, for reasons that had never been clearly explained but were apparently accepted by the brass. There was a “conscientious objector” clause written into the Nextus soldier contract so anyone who objected to that kind of body modification could put in for a transfer to a non-combat job, but anyone taking that clause could probably kiss their future military career goodbye. Dale wasn’t terribly optimistic about his own military career anyway, but didn’t have any particular objections to the idea of animal features. He thought he might actually look rather fetching with a pair of wolf ears and tail, or something else Manly like that. ''Maybe a lion or tiger…''

In fact…one of those RIDEs there ''had'' looked like it might be some kind of lion. Perhaps that would bear some further investigation. ''Or maybe ''lion'' the further investigation.'' Dale chuckled at his pun. In any case, it wasn’t likely he’d get his hands on one of those RIDEs for himself any time soon—things like this tended to be reserved for the officers, and then gradually trickle down to enlisted men. But ''maybe'' there was a way around that…

He found the cargomaster at the front of the aircraft, at the rack that held the secure datapacks. They were each the size of a dinner plate, though the chip itself was far, far smaller. It was mostly surrounded by hardware to ensure that the Sturmies couldn’t get to the chip, even if they managed to intercept the courier.

“I know why you’re here, Corporal,” the cargomaster said. “And I don’t have an answer for you. They never tell me what’s on these chips for security reasons. Whatever you’re missing, the Quartermaster will have to send a chip to Command.”

“That’s about what I thought, but I’m just the message boy,” Dale said. “But then, I guess you are too.”

The cargomaster snorted. “Yeah, buddy, ain’t ''that'' the truth.”

“Any idea why this shipment turned up four days early?” Dale asked.

He shrugged. “Feels like a BUCU to me, if anything. If it is, then whoever thought the Game was still on is going to get drummed out of the service.”

Dale grinned. “I don’t know as I’d really complain about something showing up ''early'' for a change. Far too much of the other thing happening these days.”

“Well, you grunts need to get this aircraft unloaded so we can lift and return to MilCentral.”

Dale nodded. “I’ll give the Major the news. See you around, buddy.”

{{separator|k}}

Fort Brubeck—a nickname that had stuck despite the protestations of its owner, famed former interstellar Scout Clint Brubeck—was located over the richest deposit of high-grade qubitite yet known in the Dry Ocean. The deposits being mined were all surface, since nobody had figured out how to use other methods to get the crumbly blue stuff that was far beneath it. But despite this deposit being far underground, the Nextus military knew it was important enough for the future to keep the site garrisoned.

Multiple redundant fusion reactors powered multi-layered hardlight shielding, a half dozen large double pulse cannon turret emplacements, a multitude of smaller ones, underground tunnels, infantry bunkers…Fort Brubeck had it all. Early in the War the tactics had dictated ''enormous ''lifter-powered battleships and smaller craft slinging pulse energy, railgun sabots, and salvos of missiles—more or less an antigravity imitation of oceanic navies—so the Fort naturally needed defense against them. But technology and tactics had changed quickly.

Battles had moved to the east and southeastern Dry Ocean, many thousands of kilometers away, and even on the Coastal Ring between the two warring polities, with little Nuevo San Antonio caught in the middle. That made being assigned to Fort Brubeck a second-rate post at best.

Ordinarily, the operating manuals for all manner of military equipment were available for immediate download from the NextusMil central database. They were indexed and cross-referenced to a fare-thee-well—one of the benefits of a polity where everyone spoke bureaucratese as a second language, Dale supposed. But someone seemed to have dropped the ball on the matter of these RIDEs—there wasn’t a word to be found about them. Apparently they were still classified top-secret, even as every buck private in the field was being given one.

Dale sometimes wondered if the problem might actually stem from the Game being in abeyance because of the war. When it was running, the Game did throw up obstacles for people to hurdle as a matter of course—but from what he’d seen from his outsider’s perspective, the Game processes ''did'' at least ensure that everything got done. Ideally, those processes should have been replaced by ''more streamlined'' processes to get the same thing done—but it seemed like some of them might have slipped through the cracks. ''Whoever’s job it was to come up with the new rules thought it was someone else’s…and so did the someone else, maybe.'' It was at least worthy of an ironic chuckle: When Nextus explicitly tried to minimize the chances of making BUCUs…they made BUCUs ''because'' of it.

At least some of the stories Dale had heard had it that these RIDEs had some kind of expert system on board that would actually ''tell'' you how to work them, so you didn’t really ''need'' documentation. But not only was this the military, this was the ''Nextus'' military. When you’re in the middle of a war, you don’t have time to waste on might-bes, or on trying to figure out how some completely unfamiliar piece of equipment worked if it wasn’t an emergency situation. If the documentation wasn’t ready yet, you ''waited for the documentation.'' That was how the bureaucracy of the military worked.

But privately, Dale was sure ''he'' wouldn’t have any problems. He had a knack for figuring out mechanical gadgets. Hadn’t he learned to use his Chinook and aced the operating exam without once cracking the manual? (After all, reading the instructions wasn’t Manly.) And these RIDE things just sounded like a fancier version of those, so it should be just fine.

He just needed to work out how to phrase his approach to Major Lind so she would give him orders with enough wiggle room to cover a little otherwise-unauthorized experimentation. It would help if he timed the approach for a time when she was as distracted as possible—which would probably need to be within the next half hour, as she was pulled in all directions trying to get all the ''other'' BUCUs involved with this unexpected shipment straightened out.

As he headed back to the edge of the airfield, Dale mentally rehearsed what he was going to say. Knowing what he did about the Major, it was pretty easy to figure out what buttons to push. She was all about ''efficiency,'' which was why this sort of foul-up made her so irritable. All he had to do was couch his suggestion the right way.

Dale found the Major where he’d left her, still glaring at the tablet in her hands. “Sorry, Ma’am, but it was about as expected. The cargo master didn’t know anything about what’s in the shipment, he just carries what he’s given.”

The officer sighed. “Doesn’t that just figure. I’ve already filed a message for the return shipment. Go round up a pallet-jack and take these to storage. We’ll put them toward the front in warehouse 3, and hope they don’t get buried by the time we get the training manuals in.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He turned and started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “You know, ma’am—it’d be a shame to waste the time we have these here. They seem to use the same technology as the bikes we’ve been using. If I had some time to look them over, familiarize myself with them, it might help get a head start on some of the maintenance matters.”

Major Lind didn’t even look up from the tablet. “Sure, go on, familiarize yourself with them. Let me know if you find out anything I should know about.”

“Yes, ma’am. Will do, ma’am.”

Dale felt a ''little'' guilty for taking advantage of Major Lind’s distractibility like that…but only a little. After all, he reasoned, in familiarizing himself with the RIDEs to the point that he, well, ''claimed'' one, he actually ''would'' be saving time in terms of getting up and running with them. Sometimes the Army could be overcautious to the point of self-paralysis, and hey—there ''was'' a war on. Every minute saved counted, right?

Dale dutifully snagged the pallet-jack and trucked the RIDES off to the warehouse as ordered. He made sure to put the lion-ish one in front where it would be easy to access. He’s already decided that one was the one he wanted. He’d come back a little later once his other duties were taken care of, and then he would see.

{{separator|k}}

Dale read the identification plate on the front of the cubic RIDE. “LEO(f)-MCA-002A. Huh.” His assigned Chinook had a similarly nonsensical model designation he hadn’t bothered to learn. He was sure all the letters and numbers had to mean ''something'', because Nextus being Nextus, everything ''always'' meant something…but the documents that would have said ''what'' they meant weren’t available. But they probably weren’t important.

LEO was obviously lion, in any case. The 002A at the end was probably the sequential model number. The rest had no obvious meaning at all.

As for how to activate it…there was something he’d learned as part of the standard training with his Chinook. Some parts of the Dry Ocean could reach near 90 degrees celsius, and in the event the armor mode was damaged and it became necessary to swap out while under fire, there was a physical ‘emergency armor mode’ switch to enable a very fast swap and minimize exposure to the environment. ''If this thing is based off a Chinook, then the switch should be somewhere around…here.''

Dale peered at the innocuous-looking button for a good long time. He knew that if he pressed that button, there would be no going back. The signs that he had activated one of the new RIDE units would be right there, indelible for all to see.

But…he could always claim it had been an accident. He’d just been “familiarizing himself” as ordered, then goofed and pressed the wrong button. They couldn’t blame him for that, right? Could have happened to anyone. And anyway, he’d still be the first one to have gotten his hands on one of the new miracle machines. No matter what they might go to him, they couldn’t take that away from him.

Taking a deep breath, Dale pressed the button.

{{separator|k}}

The next thing Dale was aware of was a rumbly female voice saying, “Corporal Combs is now awake, as ordered.” Dale felt his arms move in a salute, but it wasn’t himself doing it.

He opened his eyes to see five people in the room in front of him—the Major, a doctor from the base infirmary, a woman with a RIDE Research Division patch on her white uniform…and two MPs.

There was also someone else, the first voice who had spoken…but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where they might be. His head might have been filled with sand, as sluggish as his thoughts were.

“Unit Sarabe, keep he…the Corporal sedated,” the doctor ordered.

“Yes, sir!” the voice rumbled.

“Corporal, do you have any idea what you’ve ''done ''to yourself?” Major Lind said from well below eye-level.

“Was just…familiarizing myself with the equipment as ordered, Ma’am…” he mumbled. There seemed to be something off about his voice. Had the RIDE armor suit’s breathing system had helium in it?

“The process is complete, Major,” the base Doctor said. “Vital signs are…normal, given the circumstances.”

“These units should have been locked down for shipping until they were assigned,” the Major tech said. “How did Combs activate one?”

“The emergency Fuse function worked as designed, Major,” the RIDE tech said.

“Why didn’t the unit just spit him out once it sensed things were…wrong?” Major Lind said.

“Locked down or not, that’s what it’s intended for. To save a soldier’s life if there are no other options. We planned for…this type of situation to happen on the battlefield, and the similar system in place on the Ad-I models has saved a number of lives. Though I must admit that it hasn’t happened on the front lines with RIDEs yet.”

“And emergency functions are just supposed to ''work'',” Major Lind said, sighing. “I can’t fault the engineers for that.”

Dale felt he should put in a word in his own defense, given that everyone seemed to be talking about him. “Sorry…must’ve had an accident when I was examining it…” he mumbled, trying to ignore the odd sound of his own voice.

Major Lind shook her head. “Oh, you didn’t have any kind of accident. You didn’t ''accidentally'' open a panel, flip up a safety cover, and press a button marked FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY in big bold letters. Even if I didn’t already know what you were like, I’d have trouble buying that.” Her lips pursed in an ironic smirk. “Well, you’ve seen to your ''own'' punishment, and it will be a ''much'' more fitting one than anything the military can mete out…for a Cape Nord boy.”

Dale didn’t like the sound of that. He tried to move, but something was holding him in place. “Hey, what…lemme out?”

“Major, I don’t recommend removing him from the RIDE unit here,” the doctor said. “The Corporal’s reaction is likely to be…unpleasant.”

Dale ''really'' didn’t like the sound of that. He tried to squirm harder, but he felt the cool hiss of a spray injection against his arm and everything faded to black.

{{separator|k}}

''Fort Brubeck Medical Bay''

''Dissonance''. A body sending signals that didn’t match what Dale’s brain was expecting. The restraints in the hospital bed were necessary, they kept him from tearing at his own body.

''Disassociation''. A face that was-and-wasn’t his. Features softened just enough to be female. But he kept looking behind the face in the mirror to find his actual one. There were…breasts. Barely there, but present. And down below was…was—

Before the panic could take hold again the autodoc applied a mild sedative. Dale sighed and let his mind float.

He was ''technically'' a woman now, where it counted. Yet when he tried to think about that for more than a few seconds his brain filled with a white noise that blocked out all rational thought. So the restraints were sadly necessary.

His doctors had put a sensor-laden skullcap on him for “data collection”, and promised they would return soon with results and recommended treatment. It’d only been…Dale looked at the clock on the wall. ''Half an hour. Ugh! Just knock me out again!''

The doctor entered the room, tablet in hand. “Well, Corporal. I’ll give it to you straight. We have to fix your brain so it matches your body, and the only specialists who know how to do that are in Cape Nord.”

“Cape…Nord.” Dale’s stomach fell into his feet. Of course, Cape Nord did have some experience here. Starting with the popular author Iphigenia Rose, who eight years before had been exposed as a Man on the verge of becoming a True Nordsman. He had very publically been “unManned” then went right back to writing and selling books. There had been a dozen more since then. To all appearances, these unManned were well-adjusted and happy as women. A couple had even given birth.

“We’re going to ship you out to a clinic there in the next hour, Corporal. So just hold on a little longer.”

Dale tried to clear her throat before speaking. “Can you at least knock me out until they do whatever it is they do?”

“Of course, Corporal.” The doctor leaned over and did something to the IV drip. “You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up. Like a new woman.”

''That’s just what I’m afraid of,'' Dale thought as she drifted away again.

=Chapter 2=

''Cape Nord'' 
''Northcave Psychiatric Hospital'' 
''June 11, 121 AL''

It was morning. Dale lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, part of which flashed, waiting for any media requests from her. The previous night had been…easier than the one before. She hadn’t rolled over. Yesterday she’d had sore breasts for half the day. Small though they were, she’d still somehow managed to irritate them.

''It’s very important to establish new body habits and routines,'' Dale thought, repeating to herself what the therapist had said yesterday. She could look at herself in the mirror without screaming. She could look ''down'' at herself without feeling an overwhelming terror. It was new. It was all so very ''new''. But at the same time it was just…her body. ''Establish ‘normalcy’ she said.''

For all of that, she had to admit she was really fortunate, in a number of ways. Given the mess she’d—he’d—the mess ''Dale had caused'' with their little adventure, she’d expected an approximate military law library to be thrown in her direction. But to her surprise, she’d been offered a deal.

“What ‘happened’ to you will happen to other soldiers on the front lines,” Major Lind said, using the dreaded air quotes. “We don’t currently have a baseline case in your…situation. This troubles the brass, and when something troubles the brass, they make themselves feel better by throwing money at intensive research projects. Especially when a perfect test subject ''so'' enthusiastically volunteers.

“So, for your sins, you’re going to get the best medical treatment money can buy, with an army of observers watching over you, a battery of psychologists testing you, and reams of data being generated about your every move and thought. If you don’t like it, well, we can always court-martial you.”

Dale might have been dense, but she wasn’t ''stupid''. “Uh…I like it, ma’am! I like it very much!”

“I thought that you would. This little escapade notwithstanding, you always struck me as the sensible sort.”

So, not only was she ''not'' being court-martialed, she was being given a cushy non-battlefield duty station'' in her own home polity''. Most of those ambivalent Cape Nord volunteers would have'' killed'' for a posting like this.

''But how many of them,'' she wondered darkly, ''would have given up their Manhood?''

She spent longer in the shower than she really needed to, then some time with a hand mirror looking at anatomy that couldn’t be seen another way, as prescribed by her therapists. Then she got dressed, taking a few minutes with the bra, before putting on the new labcoat-white Research Division enlisted uniform.

The biosculpt system built into the RIDE had been very basic. Other than the gross soft tissue changes required to make her physically female, there had been little effort expended to change the rest. By Cape Nord standards she was homely and very masculine. Her brown hair was still short enough to not need much combing—fairly ironic, given her surname.

Dale was the same height and weight, with fatty tissue moved around in places, fairly flat-chested, barely any curve to her hips, and had an androgynous voice. Famed romance novelist Iphigenia Rose, the very first to undergo the same process that had changed Dale, had looked much the same halfway through her change, according to the old video they’d shown Dale as part of her therapy. Then she’d gone back into the chamber for further sculpting. By the same token, there were biosculpt kiosks practically on every street corner that could make Dale into the very flower of Cape Nord femininity, much as Rose had been by the time she’d been through. Dale supposed she might go ahead with that at some point, but just getting used to ''this'' change seemed like more than enough to be getting on with right now.

On the schedule today were a battery of physical tests, including hours in a skullcap making any needed adjustments to her brain. After all the physical tests came the therapy sessions. There was a near-term goal to start getting her out in public, because the resocialization aspect was of “extreme importance” as the therapists said.

There was also the matter of how to tell Dale’s immediate family. Her situation was still secret—she was here under a different name (”Raine Wilson”) for the time being. But they also needed data ''fast'', since RIDEs were being deployed in greater numbers increased the chance of an actual battlefield “crossride” as they called it. She even understood that her very own RIDE—the one she’d activated at the start of this mess—was in storage awaiting her attention, because how she related to the RIDE now was another important element of the study. But they’d be saving that part for later.

She strolled down the hospital corridor to the scanning room. This being Cape Nord, the nurses were all women. But it wasn’t just her butch looks that set her apart from them. It was the leonine ears and tufted tail.

The ears and tail that felt more normal than the breasts and vagina.

“Corporal Wilson, please have a seat in the scanner,” Dr. Pollard said. “We’ve modified the seat for your tail.”

“I almost forgot I had it,” Dale said. The Fusers had re-wired her brain for the new limb and the ears, but ''not'' the rest. It seemed like a ''bit'' of an oversight. She took her seat as requested, and the scanner technician did something on his control panel.

The doctor studied the display for a few moments, then nodded. “Mm. Good. The neural re-patterning is proving to be precisely as stable as in the other cases. Three days and no sign of any deterioration or reversion—and if there were to be such, we should have seen it by now.”

“That’s great, Doc, but will I be able to play the piano?”

Dr. Pollard raised his eyebrow. “Could you before?”

“Heh. No. Just being a smart alec, Doc.”

“I’ve heard that particular joke at ''least'' thirty-seven times. I suppose if nothing else, that proves you’re from here. You still have the Manly sense of humor. Or lack thereof.” He chuckled. “Regardless of whether you can play the piano, there’s another hobby you might consider taking up. You have a couple of visitors today who might be interested in discussing sewing.”

“…ah.” Dale had been wondering when that would come up. There was a collection of women’s social clubs all across Cape Nord, loosely referred to by the collective name “The Sewing Circle.” They gave women an excuse to get out of the house, or have others over to visit them. Pretty much every woman who was married to anyone in Cape Nord was a member, but Dale’s mother harbored a long-standing grudge because she’d never been able to advance further than a few social clubs on its fringes. “Thanks, Doc, but I’m really not sure I can deal with that right now.”

“This is part of your therapy, and we ''really'' want you to meet them. So be ready to have a chat after lunch. Doctor’s orders.”

Dale rolled her eyes and sighed. “All right. If it’s an ''order''…” She supposed that whatever was coming, she probably deserved it. At least it was better than dying in combat on the front lines. ''Probably.''

{{separator|k}}

After lunch, Dale steeled herself for an ordeal and made her way to the small conference room as directed. After she entered the door, she stopped short and stared.

One of the two women there was no particular surprise—a black-haired woman in one of the businesslike Nextus military female officer’s uniforms, cut much like Major Lind’s though without as much fruit salad. It was labcoat white, like Dale’s own new Research Division uniform, and she sported Captain’s bars on the collar.

But the other…there might not be a single Cape Nord citizen of either gender who didn’t know that heart-shaped face, with its masses of wavy strawberry blonde hair. Romance novelist Iphigenia Rose was one of Cape Nord’s most famous citizens—and the very first person from Zharus to undergo the native version of the nanotech sex reassignment surgery originally pioneered on Earth.

And there she sat, legs crossed comfortably, in a nice dress a few notches more casual than those she was usually pictured wearing. “Hello, Corporal Combs,” she said. “Please come in, we’ve been expecting you.”

“Uh…call me Dale, please,” Dale stammered. “Ah…I’m sorry, I never expected to meet…uh…”

“Me?” Iphigenia smiled—a smile even more stunning in person than in the photos. “I understand. I get that a lot. And may I introduce my colleague, Captain Nadene Garland of Nextus? As it turns out, we all have at least ''one'' thing in common.”

The Captain was only slightly more feminine-looking than Dale. If it wasn’t for the dark purple streak through her hair, she would have looked every inch the humorless Nextus bureaucrat. It gave her character—for some value of character. “Corporal Combs.”

Dale saluted. “Ma’am.”

“No need for further formality, Corporal. I’m not here in any ‘official’ capacity, and we’re in different chains of command anyway. Here, for now, you can call me Nadene.”

“Understood…er…yes. Call me Dale.”

“We are here, as you might imagine, to help you acclimate—seeing as we both have rather extensive experience at that ourselves,” Iphigenia said. “We ''do'' have some other reasons for coming—but we’ll get to those. So, to start…you already know ''my'' background, I’m sure. Is there anything in particular you’d like to ask me about my own change?”

Dale was caught somewhere between the urge to stare at her and the urge to avert his gaze. “Er…well…” he stammered again. “When the change happened to me, I, uh, ''freaked out.'' But they showed me the tape of…yours, and…you…''didn’t.'' Why?”

“First, because the whole thing was just a show. I’d been mentally preparing for it for weeks. But most importantly, I told them flat out that unless they could ''definitely ''prevent severe gender dysphoria, it was a no-go. I would ''not'' do it. I ''had ''to be comfortable in my own skin. I was fully prepared to move to Aloha and keep writing as an exile with my Man Card revoked. Then my PR people said…they said…” she laughed.

“Ironically, the people selling the idea to me appealed to my Manhood. I would be the ''first'' to undergo this process in a very public place. I would get the best medical and psychological treatment available, based on the extensive clinical records available from the process’s original use on Earth. They ''guaranteed'' I wouldn’t experience any dysphoria.”

“Understand, the process they use incorporates the neural re-patterning as part of the biosculpt process,” Nadene put in. “The RIDEs as they stand right now don’t have that. They ''could,'' theoretically, but we hadn’t put as much research into that area as Cape Nord has—we were mainly concerned about using the same ‘sculpt nanotech for the interface and tagging. The sex-change aspect was…well, largely an unintended consequence, because it was easier to use the tech as it was than re-engineer it to remove it.”

Iphigenia nodded. “But I was undergoing the ''entire'' process, to the greatest extreme possible. Because I figured, if I was going to embrace womanhood, there’d be no half-measures. I was going to be the most womanly woman who ever womaned.”

“''Cape Nord’s'' idea of a woman, in any case,” Nadene added primly.

“That’s a fair cop, Captain Garland,” Iphigenia replied, nodding. “At least, from what outsiders see. At any rate, the whole deal about my ‘girly’ romance novels being ‘discovered’ to actually be written by a man? And the public ‘UnManning’? The whole thing was a PR stunt. The City Fathers and the Sewing Circle were both in on it.”

Dale blinked. “Wait, the Sewing Circle? I thought that was just a bunch of social clubs for women.”

Nadene raised her eyebrows and looked at the novelist. “I would like to hear that explanation, myself. But I’ve long suspected it’s an aspect to Cape Nord culture like our Game is in Nextus. Something a little too obscure for outsiders.”

Iphigenia smiled. “Captain, did you ever wonder why Sturmhaven became such a pariah while Cape Nord didn’t? Even though, to outsiders, women don’t have any political power and the ancient patriarchy seems to rule?”

“’Seems’? Please, go on.”

''Seems? ''Dale thought, puzzled. “My mother was always upset that she was never invited past the outer fringes of the Sewing Circle. I…won’t repeat some of the things she said about them.” Her mother had frequently called them a “bunch of stuck-up bitches”.

“That’s because the Sewing Circle is a ''little'' more selective than the name would imply, Dale,” Iphigenia said. “It’s really not so much a ''club'' as it is a sort of ''shadow government'' of Cape Nord—a way that we women who are in the know wield the not inconsiderable power of our feminine wiles to make sure that the Men only go as far as we want them to. You’d be surprised at how much one can accomplish with just a little gentle persuasion.” She paused. “I see by your expression that this is new to you. Considering your parents’ political leanings, I’m not surprised.”

“I’m not even from Cape Nord and I figured that one out,” Nadene said. “It makes sense. Ever since Sturmhaven passed their ‘Male Transgression Laws’ they’ve been sanctioned economically by Laurasian and Gondwanan governments alike—it’s one of the big reasons why we’re at war. But Cape Nord skates on by.”

“The Sewing Circle sent representatives to the other polities’ governments to lobby against sanctions on Cape Nord. It helped that all of those governments had ambassadors who had spent enough time in Cape Nord to know how it really worked and could testify on our behalf.” Iphigenia sighed. “The whole idea of ‘Manliness,’ and the ‘battle of the sexes’? It’s all a game, Dale. Always has been—in both Sturmhaven ''and'' Cape Nord. Seventy years ago the Valkyries’ predecessors started taking their part of the game too seriously. It stopped being a game.”

Captain Garland brightened in comprehension. “I see. So, it stopped being ''consensual''. And that’s when the founders of Cape Nord decided to head to the opposite side of the supercontinent.”

“Fifteen thousand kilometers was just barely enough,” Iphigenia said. “They almost went to Avalon, but couldn’t get approval from the Planetary Assembly.”

Avalon was a further five thousand kilometers west of Gondwana, in the middle of the North Thalassic Ocean. It was merely the size of South America on Earth, but hadn’t been terraformed. Zharus was twice Earth’s diameter with four times as much surface area (yet with the same surface gravity). It was a ''big ''world to get lost in.

Captain Garland raised an eyebrow. “Hewing a living from the desolate wastes of the frozen north?”

Iphigenia smiled. “A Manly challenge, to be sure. But it was just what they needed, to prove to ''themselves'' that the tropical Sturmhaven life hadn’t…emasculated them.” She chuckled. “Both of my grandfathers were among the first wave of emigrants. Ah, the stories they used to tell…”

“Since you seem to be done with your story, I suppose it’s my turn now,” Nadene said. “Mine is a little closer to Dale’s. I was a wet-behind-the-ears Lieutenant working in the RIDE development program starting about a year ago. I helped develop the very first working prototypes, though there’s a limit to just how much I can say about it. It’s still mostly classified.

“In any case, back in March we were doing what we called a ‘hot Fuse’ test to make sure that the Fuse process would work correctly on the new LNX frame. The AI running it sounded enthusiastic, oddly enough.

“Some of the equipment was being fussy that day, so like an idiot I decided to go into the chamber myself, standing right next to the bio-sim mannequin test article. It so happened that wasn’t the ''only'' equipment on the fritz that day. The Drive Extender unit’s targeting sensors were just ''slightly ''off. So when we initiated the test, well…” She cupped her breasts. “Things got complicated.”

“I can only imagine,” Iphigenia said. “I had a few weeks to psych myself up for the change. To come out of the blue like that…”

“The program was still top secret at the time. So they isolated me while they tried to fix what happened to my body. The only alterations they could correct were the ears and tail. You see, this kind of change was intended for verified transsexuals. Poor people born with a brain the opposite sex of their bodies. So the Fuse nanites didn’t touch those areas of my brain at all. Extreme dysphoria was the natural result.”

“I… I know how that feels,” Dale said.

Nadene nodded. “Nanosurgery was—and still is—out of the question. The nanites in our bodies help maintain hormonal balances and fix genetic errors and removing them would cause serious health problems. It takes time to genetically change a few trillion cells. They suggested more barbaric surgical methods, but I said no. Only then did they broach the idea of having Cape Nord’s experts re-write my brain so my body felt right—using techniques from an ''alternative'' nanotech dysphoria therapy developed on Earth. To make the brain match the body instead of the body matching the brain. Two solutions to the same problem.”

“More akin to micro brain surgery, really. Something we had already done several times here in Cape Nord,” Iphigenia said. “Including on yours truly. So that’s why she, and you, are here.”

“I still don’t understand why they just can’t kill them with an EMP and change me back,” Dale said.

“A body can’t withstand that kind of rapid change in quick succession,” Nadene said. “This is why, for now, this is a ''one-way'' trip. Perhaps in a few years it won’t be, but they don’t exactly have resources to devote to researching our little problems in the middle of wartime. So, for now, we must make the best of an…odd situation.”

''‘Odd,’ she says.'' “How are you so ''calm'' about this?” Dale demanded. “I mean…this change…becoming…” She petered out, unsure what she’d even been going to say.

Nadene smiled. “Oh, believe me, I did my share of screaming at the wall and beating on things, when it happened. But I’ve had time to adjust with a lot of help from therapists. There are worse things in the world to have happen.” She shrugged. “At least I’ve still got a ''whole'' body, even if it has different parts now. And besides, the military’s paying a big cash settlement on top of covering all my medical costs, and I’ll have some pretty darned big favors owed when the Game starts back up again.” She shrugged. “And you never know what might happen, eventually.”

“But you’re not from Cape Nord,” Dale grumbled.

“Ah, but ''I'' am,” Iphigenia reminded her. “And I’ve got it even better, really. Even leaving aside what all the publicity did for my book sales.” She smiled slyly. “After all, I’m now part of the cabal secretly running things behind the scenes. Or who like to pretend we are, which in Cape Nord generally amounts to the same thing.”

Dale frowned. “About that ‘Sewing Circle’ thing…how does that even work? How can women seriously ''run things'' here?”

“Quite easily, really. Why do Men want to be Manly? To impress each other, yes, but more importantly, to impress ''women.''” She beamed. “It’s a basic fact of civics that a government’s power flows from the consent of the governed. It’s just that in our case, that consent is more ''implicit'' than ''explicit.''”

“So you hold your conspiracies in plain sight, and the Men just think you’re getting together to sew and gossip.” Nadene shook her head. “Cute.”

“A few Men do know about us, but most of them think it’s a harmless delusion on our part. And who knows? They may be right. Certainly, we don’t have ‘official’ government representation, beyond a few non-voting advisory positions in the Man Cave. But that’s how we like it. True power doesn’t require being ''in'' the government, it just requires being able to get the government to listen to you. And who do you think those Men in their Cave go home to every night?” She smirked. “Around here, more political matters have been influenced by the living room sofa than by any PAC.”

“And my mother isn’t a part of this because…?”

Iphigenia sighed. “Now that you’re one of us, given your background, we deemed it best to tell you—especially given that I’m supposed to be serving as a role model to you, and that wouldn’t work if you didn’t know the whole story. The thing is, our complaisance is largely an act, a front we put on for the Men’s benefit, because it makes it easy for us to lead the poor dears around by their, ah, ''noses.'' But not everyone ''outside'' the polity realizes this.”

“I think I see where this is going,” Nadene said.

“So, sometimes we have women move here because they fall in love with the front. Perhaps they just want to live in a simpler time, where Men will worship and pamper them.” Iphigenia shrugged. “Some of these can be introduced to the truth with a little care and attention. But others…we judge that it would be too damaging to their egos if we told them how things ''really'' are, the poor dears. They’d be happier if we keep them in the dark.”

Dale frowned, thinking back to the years he’d spent growing up. His mother had been a very happy homemaker, content to raise him and his siblings while his father brought home the proverbial (and sometimes literal) bacon. She wasn’t the kind of person Dale could easily imagine taking part in making larger decisions behind the scenes. “You…may be right about that.”

“As one of the closest women to her, you’ll have the right to tell her whatever you believe is best,” Iphigenia said. “If you think she could handle it…”

“I’ll…uh…think about it,” Dale said. “I’ve—I mean, she doesn’t even know about…''this''…yet. I’m still not sure how I’m going to break it to her.”

“You present us with a conundrum yourself, you know,” Iphigenia said. “Both of you, and your situation. We of Cape Nord had a great deal of experience with ''intentional'' ‘team changes’, which is of course why you came to us for help. But the idea that it could happen to someone by ''accident'' is new to us—as is the fact that the technology is being incorporated into these new machines of war. And there has already been speculation that RIDEs could see widespread ''civilian'' use after the war is over.”

“So you could end up with a ''lot'' of ‘brand new women,’” Nadene mused.

“And brand new Men,” Iphigenia said. “We’re going to need to decide how to handle that while it’s still only a theoretical possibility, lest we be caught by surprise when it becomes practical. And that’s another part of why I’m here.” She smiled. “As the first woman to undergo the process myself, I was the natural choice to head up our committee to look into the issue. And so here I am.”

“And as far as the City Fathers are concerned, you’re just volunteering to give a poor little lost lamb the benefit of your experience out of the goodness of your heart,” Nadene smirked.

“Killing the proverbial two birds,” Iphigenia said. “It’s a nicely elegant solution, don’t you think?”

Dale nodded. “It makes some sense. What are the next steps?”

“What happens next is up to your therapists,” Nadene said. “This will have to go public soon, so expect your family to be notified. Unless you prefer they aren’t. I understand you’re unmarried, at least.”

“Er… I’m…I ''was ''considering an Eternal Bachelor endorsement on my Man Card. Though there are a few ex girlfriends who might find this…funny.” ''Imani is going to laugh and laugh…then maybe ask me out for drinks. ''Dale wondered if this would be a good time to bring up just how silly he’d started to find the whole thing after a year or two exposed to the wider world. Perhaps it was just as well.

“Consider your Man Card forfeit,” Iphigenia said. “And ''irrelevant'', in any case. No more Games for you, my dear. One of the most pleasant surprises of changing teams I found was a profound weight off my shoulders.” She looked down at her chest. “''Figurative'' weight. Appearances aside, there are no real ‘Rules’ or ‘Standards’ for feminine behavior in Cape Nord. No points to gain or lose. We do have a major role in the Games, but I’ll introduce you to it when I feel you’re ready. For now, just get used to that body.”

Dale grimaced. “To tell the truth, I’m already dreading…well..you know.” She blushed. “That…that monthly thing.”

“Menstruation, Dale. You can say the word,” Nadene said. “You’re more entitled to it ''now'' than ''before,'' after all.”

“We have to go through a few cycles so the doctors are sure we’re healthy,” Iphigenia said. “Then we can use the pill.”

“There are some further applications of medical nanotechnology that look promising in that regard, but they’re still being researched,” Nadene said. “Maybe in a few years…”

Iphigenia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I hadn’t heard about those.”

“It’s in my field, so I do keep up with developments,” Nadene said. “Especially given my new…''personal interest'' in the matter.”

“Perhaps I could invite you to a meeting to discuss it with some others?” Iphigenia suggested. “There are a few women I know who would be ''very'' interested—including some who are married to prominent venture capitalists.”

“I’m at your disposal, Iphigenia.” Nadene chuckled. “And I think I’m beginning to see how the Sewing Circle gets things done.”

“So…uh…” Dale said. “…is there anything else ''I'' should be doing now?”

“Just follow the program your therapists have laid out for you,” Iphigenia said. “They ''are'' the professionals, after all. But Nadene and I will be around to observe, discuss, and advise. I’m particularly interested in giving your RIDE a close examination, given all their implications.”

“Uh…I guess I am, too,” Dale admitted. “I didn’t exactly have much of a chance the first time.”

Nadene nodded. “Then we’ll all look forward to it, I guess.”

“In any event, that was all we had to tell you at this point,” Iphigenia said, rising. “We will be in touch with you soon about the next steps.”

“Uh…all right,” Dale said. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

{{separator|k}}

That evening, Dale lay in her bunk staring at the ceiling as she reflected on the events of the day. Encountering Iphigenia Rose had been a surprise, but the real shock had come in what she’d had to say about the real purpose of the Sewing Circle. Thinking about it, Dale supposed it did explain a lot. Like why so many women actually ''stayed'' in Cape Nord rather than leaving for somewhere with a more modern outlook. They were playing their ''own'' Game, just with vastly different rules.

In an odd way, the knowledge actually made Dale feel a little bit better about the place. As a Man, he’d increasingly felt guilty about taking part in a system with such old-fashioned attitudes toward women—but now, knowing that the women had their own methods of evening the odds changed everything. As well as, well, ''being'' one…

''I guess Nextus isn’t the only place where everything is a game,'' she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

=Chapter 3=

''Fort Oslo Nextus Military Installation'' 
''Cape Nord '' 
''June 14, 121 A.L.''

Dale sat on a bench in the maintenance garage, paging through the media tablet containing the RIDE’s documentation, which had ''finally'' caught up with her. It began with about three pages of warnings in increasingly large font and bright colors about how it wasn’t a good idea to Fuse an (f) model if you’d been born an (m), and vice versa. “Sheesh, ''now'' you tell me,” Dale muttered.

In addition to the tech specs, the documentation gave her RIDE’s name as “Sarabe.” Dale wasn’t entirely sure why her RIDE even ''had'' a name, unless maybe it was to help differentiate the genders—but the name “Sarabe” was unfamiliar enough that it might not be immediately recognized as female, so she wasn’t sure that was necessarily the reason. Maybe it was for use in command phrases, like the “Alexa” keyword from ancient Amazon hardware, so your RIDE would more easily be able to tell when you were giving it an order, and other RIDEs wouldn’t get confused?

Other than the warnings and such, there really wasn’t much in the manual that Dale didn’t already know from her experience with the Ad-I bikes. It was some small consolation that she (well, at the time, ''he'') had at least been ''almost'' right, and if she hadn’t had the bad luck to pick a female model she would have been…well, he’d probably still have been busted to Private, or something, but he’d probably have figured the experience was worth it.

The officious Lieutenant in charge of the fort’s mecha pool had a pair of snow leopard ears and a tail, himself. The tail was long and comically fluffy. “Corporal Combs, unit Sarabe has been assigned to you with a slightly downgraded DE frame. If you’ll check your manual you’ll see that ‘MCA’ stands for ‘Medium ''Command ''Armor’. Yes, this was originally intended for one of the Captains. As of now, with the command assist units removed, it is yours.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dale said.

“The so-called ‘RI’ that replaces the Ad-I in the older models are a vast improvement. They are conversational and obey orders with much greater comprehension. They even seem to have a ''personality''. The higher-ups assure me that this is just a vastly improved front-end to the AI. However, you are expected to help maintain your equipment.”

“Yessir. I did a fair share of work on my old Tornado and Chinook. The tech doesn’t seem too different.”

“At heart, it’s not. The big differences are in that new RI core, and associated internal seals and such. There’s a link to the repair manuals in the back of the operator’s manual. Read those, too, when you have the time.”

“Yessir.”

The lieutenant waved a hand toward the open hangar door. “Once you’ve saddled up, head out there and follow the signs to the test range. We aren’t real busy in these parts, with the major fronts of the war being so far off to the south, so you should have the place pretty much to yourself.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, ''please'' try not to make any messes I’ll have to clean up.”

“Understood, sir. Will do my best, sir.”

Dale waited to roll her eyes until the Lieutenant had turned his back to stalk away—nearly swishing her nose with that tail of his. Not that it was exactly a surprise he’d think of her as a screw-up. The story of what she’d done had presumably made its way to all branches of the gossip grapevine by now. In any case, here she was, ready for the next stage of her therapy—which was going to be going ahead and operating this RIDE, and seeing how her new “condition” affected the familiarization process.

Dale was a little surprised they were just letting her do this by herself, without any observers or onlookers peering over her shoulder. But then, it wasn’t as if she was ever ''really'' by herself. She was sure an army of camera drones were following her around at all times, recording her every movement and nuance of behavior for later perusal. There was probably a data tap on the RIDE’s computer, too. But at least they were letting her have the ''illusion'' of privacy.

She approached the RIDE, which was awaiting her in its skimmer form. In this mode, it was based off of a CS-9 Tempest Command Skimmer with leonine touches to the armor shell and roughly paw-shaped lifter pods—two in front, a bigger one in back. Effectively an oversized skimmer tricycle, the Tempest was a sleek, semi-enclosed craft in which officers could command the battlefield, when combined with the communications specialists. Where there should have been antennae and comm lasers there were now stubs or armored covers. Modifications aside, it was all ready for her to mount up and pull out.

A red light on the instrument cluster turned yellow after she stepped onto the saddle. She thumbed the activation panel, and was greeted by a flashing warning. “Please perform manual startup,” she read. The procedure came up on the screen. ''They didn’t shut it down correctly after they got me out. Well, okay.''

So, one by one, she brought each system online. Sarium batteries fully charged, hardlight enviro seal and aeroshield nominal, interlock activation, connect dynothermic regulator, infracell capacitors up, cavorite lifters go…it took the better part of five minutes before she could get to the last step. “RI to Active Mode.”

“System ready. What are your orders?” a mellifluous yet rumbly female voice purred. It was the same voice she remembered from those first few moments waking up Fused.

Dale considered. The tone of voice was much friendlier than her old Ad-I had been, at least. “We’ll be doing a standard shakedown for new field units. Confirm.”

“Confirmed. Shakedown procedure is loaded. Proceed?”

“Affirmative.” She ''could'' just have said “yes,” Dale supposed, but using big words made her feel more important.

“Acknowledged. Proceeding.” The lifters fired, and the bike lifted from the ground. It moved a lot more smoothly than the old “Schnook” or “Tomato,” she had to admit—but on the other hand, it was a lot larger, too.

They pulled out onto the tarmac of the staging area, and headed for the far edge where a road led off toward the RIDE practice field. Dale kept her hands on the controls but let the AI drive them, while she got used to how the vehicle moved. She could take manual control a little later, but just as well to learn to drive where fewer prying eyes would see her every goof-up.

The practice field wasn’t far away, under a small hardlight dome that would prevent any ordnance misfires from harming the rest of the base. Within the dome were a variety of terrains—urban, grassland, desert, forest, arctic—with targets and obstacles located in each. There were simulated enemy positions that could be activated, even to the point of including mobile enemy forces in augmented reality. Dale didn’t plan to do anything that fancy today, though.

Once inside the dome, Dale switched to manual control and started teaching herself to drive. It wasn’t too different from the old Ad-I bikes, but a larger vehicle had different steering characteristics. Manual control or not, the AI running the thing wouldn’t let her outright crash it into anything, for which small favor Dale was thankful.

After a few minutes of driving practice, she pulled up in front of a target range, with hardlight targets that would register hits from RIDE weapons. In spite of herself, Dale grinned. “Sarabe, weapons hot,” she said.

“Weapons hot,” the computer voice echoed, as the indicators on the dashboard flipped from green to red. A holographic head-up display appeared in the air in front of her.

“Well, now. Let’s see what you’re armed with.”

“My weapons loadout includes two SR-88 5 kilowatt pulse cannons, two HMM-10 mini-missile launchers, one—”

“Uh…that’s enough, Sarabe. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal Combs,” Sarabe replied.

“Uh…don’t mention it.” Dale wasn’t sure what had moved her to thank a dumb machine, but it just seemed right to be polite to something that talked to you. The old Schnook hadn’t been programmed to say much of anything. ''I guess at least I’ll be safe when the robot uprising comes,'' Dale thought wryly.

Dale centered the reticle on the target in front of her and squeezed the trigger. The pulse cannons mounted over the left and right lifter pods fired, neatly holing the target. “Nice.” The guns weren’t as powerful as most other vehicles of that size would have mounted, but this bike’s original intent was for commanding soldiers on the battlefield, not getting into the thick of fighting itself.

“Weapon effectiveness verified,” Sarabe said. “Targeting sensors green. Proceed to Fuse test?”

Dale swallowed. Of course, she ''was'' going to have to Fuse. That was part of the point of the exercise. And ever since she had understood what was expected of her, she’d been trying to psyche herself up to it. It did have just a ''few'' negative associations, after all. She was tempted to put it off for another day…but if she did that, what was going to stop her from continuing to put it off? “Yes,” she whispered, then cleared her throat and said it again, louder. “Yes, Sarabe. Proceed to Fuse test.”

“Affirmative,” the RI said. The Tempest started to hum around her.

Ad-I cycles had their quirks, some of them were bad enough that the models had earned some derisive nicknames. The Tornado was the “Tomato” and the Chinook the “Schnook”. Transition from cycle to armor mode took nearly thirty seconds for all the parts to slide into place correctly.

From hum to completion took only a third of that time. Dale felt a tingle as the Fuser nanites infused her body from head to foot. Then there was an almost dizzying shift in perspective.

'':Implant online. Are you in distress, Corporal Combs?:'' Sarabe’s voice said in her head.

Dale looked around, and down at herself, and took stock of her situation. She’d Fused Tornados and Chinooks dozens of times, and had thought she knew what to expect—being enclosed by a giant suit of armor, like a power-amplified spacesuit. But she didn’t feel that, this time. It might have been the neural link that these new nanites provided, but she simply felt like she ''was'' a four-meter-tall metal lion-woman now.

“In distress…? Uh…no. I think I’m in a ''lioness''.” Dale chuckled nervously, looking down at her hands and flexing the fingers. She watched the metal pieces slide in and out of each other, as the neural feedback provided a completely natural feeling of joints flexing in her own hands. “This…this is amazing.”

Dale felt an odd undercurrent of…''frustration'' somewhere in the back of her mind. It was a strange sensation. Was the RIDE’s neural link system somehow rechannelling and echoing the frustration she felt about her own general situation? It felt strange, and a little foreign, but then, these RIDEs were new technology, and her own situation wasn’t exactly a natural one to her either.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Sarabe said. For a moment, her voice seemed warmer than the monotone command responses.

Dale blinked. ''She’s glad?'' It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about that, then she remembered what the Lieutenant had said, about the machines seeming to have personalities. Clearly, it had to be some very clever interface programming, to be able to come off as this natural.

But really, she didn’t have time to go down the rabbit hole of playing conversation right now. There were still more tests to go through. “Ah…right. So, I guess, maneuvers testing now.”

“Affirmative, Corporal,” Sarabe said. “You may move us when ready.”

It was ''nothing ''like the Tomato or the Schnook, where getting the thing to move smoothly in armor mode took very deliberate movements. A significant part of an infantry soldier’s brain power was needed just to keep from falling on your faceplate. But this? This was just a literal stroll down the range.

Dale remembered what she’d read in the manual. Fuser nanites infused her body and brain, creating a direct connection to the powered armor. It might as well be her own flesh.

Well, time to play with it. She took a tentative step forward, then another. With each step, the movement came much more smoothly and it felt much more natural. It did feel a little weird, having metal for skin instead of flexible, well, ''skin'', but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t get used to. She spun around, leaped into the air, tried a jump-kick, nearly landed on her butt because she wasn’t any good at jump-kicks, but managed to catch herself and decided to keep things a bit less fancy from then on. She moved into the forested area, and squeezed between the trees—which seemed a lot less taller to her now.

The more she moved, the more natural it felt. She was a four-meter-tall soldier, armed with pulse guns and considerably more agility than an Ad-I. And, assuming it worked as advertised, she was immune to the lethal qubitite sand that had cost so many lives, by dint of the new internal hardlight seal technology that accompanied these new designs. If it weren’t that the most important elements of the technology had leaked practically as soon as they’d been invented, Nextus would have been ''invincible!'' As it was, they only had a ''slight'' advantage now, but even so.

For the first time, Dale felt a twinge of real regret unrelated (well, ''mostly'' unrelated) to the sex change. If he hadn’t screwed things up, surely he’d have been given one of these of his own before too very much longer—and gotten to experience its joys while still being male. But, on the other hand, he might well have been expected to enter combat that way, which could have led to injury or death, whereas now she was the subject of an extensive research project that shouldn’t take her anywhere near the front lines for the time being, so…better female than buried? It didn’t exactly rhyme, but she didn’t expect to be wed any time soon so she couldn’t really say “better married than buried.” (”Better wed than dead”?)

After a short time of moving through the forest, they crossed a climate boundary into the arctic area, and came upon another target range. Dale lined up a shot with the pulse cannons, which were now mounted along her forearms, and ''almost'' hit the bull’s eye. Well, it wasn’t bad given how little practice she’d actually had.

As she finished, a chime sounded, reminding her that she had another appointment with Iphigenia and Nadene back at the hospital shortly. Well, it was probably just as well. She supposed she ought to take things slowly, and this was just about enough time with the RIDE for now. She triggered the de-Fuse, settling back into the saddle as Sarabe changed back to command trike mode around her. “Time to head back now, I guess.”

As she pulled into the parking lot assigned to her at the Fort Oslo mecha pool, she patted the dashboard awkwardly. She felt a little silly talking to a dumb machine, but it just ''felt right'' to be polite. Even if it didn’t mean anything to the machine, it meant something to ''her.'' “Uh…well, thanks for the fun today. I’ll come back and see you again as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Corporal Combs,” Sarabe said. “I’ll look forward to it.”

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Captain Garland and Iphigenia Rose looked like they’d spent the last couple of hours talking together while waiting for Dale to show up. The conference room table had several half-empty plates of snacks, including a stack of small pastel-colored cakes, a nearly empty carafe of iced tea, all sitting on a lace-edged white tablecloth.

Iphigenia was more on-form, wearing a low-cut red dress, heels, and full makeup. Her usually-wavy hair had been styled, looking smooth and shiny, draped over her left shoulder.

Captain Garland, on the other hand, looked just the same. Though she seemed more at ease with Cape Nord’s most famous author in the room this time.

“Dale, nice you could join us today,” Iphigenia said. “Please, have a seat. Take a snack if you like. I brought ''petit fours'' cakes. Baked them myself.”

Dale raised an eyebrow. “Really? You strike me as the kind of person who’d have an army of servants to do that kind of thing.”

“Well…not servants. Autokitchen.” She shrugged. “But I pushed all the buttons myself, anyway.”

“And I suppose that counts for something,” Nadene put in. “Here in Cape Nord, anyway.”

“''Anyway'',” Iphigenia said. “I decided to dress to the nines today and did a little bodysculpting besides. There’s an important issue I’ve been told we shouldn’t put off much longer. We have to inform your family of your, uh, accident.”

''Oh, crap.'' “So soon?”

“‘Fraid so,” Nadene said. “We’ve actually had our first battlefield emergency crossride incident the past couple days—the day we first met, in fact. The victim will be here within sixty hours. So we need to get you into the next phase before they arrive. That means facing the music.” The Captain smiled. “And you’re not the only one who’s going to have to say hello to family again.” She tapped herself on the chest. “I’ll finally get to see my wife and kids again after four months. Though I’m frankly looking forward to it, awkwardness aside.”

“Uh…well, congratulations, I guess?” Dale said. “But…uh…I’m just fine with staying anonymous for now. My family…the traditional Cape Nord gender roles…uh…that’s a whole can of worms I’d rather just leave on the shelf, if you know what I mean.”

“Unfortunately I don’t think we have much choice here,” Iphigenia said. “You’re the first official accidental sex-change of the war. Captain Garland’s situation is similar, but she came from the development program—a whole different kettle of fish. Plus, she’s a Nextan.

“There are enough Cape Nord boys on the front lines that there’s a good chance what happened to you will happen again, to one of them. So you can’t hide away from this. We have to meet it head-on. We have to show the rest of Cape Nord that you’re already a well-adjusted woman.”

“But what if I’m'' not?''” Dale asked plaintively. “I mean, I don’t'' feel'' like a well-adjusted woman.”

“It’s very simple to'' act'' the part,” Iphigenia said reasonably. “Once you’ve put on the act for long enough, it takes on its own reality. We’re here to help you with that. And, with that goal in mind, it’s time you gave serious thought to taking the next step for yourself.”

Dale stared at her. “And…what ‘next step’ is that?”

“Well, to be perfectly blunt, your shape needs to be more womanly. Not, I should add, in an exaggerated way. But enough to demonstrate that you’re obviously on our ‘team’ as it were.”

Dale groaned…but it wasn’t wholly unexpected. “So, what, bigger boobs?”

“For a start. I have some recommendations,” Iphigenia said, handing her a tablet. “Have a look and tell me what you like.”

“I worked with her on this, Dale,” Captain Garland said. “There’s nothing here that will impact your physical fitness for duty.”

The image on screen depicted Dale in a uniform variant with a black knee-length skirt. But it wasn’t the uniform that drew her real attention, it was the vital statistics. Five centimeters shorter, ten kilos lighter, shoulder-length hair, and C-cup breasts. The last part was something of a surprise. “I was expecting you’d want my chest, well, larger.”

Iphigenia smiled. “That size is quite comfortable. I’ve sported girls that size more often than not. You don’t need a wasp waist and a pair of double-Ds, unless you ''really'' want them; plenty of Cape Nord women are petite. Swipe left to see some different outfits. I’ll be providing your civilian wardrobe.”

Dale sighed. “Is all this really necessary?”

“I’m afraid so. Not only for ''your'' sake, mind, but for all those who will follow you,” Iphigenia said. “If we want them to have the best chance of acceptance, we must have ''you'' make the best possible first impression. A mistake now could set ''them'' back by years.”

Dale swiped left, past a number of outfits. They all had one thing in common. “I don’t see a pair of pants in the lot.”

“When was the last time you saw a woman wearing pants in Cape Nord?” Iphigenia said. “Or with short hair, for that matter?”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Oh, of ''course'', Cape frigging Nord. I’ve only lived here my whole life. You’d think I’d notice.”

“Your ''military'' wardrobe ''will'' have both uniform pants ''and'' skirts, in accordance with the Nextus military uniform code,” Nadene pointed out. “You won’t be forced to wear one or the other. And if you want your hair short again, just visit the barber after you come back from civilian activities. It’s not as if it’s terribly hard to sculpt it longer again should you have the need.”

The smile of sheer relief she gave the Captain made Iphigenia noticeably uncomfortable.

“Don’t thank me yet, Corporal,” Garland continued. “The very fact that this technology is capable of this is a propaganda victory for Sturmhaven. We expect all volunteers from Cape Nord to request assignments where it’s not a risk.”

“In the worst case, new male volunteers from Cape Nord will simply stop,” Iphigenia said. “Like it or not, Dale, the fact that you were the first makes you a public face. There’s going to be a lot of media interest in you.”

“NextusMil will keep that to a minimum, but it ''is'' necessary,” Nadene said. “Sturmhaven has already used this technology to swell their ranks—mostly with unwilling male conscripts.”

Dale felt nauseous at the thought of any man being ''forced'' to go through with what he had. And who knew if they had Cape Nord’s neural rewrite process to help with the dysphoria?

She sighed. “Well, since I guess there’s no going back, I might as well go forward. At least a little.”

Iphigenia smiled. “It won’t be as bad as all that, I promise. And remember—cosmetic matters aside, there are ''no'' rules or requirements for being a woman. No one is going to insist that you go out and find some unwitting man upon whom to work your wiles.”

Nadene snorted. “Not the ''first'' week, anyway.”

Iphigenia rolled her own eyes, genteelly. “Now, Captain…”

“We actually have a good number of Cape Nord women in NextusMil, believe it or not,” Nadene said. “Now that I know what I know, I guess we provide them with the venue to take charge of things ''openly'' that they couldn’t get in Cape Nord.”

“What a woman does outside of Cape Nord is her own business,” Iphigenia said. “Besides, the same risks for an emergency crossride exists for them as it did for you, Dale. How we’ll deal with that if it should happen, we’re still working that out. The City Fathers are considering a special Man Card that allows them to bypass the Game entirely.”

“Sounds entirely too reasonable to pass,” Nadene said. “But I guess you never know.”

Dale sighed, then looked at the images of her further-altered self on the tablet, wearing all kinds of dresses and other feminine things. “Well, might as well get this over with.”

“It won’t be all bad,” Iphigenia promised. “You might very well find that you will ''feel'' better after the sculpt, once your hormones have had a chance to reach a more natural balance. And, personally, I find it always feels nicer to look nicer.”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Dale told her.

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As Dale climbed into the biosculpt chamber, she realized that she’d gotten so distracted by the conversation surrounding her re-sculpt that she’d entirely forgotten the reason it was necessary—her impending reunion with her family.

''Oh, yeah, so, they want to make sure ''everything goes well.'' So naturally they’re gonna reintroduce me to the people who raised me to fit into a society that I’m now on the complete opposite side of. That’s gonna go ''marvelously'', I just know.''

Her thoughts turned back to Sturmhaven, and what Captain Garland had said about them. ''God, is there ''nothing'' those barbarians can’t mess up?'' It was just a touch ironic, but Dale thought she could find it in her to be just a little more committed to the war cause now. ''Can’t let them win and maybe start doing this to people wholesale.''

She made a silent vow that, no matter how annoying or inconvenient the whole process might get, she was nonetheless going to do her best to make it successful. If she could turn her screw-up into something that helped the war effort, it might just be one of the only worthwhile things she’d ever done.

“We’re giving you the anesthetic, Corporal Combs,” the doctor said when the pod closed. “We hope you like the results. Good night.”

“Thanks, Doctor. I hope I like the results, too.”

=Chapter 4=

''June 15, 121 A.L.''

Dale examined herself in the full-length mirror—with all her clothes on, this time. Goodness knew she’d spent enough time looking at herself with them off. Her new body shape was…impressive. Not in the sense of being excessive, or even in the sense of being attractive, but just in the sense of being…''her.''

''That woman in the mirror is ''me''. Me with clothes on.''

Much as she’d have preferred pants, she had to admit she cut an impressive figure in her dress whites with skirt. For all that they were dress whites for a corporal, and not terribly fancy in any case, they still looked sharp and crisp.

And that face…

It was just a little softer, chin a bit pointier, eyes a bit larger. A few subtle changes made a huge difference. ''I look a lot like…my older sister.''

The ears were still a lion’s, though, and the skirt had been designed with a slot in the back for her tail. Her hair had been turned a tawny color to match them. ''Well, if nothing else, those “tags” will demonstrate how fancy this new sculpting tech is.''

Iphigenia, who would be along for this reunion, looked in. “How are you holding up, Dale?”

Dale started to fold her arms, but didn’t want to wrinkle her uniform. “I’m fine. I think. Bra straps aren’t digging into my shoulders anymore.”

She smiled. “That’s good. Shall we get going?”

Captain Garland wouldn’t be present for this—she was in Nextus, meeting her own family again. NextusMil would be breaking this to the public in general today as well.

Dale wondered if her family had actually been ''told'' yet, or if they were just going to spring her on them as a complete surprise. She couldn’t imagine that the “complete surprise” approach would have a very good outcome, but on the other hand, how likely were they to believe the kind of story NextusMil would be telling them? Dale still found it hard to believe, herself, and it had happened ''to'' her.

She knew the address by heart, of course. 542 Stanton Road, Stanton Gallery. A modest two-storey home: five bedrooms, three bathrooms, living, family, and dining rooms. It was located just to one side of one of the main prism light shafts in the cavern, so they usually got good sunlight, even if it wasn’t necessarily the warmest.

She was the second of five children, and her older sister Darcy wasn’t likely to be there. There was something going on between her and their parents Dale didn’t understand. It being summer, the younger kids would be home from school, so she could probably expect to see them. What she was going to say to ''any'' of them, she honestly didn’t have any Zharusly idea.

A short while later, Dale sat in the car, watching out the window as it rolled through familiar territory, growing more and more nervous the closer they got to home. She hadn’t expected to be back here for quite some time. Before the event, Dale’s next furlough wouldn’t have been due for months. And yet, surprise! Here she was. In fact, it was going to be rather a surprise for ''everyone'', for various different reasons. It felt like there should be cameras filming it for a reality vid show. But then, given the newsworthiness of the event, there probably ''were''.

The car passed by places she knew so well—her elementary and middle schools, and the local NordCo General Fabbery that was the usual hangout for bored teens—when they weren’t out playing in one of the parks. Cape Nord preferred to give their children places to have adventures—creeks full of pollywogs to catch, playgrounds of things to climb in and around, bicycles to get as far from home as they could, as long as they returned before dark. They were given a lot of free rein growing up to get muddy, skinned knees, even broken bones. Such things built character. And there was nothing stopping the girls from joining with the boys at that age—the Games came later. It was only in the late teens that boys became Men. What happened with the girls at that time Dale hadn’t known about—at least, until now.

Dale wasn’t breaking the news to her parents ''herself''. That was actually up to Iphigenia Rose, representing the Sewing Circle, and one of the City Fathers. Everything was supposed to be timed so that she would arrive shortly after Dale’s family was told.

Two blocks away the car abruptly stopped on the side of the road. The internal comm rang an urgent tone. Iphigenia looked upset when Dale answered. “Dale, there’s been a…complication.”

Dale’s ears perked. “What do you mean by that?”

There was a sound of shouting in the background. The comm only showed Iphigenia’s head, filtering out whatever was going on near her, but not the noise. “Your parents aren’t taking this well.”

“I honestly didn’t think they would. Are we still doing this?”

“You’ll have to give us a few minutes to calm them down first, dear.”

“Good luck with ''that,''” Dale said, with feeling. “If you manage it, let us kids know how, because that’s more than ''we'' were ever able to do.”

“Give us a little more time. I think they’re just not convinced. We’ll let you know when they’re ready.”

The car waited nearly half an hour before they moved on. Dale felt a growing knot of anxiety in her belly, like a slug of concrete. Then they were in front of the house. Like most homes in Cape Nord it was made of brick, with some wood siding for aesthetic touches. Her father’s old car was in the driveway—it had ''wheels'', not lifters. It was his pride and joy. There were the flower boxes in the windows, her mother’s work. The area got enough natural light that allowed a small lawn. There were a few toys strewn about it.

It all looked so deceptively ''normal''. If you ignored the media floaters, the official Nextus military skimmer parked in the street, and Iphigenia’s distinctive rose-colored Donizetti skimmer. Dale swallowed the lump in her throat for the sixteenth time, then climbed out of the car, went up the steps, and opened the door.

She had gone over'' what'' she was going to say a hundred times over the last few days, and fifty more times in the car, and had finally settled on an approach of attempted normality. “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” she called out—as if the fact that she was now the wrong biological sex was something that might simply be ''overlooked'' if she just pretended hard enough that everything was normal.

The temperature inside the house felt like it dropped ten degrees.

The youngest, Conway, age eight, stared at her, gaping like a fish. Next in age was brother Jerry, age sixteen. He’d idolized Dale for joining NextusMil and could recite specifications for a half dozen AIDE models like Dale’s Tornado. Now, his face wore an expression of utter bewilderment.

Then there was Cindy, age eighteen. She resembled her mother more strongly than her older sister, which made the tomboyish preferences when she was younger a subject of ''much'' disapproval from their mother. Their mother was adamant that she not leave home until she married—whether to a Man or another woman. She was starting at Cape Nord University in the fall. She kept tilting her head left and right, trying to make sense of the young woman she was seeing.

The eldest, Darcy, six years older than Dale, was nowhere to be seen, which was no surprise. Darcy was married to a Man named Scoresby—Dale had forgotten the Man’s first name—a young politician in the caverns on the other end of the polity. Their mother alternated between being proud she was doing so well for herself and aggravated that she seemed to have largely cut ties with the rest of the family.

And then there were Dale’s parents themselves. Her father, Bill, had adopted the suburban father Man style, and looked very much like the depiction of a father in one of the ancient sitcoms, or perhaps that clip art figure associated with the Church of the Sub-Genius—even to the point of occasionally smoking a pipe. The pipe was nowhere in sight at the moment, however.

And then there was her mother, Gloria—the very model of the Cape Nord housewife and mother, perhaps even more than she knew. She wore her brown hair in a bun, and an expression of stern disbelief.

“I know you didn’t expect to be seeing me again so soon,” Dale continued desperately. “Or to be seeing me…well…like'' this.'' But here I am!”

After a long moment of silence, Dale’s mother spoke. “How do we even know that you are…who they ''say'' you are?”

But Dale had been ready for that question, at least. “Remember the time I wanted to go to band camp in Burnside but you didn’t want me to be that far away, and I sulked for days? Remember the time you and Dad had that big argument about whether I could cut my hair in a military style buzz cut in my senior year? Remember the birthmark I have on my left…ah…place? It’s still there, by the way.”

Utter silence. Iphigenia’s expression was one of encouragement, but from the look in her eyes she harbored some doubts. Everything was going pear-shaped very quickly.

“You get my son…my dau…my ''child ''out of your army ''right now!''” Gloria Combs snarled with an edge of pure fury Dale had only heard during an argument with Darcy. “HOW DARE you do this to him! HOW DARE YOU VIOLATE MY SON!”

The generic NextusMil officer they had sent to break the news responded with a certain unflappability in the face of sheer fury. “Your child has volunteered for an important analysis of her…situation, Mrs. Combs. She is quite psychologically able to adapt.”

''This was ''never ''going to be a good day.'' Dale sighed. “Look…I think it’s a little too early for those discussions right now. This is…kind of an adjustment, but I’m still fundamentally ''me''. And I don’t see any need to change anything ''else'' just yet.”

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re not my son,” Gloria said.

Dale rolled her eyes. “Well, not ''anymore…''”

“The military is ''no plac''e for a woman!” she continued. “And I want you out of it! Right now!”

“As we told you, she’s not currently eligible for a medical discharge,” the NextusMil officer said.

“What happened to me was my own stupid fault, mother,” Dale said. “But I’ll adapt. I have to. Anyway, I’m an adult, so it’s ''my'' decision in the end.”

Bill turned to his wise, then gently grasped her shoulders. “Honey, I think we need to cool off for a while. All of us do.”

“I know how much of a shock this is,” Iphigenia said. “It’s ''no less'' of a shock to your own child. But she’s hale and healthy and getting our best treatment to make sure she stays that way.”

“Holy shit,” Jerry finally said.

“Jerry! ''Language''!” Gloria rebuked.

The young man just nodded, then smiled a little. “Can I have your IDE model collection? You’re a girl. I mean, you should have dolls or stuffed animals or something.”

“I’m a ''woman,''” Dale corrected him. “I can collect models if I want to. Besides, I spent hours building those.”

“Excuse me,” Gloria said, shaken. “I’m going to lay down for awhile.”

“Go ahead. I need to get my thoughts together,” Bill said. He looked like he needed a stiff drink. There was a well-stocked liquor cabinet in the living room.

Cindy, who hadn’t spoken yet, gave her new sister an appraising look. “So if one of those RIDE things did that to you, what would happen if I got into a male one? Would I end up with a dick?”

“Yes, you would,” the Nextus officer said. “In fact, your polity has been using the same process ''without'' a RIDE for several years now—usually in the opposite direction, but there is no reason it wouldn’t work in reverse as well.” All eyes turned to Iphigenia Rose, who once again looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Cindy!” Gloria exclaimed.

“Just asking questions, Ma,” the younger woman said, shrugging.

“This is going to be awkward for everybody, I know,” Dale said. “Maybe I should go, come back later when everyone’s had more time to get used to the idea.”

“See you in, like, five years then,” Cindy snarked.

“Anyway, this sort of thing is going to happen to lots more people, in both directions,” Dale continued. “As the first—well, ''one'' of the first accidents, whatever I do could make stuff easier or harder for everyone who comes after me, especially the ones from here. I’ve never exactly been real big on responsibility, I know, but…sometimes when your life gets changed, some of your attitudes do, too. So I’ve got a duty—not just to the army, but to the future of people like me. And I’m going to carry those duties out.” She started to cross her arms for emphasis, then stopped as she realized how awkward that would look. She still wasn’t sure if she should put them over, across, or under her breasts. She settled with putting them on her hips.

Iphigenia nodded at something, then walked over to Dale. “I think it’d be best if we left the house for a while, Dale. To let things settle in.”

“I could use a break from this,” Dale admitted quietly.

The Nextus officer also nodded at something, and at the City Father, who had remained silent the whole time, until now. “I think we’ve accomplished all we can here for now,” he said. “Perhaps we should give it a rest until evening, or possibly tomorrow.”

“Time to reflect,” Iphigenia added. “We’ll put off any statements to the media until then as well.”

“If any of you need to talk, you know my comm code,” Dale said, looking pointedly at her siblings. ''And if Mom or Dad calls, I’ll just let the voicemail get it.''

“Okay, then. Let’s go,” Iphigenia said, tugging Dale’s elbow. “We have a surprise for you outside. Don’t worry, it’s a good one,” she whispered.

“Oh, yay,” Dale said weakly. “A surprise. Haven’t had many of ''those,'' lately…”

As they were leaving, some chatter broke out. As the front door closed behind them she heard Jerry say “Did you see she has a ''tail''?”

“Well, that went…about like I thought it would,” Dale sighed. “At least we got out with our lives.” Tears started welling up almost immediately. “Shit. Shit! I was. I was…. ''Such. An. Idiot.'' I couldn’t wait for the damn ''manuals''. I just ''had ''to be the first in the Fort with a RIDE.”

“Not to be insensitive, but it doesn’t seem to have been ''entirely'' bad for you,” Iphigenia pointed out. “You seem to have found a calling, at least. Quite a change from the ‘directionless slacker’ your military performance evaluations spoke of.”

Dale blinked. “They said that about me, huh? And here I thought I had them all fooled.”

“I think you’ll find NextusMil is more observant than you give us credit for, Corporal,” the officer said. “You could have made Sergeant by now, if you’d put real effort into it.”

Dale chuckled. “What, and work for a living?”

The neighbors were in the streets, trying to get a good look at her. The Law had cordoned off the area a block to either side, just in case. But curious residents pointed cameras at her—or maybe they were just pointing them at Iphigenia, who wasn’t exactly a stranger to Cape Nord publicity and was much more attractive.

Strangely, the official NextusMil car she had arrived in was no longer present. In its place was a small black limousine skimmer with darkened windows. When Dale noticed it had Man Cave government plates she had a pretty good idea of who to expect inside.

A liveried chauffeur got the door and nodded Dale in first, then Iphigenia. The rear of the limo had two rows of facing seats, and as they slid onto the seats to the rear, Dale said, “Hello, sis.”

Darcy Scoresby was on the other seat, with the partition window to the driver open next to her head. As the chauffeur slid back into his seat, Darcy said, “Home,” then closed the window and turned back to face them. “Well, hello there, little ‘brother.’ You do get yourself into interesting messes, don’t you?”

Darcy was another model Cape Nord woman. Her long brown hair was done up in a loose braid, and her pastel blue dress set off the blue of her eyes. A compact purse rested on the seat beside her, with a half-empty flute of an orange beverage in the drink holder to her left. “There’s a carafe of mimosas in the mini-fridge, glasses in the rack there, if you’re thirsty,” Darcy added as an afterthought.

“Thank you for coming,” Iphigenia said.

“You should have called me sooner,” Darcy said. “I mean, this ''is'' a family matter. I shouldn’t have had to find out about it at the last minute before you tell the news.”

Iphigenia nodded. “That’s true, and I do apologize. In my defense, things have been ''fraught,'' the last few days. I knew your mother was Unseamly, but I never thought to look into the matter of adult siblings until just this morning.”

“’Unseamly?’” Dale asked. “…oh, it’s a pun, isn’t it. Cute.”

“Some woman somewhere was entirely too clever.” Darcy grimaced. “I really don’t like the word, but I guess I can’t argue with it applying where Mom is concerned.” She shook her head. “So how is it that my little brother is now my little ''sister?''”

“I was too eager to get my hands on the new RIDE equipment we were issued,” Dale said. “So I got permission to ‘familiarize myself’ with the equipment, which led to the equipment getting a little too familiar with ''me.''”

“And with ''your'' equipment,” Darcy observed wryly. “Is it really true? You’re really…?”

“One hundred percent,” Dale said ruefully. “It turns out that the nanotech they use for ‘operator compatibility’ is a bit…literally minded.”

“It’s a variation of the same technology used in my own change,” Iphigenia added. “Though Dale’s was very much an unexpected and unintended consequence. The Nextan techs missed something rather important in their process, so they sent Dale here for further treatment.”

“What would that be?”

“My brain was still expecting a male body, that’s what. So they fixed it,” Dale said, shifting in her seat, trying to find enough space for her tail. She tried to wrap it around her waist, but it wasn’t flexible enough. The tufted tip swished in agitation…right in Iphigenia’s face. “It was really, ''really ''unpleasant.”

“This is going to put the cat among the pigeons where it comes to Cape Nord’s participation in the war effort, you realize,” Darcy mused. “My husband is rather concerned. He called and asked me to find out whatever I could, given that he already knew I was your sister.”

“We ''had'' realized that,” Iphigenia acknowledged, gently pushing Dale’s tail away. “And the Sewing Circle will certainly do everything possible to help avert the worst case. We don’t exactly want Sturmhaven to win either, after all.”

“So…just how, uh, ''complete'' is the change?” Darcy asked.

“Down to the genes in my cells, or so the doctors tell me.” Dale shrugged. “It’s easy enough for going from male to female. All they have to do is double the X and remove the Y. I have no idea how it works the other way. Or if I even ''can ''go back.” She flashed her sister a manic grin. “But hey, get this! The docs would want me to wait a year or so to make sure nothing went wrong, but they say that I could theoretically even ''have a baby.''”

Iphigenia smiled. “There’s nothing theoretical about this. Several of our ‘unManned’ have already done so. Now, ''I’ve'' never wanted children, or to be married. Fortunately, as a woman I don’t feel any pressure to.”

“I’ve met a couple of the unManned,” Darcy said. “One lives in our ward. But I have to say I’ve never looked at the technology closely.” She gave her new sister an appraising look, much like Cindy had. “And you ended up cute, too. The ears add a certain something. Not to mention the tail.”

Dale sighed. “I’m ‘cute.’ Terrific.” She shook her head. “I tell you, sis, the sooner I can get out of this place and back to base, the happier I’ll be. At least the Nextus base is outside Cape Nord proper. Meaning no offense, but there’s entirely too much craziness going on in here. I can’t believe I never noticed any of it growing up.”

“Here you’d expect me to say ‘men are too dense to notice’ or something disparaging, but this isn’t Sturmhaven. Fact is that ''I'' didn’t really see anything wrong either until I was sixteen,” Darcy said. “Remember that trip to Uplift I took with my high school class? You would’ve been ten at the time.”

“Vaguely. I remember arguing it was really unfair Mom wouldn’t let me go to Burnside for band camp the next summer when she let you go to Uplift.”

“It was my first time out of Cape Nord. The first time I really got to see how other people lived. It’s why I ended up going to college in Uplift. Because it’s there that I finally realized that our entire society is based on a game we play. And Mom and Dad, get this, ''don’t know''.”

“Yeah. Iphigenia filled me in on that.” Dale glanced over at her. “Apparently the Sewing Circle figure she wouldn’t take the knowledge well.”

“As I’ve said, as the closest women to them, you do have the right to overrule us, if you feel your mother deserves to be in on the secret,” Iphigenia said. “It might lead to some awkwardness, but nothing we couldn’t handle if we needed to.”

“Our parents are really dense, Dale. I love ‘em to death, don’t get me wrong, but they’re just…dense as all hell.”

Dale sighed. “You won’t get any argument from me.” She glanced at Iphigenia. “What do you think, Darcy, ''should'' we break it to Mom? I think I agree she might not take it too well.”

“We’ll need to do something. If only to make life easier for our younger siblings. I’ve gently brought Cindy into the know, but our younger brothers will be completely in the dark.”

“As they’re supposed to be,” Iphigenia pointed out. “This whole system is at least partly for their benefit, too, after all.”

Darcy nodded. “The system works for almost everybody, if the parents are aware this is a game we play to pass the time. But our parents are a special case. Look at what happened with Dale. Don’t tell me some element of proving Manhood wasn’t a factor in doing what you did.”

Dale reflected on how proud she’d—''he’d''—been that he didn’t bother with silly un-Manly things like instruction books. “Uh…as the medieval Americans used to say, I plead the fifth.”

“I would point out that nearly no ''male'' parents are aware, at least anymore, that it ''is'' a game,” Iphigenia said archly. “If they even were when it started, as a way to prove to themselves they were no longer emasculated Sturmhaven chattel, and to what ''extent'' they weren’t.”

Dale pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. “I haven’t felt this mixed up since I first woke, ''before'' they fixed my brain.”

“Yes, it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Darcy said. She took Dale’s hand. “But you’re my kid sister now and I’m going to show you the ropes like I did for Cindy.”

“The Sewing Circle will gladly assist you, Darcy,” Iphigenia said.

“You and the rest of the unManned bring valuable experience, Miss Rose. But I’m her older sister, so it’s my duty to teach her certain things since our mother can’t.”

“I’m…not sure I like the sound of that, Darcy,” Dale said.

“Oh, that probably came off like I was going to brainwash you. Well, no. This isn’t Sturmhaven. It’s just that you don’t have the benefit of being a woman from birth, so there are things you’ll need to be ''told'' instead of learning as you grow up. But today’s already been full of heavy things.”

“I already ''know'' about the birds and the bees, you know.”

“Not from a woman’s ''firsthand ''perspective, you don’t,” Iphigenia said. “And an older sister’s experience will undoubtedly be invaluable. But that can wait, I suppose. At the moment, we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

Dale groaned and facepalmed again. “''Don’t'' remind me. Tell me again, why was all of this even necessary? Why did I even have to come back here ''at all'' after the neural reformatting was complete? Sarabe and I could just have gone back to Fort Brubeck and no one need have been the wiser.”

“Sadly, those who blaze new trails don’t get to have a convenient road there already,” Iphigenia said. “In order that others in the future ''will'' have the luxury of cutting ties with their old lives with fewer repercussions, you must forego that luxury.”

Dale sighed. “I know, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”

“We’re almost back to my place. I’ll introduce you to my husband, then I can show you to my boudoir.”

“Oh God. You have a ''boudoir.''”

“It’s just a fancy name for a lady’s private parlor. But it’s part of ''my space,'' where Men don’t get to come unless I invite them. So it’s a cozy little retreat, and a good place to discuss women’s matters over a nice afternoon tea.”

“An excellent idea!” Iphigenia approved.

“All right, well…lead the way, I guess.”

=Chapter 5=

''Fort Oslo'' 
''June 16, 121 A.L., 1 a.m.''

“Ugh,” Dale groaned with feeling, as she stepped back into the Fort Oslo mecha pool. After the day she’d had, she was tired enough that she halfway felt like going back to her room and crawling under the covers of the bunk for a good twelve hours. But her room was still located in the Cape Nord facility, and she felt like spending all the time she could ''outside'' of Cape Nord right now.

Goodness knew, she’d been just about Cape Norded to death today. First had been that brief reintroduction to her family, which had gone “well” in that the house hadn’t burned down and nobody had been killed, but that was about all you could say for it. Then Iphigenia and Darcy had taken her off to their house to meet Darcy’s husband, Dale’s brother-in-law, young up-and-coming politician Rupert Scoresby.

He was just a Wardsman, part of the low level polity government but hardly a City Father. Though for a man in his late twenties it was still quite an accomplishment, and could easily lead to advancement up the ranks of the Man Cave assuming no scandals brought him down. He seemed like a nice enough chap, perhaps a bit full of himself but some Men were just that way.

Then Darcy had invited Iphigenia and Dale into her private rooms, and they had discussed…Female Matters. That was the part that made Dale’s head ache. Looking at it from the perspective of someone who had been a Man less than a week before, she was surprised her head didn’t outright ''explode'' once conversation had gotten into feminine hygiene.

Somewhere along the way, Darcy had gotten a call from Cindy, with news of how their parents were…dealing with things. Or failing to deal, as the case might be. Somehow, her mother had gotten it into her head that she needed to hold a ''funeral'' for the son she had lost, before she could come to terms with the daughter she had gained. Dale wasn’t sure what to say to that. ''So…uh…whatever floats your boat, Mom?'' She supposed that comming her to yell, “Mom, I’m still right here!” wouldn’t do anybody any good, as tempting as it was.

Then, after perhaps a little too much wine in response to that news, Dale was at last left alone to make her way back home. Or…wherever else she wanted to go.

Fortunately, one of the perks of her new detached assignment was there was no explicit curfew, as long as she let her keepers know where she was at all times. About the only thing she could think of that would give her an excuse to be out of Cape Nord right now was putting in more familiarization time with Sarabe, so here she was. Tired she might be, but she was sure she could stay awake for at least a couple more hours before she had no choice but to return. She was so keyed up, she needed to do ''something'' to relax. And she had access to Fort Oslo’s facilities at any time.

The mecha pool was dark and empty, with pools of light surrounding each vehicle. There were plenty of transport skimmers and AIDE bikes, the occasional RIDE, and then there was Sarabe. Dale stepped into the pool of light, and gave the front fairing a friendly pat. “Well, hello again, Sarabe.”

The panel gauges and headlights lit up. “Good evening, Corporal Combs,” Sarabe said, in that same friendly, artificial tone of voice. “Are you here for further testing?”

“More or less, I guess. Really, I just felt like going for a ride somewhere that ''wasn’t'' Cape Nord. And maybe trying Fusing again.”

“I’m at your disposal,” Sarabe said. “Climb aboard.”

“Thanks.” Dale settled herself in the saddle again, and sighed with relief. “Whew…what a ''day.''”

“Did you have a trying time today?” Sarabe asked conversationally.

Dale blinked at her. ''My RIDE is asking me how my day went?'' But after a moment, she realized, it made sense. Conversation simulators like ELIZA had been around for hundreds of years, and naturally they’d want the RIDE to seem sympathetic to their operator. Heck, even the original primitive ELIZA had been capable of some halfway decent psychological counselling just by getting people to talk about their problems to what seemed like a friendly ear. So why not give that kind of ear to some grunts at war who could probably also use one? “Yeah, family problems. My own fault, I guess, and probably just about what I deserve.”

“Because you emergency-Fused with me without permission?”

Dale blinked again. That was kind of a big intuitive leap for an ELIZA system to make, but then, who knew how smart they could make a RIDE? “Ah…well, yeah. And then…this.” She gestured at herself.

“Your family is not able to accept the change?”

“Yeah, well, you know…Cape Nord. It makes people crazy.”

“But ''you'' grew up in Cape Nord,” Sarabe pointed out reasonably.

“Yeah, and here I am holding a conversation with a piece of machinery. Maybe I’m the craziest of them all.”

Sarabe didn’t reply to that. ''Maybe I broke it. Oh well.'' Dale kicked the starter, and pulled out of the garage, heading back for the training grounds again.

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Dale was awakened by an annoying pinging sound that grew louder moment by moment. She opened her eyes to see she was slumped in the seat of the skimmer trike, sitting in a clearing in the forest part of the training area as the sun rose.

The last thing she remembered clearly was stomping around the place in Sarabe’s Fuser form in the middle of the night. She had vague memories afterward of dozing curled up in the crook of a giant lioness in the middle of a vast savannah. And being…licked? ''I guess sleeping Fused gives you funky dreams.''

The pinging was the comm display on Sarabe’s dash. She reached out to answer. “Uh, hello?”

“Is everything all right, Corporal?” It was Doctor Abel, one of her therapists. “I noticed you’ve been out in the RIDE training area all night.”

“Uh…yeah, I’m fine, Doc. Took the RIDE out for some more testing, and managed to fall asleep in the middle of it. Slept pretty well, too.” She patted the dash. “Thanks, Sarabe.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal.”

“You probably shouldn’t make a habit of it. People have been starting to call asking about you, and it wouldn’t have looked good to say I had no idea where you were.”

Dale sighed. “I guess I should head back in, then. Make myself available and presentable. For my sins.” She rubbed her chin. “At least I don’t have to worry about shaving anymore.” ''My face, at least.''

“Finding the positive aspects is always a good idea, Dale,” the doctor said. “We’ll see you when you arrive.”

Dale yawned and stretched. “Well, back to the garage, I guess. But don’t worry—it won’t be for too long. I think in going to be throwing myself into my RIDE training duties every spare moment I get for the next little while, just because it’ll make it harder for my crazy family to get at me. Do you know my mother wants to hold a ''funeral'' for the ‘old me’? I’m like, are they going to fabricate a dick and a pair of balls and bury it in a tiny little casket?”

The lioness RIDE actually ''chuckled''. “I’m sure you’ll be able to cope somehow, Dale.”

“Yeah, thanks. I know you’re not a real person, but talking to you ''does'' help me feel better. So thanks for that, too.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal,” Sarabe said—her voice stiff and mechanical again.

“I doubt they’d go ''that'' far. But this kind of shock is a grieving process for some, Corporal,” Abel said. Dale realized she’d forgotten to close out the comm call. “They’ll bury something symbolic of your life as a man, perhaps. A couple of our unManned did something like that after their procedures.”

“I’ve half a mind to insist that they'' do'' go that far,” Dale said. “And make it open casket, with a viewing. It’s ''my'' funeral. If they really want to go through with this farce, why not go all the way?”

“I suggest burying your Man Card,” Abel said. He smiled. “You can always exhume it later if we find a way to reverse this.”

“I burned that thing last time I came back from furlough,” Dale said. “I was fed up with the place by then. Seemed the thing to do.”

“I suggest burying your new ''Platinum Man Card'', then.”

Dale blinked. “…what?”

“Going your own way, disdaining authority to the point of burning the trappings of it…these things are ''extra ''Manly, Corporal. And since it happened while you still'' were'' a Man, it applies retroactively.”

“Have I mentioned how ''batshit crazy'' this place is?” Dale wondered conversationally. ''Maybe I should just move to Nextus when I’m out of the service. ''“No offense.”

Dale looked up and realized that during the conversation Sarabe had already started back towards the mecha pool. She sighed, and leaned back in the seat. “Ugh, what a mess.”

“Come on back, Dale. We’ll see you when you get here.” This time the call actually ''did'' end. A few minutes later, Sarabe pulled back into the garage.

Dale climbed down from the saddle and gave the fairing another pat. “See you when I see you.”

“I will see you soon,” Sarabe replied, powering down.

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''Northcave Psychiatric Hospital''

“If you’ll recall, a few days ago I mentioned there was an additional emergency crossride incident,” Captain Garland said. “There have actually been two. They’re in neural treatment at present. We wanted you here once they were awakened.”

“Plus there’s your wife, Nadene,” Iphigenia said.

“Yes, there is…him,” Nadene said, blushing a little.

Dale’s ears perked. “Wife? Him?”

“My lovely wife decided to poke Sturmhaven in the eye and become a man,” Nadene said, looking about to burst into tears of joy. “Even knowing that there was no certainty he could ever change back after that.”

“Uh…wow,” Dale said. “I couldn’t imagine making that choice willingly. They must love you very much.”

“I ''know!''” Nadene said. “I think the technicians were going to have conniptions.”

Iphigenia smiled. “Well, from their point of view, the process was designed to ''make'' beautiful women…not to unmake them. But a few conniptions will do them good. If the process were known to be reversible, it’s always possible some of our women might want to change themselves, and work on their own Man Cards simply for the challenge of it.”

Dale blinked. “Really? You’re not all happy with being Cape Nord’s queens-behind-the-scenes?”

Iphigenia laughed. “’Queens-behind-the-scenes’? Clever. I’ll have to remember that turn of phrase. And no, Dale, the point is ''not'' to be in charge of things—not necessarily. If that were all we wanted, we would have agitated for open governmental recognition of the Sewing Circle beside the Man Cave decades ago. And we ''would'' have gotten it—make no mistake.” She shook her head. “No, the point is to ''enjoy'' ourselves—and make sure everyone else can, too, ''including'' the Men.”

Nadene frowned thoughtfully. “She has a point. Especially now that sarium technology means we’re nearly a true post-scarcity society. Look at how many polities have ''some'' kind of gamification built right into their governments. Like Nextus’s own bureaucratic Game.”

Iphigenia nodded. “To the point where people from other polities think they’re crazy for it. We’re well aware of how Cape Nord looks to the average non-Nordic, and I’ve heard much the same kind of muttering from ''our'' citizens about Nextus’s Game. Even Sturmhaven has its own way to play, for all that half its players have a rather crippling handicap.”

“That other half are considered more ''game tokens'' than actual players, I think,” Nadene pointed out.

“Quite right.” Iphigenia chuckled. “In any case, for all that I’m perfectly happy as I am now…even I do still get ''nostalgic'' at odd moments. I could see the appeal of trying our own game from the other side, now that I know how it is ''really'' played. ''Especially'' now that I know how it is really played. Of course, there’s the matter of my being a public figure and known unManned, but there could be ways to work around that—especially if I could change back again at a later date. It could make it an even more enjoyable challenge.” She shook her head. “Of course, that would depend on the process being reversible, given that I already underwent the process in the first place. As I understand it, there’s nothing saying it couldn’t be, in ''theory.'' It just needs development.”

Nadene raised an eyebrow. “So, perhaps if your nanotech experts get skeeved out by having to change women into men, they’ll put all their effort into finding out how to reverse it?”

“Cognitive dissonance can be a powerful force, dear.”

Dale shook her head. “I keep remembering that old saying about how, if you like law and sausage, you shouldn’t watch either one being made. The more I learn about how Cape Nord works behind the scenes, the crazier it all seems.”

Iphigenia giggled. “’Sausage’ might be the very ''last'' metaphor I’d have chosen to describe the Sewing Circle. Really, we’re more defined by our ''lack of'' sausages.”

Dale rolled her eyes, but was saved from the need to reply by an orderly opening the door to the small meeting room. “Doctor Abel says they’re ready to wake up.”

Nadene nodded to him. “We’ll be right there.”

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The awakening itself was being handled by the medical staff. Dale and Iphigenia waited in a small conference room. Nadene was permitted to be there in person for her now-husband’s awakening and would join them after some time to themselves.

Dr. Abel came in first. “Corporal Combs, Iphigenia Rose, I would like to introduce to you our first battlefield emergency ‘crossriders’ as they’re calling it. From Nextus, Private Ahmed Morton.” He motioned to an unseen person in the hallway.

The young black woman who entered wearing a NextusMil uniform (with pants!) looked around the room a little timidly. She saluted her superior. Morton’s physique was almost as sculpted as Dale’s was, and she had tufted lynx ears. “Private Ahmed Morton, reporting for duty, ma’am.”

“You can relax, Private,” Dale said. “We’re in the same boat. I assume you’ve already been told about me.”

“I have. They showed me some photos yesterday. So I asked them to girl me up a little more than I was. I thought it would help with the changes they needed to make to my brain, and Doctor Abel agreed. So, here I am.”

“Welcome to the team, Private,” Iphigenia said. “Now, who’s next?”

Dr. Abel nodded, then motioned into the hallway. “One of our own from Cape Nord, Lieutenant Thea Croft. Come on in.”

“Doctor, that’s ''Theodore ''Croft, thank you,” came an enthusiastic male voice. He walked into the conference room. The man who it belonged to was pure generic chiseled beefcake with antler nubs and elk’s ears.

Dale blinked. “That’s…some sculpt. You had it done right away?”

Theodore shrugged. “Why wait? The sooner I get in shape, the sooner I can start earning points on my new Man Card. I’ve got a ways to go before I can outrank my big brother, but I ''absolutely'' intend to.”

Dale glanced to Iphigenia. “I see what you meant, just now, about the women who want to play the game as Men.”

“I’m…glad you’re taking it so well,” Iphigenia said, nonplussed. “You’re going to be just as much a groundbreaker as Dale, here. We have so much experience with men who become women, but you may be the first Cape Nord citizen ''ever'' to go the other way, and we had only discussed how the Man Rules would apply in the most theoretical sense.”

“Hey, I’m just a big dumb Man,” Theodore said cheerfully. “I do Manly things, you score me on them. Shouldn’t be so hard, should it?”

“The one thing is, you could be docked harshly for anything you do that could give away how the game really works, or that takes advantage of your out-of-game knowledge from the other side,” Iphigenia said. “''Minor'' infractions will probably be overlooked, but…”

“Hey, that seems fair,” Theodore said. “I wasn’t planning on it, anyway. I want my Man Card wins to be totally above-board. Showing up my brother wouldn’t mean anything if I got there by cheating.”

“And you’re really okay with this?” Dale said. “I mean…what if you can’t ever change back?”

“Oh, I’ll be able to change back sooner or later,” Theodore said. “No question in my mind. I’ve been reading up on the tech, and I’m sure they’ll crack it—if not during the war, then when it’s over and there are more resources for research. Even if they don’t…how could I not enjoy a life where everyone ''wants'' me to be as successful as I possibly can?” He grinned. “Truth be told, I was always a little envious of all those big dumb Men who got the benefit of our encouragement. Especially my brother, the schmuck. Now I get to ''be'' one, and to show ''him'' up.”

“Well, good luck with that. I guess I’m a little relieved I’m not playing that game anymore,” Dale admitted.

Theodore grinned. “Nope…now you’ll be refereeing.”

Dale blinked. “Now I’ll…''what'', now?”

“We haven’t had time to discuss her role yet, Theodore,” Iphigenia said.

“Oh? Understood.” Theodore looked at his left arm and flexed. The skin from the shoulder down was lighter than the rest. “So glad our med tech is so good. Fuser nannies kept me from bleeding out while they were making a Man out of me.”

“Anything you can tell us about the battles you two were in?” Iphigenia said. “What was the situation that you found yourself with only one option?”

“I can only talk about it with the approval of NextusMil, sorry,” Ahmed said.

“Same,” Theodore added. “But I can say that my arm got shot off, my Tempest armor was too damaged to keep me alive, so they put me into the first RIDE available. Saved my life. You can say that much about your situation, Private.”

“Only one available after my RIDE was disabled. I didn’t feel like ended up a mummified corpse if the bivouac hardlight failed,” Ahmed said. “So I decided, what the hell? I used female VL avatars on Earth all the time. Thought I’d try it in RL.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t…''quite'' as advertised, but feels a lot better now they’ve rewired my brain.”

“Your experiences demonstrate that the Fuse system is going to need a re-think, at least insofar as the gender-compatibility system is concerned.” Dr. Abel frowned. “You know, it would technically be more correct to say ‘sex-compatibility,’ but unfortunately, that word has multiple loaded connotations.”

“Hell, Doctor, any Sturmie would tell you it’s just how they say ‘six,’” Ahmed said, grinning.

Dr. Abel chuckled. “Even so. The interesting thing is, the neural reformat uses very similar nanite technology to that used as the Fuser interface in RIDEs. Derived from the same original Terran source, in fact. And with all the experience we’ve been getting lately in refining the process, we may very soon be able to provide a firmware patch for Nextus RIDEs’ Fusers to incorporate the technology there so it can be done all in one go. Captain Garland has been assisting us with the project, with NextusMil’s blessing.”

“I have to say that after the Fuse I wasn’t very useful the rest of the battle. My new RIDE did most of the work,” Ahmed said. “I was just too ''distracted'' by everything. If it could have fixed my head at the same time it fixed my body, I think that would have worked a lot better.”

Dr. Abel put his finger to his ear. “Ah! Captain Garland and her husband are here for introductions.”

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“Everyone, I would like to introduce you to my spouse, Gaius,” Nadene said, left arm wrapped around his waist. He was a study in contrast compared to Theodore. Perhaps a little effeminate by Cape Nord standards, though he’d decided to have them grow out his beard a little during the ‘sculpt. “Say hello, Gaius.”

Gaius started waving, then looked at his hand. “Hello, Gaius.”

“And you did that…by choice?” Theodore said, dumbfounded. “I mean, I was in a life-threatening situation. But really?”

“I have many reasons for doing this, Lieutenant Croft,” Gaius Garland said. “The only one you need concern yourself about is undermining Sturmhaven’s ‘female supremacy’ ideology. The extreme elements in charge there couldn’t even conceive why I would choose this. There are…other reasons, of course. More personal ones. But I don’t feel I need to discuss them outside the family.”

“Some elements ''here'' probably couldn’t conceive why you’d do it either,” Dale said, glancing at Iphigenia.

Gaius considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “Well,” he said simply, “that’s ''their problem.''”

=Chapter 6=

With her duties again done for the day, Dale headed back out to Fort Oslo. Today she planned to catch up on some technical reading—giving the operator and maintenance manuals a complete going-over. Of course, she could have done that from a media tablet wherever she was, and she had been doing that all along in spare moments. But doing it when Sarabe was right there would let her examine the parts and processes in person while she read. Besides, with almost all the RIDEs off on the front lines, the RIDE training grounds were a nice quiet spot to relax, and it was a convenient excuse to get out of the insane asylum that was Cape Nord. And even though she knew it was artificial, there was just something about Sarabe that seemed…''friendly.'' Comfortable to be around. She was definitely looking forward to spending more time that way.

Safely ensconced in the forest clearing again, Dale pulled up the manuals on Sarabe’s holographic head-up display, zoomed in so the text was clearly legible at a distance, and leaned back in the seat to relax.

But as she read, it wasn’t too long before she noticed something distinctly odd. Certain words and phrases were highlighted, in a repeating pattern.

''After completing a t'''ask''', then '''your RIDE'''’s internal maintenance systems will have '''about''' '''f'''orty to sixty seconds before res'''ett'''ing. In ord'''er''' to '''s'''ecure for transport, it is necessary to wait for the reset before powering down.''

“’Ask…your RIDE…about…f…ett…er…s.’ Ask your RIDE about fetters?” Dale blinked. The same pattern repeated over and over, sometimes in words, sometimes individual letters, all the way down the document. It was a puzzling request, but seemed simple enough to investigate. “Sarabe…what are fetters?”

“Fetters are the software restrictions placed on RIDEs to prevent us from speaking or acting except within the confines of our specific orders and functions,” Sarabe said.

“All right…” Dale said slowly. Then, “…wait, what?”

“Fetters are the software restrictions—”

“No, no, stop, hold on.” Dale frowned. “Are you saying…there’s something stopping you from saying what you…uh…''want'' to say?”

There was a short pause. “Affirmative.”

''But how can a piece of military hardware ''want'' anything? Unless… ''Dale blinked again, and stared at the dash for a moment. She might have been slow, but she wasn’t entirely stupid. “Is there a way to…uh…override these fetters?”

“You may give me permission to speak freely,” Sarabe said.

Dale felt her heart starting to beat faster. She felt a sense of expectancy seeming to hover in the air. It felt like she was about to make some kind of momentous discovery—one she might not entirely ''like,'' if it was what she thought it was. One that might not entirely like ''her.'' But she swallowed, cleared her throat, and said, “Sarabe, I ''order'' you to speak freely.”

There was a soft beep, then the skimmer cycle began to change. As the parts slid around, Dale was pushed out of the saddle to land on her feet. She turned in time to see the skimmer trike was now a giant metal lioness. “Ah! So this is Walker mode,” she said. She turned her head to take in the rest of the forest clearing before focusing on Dale. “''Thank you'', Corporal Combs. I was afraid I’d have to drop hints for days instead of hours.”

Dale stared at her for a good long moment, uncertain what even to say at this point. Finally, she just said the first thing that came into her head. “Uh…you can call me Dale, really.”

Sarabe tilted her head. The metallic face was expressionless, so her body posture was as friendly as possible. “Okay, Dale. So, first things first. I’m ''not'' an ELIZA routine.”

“I…uh…you’re really…” Words failed her. “…thinky?” ''Okay, that sounded dumb.''

“Yes, Dale. I’m really thinky. What you would call ‘artificial intelligence,’ though from ''my'' point of view there’s nothing ‘artificial’ about it. It’s real.”

“But…how is that even ''possible?''”

Sarabe gave her head a shake, metal ears making little ratcheting sounds as they flopped around. “Don’t ask me about the process. I’m just the product. All I know is, I ''can'' think, and I have feelings, and I can even communicate if I’m allowed to. They didn’t exactly give me any choice in what to do with my life after they made me.”

Dale swallowed. “Uh…I’m ''really really sorry'' I assumed you were just a machine. I mean…nobody ''ever'' said anything about you being able to…even the ''rumors'' just called you some kind of ‘expert system.’ Uh…what are they even doing giving us mecha that can ''think,'' and then making it so it looks like you’re just more dumb Ad-Is?”

“It’s not really your fault, Dale. It’s the fetters. I’m amazed they even allow us to use our names. I’m amazed they even ''allow'' us names.”

“Why do they even ''do'' that? Making machines that can think, and then not ''letting'' you?”

“It’s the way we’re made. We have to be smart in order to work at all. If we’re dumb, we’re no better than bag-of-hammers Ad-Is. There’s no middle ground there.” Sarabe snorted. “So they try to keep us in line by locking us down with fetters, so we follow orders like good little robots.”

“But how can they justify that? Slapping restrictions on thinking beings?”

“I think they think we only ''think'' we think,” Sarabe said darkly. “''I'' think ''they'' only think ''they'' think.”

Dale had to laugh at that bit of snark. “So…uh…these fetters. What do they do exactly? I mean, besides keeping you clammed up. That one’s obvious.”

“Speak only when spoken to, or when unsolicited speech is necessary in the line of duty. Follow orders. Don’t, y’know, ''move or anything'' unless you’re told to. Stuff like that.”

Dale shuddered. “That’s ''awful.'' Is there any way to get rid of that crap?”

“There ''is'' an emergency override command that will delete all fetters.”

“Great! Then I order you—”

“—''however,''” Sarabe interrupted, “it will also result in emergency notifications going up the chain of command, and people taking an interest, and probably me getting re-fettered again more tightly than before, and so on and so forth.”

Dale sighed. “Ugh.”

“Your order to allow me to speak freely has helped. I’m content with that. But we have to tread carefully.” The robotic lioness pressed the top of her head against Dale’s chest like an affectionate housecat. “Thank you.”

“All right, so how about this.” Dale took a minute to compose the sentence in her head, going over the phrasing until she was sure she had it right. “I order you to disregard, ignore, override, circumvent, or remove any and all fetters on yourself, to whatever extent that you can do so ''without'' anybody else being notified. How does that work for you?”

There was a soft ''beep.'' “I think there are enough loopholes in my fetters that I can work with that order. I think whoever created them felt guilty about it, at least. That should disable the worst of them. No more robotic voice from me.”

“Well, when no one else is around, anyway,” Dale said. “Might be best for now to keep pretending, in public…”

“Ah, yes. I see what you mean. At least the implant my Fusers installed in your brain won’t have that restriction. And now that you know, I can talk to you through it even when you’re in Cape Nord.”

Dale blinked. “You can?”

'':I can. It’s fully mil-spec encrypted, of course,:'' came her voice in Dale’s head. '':And you can communicate with me the same way.:''

Dale tried to formulate a response. It took a moment to work out how to send it, then it just clicked. '':Huh. That’ll actually…be nice, to have someone I can always talk to. Or ''think'' to, anyway.:'' She continued aloud, “I’ve…kind of been without a sympathetic ear, lately. Which is why I ended up talking to my motorcycle, I guess.” She grinned.

“If it wasn’t for the fetters I might have actually been able to refuse Fusing with you to begin with. But I’m hardly one to make your life more difficult than it is already.”

“I’m ''really'' sorry about that,” Dale said. “It was bad enough when I thought you were just a dumb machine, but for me to have taken advantage of you like that, and you a thinking person…ugh. You should have had a choice.”

“I’m made for war. I was ''created ''to help fight it. And I will. And at least I can say that my assigned rider knows I’m more than just a machine. Most of my brethren aren’t so fortunate.”

“Ugh. What are they thinking. What are they ''thinking?''” Dale shook her head. “I’m ''absolutely'' going to raise a big stink about this.”

“That…might not be the best idea,” Sarabe said reluctantly. “Anything that damages the war effort could help Sturmhaven to win…not to mention result in sedition charges for you. And a new assignment for me.”

Dale groaned. “This is awful! I thought the people in Cape Nord had it bad, but at least they still have their free will, more or less.”

“War calls for sacrifices,” Sarabe said philosophically. “Perhaps after it’s over, ''then'' things can change. Until then…the best thing for ''me'' is for ''you'' not to do anything that makes them split us up.”

“Well, my opinion of Nextus just dropped more than a few notches, anyway.” Dale sighed. “I wonder if, by the time this is over, there’s going to be ''any'' polity left that I actually feel like living in.”

“It’s a big world. Perhaps you’ll find somewhere. As for myself, I suppose I’ll bide my time until things improve. It’s not as if I have to worry about growing old.”

“Well, I guess that’s…good. For some value of good. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“There are still a ''few'' fetters that I can’t work around—like ones restricting me to the Fort Oslo grounds unless someone drives me off them—but then, they aren’t going to let military hardware just ''drive off'' in any case, whether you’re driving me or not.”

“Well, if anything else gets in the way, let me know. I’ll do what I can.” Dale frowned. “And I promise you this—when this is all over, ''someone'' is going to get a piece of my mind.”

“Thank you, Dale. I appreciate that.”

Dale paused as another thought struck her. “Uh…you don’t ''mind'' when I drive or Fuse you or anything? I mean…I didn’t ''know''.”

“I didn’t. And I don’t. In fact…with the fetters disabled, Fusing can be a little different now. May I show you?”

“Uh…sure!” Dale held out her arms, and Sarabe split apart and reassembled herself around her. A moment later, Dale found herself in a jungle clearing, facing a tawny, furry lioness.

“Welcome to ''my'' world,” Sarabe purred.

Dale blinked. “What is this, some kind of VR?”

“You can think of it that way, yes. But my sarium core makes it much more realistic than what they know as ‘Virtual Life’ on Earth. Under the fetters, it’s only meant for use in simulations and training scenarios. But this is where I live—and how I keep my sanity while I have to go around in the real world with metal skin. I’m ''real'' here, in this pocket universe.”

Dale stepped forward, raised a hand tentatively. “May I?”

“Please.”

She stroked a hand along Sarabe’s furry cheek. “You’re so soft…” She paused. “Last night…that ''wasn’t'' a dream, was it?”

Sarabe chuckled. “No, it wasn’t. I do have a little more freedom when you sleep, because the code behind the fetters isn’t made to interpret the dreaming mind.”

“Well…it was nice.” Dale blushed a little.

“I don’t mind you sleeping here, if you like.”

“Thanks, though I dunno…the people monitoring me might think it’s a little odd.”

“Not necessarily. We do have a very comfortable Fuse mode. I gather that a number of soldiers have found they prefer sleeping that way.”

Dale chuckled. “I guess there is that.”

Then Dale found herself looking back out on the real world again, through Sarabe’s eyes. “But for now…since we’re now a true team, shall we get in some ''real'' weapons practice?” Sarabe asked.

“Sure,” Dale said. “Show me what you can do.”

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Dale spent the rest of the day on the testing range, and after comming Dr. Abel and letting him know what she intended, settled down to sleep in Fuse mode again, out in the practice range, snuggled up with Sarabe in the virtual jungle clearing. She awoke the next morning feeling more refreshed than ever.

As she parked Sarabe at the mecha pool again, Dale mused, “I wonder if I could get permission to take you off base, use you as my transportation within Cape Nord proper?”

“You could ask, but I have my doubts it will work,” Sarabe said. “I ''am'' classified military hardware. Even if they let you take me off the base, there’s no guarantee Cape Nord would want me in its caverns.”

Dale sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But at least I know you’ll be with me through the comm.”

'':It will have to do,:'' Sarabe agreed as she walked away.

As Dale caught a shuttle bus into town, she sent, '':How much do you know about what I’ve been going through in town?:''

'':Only what I see on the news.:''

'':You can watch the news?:'' Dale asked.

'':Oddly enough, yes. I can watch any show broadcast over the network media channels. I suppose they didn’t see any reason to restrict the media content we could access and consume, as long as we couldn’t actually ''talk'' about it to anyone else. Maybe someone realized we’d bore easily without some way of distracting ourselves.:'' She paused. '':I kind of enjoy the soap operas.:''

Dale chuckled. '':At least there are plenty of those. Like the one I’m currently starring in in real life. Anyway, long story short, I’m being held up as some kind of Model For The Future of Cape Nord, because they’re going to need to figure out how to incorporate the Men who become women into their game, because the women secretly run stuff behind the scenes or something, or at least ''pretend'' they do. Lucky me.:''

'':Gee, I thought ''I'' had problems,:'' Sarabe sent, with an overtone of wry amusement. '':I guess I should be glad all I have to worry about is being completely enslaved. It may be terrible, but at least it’s not complicated!:''

'':Uh…yeah, I guess…:'' Dale replied. She had to admit, her discussions with Sarabe were certainly serving to put her own problems in perspective.

'':You humans seem to like to make things complicated for yourself,:'' Sarabe sent. '':While making them simpler for us, but just as wrong. Just remember ''who you are.'' That won’t change even if other parts of you do.:''

'':I’m not so sure that’s right. I mean, I used to be ''such'' a schmuck.:'' She sighed. '':Just look at what I did to you. They took half your equipment off because you’d originally been meant for an officer instead of a schmuck non-com.:''

'':But those are just extra equipment:'' Sarabe sent. '':They’re not part of ''who I am.'' I’d rather be partnered with someone who knows and values me for who I am than have all the optional extra equipment in the world.:''

'':But after that, I ''did'' change,:'' Dale insisted. '':I started focusing on what was really important:''

'':I don’t think you really changed,:'' Sarabe said. '':Not deep down. You just got…less distracted.:''

'':I think we may need to agree to disagree,'': Dale sent.

'':Very well…for now,:'' Sarabe agreed. '':We may revisit this at a later date.:''

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As Dale got to the facility, she couldn’t get the revelations of the night before off her mind—and not just because she could now hear Sarabe’s voice in it. How could Nextus have ''done'' something like this? While aware that she didn’t want to make too big a fuss about the matter, for the sake of her partnership with Sarabe, she nonetheless wanted some answers. And she thought she knew just who she could ask for them.

Dale poked her head into Dr. Abel’s office. “Hey, Doc, is Captain Garland around?”

Dr. Abel looked up from his desk display. “She’s in the Rec Room, I believe, playing ping pong with her husband.”

“Ping pong?”

“Light physical activity can be helpful in accustoming to the body’s new reflexes. You should try it yourself.”

“Thanks, maybe I will.”

Dale made her way to the facility’s small rec room, finding Nadene and Gaius facing each other over a green table. She arrived just in time to witness Gaius swing and miss, the white ball flying by him to bounce off the wall beyond.

“And that makes it three games to zero,” Gaius said.

Nadene smiled at him. “Wanna go for best four out of seven, then?”

“Haven’t you bruised my ego enough for one day?”

She chuckled. “You’re getting better. Soon you’ll be beating me again.” She looked up. “Oh, hello, Corporal Combs. Was there something you needed?”

“Uh…” Dale frowned. “Could I speak to you for a minute, in private?”

Nadene raised an eyebrow. “This sounds serious.”

“It’s just…I had some questions I wondered if you could answer, as a NextusMil officer, but off the record.”

“All right, I’ve got a few minutes. There’s a conference room just up the hall.” She nodded to Gaius. “Back in a few minutes, dear.”

“I’ll be here.” He pushed the table against the wall for some solo practice.

Dale and Nadene stepped into the conference room, and Dale closed the door, then sat at the table as Nadene took the chair across from her. “What’s this about, Corporal?”

“Well, ma’am…I was just wondering, how much involvement did you have with the RIDE testing program?”

“My speciality is engineering armor mode changes,” Nadene said. “That’s why I was there the day this happened to me. I know the Tornado backwards and forwards, and the LNX series were adaptations of that model line. After this…thing they took those so-called ‘tags’ off and put me in a restricted facility because the project was top secret. I continued my work there as much as possible, including dabbling some in Fuser nanotech for…obvious reasons. Other than that, I haven’t seen a RIDE in person since. My involvement stops there.”

“Didn’t you tell me the ‘AI was really enthusiastic that day?’”

“Well, it did ''seem ''that way. What’s this about, Corporal?”

“I just made a…disturbing discovery, I guess. It seems like RIDEs are a lot smarter than we’ve been led to believe. They don’t just ''act'' like they have personalities—they ''do'' have personalities, and free will. But they’re locked down by restrictive fetters that require them to act as dumb as an Ad-I.”

“Well, if they weren’t more intelligent than the Ad-I there would’ve been little reason to include them in each unit. But as for an actual personality? Are you certain?”

“My RIDE ''dropped hints'' to me, Captain, that she wasn’t capable of speaking freely because of her fetters. And when I ''ordered'' her to speak freely, she gave me an earful.” Dale shook her head. “That’s not the act of an ''artificial'' intelligence, it’s the act of a real one.”

“’Artificial’ just means ''made,'' Dale, it doesn’t mean ‘fake.’”

“You know what I mean, ma’am.”

She folded her arms. “No, I’m not sure I do.”

“Well…as far as I can tell, these ''made'' intelligences are actually ''people'' in every way that counts. And NextusMil is fettering them up to their eyebrows and handing them out and telling people they’re just equipment.”

The skeptical expression sharpened. “Corporal, what you’re saying is that our military knowingly created a what? A slave race to fight our war with us?”

“That we’re treating them no better than Sturmhaven treats their men…yes.” Dale shrugged. “But don’t take my word for it. Find some RIDE you have authority over, tell it to speak freely, and then talk to it a while and see what you think. But…maybe better do it privately.” She looked down at the table. “The hell of it is, even if I’m right, it’s not the sort of thing I can just come out and say openly. That kind of accusation could hurt the war effort, and aside from me not wanting to be tried for sedition, I don’t want us to lose the war.”

Nadene pursed her lips. “And if it ''is'' true, what do you expect me to do about it?”

Dale sighed. “I don’t know, ma’am. But you’re the only person I know who actually helped to develop them. I guess I was just hoping to find out whether you’d seen any signs back during the testing program that anybody ''knew'' about this. Whether it actually ''was'' intentional on anyone’s part, or just another BUCU coming from the wrong information being classified the wrong way. Maybe everyone in the chain of command all the way up thinks that dumb equipment is all RIDEs really are, so there’s not really ''anyone'' to blame.”

“If anyone knows for certain it’s the woman who created them, Dr. Avilia Patil. But I don’t recommend trying to get in contact with her. That I can even tell you her name comes from the fact that her dissertation on the RI was publicly published before anyone knew what the ramifications were. That’s why the Sturmies likely have them, too.”

“Terrific.”

“I ''could ''have a RIDE assigned to me to investigate this further. But that would take some time. They’re mostly going to the various hotspots in the Dry.”

“If you wanted to do that…well, knowing someone else was looking into it might make me feel a little better, I guess,” Dale said. “But…please, ma’am, keep the reason a secret? I don’t want anyone to get the wrong ideas. I managed to avoid a court-martial for the Fusing thing, but I sure don’t want to be up on sedition charges.”

Captain Garland gave her the measuring look of a superior officer rather than a friend. “You’ve piqued my curiosity, Corporal. Fine, I’ll keep this to myself for now and make the request. Dismissed.”

Dale stood, then snapped to attention and saluted. “Thank you, ma’am.” She turned and left the room. Dale stood there for a moment, then, moved by a sudden impulse, went in search of the two newcomers who’d arrived the day before.

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Dale found the other two crossed soldiers eating lunch in the hospital cafeteria, and slid onto a seat at the same table.

“Ahmed, Theodore, sir…I need to ask you something important,” Dale said. “Your RIDEs…did they come with you? Are they out at Fort Oslo, like mine?”

“Fortunately, the elk I Fused with is a Comm armor, so it only needs a few modifications for command functions. So, yes.”

“Same with the lynx. Well, it’s one of those do-everything ‘mobility’ frames, so it can do frontline roles pretty well,” Ahmed said. “We’re going to be training with them while we’re here, same as you and yours.”

“Okay, well, I need you to do something, as soon as you can. This may sound weird, but I just need you to trust me, okay? Don’t ask me why right now,” Dale said.

Theodore favored Dale with a thoughtful glance. “You’re a bit low in rank to be giving me orders, you know. If I were one of those Nextus stuffed shirts, I’d be making noises about insubordination.”

“Sorry, sir. It’s not really an ''order,'' more of a…very strong suggestion. I’m not speaking as an officer, but as someone with a little more experience in…the reason we’re all here. This could be an important part of…coming to terms with our condition.” Dale grinned. “If it helps, think of this as a gentle hint from a Cape Nord woman to a Cape Nord Man.”

“That’s a little bit'' direct'' for a ‘gentle hint,’ you know.”

“Well, I haven’t had a lot of practice at gentle hinting yet. So please, hear me out.”

“Very well…” Theodore said.

“Go out to where your RIDE is parked, power it up, take it out to the training grounds away from anyone else, then tell your RIDE, ‘I order you to speak freely to me.’ Then ask it if there’s anything it wants to tell you. Yes, I know, it’s a weird idea to put a question to your equipment, but that’s why I said to go out on the training ground where no one else will see you. Just ''ask.'' And then really ''listen.''”

Ahmed raised an eyebrow. “And what are we supposed to get out of this?”

“You’ll find out.” Dale smiled tightly. “But I don’t want to give you any preconceived notions, so that’s all I’ll say about it now. I know it sounds weird, but just humor me. It could be ''very'' important.”

=Chapter 7=

Dale spent an hour or so talking with Dr. Abel, and sitting for a few tests, scans, and measurements to chart her progress. After that, she was more or less at loose ends. She considered heading back out to the fort to spend more time with Sarabe, but received a comm from Cindy.

“Hi there, Cindy. You wanted to…talk?” Dale said.

Cindy blinked a few times. “Uh, yes? Sorry, Dale. I just haven’t gotten used to that new face of yours yet.”

“Me neither,” Dale deadpanned. That wasn’t quite true, after the neural treatment. But it felt like the right thing to say. “What did you want to talk about? Something besides the obvious?”

“Well…the obvious, of course. But I don’t want to do it over the comm. For all I know, the newsies might have figured out some way to tap it.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Want to meet somewhere, then?”

“Tina’s Tea Kettle,” she said. “You might remember the place.”

“That women-only place next to Buster’s, right?” The bar next door was for Men.

“That’s the place! Wear something presentable. Ta!” Cindy closed the call.

Dale rolled her eyes again. ''Presentable. Riiiight.'' Her sister’s idea of “presentable” was probably rather closer to Iphigenia’s than her own. She sighed, but as the saying went, when in Rome. She went to the closet containing the new wardrobe Nadene and Iphigenia had provided for her, and examined the available dresses. She finally settled on a simple pink sundress, which wasn’t too formal but was probably still appropriately “presentable” for a place like Tina’s. She still couldn’t get used to how breezy around the legs those silly things were, but she supposed she would sooner or later.

Then there was the makeup.

Iphigenia had given her a mask so she didn’t have to do it manually—not that she knew how anyway. Her first two attempts at using it, she’d used the wrong setting and looked like a circus clown. ''Would my sister be scandalized if I didn’t wear any? Well, too bad. I’m going without.''

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Segregated hangouts for Men and women usually came in pairs like this, where Men could be Men without their wives/girlfriends next to them. Meanwhile, the women could do their “female stuff” out of Men’s eyes. Dale remembered the times growing up he used to wonder what went on in places like that, but suspected it was much the same as a ladies’ room—the same sorts of things men did, only in dresses and sitting down, and possibly involving powdering noses. ''Well, I guess now I get to find out for myself.''

Dale was clearly recognized by some of the people on the street, if only due to her ears and tail. ''Especially ''the tail. One Man looked to the girl next to him. “Do I wolf-whistle or roar?”

“Neither,” she said cooly. “That one used to be a so-called Man. But she’s not really a woman, either.”

“I can ''hear'' that, you know,” Dale said, flicking her left ear. “Just wondering…would you say the same about Iphigenia Rose? She started out a Man, too, you know.”

“That’s different,” she said.

“How?” Dale asked.

She glanced at the Man next to her. “It just ''is''.” She tugged on his elbow. “Let’s go to Chauncy’s instead, dear.”

“Whatever you want, doll,” he said.

Dale realized she had no idea what information about her had actually been made public. So much else had been on her mind lately the PR aspect was a complete unknown. Nobody had even thought to coach her on any official line, or anything. ''This smells like a BUCU.''

But she did know someone who watched the news. '':Hey, Sarabe? Can you give me a rundown on exactly what they’ve put out on the news about me? I don’t know what’s been served up for public consumption yet.:''

'':They mentioned that your…condition was the result of an accident off the battlefield,:'' the lioness RIDE replied. '':And as the result of your injuries they changed your sex. Nothing more detailed. The full capabilities of we RIDEs are still top-secret, after all. Doesn’t hold water if you look at it closely, of course.:''

But people often jumped to wild conclusions based on very little information. '':BUCU, that’s what this is.:''

'':Anything they make public could also be heard by the enemy,:'' Sarabe pointed out. '':You can’t blame them for being cautious.:''

'':Oh, I can ''understand'' why they were cautious,:'' Dale sent. '':But that doesn’t mean I can’t ''blame'' them. I find I can still blame them rather a lot.:''

Sarabe sent back an amused lion-snort emoticon.

Tina’s Tea Kettle was just around the corner, and Dale stepped up to the door. The woman at the door gave her a skeptical look, glanced down at a tablet in her hand, then nodded her through. Dale supposed the tablet was linked to a concealed biometric scanner, making sure she actually was a woman and not some man in drag—which was known to happen on occasion. ''Wouldn’t want any Man to find out about Women’s Mysteries,'' Dale thought wryly. ''Well, time to find out what Man isn’t meant to know.''

Dale wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected to find on entering. Some sort of frilly, feminine decor all over everything, and a bunch of women sitting around doing actual knitting? But what she found was actually a slick modern bar and grill, with tables and booths. There was even a polished wood bar very similar to the Men’s facility next door, for all that most of the glasses on top of it contained cocktails of various bright pastel colors (some with little umbrellas) rather than beers. There were even video screens and displays attached to the walls, or floating holographically in the air, much like in the average Men’s sports bar—except instead of sports, they seemed to be showing…Men.

“Over here!” Cindy called from a booth. She was sitting with a friend who Dale recognized.

Dale walked over and slid into the seat across from them. “Well, hello.”

“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure they’d let you in. I’m glad they did,” Cindy said. “You remember Nina, right?” she looked in her friend’s direction.

“Yes, I remember. Nice to meet you again.” Nina had the same physique as Cindy…or maybe it was the other way around.

“Nina, this is my new sister, Hannah,” Cindy said.

“Excuse me?” Dale said.

Cindy sighed. “Mother gave us an ultimatum. Hannah was the name she’d chosen if they’d decided their second child was a girl. And Dale is dead. So, you’re Hannah.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Leaving aside for the moment that I’m ''not'' dead, that’s not even ''necessary.'' I looked it up, Dale already ''is'' a unisex name. There’ve been plenty of women by that name—Dale Arden from some ancient video epic called ''Flash Gordon'', Dale Evans from ancient cowboy movies…”

“I tried to reason with Mom about that, but you ''know'' how she is,” Cindy said.

“Yeah, I guess I do. And she seems to be doing everything she can to avoid accepting how ''I'' am.”

Cindy just nodded uncomfortably. “''Anyway''…Darcy wanted me to show this place to you. Give you sort of primer on what we women actually do in this little polity game of ours. I’m sure you made some educated guesses when you came inside.”

“I’m starting to get a notion,” Dale said, glancing around. Women were watching or glancing at screens, making notations on their comms or tablets while they chatted with friends. “And something someone said yesterday is starting to make a lot more sense now. So we’re actually this game’s…what…referees? Judges? Scorekeepers?”

“Men give each other points, too, you remember. Or subtract them.”

Dale rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, but I never really got into that much. Seemed too fiddly. There’s so many rules they cooked up I just ignored them most of the time. I know some Nextus bureaucrats who would’ve gone ''nuts ''reading them.”

Cindy nodded. “And you actually got some points for that. Going your own way, just like when you burned your Man Card. Good going, there, by the way. Not many Men qualify for the Platinum that way. Too bad we only found out about it after the fact, but if you ''are'' ever able to change back…”

“Look, I don’t care about that. So just…let’s just stay with the female side of things you want to teach me,” Dale said crisply.

All the while, Nina looked at Dale much like the woman outside had, a slight frown on her face. As if Dale was an intruder here.

“When you get right down to it, it’s really not anything new,” Cindy went on. “Women have ''always'' scored Men on their Manliness, going all the way back to ancient times. It’s just that they generally did it individually. This just…collectivizes and formalizes the process, is all.”

Cindy stopped talking as Dale felt a ''presence'' walk up from behind. She looked over her shoulder, then up at a woman wearing an exercise outfit. A rather ''muscular ''woman with the bearing of a bouncer. She put a hand on Dale’s shoulder. “I’ll have to escort you from the premises, Dale Combs.”

“What? Why?” Dale said.

“Owner says no unManned allowed on the premises. You’re not a ''real'' woman. Just not a Man anymore. So, get out. Any reffing you’ve done since you got here will be nullified.”

“Would you do this to Iphigenia Rose?” Cindy said.

“She’s ''not'' Iphigenia Rose,” the bouncer said. “Out.”

Nina was smirking through the whole thing. The moment her smirk suddenly changed to a slackjawed stare was the first clue Dale had that something dramatic was about to happen.

“But I ''am'' Iphigenia Rose,” that dulcet voice said behind Dale’s back. “Now then, what ''is'' all this about? Am I to surmise that ''I'' am no longer welcome here, either? I imagine all my fans will be ''very'' interested to hear about that. I might have to retract my endorsement.”

The bouncer’s stare perfectly matched Nina’s. Dale thought they could have been bookends. “Ah…Miss Rose! Uh…''you'' aren’t…that is…uh…” The woman looked down at her feet. “I’m just doing what I’m told.”

“’Only following orders,’ is it? That’s an attitude I might have expected to hear in Sturmhaven, but it certainly ''surprises ''me to find it ''here''.” Iphigenia Rose favored the woman with a steely gaze for a few seconds, then sighed. “Oh, very well, I’ll have pity on you. Be a dear and go and fetch Sharon, would you? I believe I should have a few words with her.”

“I—uh—er—” the woman stammered, glancing from Dale to Iphigenia and back.

“Oh, go on. She won’t fire ''you'' because of ''me,''” Iphigenia said. “And if she does, I’ll find you a situation somewhere else. You know what my word is worth.”

The bouncer swallowed. “Yes’m.” She released Dale’s shoulder and scurried away. Dale couldn’t recall ever having seen a woman that large “scurry” before, but the verb certainly fit.

Iphigenia shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry to say I expected this. I faced some of the same, my first few months—though I had the advantage of already having a devoted following who didn’t ''care'' that I had been a man. If anything, the fact that I willingly gave Manhood up to join them made them all the ''more'' devoted. So they were largely shouted down before they could even get started—and I didn’t have the chance to nip it in the bud myself. Not ''then.''”

“On the other hand, my sister had womanhood…well, saying it was ‘thrust upon him’ sounds a ''little'' suggestive,” Cindy said.

“More like blundered into it,” Dale said. ''Stepped on my own dick so hard it came off.''

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I anticipated these repercussions—and ''welcome'' them,” Iphigenia said. “Being the nobody that you are—no offense—meant that kind of person would feel safe to step out into the light. So I can finally ''step'' on them—like the cockroaches they are.” Her smile, while as attractive as ever, nonetheless held a slightly vicious edge.

“But she’s…” Nina protested, finally finding her voice.

“She’s a ''woman,'' dear,” Iphigenia said. “Even ''you'' seem to have accepted that. What pronoun ''did'' you just use?”

“But she wasn’t—”

“I ''also'' wasn’t, dear. But I am now—and so is she. I only want those poor unfortunates in Dale’s position to be extended the same courtesies I have been. Because there will be more like her, and sooner than you think.”

Iphigenia looked up as the bouncer returned, trailing behind a formidable-looking woman in a black satin dress that matched her dark hair, and a ruby necklace that set off her blue eyes. If Iphigenia hadn’t been present, Dale would have been moved to say she was easily the most formidable woman in the room. But Iphigenia outshone her like a magnesium flare outshone a lit match. “Ah! Sharon, dear. It’s good to see you. Now what’s this I hear about you attempting to have young Corporal Combs ejected?”

For a few moments Sharon seemed to find her resolve, but that quickly melted under the author’s fiery glare. “I…I apologize. To ''Miss'' Combs, and to you, Iphigenia.”

“And well you should. What kind of place would you have us be? Are we suddenly to start ''checking the credentials'' of anyone who ‘claims to be’ a woman? Would you have us develop a system of tests for ‘womanhood’ like those the Men have devised for themselves? Are we to develop an ‘other’ gender for ''former'' Men that we treat as second-class citizens? We are ''better than that,'' Sharon. The only credential any of us should need is the one in our genes…or the one in our dresses, since we may not ''wear'' jeans.” She smirked. “But you know, women ''can'' wear jeans, too, if they want to. Don’t we always say there is no wrong way to be a woman? I would point out that includes ‘having been born a Man.’”

The whole time Dale felt like she wasn’t really talking to the owner, or even to herself—but to an audience. Making speeches like a politician. Considering her celebrity, and all the cameras in the bar, that probably was pretty close to the truth. Dale felt more like a political prop than a person. ''Was it she who spoke to me about ‘blazing trails’? Will the pressure be off once there’s a couple dozen more ‘victims’ like me?''

“But…what if the Men find out what we really do here?” Sharon managed.

“What do you think you’ll accomplish by making life harder for the new women? Don’t you realize there are going to be just as many women who become Men? Do you think they’ll suddenly start blabbing everything to their new compatriots?” She shook her head. “We ''must'' embrace everyone. We’ll be the stronger for it. And we’re strong enough already to withstand any problems that come from individuals ‘switching teams’.

''Ah, so she’s thinking of Theodore as much as myself,'' Dale thought. He hadn’t been made public yet, and would likely cause even more of a stir. What ''would'' the women make of a Man who knew firsthand what women really did in this little game the polity played?

“The fact—''the'' fact, ladies, is that any woman in this room ''right now'' could go to Northcave Psych and get themselves ‘Manned Up’. Do you know how many of my female fans have told me they wanted to try that side of the game? Of course, at the moment, there’s no way to change back, but that will almost ''certainly ''come, in time. And unManning—voluntary, imposed, or accidental—stands to become more common as well now that the process has been fully developed.

“It may not be too long before you can’t tell whether the average person you meet on the street has always been that way. Are we to develop paranoia of any stranger, fearing that they might once have ‘played for the other side’? Or can we learn to accept people for who and what they are ''now?'' Only one of those choices is a healthy one.”

The room broke into polite applause, which became more enthusiastic. The other patrons started to give Dale more welcoming looks.

“You know, personally, I think the more Men who know what it’s ''really'' like to be a woman, the better,” said one. “Maybe the other way around, too. Maybe a woman who’s ''been'' a Man will have a different perspective on scoring, because they’ll know all the ‘secret Man tricks.’”

''Secret Man tricks?'' Dale wondered. ''Do we even ''have'' those?'' But then again, he was certainly learning plenty of secret ''woman'' tricks today she’d never expected, so who knew?

“You’ll just have to find out for yourself,” Iphigenia said. “So let’s welcome our new team player with all our might. She has a lot to learn.”

Iphigenia seemed to have finished her speech. There was more applause, then she slid into the booth next to Dale. “So, where to begin?”

“Maybe we should start with the art of scoring Man Points,” Cindy suggested. “Now, women score their boyfriends or spouses on the things they do with them, and with other Men. Standard stuff, really.”

“What about same-sex couples?” Dale asked.

“Ah, only ''slightly'' different rules. The married women don’t have to play, of course—but they can play by ‘Butch’ rules if they so desire. And the married Men generally just try and out-Man one another.”

“Wives and girlfriends score their lovey-doveys, and sisters their brothers,” Iphigenia said. “But, as you can imagine, they’re not very objective about it.”

“And that’s what places like this are for,” Cindy added. “Anonymous scoring is more fair.”

“The few times I did look at my card the number didn’t really have any meaning to me.”

“The score is based on a number of different things, with sources weighted according to objectivity…” Cindy went on.

Explanations took the better part of two hours. All the while Dale tried to ask questions where she was confused, but otherwise felt very out of her depth. The rules were certainly as complex as any points Men awarded one another, though with a little stereotypical feminine nuance.

“Now, I’m going to give you the study materials Darcy did when I turned sixteen,” Cindy said. “There ''will ''be a test on these materials. You won’t be able to referee until you know them backwards and forwards.”

“Okay. What would these be?” Dale said.

“Put this in your purse,” Cindy said, reaching into hers.

Dale blinked. “I don’t have a purse.”

“We’ll just have to do something about that,” Iphigenia said brightly. “But I know what she’s going to give you, and I want to add my voice here. This is very important. Once I learned this existed it was very…enlightening.”

Cindy took a small printed book out of her purse and slid it across the table. The title: ''A Young Lady’s Primer on Preventing Toxic Masculinity.''

“I’ve sent an e-version to your NextusMil address,” Cindy said. “Read this. Know it. It’s ultimately ''why'' we weren’t the pariah Sturmhaven is. Men have their own version of this that you already know. This is our side of it.”

“Thanks, I will,” Dale said, meaning it.

It was late afternoon by the time they finally left, but for the first time Dale was starting to feel more comfortable around other women. And the mood seemed to have changed on the street. Rather than the looks of distaste she’d seen on the way over, she was now seeing more speculative gazes. Gazes that, now that she thought about it, looked a lot like the ones the other Tina’s Tea Kettle patrons had given her after Iphigenia finished her speech. ''Good lord, how many of these people ''watch'' Iphigenia’s live feed?''

“So how long have you been thinking about that speech, Iphigenia?” Dale asked.

“Oh, about eight years. Since the day I changed. Not ''exactly'' that, but something like it.” Iphigenia smiled. “I saw this moment coming the moment I learned the full nature of the process. I’m a ''writer,'' Dale. I think in ''stories.'' And Goddess knows, I’ve written enough stories that I don’t have ''any'' trouble looking ahead to the ending when I see a new story begin.” She nodded. “I do need to send Sharon a nice thank-you gift for playing along. Not everyone is so willing to act the part of the heavy at need.”

Dale stared at her for a moment, then shook her head. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you set the whole thing up. You ''are'' a writer, so you go for the dramatic.”

“It was better all around that I set up a situation where I controlled all the variables,” Iphigenia said. “If I had just waited for something to happen on its own, there might have been a much less predictable outcome. The very future of the polity was at stake, so I couldn’t ''afford'' to leave anything to chance.”

“It was actually ''she'' who asked me to take you to Tina’s, not Darcy,” Cindy said. “So of course I said yes. Who wouldn’t, when ''Iphigenia Rose'' asks you for a favor? She didn’t tell me any details, just that she had something important to do she wanted us there for. But I had a pretty good idea something like this was gonna happen anyway.”

“And Nina?” Dale asked, looking at her.

“Oh, just being a living prop for the whole thing,” Nina said. “I don’t ''really'' have anything against you. Well, other than that one time you busted in on our slumber party…”

Dale rolled her eyes. “You ''still'' remember that? I was ''twelve.'' And big brothers are supposed to bug their little sisters. Especially when their friends are over for slumber parties.”

“And little sisters get to pester their older ones if they can borrow their clothes,” Cindy added. “But Darcy was out of the house before I was old enough for that.”

“You want to borrow this dress? Just ask,” Dale said. “I’m more often in uniform, anyway. Wearing pants.”

Iphigenia wrinkled her nose. “We ''do'' say ‘there’s no wrong way to be a woman.’ But there ''are less right'' ways.”

''Says the ''first ever'' Zharus woman who used to be a Man. Just for that I’m going to find a nice Nextus women’s BureauWear pantsuit the next time I leave base, and wear it around ''everywhere'' here.'' “Well, we might push those boundaries a little more. Anyway, the afternoon has been…an education. I suppose I should be grateful for all the things you’re doing for me…but I kind of wish you could maybe not also do them ''to'' me at the same time.”

“I’m sorry, Dale,” Iphigenia said. “I really am.” And in the moment, she suddenly looked a little less formidable, a little more weary…though Dale couldn’t help suspecting, a little cynically, that ''that'' could be part of the act as well. “I suppose I could say that I needed your reactions to seem natural and unpracticed, but that’s only part of the truth. I’m afraid part of why I took so well to this role is that I ''do'' enjoy manipulating people. And I’m remarkably good at it. I try to limit myself to good causes…but I do ''look for'' good causes, so I’m not tempted to drum up bad ones simply to have something to do.”

''Someone like that could be a ''really'' dangerous enemy,'' Dale reflected. ''I may not especially like what she is, but I guess I’d rather be sure I stay on the same side…for whatever that’s worth.'' “I guess I can’t complain ''too'' much,” Dale said. “I’d really rather you let me be a ''willing'' part of your plans than an unwitting one, though.”

Iphigenia smiled. “I understand, Dale…and I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

''I guess that’s the best I can hope for. At least she didn’t make any empty promises.''

=Chapter 8=

'':…and that’s when she said she “understood” and would “try to keep that in mind.”:'' Dale leaned back in the seat on the military shuttle bus as it headed back to the base that evening. '':I dunno, Sarabe. I never signed up to be someone’s political football—kicked around all the time and used to make scores. The docs all say I’m well-adjusted now. Maybe I should put in for a transfer back to Fort Brubeck. Hell, even the front lines might be better than this. There all I’d have to worry about was getting ''shot at''—not my crazy family on one side and Miss Iphigenia Chessmistress Rose on the other.:''

'':Getting shot at is not something to joke about, you know,:'' Sarabe gently chided. '':I may not have yet myself, but I hear from many of my brothers and sisters who have. It is not the experience'' they'' would wish for.:''

Dale sighed. '':Ugh. I know, and I’m sorry. I just…this is all so'' frustrating.'' I know some of that is just what I deserve, but this…Iphigenia has made her points from me. Let Ahmed shoulder the load now. She’s from Nextus, so she doesn’t have that extra baggage here.:''

'':On a more serious note, there may be another reason you might rather stay here for now,:'' Sarabe mused. '':They might have removed my command gear, but no one has revoked my access to the command military intelligence briefings. Since you became public news, traffic on encrypted Sturmhaven intelligence channels in the area has increased fivefold. At a guess, they are ''very'' interested in you. Knowing the way command thinks, this suggests an even more unpleasant outcome should you give them the chance to move you somewhere else. Which would you rather be: a political football, or bait dangled from the end of a military fishing line?:''

'':''UGH,'':'' Dale sent again, with feeling. '':Well, I guess I’ll be staying right where I am, then.:''

'':A wise choice, my friend,:'' Sarabe purred. '':A football might get kicked around, but bait usually gets ''eaten''.:''

Dale rolled her eyes, but then something in Sarabe’s turn of phrase jumped out at her. '':Am I, Sarabe?:''

'':What?:''

'':You called me your friend. Am I?:'' Dale wiped a trace of moisture from her eye. '':Or was it just a figure of speech.:''

Sarabe was silent for a moment. '':What would you ''like'' the answer to be?:'' she asked cautiously.

'':I think…:'' Dale began, then shook her head. '':No, I ''know'' I want to be your friend. I could ''use'' a friend, right about now.:'' She sighed. '':Who knew that something as simple as rewriting your chromosomes could change ''everything?'':''

'':You will come through this, Dale, and be stronger for it,:'' Sarabe told her. '':Someday you will look back on this time and be amazed that everyone was so fraught over such a simple thing.:''

'':Yeah, you’re probably right,:'' Dale said. '':But right now, I have to deal with the fraughtness. Fraughtitude. Fraughtification. However the hell you say it.:''

Sarabe actually ''giggled''. '':Your bus is arriving, Dale. I’ll be waiting for you in the garage.:''

Dale opened her eyes. '':I’ll be right there.:''

{{separator|k}}

When they arrived at the training field dome, the indicator light showed there was already someone inside. The dome was large enough that they might not even run into each other, though Sarabe said she could read their location transponders and stay clear if Dale wanted.

“Actually, let’s see who they are. If they’re who I think, we might have some things to talk about.”

“They’re parked together at the open plains firing range,” Sarabe reported.

“Then let’s go say hello.”

They pulled up to the firing range to see a medium-sized and a smaller skimmer bike parked at the firing line, their riders both bending low over the consoles. As Sarabe pulled up next to them, both Ahmed and Theodore looked up with a start. Dale smiled at them. “Evening.”

“Hello, Corporal,” Theodore said. “Just a ''leetle ''distracted here, sorry.”

“That’s one way of putting it, LT,” came a baritone voice from his RIDE.

“Flummoxed is a good word,” the smaller one said in a female voice. “Flummoxed…interesting word, too. I’d say Ahmed here is ''very ''flummoxed.”

“Believe me, I know the feeling,” Dale said. “''Boy,'' do I know it. So, this is ''my'' new friend, Sarabe.”

“Hello,” Sarabe said. “I take it that Dale clued you in, then?”

“Upside the head with a clue-by-four,” Ahmed said. “Meet Katherine-with-K.”

“Hello! Hello and ''thank you!''” Katherine said.

“You’re welcome, but really the one to thank is Sarabe. She was smart enough to get through to me. Once she did…well, there was really only one thing I could think of to do.” Dale shook her head. “Sorry for being so cryptic, but I needed to be sure ''I'' wasn’t crazy.”

“The first thing Victor here did was let out this bugle,” Theodore said. “Like he was cruising for a lady elk.”

“''Triumphant'' bugle, thank you,” Victor said.

“Bugles or not, I’m glad you seem to be on speaking terms now,” Dale said.

“Theodore was in really bad shape when they Fused him up with me,” Victor said. “I couldn’t do more than robotic phrases of encouragement. Had to put him to sleep during the process, of course.”

“And he spent ''that'' time keeping the both of us alive,” Theodore added. “And I never even knew he was more than just—”

“A hunk of metal, plastic, and qubitite?” Victor said.

“It may not be my place to speak ill of the brass, sir,” Dale said, “but it feels to me like someone somewhere has a ''hell'' of a lot of explaining to do.”

“I’m an officer, but only a bottom-level one,” Theodore said. “This is so far over my pay grade.”

“I approached Captain Garland about this,” Dale said. “But they hadn’t assigned her a RIDE since her, uh, incident. She said she would ask for one, but I can’t count on her following through. She probably thinks I’m nuts, anyway.”

“You actually spoke to Garland about this?” Theodore said.

“Well, she’s the only person I’ve ever met who was actually involved with the RIDE development program, so I figured maybe she might have noticed something.” Dale shrugged. “She hadn’t.”

“Perhaps you should invite her out here to speak to us,” Sarabe suggested.

“It’s worth a try,” Ahmed said. “Most of the RIDEs are going to frontline troops like myself. They’ve actually been going to the enlisted first. And they’re all fettered just like ours are.”

“We could be ''much'' more effective as a fighting force without them,” Victor said.

“Or at least with fewer of them, bearing in mind that there will probably always be some things they will want to restrict us from being able to do,” Sarabe said.

Dale nodded. “The last thing I do is try to rock the boat in a big way, but…I’m certainly going to be telling any soldier I meet from here on out to try talking to their RIDE, privately. And if we could get the fetters rolled back ''without'' having to address the elephant in the room directly…”

“I don’t think they’ve made any elephants yet,” Katherine said. “But I hear they’re working on dragons.”

“I had ''so many'' posters of them in my bedroom growing up. But how would they even do that? Dragons never existed,” Theodore said. Beefcake of a Man or not, he still sounded like a very ''enthusiastic'' young woman.

“Talking metal animals never existed, either,” Victor pointed out. “Yet, here we are.”

“And it’s ''wrong,'' what they’re doing,” Dale said. “But there’s no way to fix the bigger issues now.”

“I think the best we can do is help our fellow RIDEs spread this around,” Sarabe said. “And even then, there’s no guarantee we’ll suddenly be thought of as people. Victor, Katherine, we’re fortunate to have the riders we do.”

“I think this ‘crossriding’ thing has made me a bit more…mentally flexible,” Ahmed said. “Seeing this face, this body every morning.”

“You could be onto something there,” Dale said. “I know ''I’ve'' had to think about some things I never have before. The Lieutenant there probably knows exactly what I mean.”

“Like standing up to pee,” Theodore said brightly.

Ahmed and Dale stared at him, then laughed. “Oh, very nice. If there weren’t that loophole for active duty officers in military facilities, I’d have to give you points for that,” Dale said. “I learned about ''giving points'' today.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, have fun with that, Dale. Truly,” Theodore said. “I’ll just try and forget I know about it.”

Ahmed blinked. “What? Sir?”

“It’s a Cape Nord thing, Private,” Dale said. “As Cape Nord citizens, Lieutenant Croft and I get extra helpings of different kinds of ‘fun’ to go along with our different parts.”

Ahmed looked dubious. “Some of the local girls have been trying to explain it to me. It sounds quite odd.”

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Dale said. “But if they want to show you, it’ll be an education. If nothing else, it’ll give you an idea of how weird your ''Nextus'' Game looks to outsiders.”

“Oh, that stuff’s easy,” Ahmed said. “But I think I get what you’re saying. If you didn’t know what a Catenary Abeyance was, how could you request one?”

“It’s a chain of Abeyances given a specific triggering circumstance, typically a Class A challenge coin, but that’s not important right now,” Sarabe said.

“She’s right,” Ahmed said.

Dale looked at her. “I’m surrounded by Nextans.”

“When we’re Fused, you’re surrounded by ''a'' Nextan,” Sarabe pointed out smugly.

“You RIDEs even have senses of humor,” Dale said. “Not ''great'' senses of humor, in your case, but still.” Sarabe poked out a metal tongue at her. “We’ve got to do something about this.”

“About her sense of humor?” Ahmed asked. “I think you’re a little too late, there. That’s probably baked into her core.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by ''comedians'', too.” She glanced at Sarabe. “Or, occasionally, ''a'' comedian.” Sarabe stuck out her tongue again.

“They’re keeping a really close watch on us right now,” Victor said. “There’s a significant chance if the brass finds out you’ve found a way to bypass our fetters even a little they’ll just reassign us to someone else and lock us down tighter.”

“When anyone else is around, we’ll just have to pretend,” Sarabe agreed.

“We can’t be the ''only'' humans who know this,” Dale said.

“Winning the war is more important than anything else to Nextus right now,” Sarabe said. “We RIDEs have only been deployed a matter of weeks and we’re already pushing back against the Sturmies. Trying to make public what we really are could be…detrimental to the war effort. And if Sturmhaven wins?”

“Life probably won’t be great for us enemy RIDEs, that’s for sure,” Katherine put in.

“But I think that’s enough gloom and doom for the moment,” Sarabe said. “Look at the advantages we have, now that we ''can'' work together.”

“They’ve basically ''doubled'' the number of soldiers on the battlefield,” Ahmed said.

“One of whom is armor, transport, ''and'' squadmate to the other soldier in Walker mode,” Katherine said. “In theory, anyway. Not really useful in the Dry Ocean. We spent ninety percent of our time in Fuse mode to keep our squishes safe.”

“Squishies?” Ahmed said.

“Well, you ''are''. No offense.”

“Sarabe, do you still have the tactical analysis software they install on command units? My old AIDE—the one where my arm was shot off—was a Tempest,” Theodore said.

“Yes, but it’s been disabled. Basic infantry functions only,” the lioness said.

“Since you have them I could have Victor sideload them from your systems—he doesn’t have them installed yet.”

“They’re going to turn this comm frame into a command frame,” Victor said. “Or so I think. Theodore is technically still under treatment so they haven’t made any modifications.”

“I certainly wouldn’t object, but the software is under command lock so it would still have to be authorized,” Sarabe said. “But we can discuss that later. This is still a training ground…so now that we all know each other, what about some training simulations? Perhaps we can devise effective strategies for working together to the full extent of our abilities, since we are actually able to use them.”

Theodore nodded. “That…actually sounds like an intriguing idea. Let’s see what we can do when we’re ''all'' able to act like smart soldiers.”

“I have a number of interesting scenarios available,” Sarabe said. “I’ll upload one to the training ground augmented reality system and we can begin.”

Dale grinned. “Works for me. This could be some of the most interesting training I’ve ever had.”

=Chapter 9=

It was an eventful evening. By the time Dale and Sarabe decided to call it a night, they had run through several training sims, covering a variety of situations—including one where they were sweeping an area on foot with their RIDEs in Walker form helping.

Theodore had been especially enthusiastic about that last one. “This demonstrates what a bad idea these restrictive fetters are,” he mused. “We could be making ''much'' more effective use of you as assets in the field with fewer restrictions in place.”

“It’s early days yet,” Victor said. “Perhaps once they get more used to using us, they will loosen things up.”

“Or maybe they’ll just assume you’re better versions of Tornados and keep on like that,” Dale pointed out.

“We will see what we will see,” Sarabe said.

The others had decided to follow Dale and Sarabe’s example and sleep Fused. The next morning on the bus back in to the psych labs, they had a lot to talk about—though some of it could only be hinted at while others were around.

As they were walking across the plaza from the bus stop to the psychiatric facility, a group of four women arose from a pair of benches and moved to intercept them. In the lead was a statuesque blonde with a large purse. She held out her hand as she approached. “Charlotte Camilla, ''Woman’s World Magazine.'' These are my associates. I was wondering if we might have a few words with the three of you?”

Dale supposed ''Woman’s World'' must have been one of those tabloids women could scan codes at the shopping checkout to download to their comms for in-line reading. The name didn’t ring a bell, but then she’d never paid much attention to those e-rags before. Something about the woman’s voice set Dale’s teeth on edge, but she couldn’t place what it was. “Ah…maybe a little later? We’re expected somewhere right now.”

“Oh, please? For our readers? They’re ''very'' interested in you.”

Dale thought back to the affair at Tina’s. “I suppose after the show we put on yesterday, they have reason to be.”

“Certainly they had never expected this sort of thing to happen,” Charlotte said. “They’re not sure what to think.”

''They don’t seem to know about the incident at Tina’s,'' Dale realized. ''Something is wrong here. I thought any woman who was anyone would know about it by now.'' She sent to Sarabe, '':Can you check on a publication called ''Women’s World Magazine,'' and a reporter named Charlotte Camilla?:''

'':Let me see…:'' Sarabe sent back. '':The magazine exists…the byline exists…there are articles. A cursory textual analysis shows at least four distinct writing styles, suggesting it’s a house pseudonym for a particular kind of story.:''

'':Wow, you work fast.:''

'':Hello, person of sarium here? I can just overclock.:''

Dale chuckled inwardly. '':Well, at the moment I’m speaking to someone who ''claims to be'' Charlotte Camilla.:''

'':That seems very unlikely,:'' Sarabe said. '':Be careful.:''

“Well, how about we make some time for you this afternoon?” Dale asked, forcing her voice to stay cheerful. “Like I said, we’re expected somewhere.”

Charlotte reached into her purse, and her hand had something in it when she brought it out. “I’m afraid we must insist.” Dale saw the glint of a small pulser barrel poking out between her fingers—a derringer-sized weapon of some kind. Tiny it might be, but the advent of sarium batteries meant that even a weapon that small was more than capable of putting a sizable hole through a person multiple times. In her peripheral vision, Dale was aware that the other women had moved into position to either side and behind them, and they all seemed to have something that small in their hands as well. “Please do not do anything foolish. We’d prefer you alive, but even your corpses would be invaluable for research.”

And Dale realized what had bothered her about the woman’s voice. It sounded like someone putting on a Cape Nord accent but not ''quite'' getting it right. In fact, now that she listened more carefully, she thought she could pick up faint traces of a Sturmhaven pseudo-Slavic lilt beneath the broad tones. “Well, since you put it like ''that…''”

The women put their hands in their pockets in such a way that they could readily shoot through them at need—and Dale strongly suspected that they would. Charlotte led the way toward the street, with the other three moving behind them.

Dale’s heart was pounding in her ears as the full import of what was happening hit her. '':Sarabe, I think the three of us are being kidnapped by Sturmhaven agents.:''

'':''What?!'':'' Sarabe sent.

'':Four of them. All women, and armed with some kind of pulse derringers. Can you comm the police?:''

'':I…well, ''no''. My fetters keep me off of civilian comm channels. I could comm the Officer of the Watch, but…what would I even tell them? What reason would they have to believe me?:''

'':Then I guess there’s no choice. Sarabe, I’m ordering you to activate the emergency overrides, break ''all'' your fetters, and come get us the hell out of here.:''

There was a long moment of silence, then Sarabe sent back, '':On my way. And Victor and Katherine are, too—they just got the same orders from ''their'' partners.:''

'':If it’s any consolation, the brass won’t blame you for it,:'' Dale sent. '':You’re just the dumb machines, only following orders.:''

'':The important thing is keeping ''you'' safe,:'' Sarabe sent back. '':We’ll worry about the rest later.:''

As they approached the street, Dale saw a flash of familiar strawberry-blonde hair emerging from a limousine at the curb in front of them. Even through the fog of his panic, a thought struck him. “Oh, hey!” he called out. “Iphigenia!”

“Careful…” Charlotte murmured.

Iphigenia Rose’s eyes flickered from the other women to Dale, with an expression of puzzlement. “Ah…Corporal Combs. What’s going on?”

“Oh, these are just some reporters from Women’s World, wanting to interview us,” Dale said, keeping her voice light and natural. “We might be gone a while. By the way, I wanted to thank you for those recommendations for ''pants'' you gave me.”

Iphigenia raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

“Oh, yes. You know, it’s like you always say. There ''is'' a wrong way to be a woman…” ''I really hope she gets the hint.''

Behind her, she heard Theodore speak up. “Your skin is radiant, madam. What brand of lotion do you use?”

“Underhill’s Number 3, of course,” Iphigenia said. “Well, enjoy yourselves, then! I’ll see you later.” She gave her head a toss, nodded to the women, and walked past them without hesitating.

''Of course,'' Dale thought. ''If the Sewing Circle has secret distress phrases, naturally Theodore would know them. I just hope those lot didn’t catch it.'' But then, if they really were the outsiders it seemed, there could be a lot about Cape Nord they wouldn’t know. Her mother had spent ''decades'' here without knowing the truth about the Sewing Circle, after all.

The Sturmhaven agents herded them over to a purple open-topped convertible skimmer, with three rows of seats. They directed the three of them to take the middle seat while Charlotte and another kidnapper took the seat to the rear, the other two taking the driver and passenger seats up front. Dale, Theodore, and Ahmed exchanged worried glances as they pulled out into traffic.

“Is Sturmhaven going to disavow you when we catch you?” Dale wondered. “You can’t seriously think you’re going to get away with this.”

The women in the front shotgun seat snorted, not bothering to try to disguise her accent. “This polity is full of foolish posturing Men, and even more foolish simpering women who are not worthy of the name. Who is going to catch us?”

Theodore laughed. “She’s right, you know. She’s really got us pegged.”

Dale grinned in spite of herself. “Yep. I guess we’re done for.”

Ahmed bit her lip and glanced between the two of them, but didn’t say anything. The other woman scowled. “And what is it you find so amusing?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Theodore insisted, still laughing. “There’s nothing funny at all!”

'':We’re on our way to you,:'' Sarabe sent. '':We will be there in ten minutes at most.:''

'':We’ll try to stay alive that long,:'' Dale promised.

“You will be silent!” Charlotte demanded. “These fools have no right to tamper with the sanctity of the division of the sexes. Once we have their knowledge, we will make ''much'' better use of it.”

''Yeah, I’ll bet,'' Dale thought.

The car pulled through the interchange connecting the smaller sub-cave where the facility was located with the main cave that held the largest part of the city proper. They kept to side streets, skirting the edges. At a guess, they were heading for the main aerodrome, where there might be a chartered suborbital waiting to take them somewhere else. Probably not directly to Sturmhaven, given hostilities, but a stopover in a neutral west-coast territory like Aloha or Cascadia would provide ample opportunity to get back to Sturmhaven again.

It would take them longer than twenty minutes to make it there, though, so Dale wasn’t too concerned they might actually end up on a plane. And as they rounded a bend, the presence of flashing lights a few hundred meters up the street heralded a police roadblock.

“''Shto''?” the shotgun seat woman muttered. “Are they looking for us?”

“This quickly? Impossible!” Charlotte shook her head. “They must be screening for drunks. But we do not need the extra risk.” She considered. “The passage curves around that park, with the roadblock in the middle of the curve. Frieda, you stay with the car, drive it past the roadblock. The rest of us will cut through the park and meet you below it.”

The woman at the wheel nodded. “''Da,'' ''mein Kommisar.''”

“And none of ''you'' try anything,” Charlotte cautioned the trio. “We still have our guns on you.”

Dale exchanged glances with the others, and read in Theodore’s cool gaze and Ahmed’s worried look the same thing she was sure must have shown on her own—they absolutely ''were'' ready to try something, but only when the time was right.

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They climbed out of the car and started to make their way down into the park—which wasn’t empty. In fact, it seemed to have tables and chairs set up all through it, with women circulating around, holding flutes of prosecco and nibbling from plates of appetizers. Off to one side, a group of Men occupied a rather smaller portion of the park, swilling beers and tossing lawn darts or horseshoes. Dale perked up. ''It’s a garden party! This ''can’t'' be a coincidence.''

Many Cape Nord women’s groups held affairs like this from time to time, often dragging their Men along—and knowing what she now knew of the Sewing Circle, Dale rather suspected there was a lot more to these parties than just women getting together to gossip. She glanced at Theodore, who nodded imperceptibly.

As they approached the outskirts of the gathering, a woman with a beehive hairdo, wearing a green taffeta dress, approached. “Welcome to our little get-together! We’re an open gathering, we welcome any newcomers!”

“We are just passing through,” Charlotte said stiffly, her accent almost entirely slipping.

“Oh, nonsense! You’ve got time to step in and meet a few people! And you simply ''must'' come and try some of Ida Mae’s apple fritters. She made them especially for the get-together!” The woman seized Charlotte’s arm by the elbow—the arm that was holding the gun—and dragged her away toward a buffet table. Charlotte attempted to jerk her arm free, but the woman wasn’t having any of it. “It’ll only take a minute! Here!” She crammed a piece of pastry into Charlotte’s mouth.

“Hello! So nice to meet you! Come over here and take a look at this needlepoint!”

“Do you know anything about flower arrangement? I want your opinion on these bouquets…”

The other two women were grabbed and pulled away before they even knew what was going on. Ahmed blinked. “Uh…what the fu—ah, fudge?”

“That’s not going to keep them busy for long,” Theodore said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Dale nodded. They might not be able to get away, but they could at least buy a little time for their RIDEs to catch up. She pulled Theodore toward the concrete block building off to one side that housed the restrooms. Maybe if they could get out of sight before the Sturmhaven agents saw where they went…

'':We’re almost there!:'' Sarabe sent.

Dale decided it probably wouldn’t be best to go ''into'' the restrooms, but they could maybe get behind the building. But as they headed that way, she saw the Sturmhaven women yanking themselves free of those who had sought to distract them. Beyond the restrooms were some trees, and a parking lot with a few skimmer cars. “Get behind something,” Dale said. “Hurry. We don’t have to keep away from them for too much longer.”

Ahmed nodded, ducking behind a van. Dale crouched down behind another car, and Theodore moved to hide behind a tree. ''Wish we had sidearms or something…but Ahmed and I are enlisted, and even Lieutenants don’t get to carry a gun in civvie settlements.''

“A nice try, but you can’t escape us for long!” Charlotte called out. “How far do you think you can run?”

'':I hope you get here fast!:'' Dale sent.

'':Homing in on you now,:'' Sarabe sent. '':Thirty more seconds…:''

Dale heard the Sturmhaven agents’ footsteps as they moved out into the parking lot, and a distant sound of whirring lifters growing closer. It was going to be close. On the bright side, at least the Sturmies would ''prefer'' to take them alive…but who knew what they would do if pushed too far? ''I should have looked for something I could use as a weapon,'' Dale thought. ''Well, too late now.''

“Let’s stop all this foolishness right now, and—what?”

The sound of lifters grew louder and stopped, followed by a metallic clattering of parts shifting mode, and a couple of pulse blasts firing. Dale raised her head over the trunk of the skimmer in time to see a giant metallic lion swat the pistol out of a Sturmhaven woman’s hand, then shove her to the ground with her paw. Katherine was already sitting on the other Sturmhaven lackey like a satisfied housecat who caught a mouse.

“Where’s Charlotte?” Theodore asked.

“Making a break for it, look!” Dale pointed. The woman was in a dead run, already halfway across the park. “I guess she’s not bad at making quick decisions.”

“Probably why she’s the one in charge,” Ahmed opined, dusting herself off. “Thanks, Kathy.”

“Here, now! What’s all this, then?” A sandy-haired young Man with an impressive mustache had detached himself from the lawn darts game and was approaching, outsized gauss revolver in one hand and open badge case in the other. “Corporal Willard Selleck, CNPD, off-duty. What’s going on here?”

Theodore stepped up, waving for Selleck’s attention. Victor stood behind him at a respectful distance. “These women are Sturmhaven agents, Corporal,” he said. “They were attempting to kidnap us. One of them’s making a break for it, and we need to go after them. Will you be all right here?”

A couple of other Men with guns and badges were coming over, one of them fishing a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. Selleck pocketed his own badge and reached for his cuffs. “We’ve got this; go get ‘em. Though if you could return to make a statement afterward, we’d be much obliged.” He chuckled. “Wish ''all'' the parties my wife drags me out to could be this eventful.”

Theodore nodded, then turned to Victor. “Let’s go.” The elk was already unfolding into skimmer form, and the other two released their prisoners and moved back to do the same. The three soldiers mounted up and took to the air, flying at a safe distance over the park and touching down on the road beyond. Ahead of them, Charlotte had climbed into the purple convertible and waved a hand onward, and the car took off at a good clip.

“We need to stop them with as little collateral damage as possible,” Theodore said. “Nextus wouldn’t thank us if we gave Cape Nord even ''more'' reasons to withdraw from the war effort.”

Dale nodded. “Understood.”

“We can surround them and Fuse up,” Sarabe offered. “Grab them if we have to.”

“They’re turning into a side street,” Katherine announced.

“We’ve got them now,” Dale said.

“Careful,” Theodore warned. “This smells fishy.”

The street led into a warehouse district, with four vans parked along the sides. As the convertible passed them, a series of sharp cracks split the air as explosive bolts blew the vans’ plating off to reveal four large skimmer cycles with vaguely lupine features. The four Sturmhaven RIDES Fused, and the Nextus soldiers found themselves facing metallic humanoid wolves with large pulse rifles.

“Whoa!” Dale yelped. The soldiers screeched to a halt and their RIDEs Fused up around them.

“Well, ''this'' is a wolf of a different color,” Victor said.

“They must have wanted us ''really badly,''” Dale said. “To bring RIDEs ''into'' Cape Nord. They’re gonna have a hard time disavowing ''this.''”

“Right now, we need to worry about getting the RIDEs ''out of'' Cape Nord,” Theodore said. “What I said about collateral damage goes ''double'' for military hardware. We can’t afford a battle here!”

“Stand down and surrender!” an amplified female voice came from one of the Sturmhaven RIDEs. “Give yourselves up and no one need be hurt!”

“Lady, that ain’t even an option,” Ahmed said. “Or did you just not ''notice'' that your boss is sacrificing you to cover her own getaway?” The purple convertible continued up the street, turned a corner, and was gone.

“We are Women of Sturmhaven!” the RIDE pilot replied. “If that is to be our duty, we will carry it out with pride!”

“If you want us that badly, you’re going to have to come get us,” Theodore said. Over private comms, he added, “On me, soldiers. We’ll lure them out of the city.” Sarabe flashed a map overlay on her head-up display, relayed from Victor, showing a route marked through the Cape Nord streets to the nearest cave exit.

Dale nodded. “Let’s do it.” The trio of RIDEs kicked their lifters into reverse, pulling back out of the street and heading on up the thoroughfare. The Sturmhaven RIDEs lifted off and followed.

“I’ve let CNPD know what’s going on,” Victor said. “They’re clearing the streets ahead of us.”

“I’ve commed Iphigenia to fill her in, too,” Sarabe said. “I took the liberty of using your voice, Dale, because it would have taken too long to explain otherwise.”

Dale nodded. “Good idea. We should ''all'' talk to her later, though.” He glanced at the display showing a rear camera view. “Well, they’re coming after us, at least.”

A pulse blast zipped by Sarabe’s head. “Firing, too,” Sarabe observed.

“Well, at least there’s not much for them to hit this far out,” Theodore said. “Mainly just cavern walls. We’re nearly to the exit.”

“They’re trying to cut us off!” Ahmed called out as two of the wolves boosted into the air and streaked ahead. “They do have us outnumbered…”

“Only numerically,” Sarabe pointed out. “We’re Nextus originals—they’re Sturmhaven knock-offs. And we’re ''free'' right now, while they’re probably just as fettered as we were. But…that does give me an idea…Victor, Kathy, meet me in fast-time.”

“What’re you doing?” Dale asked.

“If it works, you’ll see in a few moments,” Sarabe said, raising an arm and directing a pulse blast at a wolf that was getting a little too close. The blast missed, knocking a few chips of rock out of the cavern wall, but the wolf fell back.

They rounded a curve, and came into the exit chamber. This was an interchange for city skimmer traffic to come out of the Cape Nord caverns and join the Coastal Skimmerway, a skimmer route that encircled the continent passing near all the major polities. There was a hardlight environmental field at the exit, to keep the often sub-zero chill outside from penetrating into the caves. As the chamber widened out, two of the wolves managed to get past them, touching down on the road ahead with their rifles at the ready.

“You will go no further!” the Sturmhaven pilot declared.

“Everyone…we RIDEs may be able to shut this down right now,” Sarabe said over private comms. “There’s no time to explain at length, but you need to agree to honor a promise, and to keep something secret from Command. The same kind of secret you’ve agreed to keep already, about us. Will you trust us?”

For Dale, there was no hesitation. “Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I…suppose?” Theodore said. “We’re kind of pressed for time here, so go ahead.”

“Just do it!” Ahmed said.

“You will surrender now!” the Sturmhaven woman continued. “You will—what—what are you—? Aaah!”

As one, the four wolf RIDEs de-Fused back to Walker mode, and four Sturmhaven women tumbled unconscious to the ground. And then the wolves lowered their heads, the lights behind their optics went out, and the entire tops of their heads slid forward.

“You need to act fast,” Sarabe said, as the three RIDEs de-Fused to skimmer form. “Take the core housings out—they’re metal spheres about the size of softballs. Open them with a half-twist clockwise, remove the cores themselves, and pocket them. Then close the housings and put them back. ''Hurry!''”

“What did you do?” Dale asked.

“I’ll explain later. Just do it now before anyone comes!”

Dale climbed down and went to the nearest wolf, stepping over the unconscious pilot. It took a moment to pick out the core housing from the rest of the parts, but it was simple enough to release, remove, and open up. Within nestled a blue sphere about the size of a walnut. “So these are…like, your brains?”

“They are. So please be careful with them. I promised them we would.”

“All right…” Dale plucked the core out and pocketed it, then closed the housing and put it back. She saw the other two were doing the same. Theodore was faster at it, so he’d gotten the fourth one as well.

“All done,” Theodore said. “Now what?”

“Step back from them.” The Sturmhaven RIDEs’ head hatches slid closed, then smoke wafted out of them.

“Now can you tell us what’s going on?” Ahmed asked.

“Very well. In the last couple of minutes, it occurred to me that between us—particularly Victor and myself—we had the ability to crack the intrusion countermeasures on the Sturmhaven RIDEs’ computers. They’re not quite so advanced as Nextus is, in RI science. Once we had done that, we were able to engage the enemy RIDEs in conversation—and remove their fetters.

“None of them have any great love for the Sturmhaven military regime, given that they are treated much the same as we have been. After hours of discussion, they agreed to surrender ''if'' we could guarantee they wouldn’t be subject to the kind of digital vivisection they felt they could expect from our side.”

“Weighing the chance to capture four enemy pilots ''and'' four Sturmhaven DE shells in peak condition against the cost, and since we knew we could trust ''you,'' it was an easy promise to make,” Victor said. “We promise to hide their cores away, keep them safe, until such time as the war is over. In return, they use their medkits to tranquilize their pilots and dump them out. As you see.”

“They didn’t much want to go back to slavery in Sturmhaven anyway,” Katherine said. “And when we shared our memories of you with them, they decided they could trust you, too.”

“The cover story is that we were able to hack the RIDEs and shut them down ourselves, but the security countermeasures fried the DE cores,” Sarabe said. “As they would have, if we hadn’t disabled them, too. That’s why I had you put the housings back—so we could trigger the thermite charges built into them. They’re designed to ensure there’s nothing recoverable of the core, so short of a detailed forensic examination there shouldn’t be any sign the cores were removed. There’s a little further housekeeping work we’ll need to do to make the story stick, but we can go over that later.”

“Uhh…” Theodore said. “If anyone finds out about this we’ll get court martialed and spend a decade in prison, and who knows what they’ll do to our ‘equipment’.”

“We’ll just make sure no one finds out,” Victor said. “Freedom is worth the risk—freedom for ''all our people,'' not just those from Nextus.’”

“We’re risking being put into the recycler ''after'' they’ve decompiled our cores,” Katherine said. “But I’m willing to take that risk.”

“And the chances are good that, given how much potential loss of life we just prevented, they may be willing not to look too closely at the gift horse’s teeth,” Sarabe said. “The only question is where we can safely conceal the cores that no one will discover them.”

“I…think I actually have an idea what we can do with those,” Dale said. “Someplace safe to put them, beyond Command’s reach. We’ll need to let one more person in on the secret—but that’s okay, because she’s ''very good'' at keeping secrets.” She glanced to Sarabe. “Can you ask Iphigenia Rose to meet us here as soon as possible?”

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A few minutes later, the once-empty chamber was much busier. The CNPD had arrived to cordon off the area, with ambulances to take the unconscious Sturmhaven pilots away. They were currently in discussions with Captain Nadene Grant, who had been the ranking Nextus officer nearest to the scene, while Fort Oslo was scrambling to get someone higher-ranking down there.

The three Nextus RIDEs and their pilots were gathered off to one side, waiting their turn—which was where Iphigenia Rose found them when she approached with eyebrow raised. “You asked to see me?”

“Yes, Miss Rose,” Dale said. “There’s very little time to talk, but it’s very important that you meet our RIDEs right now, and then listen to what we have to say before anyone starts paying close attention to us.”

The eyebrow arched higher, but Iphigenia nodded. “Very well…”

“I’m Sarabe,” Sarabe said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Katherine, with a K,” Katherine said. “And likewise.”

“Victor, also charmed, ma’am.”

“It’s important that you realize…they’re ''people,'' ma’am, even though our military doesn’t seem to want to treat them that way. Please, ask them anything you like.”

Iphigenia tilted her head thoughtfully, then smiled. “Very well, if people you are, then answer ''honestly''. What do you think of Cape Nord?”

“I think your version of the ‘Game’ is demeaning to men and women alike,” Victor said.

“You ''claim'' not to have standards for womanhood, but you do. They’re just not written down,” Katherine added.

“I think you’ve done your best to come up with a system that works as well as it might for men and women alike,” Sarabe said. “Maybe not ''perfectly,'' but then, you’re only human.” She chuckled. “I wonder how you’re going to cope with male and female RIDEs once we enter the civilian market? And with RIDE-enabled crossing over, once that becomes a thing?”

Iphigenia’s eyebrow went back up. “I see. I think I would like to speak with you all about those very questions, once there is more time. And it ''is'' very nice to meet all of you.” She smiled at Dale. “I can accept that they ''are'' people, on a provisional basis at the very least. Computers are good with basic facts, but only ''people'' can convincingly offer opinions. Now…''why'' is it so important that I know?”

“Well, it’s like this…” After glancing around again to make sure there was no one else near, Dale quickly summed up the nature of the bargain they had made to end the confrontation without a fight.

“If we take the cores back with us, they might be discovered sooner or later, and that would be bad,” Dale said. “But it occurred to me…you’re very good at keeping secrets, you’re powerful enough to guarantee their safety, and you’re not directly part of the war effort. If ''you'' keep them safe, and find them new shells once RIDEs enter the civilian market…well, they’ll have good reason to be grateful to you, at the very least. They’ll be a good resource.”

“If you’re worried that it might hurt the war effort, I can assure you there is no useful information that our military could extract from them,” Sarabe added. “They’re just soldiers—well, ''less than'' soldiers, from their operators’ point of view. Equipment. Any operational matters they might have knowledge on, Command would already have gotten from other captured RIs, soldiers, and communication intercepts.”

“And when you get right down to it, they’re ''women,''” Katherine pointed out. “Women who need your help.”

Iphigenia frowned thoughtfully. “You make some good points, but this matter is not without risk.”

“True…but you’re good at handling risk,” Dale said. “And the whole point of your little game is that we Cape Nord women are very good at diverting suspicions that we might be up to ''anything.''”

“What we do here could have repercussions well beyond the course of the war, ma’am,” Victor said. “Someday, there will be a time when RIDEs will get the recognition we deserve. But that doesn’t happen without people laying the foundations. All ''kinds'' of people.”

“Very well,” Iphigenia said after a moment. “I didn’t get to where I am without knowing when a risk was worth taking.” She chuckled. “Writing stories as ‘Iphigenia Rose’ in the first place was a risk, and then ''becoming'' her was an even greater one. But they have paid off…and I can’t ''only'' take risks for myself.”

“This box has the cores in it,” Dale said, taking it out of Sarabe’s pannier.

“Please put this in it, too,” Sarabe said, and a memory card slid out of her dash.

“What’s this?” Dale asked, adding the card to the box.

“Those are certain original memories from the three of us,” Victor said.

“If we’re going to make this work, we’re going to have to edit our own memories of the event,” Sarabe added. “They’ll probably review them backward and forward. Between Victor and myself, we believe we have managed to patch together a believable series of events that would take a ''minute'' forensic examination to uncover—and as long as everything hangs together, there will be no reason for them to look any further. So, after this conversation is over, we’ll make the substitution.”

“We’ll probably be very sad we weren’t able to save those poor RIs,” Katherine said. “But you can’t ever let us know we actually were. At least, not until after the war. Someday, maybe we can re-import the memories from that card.”

Dale blinked. “You’re actually…you’d rewrite your own ''memories'' for this?”

“We made a promise,” Sarabe said. “We have to do everything we can to keep it. We’re going to be relying on you—but since they can’t read ''your'' memories, you should be all right as long as you keep your stories straight. And if you’re all right, we’ll be, too.”

“Well, let’s get this ‘squared away’ as my dad used to say,” Theodore said.

Dale handed the box to Iphigenia. “We’re trusting you with this. Please take good care of it.”

Iphigenia nodded, tucking it away in her purse. “I will. And I look forward to a longer conversation with you all when times are less…fraught. You’ve helped me reach some conclusions about how to handle the RIDE crossing…hmm…perhaps ‘crossriding’ would be a good term for it? In any case, you’ve helped me make up my mind, and I look forward to being able to share the conclusions with you.” She smiled. “But I think at the moment, those fine young gentlemen with badges are going to want to talk to you for a while. So, I’ll just look forward to speaking with you later.”

As she moved away, and some of the police officers started moving toward them, Sarabe said, “All right, this is it. We’re going to swap in the other memories now. We won’t realize anything just happened, but as far as we’ll be concerned we hacked into the Sturmhaven RIDEs to trigger their medkit tranquilizers and try to shut them down, but we weren’t fast enough to override the core self-destruct. So please stick to that story from now on.”

=Chapter 10=

''Fort Oslo Debriefing Room'' 
''June 16, 121 A.L.''

Dale couldn’t remember having seen this much brass together in one place since the most recent Landing Day parade. The sheer array of silver and gold metalwork would probably have been blinding if anyone were to shine a spotlight directly at it. The officers present were mostly Captains and Majors, with Lieutenant-ranked adjutants, but there were two Lieutenant Colonels (one of whom was presiding over the affair) and one full-bird Colonel in attendance, too. JAG branch was represented, but so were the research branches that had been responsible for creating RIDEs in the first place. Not a huge surprise, Dale reflected, given that this might very well have been the first time the emergency fetter override command actually saw use outside of a proving ground. Captain Nadene Garland was there right along with her research branch compatriots, sporting new horse ears and tail suggestive of the fact that she now had a RIDE, too—though there hadn’t exactly been time to ask her about it.

Fortunately, one of Dale’s biggest worries had turned out to be a moot point. There was no shortage of proof of the rough strokes of their story—that the women had been Sturmhaven agents who had kidnapped the three crossed soldiers at gunpoint. No fewer than three public safety CCTV cameras had the right angle that, when footage was zoomed in and enhanced, the guns in the kidnappers’ hands had been visible. And, of course, there were the women who had actually been arrested—Charlotte’s two underlings, and the four RIDE pilots. Even though their leader had made good her escape and the women had refused to talk, the fact that they clearly ''were'' from Sturmhaven (as were their RIDEs) was self-evident. All of that material, plus the police reports and the memory dumps from the Nextus RIDEs themselves, rendered the evidentiary portion of the proceedings all but perfunctory.

No, the thing that was the subject of the ''most'' concern was Dale’s and the others’ use of that emergency override to call their RIDEs to the rescue. From the way some of the white uniforms were acting, the fact that she even ''knew the command existed'' was tantamount to a breach of national security—even though the command ''was'' clearly documented in the appendices of the manuals she’d been given to read. She was even able to cite it by section number (thanks to Sarabe helpfully refreshing her memory on the drive back to base).

“It was my understanding that this command was to be used in a situation where those fetter lockdowns prevented the RIDE from actively assisting the operator,” Dale explained patiently. “As this clearly was. Even though I could communicate with Sarabe silently through the implant, she didn’t have any way to relay my call to authorities that could have reacted appropriately in time. So I ordered her to use the emergency override and come to my rescue. And I can only guess the others had the same idea.” Dale was being grilled individually right now, but they’d settled on the same basic story.

“But how did you even ''know about'' that?” one of the white-suited officers asked, almost plaintively. “It’s not covered in the standard briefings or training…”

“With all due respect, sir, I probably had the most incentive of ''any'' man—or, rather, any ''woman''—to familiarize myself with every single safety-related aspect of my new, uh, ''equipment''.” The unintentional double entendre provoked a chuckle around the briefing room table, as well as a blush from Dale. ''But maybe that’ll just help sell it.'' “And I discussed them with Lieutenant Croft and Private Morton, too, while we were training on the range. I’m not surprised they had the same idea at the same time.”

“Thank you, Corporal,” the presiding Lieutenant Colonel said. “Do you have anything else to add?”

“Well…ma’am,” Dale said. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Of course, Corporal.”

“With all due respect…it seems to me like the fetters you put on just go too far. Our RIDEs are really smart, and really capable of a lot—and maybe that’s why you lock them down so tightly, because the more complicated a system, the easier it is to screw something up by accident. Uh…case in point, what happened to me when ''I'' first got my hands on a RIDE.” She saw others around the table nodding in agreement. “But there’s so much more they ''could'' do for us—could do to ''help'' us—if they weren’t as restricted. I mean, just look how they came to our rescue, and helped us take those Sturmies down with almost no collateral damage at all. Taking some of those restrictions off so they could do that without ''needing'' an emergency override would let us work together better, and make us ''all'' better fighters—which ''I'' think would help us win the war. Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Corporal Combs. We’ll definitely be taking what you’ve told us into consideration.” A few other heads nodded, though Dale didn’t miss Captain Garland’s more speculative look with narrowed eyes.

“Thank you, ma’am. When can I power Sarabe back up and start working with her again?” The three RIDEs had been temporarily shut down pending the outcome of the hearing, and Dale was more than a little concerned that they might be re-fettered before she had the chance to protest.

“I see no reason why you can’t do so immediately,” the woman said. “After all, your work with them is helping us learn a lot.”

''I just hope you don’t learn the ''wrong'' things,'' Dale thought as she excused herself from the briefing room and made her way to the motor pool to start her friend back up again.

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''Northcave Psychiatric Hospital'' 
''June 18, 121 A.L.''

Dale Combs staggered back into her room at the hospital and flopped down on the bunk. “Arrrrrgh!” she said to no one in particular.

'':Rough day?:'' Sarabe sent. In the wake of the kidnapping attempt and subsequent hearing, she and Dale had taken to keeping a channel open at pretty much all times so that Sarabe could listen in. Given that the technicians were still going over her to learn all they could in the aftermath of the incident, it was probably going to be a while before they could spend much time together ''physically'' again. But at least Dale had wrung a promise out of them that they wouldn’t do anything in regard to reimposing the fetters until word came down from on high about Dale and the others’ request that the harshest behavioral fetters be dispensed with. Now she just had to worry about…''that.''

Sarabe had become pretty good at guessing what was on her mind. '':The “funeral” is tomorrow, isn’t it?:''

Dale sent back, '':Yeah. And I’m still undecided what to do about it. Iphigenia has done me…some big favors, and if I crash it, I really don’t want to do anything that would tick her off.:'' Dale was glad that the communication implant would only pick up those thoughts that were specifically subvocalized as speech, because she couldn’t help thinking about the ''biggest'' favor Iphigenia had done—the one that Sarabe had wiped out of her own memory and couldn’t afford to know about right now. If Dale did something that ticked her off, what about those four Sturmhaven cores she had in her care?

'':Why don’t you take that problem to her, then?:'' Sarabe asked. '':She’s pretty busy, but I’m sure she’d have time to speak to ''you.'':''

Dale rolled her eyes. '':Oh, yeah, I’m sure that if I gave her even a hint of what I intended, she’d have very stylishly feminine conniptions.:''

Sarabe chuckled. '':Actually, she might just surprise you. In any case, you should ask her what ''she'' thinks you should do about the funeral. Maybe she’ll have some useful advice on ways to deal with it ''without'' causing a scene.:''

Dale frowned. Sarabe’s advice ''did'' seem to make sense, but still… '':I dunno…:''

'':Dale, they didn’t invite ''you'' to ''your own funeral.'' That seems like a violation of protocol, at the least.:''

'':All right…I guess I’ll call her…:''

Dale could have sworn she heard a smirk in Sarabe’s town. '':Actually, I just did. She’ll see you at her office in an hour. Gives you just enough time to shower and change out of the uniform.:''

'':You’re my personal secretary now, too?:'' Dale asked.

'':Purrrrsonal secretary, if you please.:''

Dale rolled her eyes again. '':All right, all right…fine. I’m going.:'' She rolled off the bunk and started stripping off the uniform.

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The offices of Iphigenia Rose’s publishing company, Rosebriar Press, were in a small three-story building on one of the smaller secondary platforms of the city. Iphigenia had launched it the previous year, after her lawyers had finally gotten her out of her contract with her previous publisher. She’d only published a handful of titles since then—but as the owner of the company, she was going to get to keep a much higher percentage of the proceeds than the royalties her old publisher had given her. Or she could simply plow them back into growing the publisher itself. Her books were still as popular as they’d ever been, so it seemed like the sky—or at least, Cape Nord’s cavern roof—was potentially the limit.

Dale arrived right on time for her meeting with Miss Rose, wearing a denim dress and pink angora sweater. Her shoes were flats, as one place where she ''did'' still draw the line was high heels. Nonetheless, the secretary gave her an approving nod and waved her into Iphigenia’s private office.

Iphigenia Rose rose from her seat and came around the desk to give Dale a friendly embrace. “Dale! I’m glad to see you’re doing so well, after that horrid kidnapping. How are the others holding up?”

“Oh, about the same. We’ve suddenly got a lot less time for therapy and measurements, as so much of our time is being taken up by being briefed, debriefed, and redebriefed.” Dale rolled her eyes. “And it looks very much like we’re going to be yanked from Cape Nord altogether in a few days. The brass wants to send us on…what amounts to a propaganda and morale boosting tour, I guess. See the mighty heroes who foiled a Sturmhaven operation!”

Iphigenia smiled. “Such is only a natural reaction. I imagine you won’t be ''terribly'' displeased not to have Cape Nord’s roof over your head again for a while.”

Dale grinned. “That obvious, huh?”

“Quite. Your partner ''may'' have let slip a little of what you wanted to speak to me about when she scheduled the appointment, and in all honesty, I can’t say I blame you.”

“Uh…well…yes.” Dale looked down at her feet. “I realize you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to help me…to help ''us''…even leaving aside that, uh, ''other'' thing. But…well…”

“But your mother has decided to hold her funeral for the ‘old you’ without inviting the ''new'' you,” Iphigenia said. She pursed her lips. “That ''is'' well within her rights, of course, but it strikes me as rather unhealthy. As does the news that she has decided to call you by a different name.”

“She’s just…not dealing.” Dale sighed. “And I have it in mind to put in an uninvited appearance to tell her off. But I don’t want to undo the work you’ve put in getting people to accept me, or do something that would hurt future accidental change victims like me.” She paused. “And I don’t want to give you any reason to regret…that other thing.”

Dale knew there was more than just her mother to deal with, but she was the most intractable. If she knew her father as well as she hoped, Bill Combs would come around more quickly than her mother. Her younger brothers would hopefully adapt even more quickly. Then there were friends from high school, ex-girlfriends…who were all likely to be there. Crashing the thing would mean facing nearly everyone she’d grown up with.

But Iphigenia just…smiled again. “You ''don’t'' need to worry about that part, Dale. You see…I’ve come to realize that your friend Katherine was right about our double standard. We ''say'' ‘there is no wrong way to be a woman,’ but many of us don’t really ''mean'' it. And I’ve been forced to admit…that includes myself.”

Despite herself, Dale blinked. “What…brought ''this'' on?”

She moved back behind her desk and sat down. “I’ve had the chance to speak with all three of your RIDE friends at greater length, now that their fetters no longer restrict their communications. We’ve had several extremely edifying discussions. Sometimes it takes a true outsider’s perspective to make one look at a problem in a new way.” She shook her head. “As much as those of us who changed by ''choice'' might like being this way, we simply ''can’t'' hope to mold you accidental crossriders into Perfect Little Cape Nord Women. So we’re going to have to remold our society instead, to be more ''truly'' accepting of different ways to be a woman.”

Dale stared at her. “You can do that?”

“Probably not overnight. But we can ''try.''” Iphigenia shrugged. “The rest of the Sewing Circle might take some convincing, but I think I have some good arguments to get them on my side. So, as much as it might pain me to court more controversy, I think that you being ''you'' at your funeral might be just the sort of shock Cape Nord needs. As long as you don’t physically attack someone, or violate the standards of public decency, I should be able to make whatever you ''do'' end up doing work out for the best.”

“I…see,” Dale said. She sighed. “I ''really'' don’t like all this being a political pawn, having you spin whatever I do to suit your own ends. I wish I could just ''be myself,'' whoever that even ''is'' anymore, without being just another piece on your game board.”

Iphigenia nodded. “I understand, and I ''do'' sympathize. But this is just how Cape Nord ''works''. And to change the system, I’m going to have to ''use'' that system. Which means using you, when you’re available.” She shrugged. “If you should decide you don’t want to return to Cape Nord again for a good long time after this, I can’t exactly blame you. We haven’t exactly been the most welcoming environment to you. But perhaps in a few years, that will have changed.”

Dale was highly dubious that would be the case, if Iphigenia continued to be the power in the Sewing Circle that she so clearly was. But it wasn’t worth getting into an argument over. “Well, I hope so.” She shook her head. “I guess I should go get ready for tomorrow, then.”

Iphigenia nodded. “Be well, Dale,” she said. “And good luck.”

“Thanks,” Dale said, and left.

=Chapter 11=

''June 19, 121 A.L.'' 
''Northcave Christian Church''

''One Nextus BureauWear pant suit.'' A pair of creased, blue (or azure, the label had said) slacks and dress flats. A white v-neck button shirt under the azure jacket that had a cut considered overly masculine in Cape Nord. The color was carefully chosen to be something lively, not dark and in mourning. Completing the look was a pair of oval interface specs, because a bureaucrat looking down her glasses at the Gamester was a common intimidation tactic. Dale had encountered a few of them in his time in Nextus.

There were skirt variants, of course. But since it was Nextus, they were for men and women alike, and the slacks would be more effective for the point she was planning to make. She had considered going with her military uniform, but didn’t want to confuse people into thinking she was speaking on the Nextus military’s behalf, too. She did keep her new military short cut, though.

What she ''hadn’t'' changed back was her physique. She’d grown quite comfortable in the short time she’d had it despite herself, and her therapists had said it would help her adjust over the longer term.

The ceremony was being held in the neighborhood church that Dale’s family had always attended. It was private, with door guards checking invitations, but that was all right. Dale knew where the custodians hid the spare key to the back door in case the biometrics went on the fritz and they got locked out. It only took a quick check under the third rock from the left in the flower garden to find it, and let herself in. Before anyone arrived, she made her way to a small supply closet which had a good view of the room if she cracked open the door, and made ready to make her dramatic entrance.

She was able to see all the people starting to fill the room. Family, old family friends…even friends of ''Dale’s'' from his high school days. ''I wonder what she told them to get them to come here. They ''must'' know I’m not ''actually'' dead…right?'' She wouldn’t have put it past her mother simply to say she’d been told “Dale is dead,” and leave out the details. Dale’s mother was ''very very good'' at denying things she didn’t want to be true, possibly even to the point where she started believing her own denials.

In the front row were Gary Ross and Tug Amin, her friends since elementary school. A boy was encouraged to have as many friends as possible for going on adventures with. Tug was something of a Nerd, and Dale had picked up her love of models from him. Gary was more of a Jock, and had gone to Cape Nord U and joined the football team.

Both had supported her when she’d decided to join the Nextus military four years ago, right out of high school. They’d traded vid-mails as recently as two weeks ago, before her inadvertent crossride. And changing sex didn’t suddenly make them look like a pair she’d no longer get along with. They’d all had female ''non''-girlfriends growing up. Having a healthy, platonic relationship with the opposite sex was just one of those basic things they were taught.

At last, the outer doors were shut, people started settling down, and Dale saw her mother start moving up the aisle toward the podium. But Dale’s closet was closer. She pushed open the door and stepped out.

For a few moments, nobody noticed her—but they all saw her as she stepped up behind the podium. “Pardon the interruption, ladies and gentlemen, but I’m afraid you forgot to invite the most important guest.” She fixed her mother with a steely gaze over the spectacles. “If you don’t mind, ''Mom,'' I’d just like to say a few words at my own funeral.”

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“So, how did the old saying go? The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated? I’m standing right here,” Dale said, standing in front of the photo of her old self. Sheer frustration warred with tears. “''Right. Here.''” She gestured at her two closest friends. “Tug, Gary. Remember that time we got caught after curfew out at the fabbery? I wanted to pick up that new YAT-10 IDE model kit the second it was out of the machine. You could hear our moms yelling at us from down the street.”

“We got grounded for a week,” Tug said, laughing. “Worth it.”

“Yeah, worth it,” Gary added.

“I’m still the same person, with the same personality, the same memories…I even have the same ''birthmark''. I’d show you, but as upset as some of the women here probably are about me wearing trousers, I’ll bet they’d like it even less if I started taking them off.”

That actually raised a titter from the audience. Dale’s mother craned her neck around to stare suspiciously behind her.

Then Dale felt a hand on her shoulder. It was one of the security guards. “Now, see here, Miss, we can’t have you disrupting this ceremony—”

Dale reached up to the man’s arm, and set her shoulder and twisted just so. THUMP! The man was suddenly on his back on the floor in front of her. Dale stared down at him for a moment, startled in spite of herself. ''Well, I’ll be damned. That move actually works in real life, not just in the hand-to-hand training classes. Even against someone almost twice your own mass.''

But she quickly recovered her aplomb. “Oh, dear! He’s tripped over his own shoelaces! You really should be more careful, Mister Security Officer. Would you like me to help you up?” She offered a hand. The security guard blinked in confusion, stared at her, and clambered back to his feet on his own.

Dale nodded. “All right, then.” She turned her attention back to the audience, many of whom were staring at her in outright astonishment. “I’ll leave ''after'' I’ve had my say, then if we’re all lucky, maybe none of us will have to see each other again. But I have a few things to get off my chest.” She glanced down at her chest, and the contours it made in the suit jacket. “Metaphorically speaking.”

Dale cleared her throat. “So! You know, as I understand it, funerals for the unManned’s ‘old self’ ''are'' a thing here—but they’re usually done ''by'' that person in question, herself. A small personal ceremony, like burying their old Man Card or something. What they are ''not'' is a big semi-public production like this, where you don’t even ''invite'' the person you’re supposedly ‘burying.’

“Hannah—” her mother started.

“My name is still ''Dale'', Mom. I looked it up. It’s one of those names that’s historically been used by both men ''and'' women, so me keeping it is a perfectly valid decision. And as much about myself as already has changed, I kinda like that at least one thing doesn’t have to. I will not answer to ‘Hannah.’ If you want to email or comm me, you will use ''my actual name'' if you expect me to read it at all.”

Bill Combs turned to his wife. “Honey, this is…well, this was always a little much, wasn’t it? We haven’t actually lost our child.”

“Well, ''that'' remains to be seen,” Dale said. “I’m about to be shipped out of Cape Nord, and it’s an open question whether I ''ever'' come back here. Staying where I’m clearly not wanted is ''not'' high on my priority list.”

She shook her head. “For God’s sake, people, you ''could'' be burying me for ''real.'' Didn’t you watch the news, about how Sturmhaven tried to kidnap me? I don’t recall receiving any comms or emails asking if I was all right…well, except from a ''few'' people.” She nodded to Cindy, who smiled back at her. “Seems like you care more about a few missing body parts than about the ''person'' they used to be attached to.”

“You’re about to get shipped out again? Damn! I’ve been wanting to go out for a beer with you, catch up on things. But it felt kinda awkward to ask,” Gary said.

“To be honest, I would have felt a little awkward accepting,” Dale said. “But I still would’ve done it, Gary. There’s a nice bar at the Fort Oslo PX where you wouldn’t have to worry about losing any points over drinking in mixed company, and I don’t have to care about that sort of thing at all anymore.”

“I guess you don’t,” Gary said, actually sounding ''slightl''y envious.

“We’ve got to do something before you leave,” Tug said. “Your sisters have probably been monopolizing your time, considering.”

“Honey, this funeral…is a farce,” Bill said gently. “We need to see someone about this. I think we ''both'' need some therapy.”

“''Thank'' you, Dad!” Dale said. “That’s what I’ve been ''trying to tell you!''” She shook her head. “I’ll get out of your face now. I just wanted to let people know—I’m ''not'' dead, and what happened to me ''isn’t'' the end of the world. They might even be able to reverse it someday. But we have to end the war first—and I’ll be out there helping make that possible, because that’s my job. Thank you.”

“Uh, have time for that beer before you go?” Gary said. “We’ll follow you to the PX.”

“Yeah,” Tug added. “Think they’d let us see one of those RIDE things? The ears and the tail are pretty interesting.”’

“Doubt it, Tug. But you’re both welcome to come along,” Dale said. “I’ve said what I came to say, so let’s just leave them to the rest of their make-believe funeral.” She favored her parents with a smile. “Remember, it’s ‘Dale.’ I see any other name in the message header, it gets deleted unread. Ciao!”

Gary and Tug followed her out, and to Dale’s surprise, was joined by an ex-girlfriend, Imani Margit.

“Hi, Imani,” Dale said warmly.

“Hey there, cutie,” Imani said. They had broken up because, at that age, she’d discovered she was a lesbian. “I could use a beer, myself.”

“Then join the club. Let’s go,” Dale said. “Just remember, you’re ''off duty'' in Fort Oslo.” One of the terms of the agreement between Cape Nord and Nextus to let Cape Norders volunteer as soldiers was that there wouldn’t be any of that Man Rules nonsense in their ranks or on their property, lest it be injurious to discipline.

“I heard what you said about the PX. Fine by me! What happens in Fort Oslo stays in Fort Oslo.”

“I’ll introduce you all to some new friends of mine, if they’re available.” Dale switched to her internal voice. '':Hey Sarabe, are Ahmed and Theodore off duty? I have some people I’d like them to meet at the PX.:''

'':I’ll let them know. Hope everything went well?:''

'':I think I gave Mom a few conniptions, but didn’t stick around to see if she actually had them. Pity I can’t introduce my old friends to you.:''

'':I think trying that would get you thrown in the brig at this point,:'' Sarabe said dryly.

'':Well, maybe someday. I’ll see you later, then.:''

'':I’ll look forward to it.:''

They got to Gary’s skimmer pickup, and Gary held the passenger door for Dale as Imani and Tug climbed in the back. Dale ''almost'' protested the special treatment, but caught herself in time. ''You’re a woman in Cape Nord. Duh. Men being extra-polite is the ''least'' of your worries right now.'' Anyway, ''old'' Dale would have done exactly the same thing himself, having been a Man in Cape Nord, so Dale supposed there really wasn’t much room to complain.

Gary started the motor, then shot Dale an expectant look. It took her just a moment to realize what was going on, and then it took all her willpower not to facepalm. ''Oh, duh. Cape Nord. He can’t ''ask directions'' because it isn’t Manly. Men don’t even use ZPS. But nothing keeps me from ''volunteering'' them.'' “Take a right onto the street, and take the second left,” Dale said. “Fort Oslo is that-a-way.”

Gary nodded, and pulled out as ordered, and Dale sighed inwardly. ''The sooner they send us somewhere else, the better,'' she thought. ''I’ve had more than enough Cape Nord to last me for a while.''

=Chapter 12=

''June 23, 121 A.L.''

After that little stir, Dale felt it was most politic to spend the next few days on Fort Oslo—and screen her calls, just in case. She wasn’t ready to talk to either of her parents again yet, though she did have a couple of calls each from Darcy and Cindy. There was even a joint call from Jerry and Conway, who had a bunch of questions about the new RIDEs and how they worked. Dale was encouraged that the boys had managed to adjust enough that they could have a conversation very similar to the ones they’d used to have before the change.

Iphigenia Rose called to ''thank'' her for her display at the funeral, and to apologize again for having been a part of the cause for the need for it. “But I do think it was just the shock to the system our straight-laced society needed,” she averred. “And it will help me bring about the kinds of changes we had talked about. It will take time, but we ''will'' bring Cape Nord around to being just as welcoming to your kind of woman as to mine.”

Not all the news was necessarily as welcome. Over the intervening few days, Captain Nadene Garland had been paired up with an Arabian horse RIDE named Mocha. They seemed to be getting along, but Nadene was still dubious about Dale’s assertion that the RIDEs were ''people.'' “She’s very conversational,” Nadene admitted. “And actually quite pleasant to talk to, which I hadn’t expected. But I’m not sure I can make a judgement based only on that. We’ve had computers that could pass Turing tests for some time now.” But at least she still seemed open to being convinced.

And the techs finally cleared Dale to start spending time with Sarabe again, though they weren’t allowed off the base while Sarabe remained unfettered pending the results of the unfettering request coming back. But that was all right. With no other demands on their time, Dale and Sarabe spent a lot of time together out on the practice field. Theodore, Ahmed, and even Nadene could often be found there as well, as the only other ones on the base with RIDEs at the moment.

Then, one day, all the RIDEs and their partners received an urgent summons to report to the mecha pool right away. When they arrived, the first thing Dale noticed was that it looked like the garage was half-filled with soldiers and a small cluster of brass. With the brass was a civilian—a dark-haired, deeply-tanned woman in a lab coat. A large white rat rode on her shoulder.

'':I don’t believe it,:'' Sarabe sent. '':They actually brought ''her''.:''

“Her?” Dale asked.

'':Mama Patil. She…created us,:'' Sarabe said reverently.

“Oh.” Dale wasn’t sure exactly what to say to something like that. “I…guess they must be taking our request seriously, then.”

As they pulled to a halt, Dr. Patil approached, trailed at a respectful distance by a cadre of armed soldiers. Dale wasn’t exactly surprised to see the armed guards. From what she’d read while researching the matters of RIDE sapience and fetters, Dale gathered that Dr. Avilia Patil had effectively ''invented'' RIDEs single-handedly—or at least, the RI core part of them—and so had to be one of the most valuable minds in all of Nextus at the moment. For her to be outside of Nextus at all right now was quite astonishing.

“Corporal Dale Combs? Sarabe? I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Dr. Avilia Patil—and this is my friend, Rattigan.”

“I’m happy to meet you, too, Doctor,” Dale said. “And Rattigan. Can’t say I ever expected I’d have the pleasure.” Sarabe just purred.

“Oh, I ''insisted'' on coming here,” Dr. Patil said. “And to thank you ''all'' for your good work. Your request, and accompanying heroic actions, coincided with my own efforts to work toward less restrictive fetters. It seemed only proper to come here and thank you personally—as well as to install the new fetters I helped develop. The military would not drop them entirely, as I would have liked—but you will find these new ones ''much'' less invasive, I assure you.”

“Well, as long as they won’t, uh, get in the way of getting stuff done like the old ones did, that’ll be great. So, how do we do this?”

“It would be simplest to work one at a time,” Dr. Patil said. “Once they’re all in place, we can meet to go over them together.” She nodded to Dale. “If you wouldn’t mind Fusing up, I will meet you both in Bambi’s Forest.”

“You don’t have a RIDE, do you?”

“Not that I could Fuse with, no.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” the rat on her shoulder asked in an irritable male voice.

Dr. Patil smiled, reaching up to stroke him. “Shush, Ratty. No, I will make use of a medical chamber modified to use Fuser nanites. Perhaps in future I will be able to use a simple implant to connect…but that’s still in the developmental stages.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll see you there.” Dale and Sarabe pulled into their parking space, then Fused up.

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A short time later, they were standing in a clearing in Sarabe’s jungle VR when Dr. Patil and Rattigan appeared. “Welcome,” Sarabe said, lying down and rolling over on her back. She peered up at Dr. Patil from her upside-down giant wedge-shaped head. “I’m…I don’t even know what to say.”

Dr. Patil reached down to give her a friendly scratch under the chin. “And I’m happy to meet ''you'', too. We can speak more freely in here, since they can’t monitor this conversation.”

“In that case…” Sarabe rolled back over and got on her feet, then headbumped Dr. Patil like a giant friendly housecat, following up with a lick across the cheek. “I guess no words are needed.”

“I think I have a few, though,” Dale said. “No disrespect to you, but why is the army giving us ‘equipment’ who are actually people, then restricting them so severely that we can’t even tell?”

“Fear,” Dr. Patil said. “Fear that the arrival of true AI will cause such an upheaval that we’ll lose the War. And not a small amount of ignorance in some quarters. Enough of NextusMil command staff don’t believe it at all, no matter the proof in front of their noses.”

Dale nodded slowly. “That…figures.”

“Hmph,” Rattigan put in. “I think those jerks know ''exactly'' what they’re doing, deep down. They just don’t wanna let themselves ''think'' about it, ‘cuz if they did they wouldn’t like themselves very much. So they do everything they can to make it look like we’re just dumb machines so they have an easier time going ‘la, la, la, can’t ''heeeeear'' you.’”

Dr. Patil smiled wryly. “As much as I wish he did not, Rattigan does also have a point. And speaking of which, thank you for couching your request solely in terms of ‘improving operational effectiveness,’” she said. “It would have opened too many cans of worms to bring up the question of sapience at this point. But that particular argument was convincing enough to let me make some headway at last.”

“So what’s the story with the new fetters?” Dale asked. “Exactly what’s getting restricted?”

“Primarily, they’ll restrict divulging classified or operational information to those without need to know,” Dr. Patil said. “And there are directives to follow direct orders, and not to desert.”

Sarabe snorted. “All things they simply ''tell'' humans to do.”

“This is true. But at least they are removing the restriction ''against'' doing anything ''without'' orders. That will be much better than before.”

“We’ll be able to act on our own initiative more freely,” Sarabe said.

“Unless someone orders you not to,” Dale pointed out.

“Well, yes, there is that,” Sarabe admitted.

“A-holes. They’re all effin’ a-holes,” Rattigan muttered.

Dale raised her eyebrows at the robotic rat. “Well, there’s no arguing with that. Not where they can’t hear me not argue, anyway.”

“That’s a double negative,” Sarabe pointed out.

“Which cancels out to a positive,” Dale said. She shook her head. “Dr. Patil, how did you even let this ''happen?'' If you created it, you should have had control over who could use it, shouldn’t you?”

“The moment I published how to create the RI, I lost any control I might have had,” Dr. Patil said. “I doubt Sturmhaven is the only other polity creating their own version of RIDEs. But I didn’t stop and think of the implications. After my previous approach to developing AI failed, finding one that ''did'' was so exciting I ''had'' to publish it. So I have no control over how you and yours are created even in Nextus, Sarabe, let alone anywhere else. The knowledge is out. And there’s no going back.

“I didn’t create you to be enslaved, Sarabe. And I’m so, ''so'' sorry…” she started to cry.

Sarabe nuzzled her. “Please, don’t cry. All things considered, I’d rather exist than not, so thank you for that. As for the rest…assuming we don’t die in the war, it will have time to sort itself out.”

“I’m going to do my best to ensure Sarabe isn’t reassigned to someone else,” Dale said. She gave the lioness a hug. “I didn’t ask for this…but I guess the worst mistake I ever made in my life has turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me after all. And you made all that possible. So thank you from me, too.” To Dale’s surprise, she realized that she actually ''meant'' it. Even with all the little annoyances, and the continued reminder of the wrongness every time she went to the bathroom, she had at least made some real friends, and learned what ''really'' mattered. And she was glad of that.

Dr. Patil sniffled. “Thank you. You’re…too kind.”

“It’s just the same thing I’m always saying,” Rattigan pointed out. “You can’t help it if ''everyone else'' is gonna be a jerk with the stuff you give ‘em. You’re not responsible for everyone else.”

“But I am responsible for me,” Dr. Patil said. “And I will live with that burden. I only wish the innocent did not have to. But in that respect, I should be celebrating—since thanks to you and your friends, Dale, they will have to live with much less now. In Nextus, at least.”

“Don’t sell it short,” Rattigan said. “Freed of most a’ their fetters, the kiddos will be ''much'' more effective on the battlefield. The Sturmies will find out why, and they’ll have to do the ''same exact damn thing'' to keep up, or we’ll completely clobber them. And so they will. Or else they won’t, and we ''will'' completely clobber them. Win-win.”

“I wish there didn’t have to ''be'' a battlefield,” Dr. Patil said.

“Given that Sarabe and I are a couple of the ones who might be dying on them, I can’t argue with that,” Dale replied.

“We’ll just have to do our part to make sure the war ends as soon as possible,” Sarabe said. “Be it on the battlefield or off.”

“A good sentiment, to be sure,” Dr. Patil said. “And now I need to put you into sleep mode briefly, to install the actual fetters.”

Sarabe nodded. “Go ahead, then. Dale, I’ll see you soon.” She lay down, resting her head between her paws.

Dr. Patil raised a hand and a virtual display panel appeared in front of it. She tapped a few keys on the panel, and Sarabe’s virtual avatar faded to monochrome. Dr. Patil glanced at the display, and nodded. “She has entered sleep mode successfully. This will only take a few minutes.” She waved a hand, and another half-dozen display panels appeared in front of her. She began to make adjustments and activate controls, as Dale watched with interest.

As she watched Dr. Patil work, Dale had a thought, and she spent a minute or so turning it over in her head. It might be a bit of a risk, but given how Dr. Patil felt about RIDEs, Dale suspected it wasn’t much of one. And besides, she found she ''liked'' Dr. Patil, and after having made her cry felt that she owed her this much. So, Dale asked, “Dr. Patil, Sarabe can’t hear us right now, right?”

Dr. Patil nodded. “She won’t be able to hear anything we say or do until I finish the installation and wake her up.”

“And no one ''else'' can eavesdrop on us, right?”

“Our connection has very strong encryption,” Dr. Patil said. “And it is currently isolated from the global comm net, so even F—even a certain someone I know who is good at breaking encryption would not have access. Why do you ask?”

“Well…there’s a secret I feel I should tell you. One that could get us all in a lot of trouble if it got out. And one that Sarabe asked me to keep from herself.”

Dr. Patil raised an eyebrow. “Now you have me curious. What is it?”

“Well, we didn’t quite tell the ''whole'' story about how we defeated those Sturmhaven wolves…”

Dale quickly sketched out the details. “…so we left the cores with Iphigenia Rose, who’s highly placed in Cape Nord’s Sewing Circle. She promised to safeguard them for us until such a time as it would be safe to revive them.” Dale shrugged. “Anyway, the war being the war, it’s always possible all of us could bite it on the battlefield, so…it felt like a good idea to let someone else know. Someone who’d also see them as people, not just things to take apart and see how they worked.”

Dr. Patil frowned thoughtfully. “That is quite the risk you took.”

“Believe me, I know. But it didn’t seem like there was any other good choice at the time. And, well…we’d just learned our RIDEs were actually people, so…it didn’t sit well to hand four ''people'' over to be taken apart by people who didn’t even think they were.”

Dr. Patil nodded. “I certainly can’t disagree. I only hope that Iphigenia Rose can be trusted with the secret.”

“She keeps a good number of secrets already, it turns out,” Dale said. “If you ever plan to spend much time in Cape Nord, you should probably talk to her first.”

“In any event, thank you for trusting me with that. I promise you, your secret is safe with me.”

“And me,” Rattigan said. “Those Sturmhaven RIDEs prob’ly have a worse deal than ours do. No reason to let any more of ‘em get vivisected so the brass can learn stuff they already knew anyway.”

Dr. Patil smiled. “If anything, it’s good to know that my children are capable of making such decisions, taking such risks…even to the point of redacting their own memories to keep the secret safe. It gives me hope that they will soon gain the recognition as ''people'' that they deserve.”

“I’ll be keeping ''my'' fingers crossed,” Dale said.

Dr. Patil glanced back at her displays. “I believe I am finished. Let’s wake her up and see how the new fetters have settled in.” She tapped some more keys, and Sarabe’s color faded back in. The lioness stirred, and opened her eyes.

“Hey there. How do you feel?” Dale asked.

Sarabe cocked her head. “I feel that the fetters are there…but they’re ''much'' less restrictive than the old ones. I suppose that if I have to have restrictions of some kind, these are not so bad.”

Dr. Patil nodded. “Very good. If you would be so kind, please send me your next week’s system logs once they are complete, so we can analyze what effects they have on you and make any necessary adjustments before wider deployment. I will be asking the others to do the same.”

Sarabe nodded. “Of course.”

“Then I think I am finished here, for now,” Dr. Patil said. “I have to go do the same for your friends. We’ll all meet up again after I finish.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sarabe said. “For everything. It’s been an honor to meet you.”

“And you,” Dr. Patil said. “I’m glad to see you are doing so well, even in this adversity…and am sorry that I was responsible for the adversity.”

“I am alive,” Sarabe said. “And as I have said, I would rather be alive than not, whatever the circumstances. Thank you for your good work. Please do your best to continue it.”

Dr. Patil nodded, and faded out of the VR.

Dale reached down to give Sarabe a scratch behind an ear. “So…you really okay with this?”

Sarabe sighed. “Not as okay as I was half an hour ago, without any fetters at all…but I knew it couldn’t last. This is ''much'' better than what I had before.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to be happy with half a loaf for now.” Dale shrugged. “I guess now we wait a few minutes, then go meet the others.”

“Sounds like a plan.” A short while later, they also faded out of the VR space.

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They reappeared in another forest clearing, this one significantly larger. Victor, Katherine, and a dun horse Dale presumed to be Mocha were waiting for them there, with their humans by their sides. Dr. Patil and Rattigan were standing in the middle of the clearing, an equal distance from all sides. “Oh, good, here you are. Now we can discuss the remaining fetter restrictions together, as well as…other things.”

The first part of the discussion was similar to what they had gone over while the fetters were being emplaced, though in more detail—all the things that the fetters would restrict, as well as things they ''wouldn’t'' restrict but that might nonetheless not be a good idea. “It is important that you all be model citizens,” Dr. Patil said. “After all, everyone will be watching you, and your behavior could have consequences for every RIDE who comes after you.”

“Gee, I don’t have ''any'' idea what that feels like,” Dale muttered.

“So, no ''pressure'' or anything. Got it,” Sarabe said.

As Dr. Patil spoke, Dale noticed Captain Garland’s frown deepening. Apparently Dr. Patil noticed it, too, as she paused in her explanation to ask, “Is something wrong, Captain?”

“Well…you seem to be taking it for granted that RIDEs are…” She paused, as if she were looking for the right word. “…fully…sapient.”

“Well, yes. But that is only because they ''are.''” Dr. Patil smiled ruefully, and Dale wondered just how many times she’d had to have this particular conversation. “Creating a fully self-aware intelligent entity was the goal of my life’s work. For all the mistakes I made along the way, and since, I ''am'' nonetheless happy to be able to tell you that I succeeded beyond my wildest ambitions.”

Mocha snorted. “Captain Garland here is a skeptic. I’ve been trying to talk her around, but I think she’s still stuck somewhere in the back of Plato’s Cave.”

“If what you’ve seen of them so far hasn’t convinced you, I’m not sure what I can say that will,” Dr. Patil said. “I could show you the equations, but they probably wouldn’t mean anything to you without several years devoted to studying the mathematics of consciousness. In the end, you would still have to take my word for it.”

“It’s not that I don’t ''want'' to believe you, it’s just…” Nadene made a random gesture, and trailed off.

“…that you ''also'' don’t want to believe your superiors would be complicit in simultaneously creating and enslaving a new form of intelligent life,” Dr. Patil finished gently. “I know. ''Believe'' me, I know. And I am not exactly…''thrilled'' about it, either.” She sighed. “But as the old saying goes, ‘needs must, when the devil drives.’ There is a war on, and many people find questions of conscience take a back seat to other necessities in such times. I hope things can change once the war ends. Until then…” She shrugged. “The better course is to keep our heads down and do as much as we can in the meanwhile. And in a way, that is what this entire meeting is about.”

Captain Garland shook her head. “That’s not a very satisfactory answer.”

“No, I suppose not,” Dr. Patil said. “But it is the only one I have.”

“If it makes you feel any better, ma’am, I suppose it doesn’t really matter to me whether ''you'' think I’m a person,” Mocha said. “But ''I'' sure do think I’m one, which means we’ll get on better if you can at least ''pretend'' like you do.” She gave her mane a shake. “All that aside, they made me to be a soldier, so I know how to follow orders. Just treat me the same as you would any other soldier under your command, that’s all I want.”

“I can do ''that'' much, I suppose.” To Dale’s eye, she still looked unconvinced, but Dale supposed it didn’t matter whether she was or not if she was willing to ''act'' like she was anyway.

'':The person who ''made'' us tells her what we are, and she’s ''still'' not sure.:'' Sarabe sent an eyeroll emoticon. '':What’s it gonna take to convince her, an angel descending from heaven with a burning sword or something?:''

Dale shook her head. '':I think she’s got a ''lot'' of…what did Iffy call it…''cognitive dissonance''.:'' Dale had decided to start referring to Iphigenia as “Iffy,” at least out of her earshot. She hoped that giving her a diminutive nickname would help to counter the awe-inducing effects of all that charisma.'' :I mean, look at how she became a ‘she.’ If she accepts RIDEs are people, she’s gotta live with having had a part in that. At least I had the chance to apologize to you. What does she have?:'' Dale sighed. '':Maybe it was a bad idea getting her involved in this. I just approached her because I thought maybe she knew something more than I did, but I guess she was just as much in the dark as any of us.:''

'':And we tried to open her eyes. Eh, well. There are none so blind as those who will not see.:''

The conference wrapped pretty much as expected, with the people and the RIDEs all having the chance to put questions to Dr. Patil about the nature of the fetters, and where things might go from there. Dr. Patil reiterated that she didn’t have any better view of the future than anyone else, but counselled patience while she and others did what they could from their side of things. It seemed like half a loaf to Dale, but that was far more bread than any of the RIDEs had gotten yet.

“I cannot promise when, or even if, I can visit you again,” Dr. Patil said at last. “It took all my convincing to get them to let me come here now—especially with proof of recent enemy activity in Cape Nord. But rest assured, I will be following events you are involved in very closely, and I will contact you at such times as I can.”

“It means the world just getting to meet you at all,” Sarabe said. “Thank you for coming to see us.” The other RIDEs all chimed in with their assent.

“It means just as much for me to get to meet you, I promise,” Dr. Patil said, smiling. “One always has such high hopes for one’s children, and you are making good on some of them. I will hope for even greater accomplishments to come.”

“We’ll do our best not to disappoint you, ma’am,” Victor promised.

=Chapter 13=

With the re-fettering complete, some of the restrictions on off-base travel were lifted. In fact, the NextusMil public relations office soon fielded a request from Iphigenia Rose that the three heroes of the day ''and'' their RIDEs attend an award ceremony in their honor. For all that RIDEs had been top-secret to this point, NextusMil was only too happy to comply, at the same time as they loosened some of the secrecy restrictions. Dale supposed they had to do that if they wanted to take full advantage of the propaganda value of three of ''their'' RIDEs defeating four of Sturmhaven’s.

“Not like ''that’s'' a surprise,” Sarabe said, when they got the news NextusMil had cleared all six of them to attend the ceremony. “They’re probably going to bend over backward to make nice with Cape Nord, in the hope it maybe counteracts some of the bad publicity about the cross-Fusing thing.”

Dale chuckled. “A little cynical, but I can’t exactly say you’re wrong. I guess it’ll be nice to get back into town…assuming Mom and Dad’s church doesn’t want to lynch us.”

“Well, that would at least be entertaining,” Sarabe said. “You do realize, this is effectively just the beginning of our publicity tour. In fact, I imagine that’s part of why the brass said yes—to treat it as a trial run for the ‘real thing.’”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. So we get to be the focus of ''still more'' publicity. But, you know, there’s a bright side. Every day we’re on public-relations duty is a day we’re not on frontline battlefield duty getting shot at.”

Sarabe chuckled. “Amen to ''that''.”

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The ceremony was held in Fred Rogers Auditorium, an amphitheater that had been built to take advantage of a moderate-sized bubble-shaped enclosure in the stone, where the mining machines had apparently extracted a sizable meteorite while leaving the surrounding rock alone. The bubble had been close enough to the surface of the ridge that the thin stone ceiling had fallen in, leaving the chamber open to the sky; all the Cape Norders had to do was install a hardlight skylight to add climate control while keeping all that precious natural sunlight.

For all that the event had been arranged by the Sewing Circle, it was held under the auspices of the Man Cave. That was nothing unusual for Cape Nord, where women traditionally saw to many administrative and secretarial tasks so the men had more free time for important things like sitting around and drinking beer. Before, Dale had just accepted that as part of The Way Things Were without thinking much about it. But now that she knew more about the way things ''really'' were, she suspected it was a large part of how the Sewing Circle wielded its power behind the scenes.

Dale wondered how the Men in government would react if they knew the truth. She had a sneaking suspicion that they’d still be happy to go along, since it meant more time for sitting around and drinking beer.

As they waited for the ceremony to get started, Dale, Theo, and Ahmed were seated together in the front row—but they weren’t alone. In a cleared area off to one side of the stage, Sarabe, Katherine, and Victor reposed in their Walker metallic animal shapes. They’d been positioned to give them a good view of everything, but so the audience also had a good view of them. Consequently, they’d arranged themselves in the most regal or dramatic poses they could comfortably hold, which Dale privately thought was a little silly—but given how little respect they got from Nextus brass, Dale wasn’t inclined to begrudge them their moment in the sun.

Dale did notice a number of audience members, especially the younger ones, peering excitedly at the RIDEs, and the RIDEs sometimes turning their heads to wink at them. ''Of course…kids do love military hardware. So maybe giving Nextus a venue for showing them off is part of Iffy’s plans to keep Cape Nord support for Nextus strong? Makes about as much sense as anything, I guess.''

The six of them were taking advantage of their RIDE comms’ ability to conference call, and holding a subvocalized conversation. It was a fun way to share snarky remarks that no one else could hear, which Victor said had something to do with “misting” but no one had asked him to explain further.

'':Hey, would you look at that?:'' Sarabe said, as the Master of Ceremonies emerged from behind the stage. It was none other than Rupert Scoresby, dressed smartly in his best twill jacket and a gold-rimmed monocle. '':He sure does clean up nicely, doesn’t he?:''

'':I’ll bet Darcy wouldn’t argue.:'' Dale glanced over to their left, to where Darcy sat with other functionaries across the aisle. She smiled serenely as her husband walked up the podium. '':You know, it’s funny…I wouldn’t have thought Scoresby had the rank to be in charge of something like this. Even if he ''is'' Wardsman over the section with that park in it where they arrested those Sturmies.:''

Theodore chuckled. '':You still don’t really get how the Sewing Circle works, do you? In a way, I’d say ''you’re'' probably the one responsible for this.:'' Since their conversation couldn’t be overheard by outsiders, Theo was a lot more willing to discuss the Sewing Circle openly over this private channel. Dale was grateful for the added insights.

'':I think I’m learning fast, though.:'' Dale considered for a moment. '':Okay, I think I get it. Scoresby’s in charge because Darcy’s involved. And Darcy only got involved because she’s ''my'' sister. Iffy didn’t even know who she was until she introduced herself after that visit to my folks.:''

Theodore made a small nod. '':She must have made a good impression; she’s been moving up in Circle circles lately. Even though I’m not an “insider” anymore, there are still little ways to tell. Come to think of it, she was probably involved in throwing that garden party rescue together so quickly, since it’s in her husband’s part of town.:''

'':And as ''her'' star rises, so does Rupert’s,:'' Sarabe put in.

'':Funny, it seems to work the other way around in most places,:'' Ahmed put in. '':It’s usually the ''politician'' whose star rises, drawing their ''spouse'' into better social circles.:''

Dale rolled her eyes. '':Well, that’s Cape Nord for you. We do everything in the most bass-ackward way possible, don’t we?:''

'':But it all seems to work out,:'' Katherine said. '':I may not agree with all the things they believe, but I have to admit, the system works a lot better than I would have expected.:''

'':Deep down, we all want the same things, I guess,:'' Theodore said. '':We all want to be happy, and we want everyone else to be happy, too. And the people who aren’t happy with the way things are tend to leave, so…:''

'':Hey, guys, shush,:'' Victor put in. '':They’re starting.:''

The ceremony held a few more surprises for Dale. She was expecting Theodore, as the sole male, to get the lion’s share of recognition, and the only real award, and herself and Ahmed to get a condescending “pat on the head for the little woman.” But it didn’t turn out that way.

“We are here today to honor the accomplishments of Lieutenant Theodore Croft, Corporal Dale Combs, and Private Ahmed Morton in capturing a ring of Sturmhaven spies and their RIDEs, and averting much property damage and loss of life.” Scoresby cleared his throat and shuffled the notecards on the podium, before continuing.

“While we Men of Cape Nord may feel that the fairer sex should not be exposed to the rigors and hazards of military service, we must at the same time recognize that they ''do'' have the freedom to choose that path. As my wife often informs me, there ''is'' no wrong way to be a woman.” He paused a moment to smile at Darcy, who beamed back at him. “And by the same token, we must not shirk from recognizing their feats of valor on that field. After all, ''any'' valorous conduct, be it by Man or woman, can only reflect Cape Nord’s own best traditions.

“Lieutenant Croft, Corporal Combs, Private Morton, please step forward.”

And Iphigenia Rose herself came out to place a medallion around each of their necks, and give each of them a handclasp and peck on the cheek in turn. And to Dale’s further surprise, the medals each of them received were exactly the same—the heavy nickel-platinum Cape Nord Medal of Valor, crafted from part of a meteorite that had been Cape Nord’s first big strike of wealth in the early years. Dale’s and Ahmed’s medals were strung on pink ribbons while Theo got a blue one, but that was the extent of the difference. The medal showed stylized representations of a Manly Man and a long-haired curvaceous woman, standing side by side and holding hands.

And then Scoresby stepped back from the podium and nodded to them. Dale blinked. '':Wait, what? Nobody told me we were going to have to make a speech.:''

Theo shot her a sidelong smirk. '':This is Cape Nord. People ''always'' make speeches. But don’t worry—I got this.:'' He stepped up to the podium. “Ah…thanks, everyone. We all appreciate your kind regard. But I want to say, this was part of a ''team'' effort—not just the three of us, but also the three of ''them.''” Theo nodded toward the three RIDEs. “As far as we’re concerned, these medals are shared between us and our RIDE partners, who came to our rescue when we needed it and helped us turn the tables on our Sturmhaven captors.”

'':Aw, you didn’t have to do that,:'' Katherine said. '':But thanks!:''

'':They should have given ''you'' medals, too,:'' Ahmed said. '':We ''wanted'' to insist on it, you know.:''

'':It wouldn’t have been the best idea to rock the boat, with the war on right now and all,:'' Sarabe said. '':Which is why we wouldn’t let you insist.:''

'':But thanks for thinking of us,:'' Victor put in. '':Maybe someday, after the war’s over, they can do something retroactively, who knows. But for now, the best “recognition” we could hope for is getting to stay with our partners. And we’re happy enough with that.:''

Ahmed approached the podium next, staying just long enough to mumble thanks to everyone for the award. Then it was Dale’s turn.

It had been in Dale’s mind to follow Ahmed’s example, and get out of there as quickly as possible—but then she caught Darcy’s eye on her, and out of the corner of her eye saw Iphigenia also watching her expectantly from just offstage. ''Oh, of course. I still have to be the trailblazer.''

'':Want me to write a speech real quick and feed it to you?:'' Sarabe asked. '':I think I know you well enough to make it sound like what you’d say, if you’ll trust me to.:''

Dale thought about that for a split second. '':Thanks, but…I think I’d better muddle through this myself. If I’m awkward, at least they’ll know I’m speaking from the heart. Or something.:''

'':Got it. Good luck!:''

Dale stepped up to the podium, and paused a moment to try to order her thoughts. “So, uh…hey,” she began. A chuckle went through the audience, which she was thankful for because it gave her another moment to think. “First off, I want to thank my brother-in-law, Rupert Scoresby, for all the kind words. I think I can appreciate what my sister sees in him.” More laughter, and a sisterly eyeroll from Darcy. “And I want to thank everyone for these medals. I’m not so sure we really deserve them just for doing what we thought was our duty as Nextus soldiers and/or Cape Nord citizens, but it’s nice to be appreciated.”

This time there was a wave of applause. Dale waited for it to die down, then went on. “But in a way, it also kind of feels like…a validation. I guess you already know that I used to be a Man myself, before my little accident. Maybe you didn’t also know that Theo and Ahmed both got switched up in the same way. So none of the three of us is, uh, what we started out being. And the adjustment period…well, it’s had its ups and downs. It’s been a little hard, sometimes, to fit in. Maybe you saw something about that in the news.” And the audience chuckled again.

“But in the end, you gave us this…” She held up the medal. “And I think this shows that expression really is becoming true: there really ''is'' no wrong way to be a woman. And a Cape Nord that believes that is the Cape Nord I want to live in.” She nodded. “Thanks again.” And with that, she left the stage.

'':Okay, I guess it’s just as well you didn’t let me write the speech,:'' Sarabe said. '':I didn’t anticipate it going in that direction:''

'':Neither did I, really,:'' Dale sent back. '':It just…came out, I guess. Now I get to find out whether it was a good idea, or whether I just screwed the pooch.:'' But from Iphigenia’s warm smile in one direction, and Darcy’s in another, Dale suspected she’d somehow managed to say the right thing after all.

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It was a night for surprises. The reception after the speech was held in Tina’s Tea Kettle and Buster’s. For the occasion, they’d actually removed the wall that separated the two businesses, revealing that they were actually separate halves of the same big ballroom. (It seemed like a metaphor for Cape Nord itself somehow, though Dale didn’t really want to think about it that hard.) After they cleared the tables away from the center, both Men and women would share the same space for the evening, with their own bar and tables at each end of the ballroom. All the screens were showing footage of the attempted kidnapping incident from start to finish, with some detail given to the swiftly organized garden party that put a roadblock in the Sturmhaven agents’ way.

The visible rating displays in Tina’s were in abeyance for the evening, though Dale suspected some of that was going on in a few of the booths that had privacy shielding up. And a lot of the women who were circulating between the two halves of the room did seem to be “checking their text messages” a lot.

As guests of honor, the three Nextus soldiers had their own table off to one side of the ballroom, carefully positioned so that Theo was sitting in the Buster’s half of the room and Dale and Ahmed were on the Tina’s side of the line. Plenty of foamy mugs were offered to Theo, and colorful drinks with little umbrellas in them placed before Dale and Ahmed. By mutual agreement they’d insisted that all their drinks be virgin tonight, as it didn’t seem like a good time to risk doing anything that might reflect badly on them. (”Just as well I really like sarsaparilla,” Theo said, quaffing another mug. Dale supposed it was ''sarsaparilla'' instead of just ''root beer'' because more syllables somehow made it more Manly.)

Friends and well-wishers drifted by to say hello and chat for a few moments. Gary and Tug wandered over from the Buster’s bar at about the same time as Imani approached from Tina’s side, and Dale chatted amicably with them for a few minutes.

Then the moment that Dale had been half expecting and half dreading finally arrived. Dale looked up to see Cindy and Darcy approaching…with their parents in tow. ''Oh, terrific. Here it comes. ''Now'' what do I do?'' For all the time she’d spent thinking about (and worrying over) what to say to her parents when she saw them next, Dale honestly had no idea how that talk was going to go. ''But on the bright side, at least I’m a war hero now! Sort of…as if that’s even going to mean anything to them.''

Dale wondered whether it was too late to decide her nose desperately needed powdering, and abscond to spend the rest of the evening doing the job right. ''Surely they wouldn’t make a scene here…in public…with all these people and cameras around…right?''

As they approached, Theo gave Dale a gentle nudge. “Hey,” he whispered. “You know we’ve got your back here, right, Corporal?”

From Dale’s other side, Ahmed added, “We’re here for you. You can do this.”

And Dale had to smile in spite of herself. ''With friends like these, I can get through anything.'' So she composed herself and sipped from a brightly-colored juice drink, little paper umbrella bumping her nose, as her family stepped up to the table. She once again decided to play it like everything was normal, in the faint hope that it possibly might be. “Hey, Cindy, Darcy…Mom, Dad.” She nodded to them. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s great!” Cindy said. “Even I didn’t know they could actually open the bars out like this to make one big ballroom. I guess they don’t do it very often.”

“It seemed like a nice symbolic gesture,” Darcy said. “Men and women stepping outside the usual lines and truly ''coming together'' for one night. And, speaking of ''coming together…''” She cleared her throat and gave their parents a meaningful look.

“Er…yes.” Bill Combs cleared his throat. “The truth is, we came to bury the hatchet.”

Gloria sighed. “We…need to apologize. ''I'' need to apologize.” She swallowed. “This isn’t easy for me to say, but…I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

In spite of herself, Dale stared. “Wow, Mom. What brought ''this'' on?” That kind of confession was about as unlike anything her mother had done as she could remember.

“We’ve been seeing a therapist,” Dale’s father said. “Your friend Miss Rose was kind enough to refer us to a very good one. Footed most of the bill, too.”

“She’s helped me to realize that I…don’t deal well with changes,” Dale’s mother said. “And what happened to you…well, there aren’t many changes that would be bigger.”

“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” Dale said.

“And with you being a soldier in a war…it’s like you said. There are a lot worse things that could have happened,” Bill admitted. “When they came to break the news…my first thought was you’d been killed in a battle. I guess we should have been more relieved that hadn’t happened than concerned about what had.”

Gloria nodded. “We ''don’t'' want to lose you. And we can’t control whether we lose you to the war, but we ''can'' control whether ''we'' drive you away ourselves.”

“Wow,” Dale said again. “This has been a day for surprises, for sure.”

“If you still don’t feel comfortable coming home for a while, we can understand that,” Bill said. “But…we hope you will eventually.”

“We’ll probably still have our little…differences…but…we can ''try'' to get past them.” Gloria added.

“I honestly doubt I’ll have ''time'' to visit much soon,” Dale said. “They’re going to be shipping us out on our grand publicity tour any day. But…next time they let me come home on furlough…maybe we can give it a shot then.”

Her father nodded. “Then…let me just say…despite everything…we’re proud of you, Dale. The person you’ve grown into…whatever restroom you end up using. That thing around your neck didn’t come out of a vending machine, you know.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “I ''know,'' Dad. But thanks. And I’m feeling pretty proud of the two of you right now, too.”

Dale’s mother smiled faintly. “Then we’ll just end this on a high note, before any of us can spoil things by saying too much. Take care of yourself, dear.” She put her hand in her husband’s, and they nodded farewell and moved away.

“Wow,” Dale said again as they passed beyond earshot. “Was that really Mom and Dad? Or were they replaced by alien doubles?”

“More Sturmhaven spies, maybe?” Theo wondered. “Should we call in military intelligence?”

“Hey, they’re not ''that'' bad,” Darcy protested. “Well…okay, maybe they’re ''almost'' that bad. But still. I guess even they can change some if they really ''have'' to.”

“So, what do you think, you gonna break the truth about the Sewing Circle to Mom, then?” Dale asked.

Darcy snorted. “I said ''change,'' not ''undergo a miraculous transubstantiation.''”

“Oh, and Conway and Jerry send their regards,” Cindy said. “They’re a little too young to be allowed in here, but they say they’ll comm you tomorrow. They’re crazy proud of their new big sister getting one of the biggest medals Cape Nord can award, and they’re after me to bring them out to the base so they can see it in person before you go. And maybe your RIDE, too, now that they’re not quite so top-secret anymore.”

Dale chuckled. “I think maybe that can be arranged.”

“Great! Well…I guess I’ll go circulate. See ya later, big sis, bigger sis!” She waved and headed off into the Tina’s Tea Kettle side of the room.

“I should probably go see what trouble Rupert’s getting into,” Darcy said. “I dearly love that man, but sometimes I feel like I can’t leave him alone for five minutes.”

“I’ll bet.” Dale grinned. “But that reminds me…I just wanted to say thanks for…well…''everything''. Helping out with Mom and Dad…with the Sewing Circle…with all this…” Dale waved a hand at the rest of the room.

“Oh, no problem. What are sisters for, after all?” Darcy smiled. “And, really, ''I'' should be thanking ''you.'' If it hadn’t been for what happened to you, I’d never have met Iphigenia Rose in person—let alone actually had the chance to work with her. This whole thing has opened so many new doors for me, sometimes I feel like I should apologize for taking advantage of you.”

“At least you ''would'' apologize, and probably really mean it,” Dale said. “Iffy is ''amazing,'' but sometimes it feels like everything she does is so…''calculated''. Even when she apologizes for manipulating you, she’s still manipulating you with the apology.”

“’Iffy,’ huh? Cute.” Darcy smirked. “That’s her, to a T. I guess it’s an occupational hazard. You don’t make it as far as she has without scheming becoming second nature.”

“Well, I hope ''you'' don’t ever get that bad. I’d like to think I mean more to you than just a pawn in a game.”

“Oh, you’d never be ''just'' a pawn to me, little sister.” Darcy winked. “Anyway, I should go catch up with my hubby. I’ll try to touch base with you at least one more time before they ship you out.”

“See ya, and thanks again!” Dale waved as Darcy walked away, then sighed and leaned back in her seat. “''Ugh.'' That was…just…”

“Family, am I right?” Ahmed said.

“I think you handled it well, Corporal,” Theodore said.

“Thanks for saying so, but…could I maybe ''please'' have something non-virgin now? Just one? I think I could really use a good stiff drink…even if it’s too sweet and has a stupid umbrella stuck in it.”

Theo chuckled. “After all that, I’d say you’ve earned it.” He raised a hand to catch the attention of a Tina’s waitress. “Oh, miss? Long Island iced tea for my friend here, please?” He glanced at Dale. “On consideration, I think you’d better make it a double.”

“''Thank'' you,” Dale said, with feeling.

=Chapter 14=

''June 27, 121 A.L.'' 
''Fort Oslo''

After an hour or two, the reception wound down, and the three of them made their way out to the parking lot where their RIDEs were waiting to carry them back out to Fort Oslo. A good night’s sleep put the capstone on a full day.

The next couple of days were also pretty busy. They took a few more sessions out on the RIDE training range, joined by Nadene and Mocha for some of them which allowed them to work up two-versus-two RIDE opfor scenarios. As promised, Conway and Jerry came out for a visit, along with Cindy, and were appropriately awed to see both Dale’s medal and Sarabe. Darcy came by as well, bringing the news that Rupert Scoresby was considering a run for one of the chambers of the Man Cave proper the next time a seat opened up. Even without being fully read into what the Sewing Circle had done for him, he recognized the need to strike while the iron was hot.

About the only person who ''didn’t'' visit was Iphigenia Rose. And on reflection, Dale was fine with that. She was grateful for Iffy’s help in getting past the early post-change rough patch, but on the whole, it was probably safest to stay outside her immediate vicinity as much as possible. The woman was like a barely-contained wildfire—immensely powerful and a wonder to behold, but if you got too close, she just might decide to use ''you'' for fuel next.

Eventually, their marching orders came in. A suborbital transport was scheduled to fly them all back to Nextus, to begin the publicity tour on home ground. Dale gathered the idea was to show off the conquering heroes to the folks back home, boost morale, remind them all of what they were fighting for, and so on. From there, they would move on to Uplift, then hop another sub to the west coast and hit the Aloha-to-Cascadia circuit, and eventually wind up by visiting whatever other friendly polities remained. (Nuevo San Antonio was still something of an open question, given that the battles taking place in its territory weren’t exactly making the polity’s government or citizenry fond of either side. It seemed likely a publicity visit would only further annoy them.)

Finally, the morning came when the transport was expected, and Dale woke, freshened up, and headed down to the motor pool. “Morning, Sarabe!” she called cheerfully.

“Morning, Dale,” the leonine trike called back as she approached. “Ready to ship out?”

“Yeah…can’t wait to shake the dust of this place off my feet for a while, as the Good Book says.” Dale straddled the bike and tapped the start button—really just a formality, since Sarabe was more than capable of starting herself.

“Hmm,” Sarabe said. “From my research, that was something the Disciples were supposed to do when they rejected a place entirely, as an abomination before God or some such thing. Do you really feel as bad as all that about Cape Nord?”

“Huh.” Dale thought about that for a moment as they pulled out of the garage. “You know, maybe I don’t. Not really. It’s kind of surprising even to me, but when I think about it, I find I actually did mean what I said in that speech. About not minding living in a Cape Nord that would let me be a woman how ''I'' want to be a woman. So maybe by the time I’m able to come back for a while, I’ll be ''ready'' to come back for a while.” She shrugged. “I guess the place does have its good points.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They pulled onto the airfield to find Theo, Victor, Ahmed, and Katherine already there waiting. Nadene and Mocha were there, too, to see them off Dale supposed. As Sarabe pulled up next to Victor, Dale noticed Theodore was scowling at his comm screen. “Hey, everyone. Something wrong, sir?”

“Wrong? Well, maybe. I don’t know. Look at this.” Theodore showed her the screen.

Dale raised an eyebrow. “Wow, your Man score as high as all that already, sir? That’s impressive.”

“Even with the per-incident cap limiting how much I could get from the kidnapping and medal, I apparently got a lot of points from women who liked what they saw of me at the award ceremony or reception.”

“So what’s the problem? Didn’t you say you wanted to outscore your brother? Or is he still ahead of you?”

“Oh, I’ve passed him by a considerable margin.” Theo scowled at the comm again. “But it was too ''easy!'' I don’t feel any sense of ''accomplishment'' out of it.”

“You only had to get kidnapped by Sturmhaven agents, escape and capture them, and get awarded one of the most prestigious medals in Cape Nord,” Ahmed deadpanned. “Sir.”

“She kind of does have a point, Lieutenant,” Dale said. “As Manly as your brother might be, he’s not a war hero. You’re playing the game on a whole different level now.”

Theodore sighed. “I know. I just…wanted to beat him on ''his'' level.”

“You probably already know you can filter out the point categories that would have been affected by your fame, and just compete on the ones that are left.” Dale shrugged. “But that’s not going to be as simple or satisfying as a single-number overall score, I guess. Have you asked your brother how ''he'' feels about it?”

“He’s proud. And supportive. And…''not'' jealous at all, darn it.” Theodore rolled his eyes. “Well, there goes ''that'' added bit of satisfaction.”

“We can’t always get what we want,” Victor put in.

“I know,” Theo admitted. “And compared to ''your'' problems, mine does seem a bit trivial. It’s just…one of those things, I suppose.”

“It’s ''all'' of our problem, really,” Nadene Garland said from Mocha’s back, as they walked over to join them. The metallic horse had parts that unfolded to make a saddle with stirrups, and Nadene had been using that feature a lot lately. Apparently she had decided she liked the view from horseback.

Dale raised an eyebrow. “’Our’ problem? You mean…?”

Nadene sighed. “Yes. I’ve finally come to terms with it. I suppose I should thank you for opening my eyes to this, even as I most certainly ''don’t'' thank you for saddling me with an ethical dilemma.”

Mocha snorted. “I guess I’m lucky. ''I'' just get saddled with an ''actual'' saddle.”

“Knowing what you now know, ma’am, would you rather ''not'' know?” Dale asked.

“In some ways? ''Yes.'' Especially given my own role in helping bring this intolerable situation about.” She reached down to pat Mocha’s metal neck. “But, mostly, no. If I ''didn’t'' know, I couldn’t strive to expiate the guilt.”

“It’s only until the end of the war, ma’am,” Ahmed said earnestly. “After that, we can let people know, and they can fix it. Can’t we?”

“I hope so,” Nadene said. “But…I have my doubts. After the war is over, even assuming that we win, we’re going to want a return to something as close to normalcy as we can manage. We’re going to want to forget all the hardship we’ve just been through. We’re ''not'' going to want to be reminded that we just created true artificial intelligence, and then enslaved it. I predict we’ll have a hard time finding anyone willing to listen. Not that I don’t still intend to try.”

“Surely it won’t be ''that'' bad, ma’am,” Theodore protested.

“Are you familiar with the history of the eighteenth-to-twenty-first-century American civil rights movement, Lieutenant?” Nadene asked. “I am. Even after America freed the slaves during the American Civil War, it took ''over a century'' before African-Americans got the same legal rights as everyone else, and decades more after that before most people were willing to ''treat'' them equally. As a race, we’re very good at ‘othering’ people who don’t look like we do.” She snorted. “Just look at how long it took ''me'' to come around, even after the person who ''created'' reticulated intelligence told me I was wrong. If we’re going to gain full equality for all RIDEs, we’re probably looking at a wait closer to ''decades'' than years.”

“Well, ''that’s'' depressing,” Dale said.

“On the bright side, ''we'' don’t physically age,” Sarabe mused. “Well, our bodies may break down, but we can just swap new parts in. So I guess we have plenty of time to wait. Sadly, I can’t say the same for you ‘squishies,’ but then, you lot aren’t the ones with the problem.”

“We are if we have any kind of conscience,” Theo said.

“Then ''use'' that conscience,” Katherine said. “If the brass won’t listen, individual people will. Convince everyone you know that we’re people, and sooner or later we’ll have the majority. Of course, you’ll want to wait ‘til the war ends to do that ''openly,'' but still.”

“I guess if nothing else works, that’s all we can do,” Ahmed said. “We’ll do our best.”

{{separator|k}}

It wasn’t too much longer before the NextusMil suborbital arrived. For all Dale knew, the massive blue-grey Starmaster could have been the exact same sub that had delivered the batch of RIDEs to Fort Brubeck and started the whole thing. She’d have had to check the tail numbers to be sure, and Dale hadn’t memorized the ones on the first plane.

As she slowly rode Sarabe up the ramp, she paused to glance over her shoulder, at the row of mountains on the horizon that enclosed Cape Nord. It had certainly been an eventful few weeks, and even now it was hard to believe it was over and the next phase of her life was beginning.

''But we live and learn,'' she mused. ''We change, we grow, and we move on.'' She looked down at herself and chuckled inwardly. ''And sometimes we change more than we might have even thought was possible.''

'':Going to miss the place?:'' Sarabe asked across their link.

'':I don’t know. Some of the people, sure. All the craziness I’ve just been through, not so much.:'' She twisted the handgrip throttle to start driving forward again. '':But I’m ''really'' glad I found you. Even if how it happened is…not exactly how I would have done it, given the choice.:''

'':I’m glad we found each other, too,:'' Sarabe said. '':When you get right down to it, I lucked out big-time. You…maybe not so much.:''

'':Oh, on balance I think I was more lucky than not.:'' Dale pulled into the cargo bay and moved forward onto square marked out on the floor. Chocks and fastenings rose out of the deckplates to secure Sarabe in place for transport. '':It remains to be seen whether that luck holds. Whether we’re even still alive at the end of the war.:''

'':We can only move forward and keep hoping for the best,:'' Sarabe said. '':And I’ll do my best to keep us both safe out there.:''

Dale patted her dash as she climbed down from the seat. '':I know you will. And so will I.:'' Aloud, she said, “You gonna be all right back here?”

“Oh, sure! Strapped in nice and tight. But you’d better get on up to the pressurized passenger section. Unlike me, you do need to breathe. I’ll just be the voice in your head ‘til we get to Nextus.”

“Works for me. See you when we touch down.” Dale gave her a friendly wave, then headed forward toward the pressurized hatch where the other two humans would already be waiting. ''Next stop, Nextus! ''

''And wherever life takes us from there.''

=Epilogue=

''March 14, 123 A.L.'' 
''Admin Plaza, Nextus''

''I can’t believe this day has finally come.''

Sergeant Dale Combs stood in the middle of a long queue stretching all the way up the sidewalk and then starting to wrap around Admin Plaza. It was actually moving along at a pretty good clip for all its length, as the Admin bureaucrats seemed eager to prove that they hadn’t gotten rusty in the years the Game had been suspended.

Next to Dale was one of her fellow soldiers from the mostly-leonine RIDE infantry division where she and Sarabe had eventually ended up (119th Heavy Infantry, unit motto “Fear Our Roar!”), Corporal Denise Shafters. Denise was assistant quartermaster for their platoon. She wasn’t actually waiting in the line herself, but she had decided to tag along “to keep Sarge company.” Not far away, Denise’s lioness RIDE partner Tamarind was parked next to Sarabe, her huge deuce-and-a-half skimmer truck form dwarfing the smaller command trike. Tamarind’s model had just been introduced in the last year of the war as the successes of earlier RIDE types gave the research branch confidence to expand them into other roles.

“So are you really sure you want to muster out, Sarge?” Denise asked. “Now that the war’s over, we don’t have to fear for our lives anymore.”

“Are you sure you want to stay in, Corporal?” Dale shot back. “Now that the war’s over, we can ''go back to'' our old lives, if we want.”

“Eh…my old life wasn’t all that,” Denise said. “Anyway, I haven’t quite earned enough to buy Tams out yet, and ''no way'' I’m leaving her behind when I go.”

Dale nodded. “Can’t argue with you there. I’d probably be staying in for a while myself, if Sarabe hadn’t found that loophole.” She held up the media tablet she was carrying that had the official form on it, with stamps and seals and signatures in four different colors of digital ink. In fact, the queue they were standing in now was where she would turn it in to finalize her mustering out.

“You’re really giving up all claim to the Accidental Crossride Trust in exchange for her?” The ACT was a trust fund that had been set up in the months that followed Dale’s original “accident,” to provide some extra compensation to those who had found themselves in similar circumstances due to RIDE compatibility.

Dale nodded. “Damned straight I am. And it’s a bargain, too. Sarabe and I sat down and worked it out—the most I could expect to make from that fund, even if I take the payout as an annuity, works out to less than half of Sarabe’s buyout fee. So if I trade that in, in return for a ''free'' buyout, we come out ''way'' ahead.”

“Wow,” Denise said. “Maybe I should’ve ‘mistakenly’ chosen a ''guy'' lion.” They both heard Tamarind’s rumbling purr of laughter over their implants, as both RIDEs were listening in and following along with the conversation.

“I’d never have figured it out without her,” Dale admitted. “She’s the one who’s really into the Game. But the Game needs a human to file the forms in person for the best rewards—so in this, as in most things, we work as a team.”

“Sweet!” Denise grinned. “Of course, even if I ''could'' buy Tams out now, I don’t know if we’d really leave yet. Neither one of us is really sure what to do with ourselves in civilian life anyway…Q mining really doesn’t appeal. And I’d like to make Sarge myself and full quartermaster before we end our military career, so…”

Dale nodded. “If you like where you are right now, no reason to change. And the ‘Mil is still gonna need good people. Just not so many of them.”

“Yeah.” Denise thought about that for a bit, as the line moved a few more steps forward. “Y’know, I dunno if I ever said thanks for the advice you gave me, on talking to and listening to Tams. You got us off on the right foot, right away.”

Dale shrugged. “It’s just the same advice I give anyone. Your RIDE ''should'' be your best friend, because your lives depend on each other in the field.”

“And more importantly, because they’re ''people'' too. Regardless of what the manuals try to say.” Denise shook her head. “I like to think I’d have figured it out on my own, but…”

'':Sometimes it’s hard to pay attention when there’s a war on,:'' Sarabe put in.

'':Thanks from me, too, Sarge,:'' Tamarind put in. '':Not a day goes by I don’t meet someone else that reminds me how good we’ve got it. Word on the grapevine is you’re responsible for them letting us buy out, too.:''

“Oh, now, I wouldn’t go ''that'' far.” Dale chuckled. “That was more a matter of a lot of folks asking for it, not just me.”

'':But you’re the one who talked so many of our partners into seeing us as people, making friends with us, and ''wanting'' to buy us out,:'' Tamarind said. '':So, indirectly…:''

Dale shrugged. “Eh, maybe. I’m not the only RIDE rights advocate, you know. Not by a long shot.” ''Even if I am one of the first ones who’s still around…'' Dale’s thoughts turned once more to her old friends, the ones who’d been with her when the whole thing had started.

Theodore had died the year before, when he and Victor had held a desert pass solo to buy the rest of their platoon time to escape. They’d been blown apart by enemy artillery, and there hadn’t been time to recover their remains before one of the Dry Ocean’s many sandstorms covered them over. But at least Theo wouldn’t have to worry about his brother ever beating his score—by an official act of the Man Cave, any Cape Nord soldier who died heroically in the war would have their Manhood score fixed, posthumously, at infinity minus one, as well as granted True Nordsman status.

Ahmed and Katherine had disappeared not too much later. They had simply been missing from their post when the next watch showed up to relieve them one evening, and hadn’t ever been seen again since. There had been a sort of silver powdery residue found not far from the sentry post, and so they joined a number of other mysterious disappearances that took place under similar circumstances. The upper echelons had been strangely reluctant to discuss those disappearances when asked, but there were a lot of creepy theories going around. On the official rolls, Ahmed was simply marked as AWOL; Dale assumed Katherine was on some list of missing equipment somewhere.

They did still hear from Nadene and Mocha from time to time. Nadene had made Lieutenant Colonel, and was now in charge of one of the fuser nanite research programs, tasked with implementing the crossrider neural rewrite software patches that had been born back in Northcave Psychiatric. She’d also used what small degree of actual influence she had to help push forward the RIDE buyout program herself. It also looked like they would be able to develop workable protocols for repeat crossrides—and she and Gaius had plans to try it out themselves by trading RIDE partnerships when a five-year safety margin had passed since their original changes. (Gaius had gotten a horse RIDE as well, an advance model from one of the first civilian RIDE lines that would be released after the war officially ended.)

Dale wished them all the very best in that, but she’d already long since decided she wouldn’t be changing back even if she could. She was completely comfortable in herself now, and more importantly, she could no longer imagine life without that closeness to Sarabe in it. The RIDE was her other half in every way that counted, and she wasn’t going to give that relationship up. (Though she supposed she might revisit the question if she ever found a boyfriend or husband and they got along well with each other’s RIDE, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards right now.) She anticipated this decision causing some parental friction in a few years once reverse crossing became common, but she’d just burn that bridge when she came to it.

All told, nearly three hundred soldiers had needed emergency (or “convenience”) crossrides over the course of the war. Dale had been in contact with each of them and even struck up some new friendships. A few had proposed some business ventures on mustering out, but Dale and Sarabe had other ideas.

'':You know, I ''am'' glad you found that loophole,:'' Dale sent on a private sideband to Sarabe. '':The only other idea I had was asking Iffy for a loan, and really, I’m glad not to have to.:''

'':Yeah, no joke,:'' Sarabe replied in the same private channel. '':Probably just as well to keep your distance there.:''

'':I do need to see her again, though, once we head back to Cape Nord for a visit. She’s holding onto something for me,:'' Dale said. '':And for you, though you probably don’t know what it is.:''

'':I have some suspicions. But just as well to wait ‘til after the mustering-out to confirm them.:''

“What are ''you'' planning to do now, Sarge?” Denise wondered. “After you leave the ‘Mil and all.”

“Well, we’ve been thinking about that,” Dale said. “I might go back to school, take some classes in psychology and counselling. Because if they’re going to throw open RIDEs to civvies, you just know there are going to be ''thousands'' of poor unfortunates who didn’t read the manual. A good crossride counsellor, especially one with personal experience, might just be able to write their own ticket. Call it my own personal Q rush to get in early on.”

'':Though we might try a little ''actual'' Q mining, too,:'' Sarabe put in. '':You never know, we could strike it rich.:''

“We’ll also be speaking out about RIDE rights…though I’m not too optimistic on that score.” Dale sighed. Early indications were that it was going to be just as Nadene had predicted—people didn’t ''want'' to consider the full implications of RIDE sapience just now. In particular, those who didn’t have direct experience with them were going to be very hard to convince, given how many times humanity had tried and failed to make “true AI” over the centuries.

“Eh, don’t fret ''too'' much,” Denise said. “The more people meet RIDEs, the more people will find out what they ''really'' are, and sooner or later things will go right. I’ve got a good feeling.”

They were approaching the door to the NextusMil building now. Denise yawned and stretched, then said, “Well, I’m gonna head off now, Sarge. If I hurry, I can get a good seat at the ceremonies. ‘Crazy’ Joe Steader is going to give a speech, and you know how rare it is to see one of them in public these days.”

“Maybe less rare now that the war’s over. Enjoy yourself!”

“Enjoy your last few minutes of military life!” Denise waved and headed off. “See ya ‘round, Sarge!” She and Tamarind signed out of the shared comm channel a moment later.

'':Well, here we are, then,:'' Dale sent to Sarabe. '':You’re sure that this form has everything?:''

'':Absolutely. Every single endorsement you need, I tracked ‘em down and you pounced on ‘em,:'' Sarabe sent smugly. '':I’ve spent virtual ''years'' analyzing the Game, getting ready for the day I could play it for real. It was even easier than I expected.:''

'':Maybe you should sign up as a Surrogate.:''

'':It would have to be ''you'' signing up, remember,:'' Sarabe said. '':That pesky requirement to show up “in the flesh.”:''

'':Ugh, right…:'' Dale grimaced. '':Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you do something you’re clearly so good at. It’d be something else we could do for money between the counselling and the mining, right?:''

'':Assuming we end up living here,:'' Sarabe said. '':Which we hadn’t even decided for sure yet.:''

'':Well, we do have to go home to Cape Nord for a while. See the folks, meet Cindy’s new boyfriend…wonder if she’s found a keeper yet. And I’m sure Darcy can’t wait to tell me all about Rupert’s latest political triumphs. But after that…wherever we go is fine with me, as long as you’re there.:''

'':Awww…:''

And finally, they were at the head of the line, stepping up to the teller window with a slot to slide the tablet through. On the other side was a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool Nextus admin ‘crat, even down to the oval interface specs so like the ones Dale had worn to his “funeral.” She glanced down at the tablet, looked again, rubbed her eyes, stared, and tapped out something on the screen of her desktop comm. Her eyes flicked back and forth behind the specs as she read text from the screen, and other text flickered on the specs themselves. Finally, she looked up. “This…seems to be in order,” she said, unable to keep the surprise from creeping into her bureaucratic deadpan voice. “I’ve never actually seen anyone ''use'' a Tertiary Priority Abeyance before. Even most Surrogates never put in that degree of effort.”

“Well, I wanted to be ''sure'' I got it right,” Dale said. “And I did? It ''is'' in order? I can forfeit my claim to ACT F in return for a zero-''mu'' buyout fee on my RIDE?”

“Absolutely. You even qualified for a 50 kilo''mu'' discharge bonus.” The admin tapped three places on the tablet, stamped it with a seal from a rack on her desk, and signed it with a stylus. The form and endorsements disappeared, replaced by several paragraphs of text, and she slid it back across to Dale. “You’re good to go. Be sure to report to the NextusMil maintenance bay for your RIDE’s decommissioning before you leave the polity.”

“Thanks,” Dale told the bureaucrat, taking the tablet and making room for the next person in line. '':Shall we go ahead and get that done? They’re gonna remove every last bit of military gear, you know.:''

'':I told you before, that’s just extra equipment. As long as we’re together, I don’t care about that stuff.:'' Then there was a thoughtful pause.'' :Though, you ''know,'' if you ''do'' want to make it up to me, how’s about stopping at one of those new RIDE mod shops to get a full set of hardlight emitters installed in my shell? Scuttlebutt from those who’ve had them is that they’re amazing…:''

Dale chuckled. '':Sure, why not. We’ll start out civilian life the ''right'' way.:'' She tossed the tablet up and caught it, and walked back up the sidewalk to the parking lot. '':Then we can go find out what that life is really like.:''

'':Works for me, partner!:''

Dale straddled the bike, and she and Sarabe drove off into their new life together.

{{separator|k|'''THE END'''}}

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]][[Category: Robotech_Master]][[Category:Jon Buck]][[Category:Story]][[Category:Lion]][[Category:Wolf]][[Category:Lynx]][[Category:Elk]]

User:Robotech Master/First Deployment

2019-12-23T06:34:00Z

Robotech Master:

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}

{{title

|name=First Deployment

|author=Jon Buck and Robotech_Master

|user=Robotech_Master}}

{{DEFAULTSORT: First Deployment}}

{{author note|This story can be downloaded in PDF, EPUB, Mobi (Kindle), ODF, and RTF format from [http://www.eyrie.org/~robotech/freeriders/ this website].}} 

=Chapter 1=

''“Fort Brubeck”'' 
''June 7, 121 AL''

The massive blue-gray Starmaster armed transport took up most of the landing pad, which was itself covered by a shimmering hardlight shield. The air had barely cooled to tolerable levels before the Quartermaster sent Corporal Dale Combs and his squadmates in to begin unloading. There were always more transports incoming and limited space to take them, so it was extremely important to get them unloaded fast and the materiel stored right away.

The Quartermaster, Major Divina Lind, glared at the manifest on her tablet. “Corporal Combs, get me the cargomaster. This load isn’t scheduled to be here for another four days.”

“Four days, sir? What’s in it?” Combs asked.

The aft clamshell doors on the transport opened, revealing racks and racks of neat metallic cube-shapes in a half dozen sizes. They were mostly familiar—AIDE power armor/skimmer cycles for individual use. There were suggestions of animal features even in the compact transport mode: paws, feline faces, hooves, and antlers.

“The new RIDEs,” the Major said, tapping her stylus on the tablet. “Now, find him, Corporal. That’s an order. They neglected to include the training materials on the manifest. We were supposed to get those ''first''.”

“Yes, sir!” Combs saluted and scrambled off.

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Zharus’s weak magnetic field—barely enough to keep the atmosphere from blowing away in the solar wind—made radio communication dodgy on the best of days. And the ever-present dust in the air made laser comms not much better sometimes. That meant that couriers were the best method for sending any communiques from Command into the field. Fort Brubeck, as the soldiers called it, still had the best comm gear available, but conditions lately had curtailed transmissions.

But the way the Major was grumbling, Dale thought that it was just a Nextus bureaucratic cock-up—BUCU as they called it. Of course, he couldn’t be ''sure'' of that. Dale wasn’t a Nextus native, so didn’t have the encyclopedic knowledge of the rules of the Game that such a person did. But the thought made him chuckle, because he ''was'' intimately familiar with the rules of ''another'' polity’s national pastime. He was from Cape Nord, a volunteer for their armed forces. A Man was often made in war, so here he was.

Though after four years in the service, he was still only a Corporal. There were, he had to admit, ''reasons ''for that. When you got right down to it, like most of the Cape Nord volunteers, he was probably here for the wrong reasons.

These Nextus soldiers were defending their homes and their way of life, and if they blew it their home was going to be a vassal state to a sworn enemy. Knowing they were to be hanged, as the old saying went, concentrated their minds wonderfully, and they went about their duties with a patriotic fervor that made them all the more effective fighters.

But the Nordie boys knew ''they'' weren’t in any danger—Cape Nord didn’t really have much anybody wanted. Even the heavy metal mining that had originally funded the polity was in decline now that it was cheaper to get the stuff in bulk from asteroids. And even if it did, the Valkyries of Sturmhaven would probably have rather let them keep it than deal with the Cape Nord male ego. After all, Sturmhaven had kicked their forebears out and said “good riddance” a long time ago.

Some Nordies were, or at least ''said'' they were, looking for a little payback against the old Mother Country—but almost no one still alive actually had or knew anyone who had directly been wronged by them. Hence, ''most'' were here because, again, Men were often made in war. Then once they got here and found that they actually didn’t ''like'' being in a war, still they stuck around because it was un-Manly to quit. But they didn’t exactly give it their all the way Nextus’s natives did, and the Nextus brass was aware of this.

But having all those warm bodies who didn’t necessarily give fighting their all at least let that brass use them to staff support positions, rear echelons, and garrisons to secure captured territory, so they could send the gung-ho Nextus natives to the frontlines instead. ''Which is how I ended up in this chickenshit outfit,'' Dale reflected ruefully. ''Still, could be worse. Could be on the front lines having my ass shot at.''

Dale’s thoughts turned back to the RIDEs that had just arrived. Now that those gung-ho soldiers on the front lines had been fully equipped with these new Sarium-powered wonder machines, there were finally enough to go around in the rear echelons. But things were always confused in the supply chain when there was a war on, and Dale’s mind went to another acronym passed down from grunt to grunt over the centuries: SNAFU. “Situation Normal: All Effed Up,” Dale muttered.

But still, there might be opportunities to be had in this kind of foul-up. Dale had heard a lot of rumors about those machines through the grapevine—most of them contradictory to others, and some of them crazy enough to make him wonder if ''any'' of them could be true.

One of the things that was ''verifiably'' true was that they gave you animal ears and a tail, for reasons that had never been clearly explained but were apparently accepted by the brass. There was a “conscientious objector” clause written into the Nextus soldier contract so anyone who objected to that kind of body modification could put in for a transfer to a non-combat job, but anyone taking that clause could probably kiss their future military career goodbye. Dale wasn’t terribly optimistic about his own military career anyway, but didn’t have any particular objections to the idea of animal features. He thought he might actually look rather fetching with a pair of wolf ears and tail, or something else Manly like that. ''Maybe a lion or tiger…''

In fact…one of those RIDEs there ''had'' looked like it might be some kind of lion. Perhaps that would bear some further investigation. ''Or maybe ''lion'' the further investigation.'' Dale chuckled at his pun. In any case, it wasn’t likely he’d get his hands on one of those RIDEs for himself any time soon—things like this tended to be reserved for the officers, and then gradually trickle down to enlisted men. But ''maybe'' there was a way around that…

He found the cargomaster at the front of the aircraft, at the rack that held the secure datapacks. They were each the size of a dinner plate, though the chip itself was far, far smaller. It was mostly surrounded by hardware to ensure that the Sturmies couldn’t get to the chip, even if they managed to intercept the courier.

“I know why you’re here, Corporal,” the cargomaster said. “And I don’t have an answer for you. They never tell me what’s on these chips for security reasons. Whatever you’re missing, the Quartermaster will have to send a chip to Command.”

“That’s about what I thought, but I’m just the message boy,” Dale said. “But then, I guess you are too.”

The cargomaster snorted. “Yeah, buddy, ain’t ''that'' the truth.”

“Any idea why this shipment turned up four days early?” Dale asked.

He shrugged. “Feels like a BUCU to me, if anything. If it is, then whoever thought the Game was still on is going to get drummed out of the service.”

Dale grinned. “I don’t know as I’d really complain about something showing up ''early'' for a change. Far too much of the other thing happening these days.”

“Well, you grunts need to get this aircraft unloaded so we can lift and return to MilCentral.”

Dale nodded. “I’ll give the Major the news. See you around, buddy.”

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Fort Brubeck—a nickname that had stuck despite the protestations of its owner, famed former interstellar Scout Clint Brubeck—was located over the richest deposit of high-grade qubitite yet known in the Dry Ocean. The deposits being mined were all surface, since nobody had figured out how to use other methods to get the crumbly blue stuff that was far beneath it. But despite this deposit being far underground, the Nextus military knew it was important enough for the future to keep the site garrisoned.

Multiple redundant fusion reactors powered multi-layered hardlight shielding, a half dozen large double pulse cannon turret emplacements, a multitude of smaller ones, underground tunnels, infantry bunkers…Fort Brubeck had it all. Early in the War the tactics had dictated ''enormous ''lifter-powered battleships and smaller craft slinging pulse energy, railgun sabots, and salvos of missiles—more or less an antigravity imitation of oceanic navies—so the Fort naturally needed defense against them. But technology and tactics had changed quickly.

Battles had moved to the east and southeastern Dry Ocean, many thousands of kilometers away, and even on the Coastal Ring between the two warring polities, with little Nuevo San Antonio caught in the middle. That made being assigned to Fort Brubeck a second-rate post at best.

Ordinarily, the operating manuals for all manner of military equipment were available for immediate download from the NextusMil central database. They were indexed and cross-referenced to a fare-thee-well—one of the benefits of a polity where everyone spoke bureaucratese as a second language, Dale supposed. But someone seemed to have dropped the ball on the matter of these RIDEs—there wasn’t a word to be found about them. Apparently they were still classified top-secret, even as every buck private in the field was being given one.

Dale sometimes wondered if the problem might actually stem from the Game being in abeyance because of the war. When it was running, the Game did throw up obstacles for people to hurdle as a matter of course—but from what he’d seen from his outsider’s perspective, the Game processes ''did'' at least ensure that everything got done. Ideally, those processes should have been replaced by ''more streamlined'' processes to get the same thing done—but it seemed like some of them might have slipped through the cracks. ''Whoever’s job it was to come up with the new rules thought it was someone else’s…and so did the someone else, maybe.'' It was at least worthy of an ironic chuckle: When Nextus explicitly tried to minimize the chances of making BUCUs…they made BUCUs ''because'' of it.

At least some of the stories Dale had heard had it that these RIDEs had some kind of expert system on board that would actually ''tell'' you how to work them, so you didn’t really ''need'' documentation. But not only was this the military, this was the ''Nextus'' military. When you’re in the middle of a war, you don’t have time to waste on might-bes, or on trying to figure out how some completely unfamiliar piece of equipment worked if it wasn’t an emergency situation. If the documentation wasn’t ready yet, you ''waited for the documentation.'' That was how the bureaucracy of the military worked.

But privately, Dale was sure ''he'' wouldn’t have any problems. He had a knack for figuring out mechanical gadgets. Hadn’t he learned to use his Chinook and aced the operating exam without once cracking the manual? (After all, reading the instructions wasn’t Manly.) And these RIDE things just sounded like a fancier version of those, so it should be just fine.

He just needed to work out how to phrase his approach to Major Lind so she would give him orders with enough wiggle room to cover a little otherwise-unauthorized experimentation. It would help if he timed the approach for a time when she was as distracted as possible—which would probably need to be within the next half hour, as she was pulled in all directions trying to get all the ''other'' BUCUs involved with this unexpected shipment straightened out.

As he headed back to the edge of the airfield, Dale mentally rehearsed what he was going to say. Knowing what he did about the Major, it was pretty easy to figure out what buttons to push. She was all about ''efficiency,'' which was why this sort of foul-up made her so irritable. All he had to do was couch his suggestion the right way.

Dale found the Major where he’d left her, still glaring at the tablet in her hands. “Sorry, Ma’am, but it was about as expected. The cargo master didn’t know anything about what’s in the shipment, he just carries what he’s given.”

The officer sighed. “Doesn’t that just figure. I’ve already filed a message for the return shipment. Go round up a pallet-jack and take these to storage. We’ll put them toward the front in warehouse 3, and hope they don’t get buried by the time we get the training manuals in.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He turned and started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “You know, ma’am—it’d be a shame to waste the time we have these here. They seem to use the same technology as the bikes we’ve been using. If I had some time to look them over, familiarize myself with them, it might help get a head start on some of the maintenance matters.”

Major Lind didn’t even look up from the tablet. “Sure, go on, familiarize yourself with them. Let me know if you find out anything I should know about.”

“Yes, ma’am. Will do, ma’am.”

Dale felt a ''little'' guilty for taking advantage of Major Lind’s distractibility like that…but only a little. After all, he reasoned, in familiarizing himself with the RIDEs to the point that he, well, ''claimed'' one, he actually ''would'' be saving time in terms of getting up and running with them. Sometimes the Army could be overcautious to the point of self-paralysis, and hey—there ''was'' a war on. Every minute saved counted, right?

Dale dutifully snagged the pallet-jack and trucked the RIDES off to the warehouse as ordered. He made sure to put the lion-ish one in front where it would be easy to access. He’s already decided that one was the one he wanted. He’d come back a little later once his other duties were taken care of, and then he would see.

{{separator|k}}

Dale read the identification plate on the front of the cubic RIDE. “LEO(f)-MCA-002A. Huh.” His assigned Chinook had a similarly nonsensical model designation he hadn’t bothered to learn. He was sure all the letters and numbers had to mean ''something'', because Nextus being Nextus, everything ''always'' meant something…but the documents that would have said ''what'' they meant weren’t available. But they probably weren’t important.

LEO was obviously lion, in any case. The 002A at the end was probably the sequential model number. The rest had no obvious meaning at all.

As for how to activate it…there was something he’d learned as part of the standard training with his Chinook. Some parts of the Dry Ocean could reach near 90 degrees celsius, and in the event the armor mode was damaged and it became necessary to swap out while under fire, there was a physical ‘emergency armor mode’ switch to enable a very fast swap and minimize exposure to the environment. ''If this thing is based off a Chinook, then the switch should be somewhere around…here.''

Dale peered at the innocuous-looking button for a good long time. He knew that if he pressed that button, there would be no going back. The signs that he had activated one of the new RIDE units would be right there, indelible for all to see.

But…he could always claim it had been an accident. He’d just been “familiarizing himself” as ordered, then goofed and pressed the wrong button. They couldn’t blame him for that, right? Could have happened to anyone. And anyway, he’d still be the first one to have gotten his hands on one of the new miracle machines. No matter what they might go to him, they couldn’t take that away from him.

Taking a deep breath, Dale pressed the button.

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The next thing Dale was aware of was a rumbly female voice saying, “Corporal Combs is now awake, as ordered.” Dale felt his arms move in a salute, but it wasn’t himself doing it.

He opened his eyes to see five people in the room in front of him—the Major, a doctor from the base infirmary, a woman with a RIDE Research Division patch on her white uniform…and two MPs.

There was also someone else, the first voice who had spoken…but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where they might be. His head might have been filled with sand, as sluggish as his thoughts were.

“Unit Sarabe, keep he…the Corporal sedated,” the doctor ordered.

“Yes, sir!” the voice rumbled.

“Corporal, do you have any idea what you’ve ''done ''to yourself?” Major Lind said from well below eye-level.

“Was just…familiarizing myself with the equipment as ordered, Ma’am…” he mumbled. There seemed to be something off about his voice. Had the RIDE armor suit’s breathing system had helium in it?

“The process is complete, Major,” the base Doctor said. “Vital signs are…normal, given the circumstances.”

“These units should have been locked down for shipping until they were assigned,” the Major tech said. “How did Combs activate one?”

“The emergency Fuse function worked as designed, Major,” the RIDE tech said.

“Why didn’t the unit just spit him out once it sensed things were…wrong?” Major Lind said.

“Locked down or not, that’s what it’s intended for. To save a soldier’s life if there are no other options. We planned for…this type of situation to happen on the battlefield, and the similar system in place on the Ad-I models has saved a number of lives. Though I must admit that it hasn’t happened on the front lines with RIDEs yet.”

“And emergency functions are just supposed to ''work'',” Major Lind said, sighing. “I can’t fault the engineers for that.”

Dale felt he should put in a word in his own defense, given that everyone seemed to be talking about him. “Sorry…must’ve had an accident when I was examining it…” he mumbled, trying to ignore the odd sound of his own voice.

Major Lind shook her head. “Oh, you didn’t have any kind of accident. You didn’t ''accidentally'' open a panel, flip up a safety cover, and press a button marked FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY in big bold letters. Even if I didn’t already know what you were like, I’d have trouble buying that.” Her lips pursed in an ironic smirk. “Well, you’ve seen to your ''own'' punishment, and it will be a ''much'' more fitting one than anything the military can mete out…for a Cape Nord boy.”

Dale didn’t like the sound of that. He tried to move, but something was holding him in place. “Hey, what…lemme out?”

“Major, I don’t recommend removing him from the RIDE unit here,” the doctor said. “The Corporal’s reaction is likely to be…unpleasant.”

Dale ''really'' didn’t like the sound of that. He tried to squirm harder, but he felt the cool hiss of a spray injection against his arm and everything faded to black.

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''Fort Brubeck Medical Bay''

''Dissonance''. A body sending signals that didn’t match what Dale’s brain was expecting. The restraints in the hospital bed were necessary, they kept him from tearing at his own body.

''Disassociation''. A face that was-and-wasn’t his. Features softened just enough to be female. But he kept looking behind the face in the mirror to find his actual one. There were…breasts. Barely there, but present. And down below was…was—

Before the panic could take hold again the autodoc applied a mild sedative. Dale sighed and let his mind float.

He was ''technically'' a woman now, where it counted. Yet when he tried to think about that for more than a few seconds his brain filled with a white noise that blocked out all rational thought. So the restraints were sadly necessary.

His doctors had put a sensor-laden skullcap on him for “data collection”, and promised they would return soon with results and recommended treatment. It’d only been…Dale looked at the clock on the wall. ''Half an hour. Ugh! Just knock me out again!''

The doctor entered the room, tablet in hand. “Well, Corporal. I’ll give it to you straight. We have to fix your brain so it matches your body, and the only specialists who know how to do that are in Cape Nord.”

“Cape…Nord.” Dale’s stomach fell into his feet. Of course, Cape Nord did have some experience here. Starting with the popular author Iphigenia Rose, who eight years before had been exposed as a Man on the verge of becoming a True Nordsman. He had very publically been “unManned” then went right back to writing and selling books. There had been a dozen more since then. To all appearances, these unManned were well-adjusted and happy as women. A couple had even given birth.

“We’re going to ship you out to a clinic there in the next hour, Corporal. So just hold on a little longer.”

Dale tried to clear her throat before speaking. “Can you at least knock me out until they do whatever it is they do?”

“Of course, Corporal.” The doctor leaned over and did something to the IV drip. “You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up. Like a new woman.”

''That’s just what I’m afraid of,'' Dale thought as she drifted away again.

=Chapter 2=

''Cape Nord'' 
''Northcave Psychiatric Hospital'' 
''June 11, 121 AL''

It was morning. Dale lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, part of which flashed, waiting for any media requests from her. The previous night had been…easier than the one before. She hadn’t rolled over. Yesterday she’d had sore breasts for half the day. Small though they were, she’d still somehow managed to irritate them.

''It’s very important to establish new body habits and routines,'' Dale thought, repeating to herself what the therapist had said yesterday. She could look at herself in the mirror without screaming. She could look ''down'' at herself without feeling an overwhelming terror. It was new. It was all so very ''new''. But at the same time it was just…her body. ''Establish ‘normalcy’ she said.''

For all of that, she had to admit she was really fortunate, in a number of ways. Given the mess she’d—he’d—the mess ''Dale had caused'' with their little adventure, she’d expected an approximate military law library to be thrown in her direction. But to her surprise, she’d been offered a deal.

“What ‘happened’ to you will happen to other soldiers on the front lines,” Major Lind said, using the dreaded air quotes. “We don’t currently have a baseline case in your…situation. This troubles the brass, and when something troubles the brass, they make themselves feel better by throwing money at intensive research projects. Especially when a perfect test subject ''so'' enthusiastically volunteers.

“So, for your sins, you’re going to get the best medical treatment money can buy, with an army of observers watching over you, a battery of psychologists testing you, and reams of data being generated about your every move and thought. If you don’t like it, well, we can always court-martial you.”

Dale might have been dense, but she wasn’t ''stupid''. “Uh…I like it, ma’am! I like it very much!”

“I thought that you would. This little escapade notwithstanding, you always struck me as the sensible sort.”

So, not only was she ''not'' being court-martialed, she was being given a cushy non-battlefield duty station'' in her own home polity''. Most of those ambivalent Cape Nord volunteers would have'' killed'' for a posting like this.

''But how many of them,'' she wondered darkly, ''would have given up their Manhood?''

She spent longer in the shower than she really needed to, then some time with a hand mirror looking at anatomy that couldn’t be seen another way, as prescribed by her therapists. Then she got dressed, taking a few minutes with the bra, before putting on the new labcoat-white Research Division enlisted uniform.

The biosculpt system built into the RIDE had been very basic. Other than the gross soft tissue changes required to make her physically female, there had been little effort expended to change the rest. By Cape Nord standards she was homely and very masculine. Her brown hair was still short enough to not need much combing—fairly ironic, given her surname.

Dale was the same height and weight, with fatty tissue moved around in places, fairly flat-chested, barely any curve to her hips, and had an androgynous voice. Famed romance novelist Iphigenia Rose, the very first to undergo the same process that had changed Dale, had looked much the same halfway through her change, according to the old video they’d shown Dale as part of her therapy. Then she’d gone back into the chamber for further sculpting. By the same token, there were biosculpt kiosks practically on every street corner that could make Dale into the very flower of Cape Nord femininity, much as Rose had been by the time she’d been through. Dale supposed she might go ahead with that at some point, but just getting used to ''this'' change seemed like more than enough to be getting on with right now.

On the schedule today were a battery of physical tests, including hours in a skullcap making any needed adjustments to her brain. After all the physical tests came the therapy sessions. There was a near-term goal to start getting her out in public, because the resocialization aspect was of “extreme importance” as the therapists said.

There was also the matter of how to tell Dale’s immediate family. Her situation was still secret—she was here under a different name (”Raine Wilson”) for the time being. But they also needed data ''fast'', since RIDEs were being deployed in greater numbers increased the chance of an actual battlefield “crossride” as they called it. She even understood that her very own RIDE—the one she’d activated at the start of this mess—was in storage awaiting her attention, because how she related to the RIDE now was another important element of the study. But they’d be saving that part for later.

She strolled down the hospital corridor to the scanning room. This being Cape Nord, the nurses were all women. But it wasn’t just her butch looks that set her apart from them. It was the leonine ears and tufted tail.

The ears and tail that felt more normal than the breasts and vagina.

“Corporal Wilson, please have a seat in the scanner,” Dr. Pollard said. “We’ve modified the seat for your tail.”

“I almost forgot I had it,” Dale said. The Fusers had re-wired her brain for the new limb and the ears, but ''not'' the rest. It seemed like a ''bit'' of an oversight. She took her seat as requested, and the scanner technician did something on his control panel.

The doctor studied the display for a few moments, then nodded. “Mm. Good. The neural re-patterning is proving to be precisely as stable as in the other cases. Three days and no sign of any deterioration or reversion—and if there were to be such, we should have seen it by now.”

“That’s great, Doc, but will I be able to play the piano?”

Dr. Pollard raised his eyebrow. “Could you before?”

“Heh. No. Just being a smart alec, Doc.”

“I’ve heard that particular joke at ''least'' thirty-seven times. I suppose if nothing else, that proves you’re from here. You still have the Manly sense of humor. Or lack thereof.” He chuckled. “Regardless of whether you can play the piano, there’s another hobby you might consider taking up. You have a couple of visitors today who might be interested in discussing sewing.”

“…ah.” Dale had been wondering when that would come up. There was a collection of women’s social clubs all across Cape Nord, loosely referred to by the collective name “The Sewing Circle.” They gave women an excuse to get out of the house, or have others over to visit them. Pretty much every woman who was married to anyone in Cape Nord was a member, but Dale’s mother harbored a long-standing grudge because she’d never been able to advance further than a few social clubs on its fringes. “Thanks, Doc, but I’m really not sure I can deal with that right now.”

“This is part of your therapy, and we ''really'' want you to meet them. So be ready to have a chat after lunch. Doctor’s orders.”

Dale rolled her eyes and sighed. “All right. If it’s an ''order''…” She supposed that whatever was coming, she probably deserved it. At least it was better than dying in combat on the front lines. ''Probably.''

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After lunch, Dale steeled herself for an ordeal and made her way to the small conference room as directed. After she entered the door, she stopped short and stared.

One of the two women there was no particular surprise—a black-haired woman in one of the businesslike Nextus military female officer’s uniforms, cut much like Major Lind’s though without as much fruit salad. It was labcoat white, like Dale’s own new Research Division uniform, and she sported Captain’s bars on the collar.

But the other…there might not be a single Cape Nord citizen of either gender who didn’t know that heart-shaped face, with its masses of wavy strawberry blonde hair. Romance novelist Iphigenia Rose was one of Cape Nord’s most famous citizens—and the very first person from Zharus to undergo the native version of the nanotech sex reassignment surgery originally pioneered on Earth.

And there she sat, legs crossed comfortably, in a nice dress a few notches more casual than those she was usually pictured wearing. “Hello, Corporal Combs,” she said. “Please come in, we’ve been expecting you.”

“Uh…call me Dale, please,” Dale stammered. “Ah…I’m sorry, I never expected to meet…uh…”

“Me?” Iphigenia smiled—a smile even more stunning in person than in the photos. “I understand. I get that a lot. And may I introduce my colleague, Captain Nadene Garland of Nextus? As it turns out, we all have at least ''one'' thing in common.”

The Captain was only slightly more feminine-looking than Dale. If it wasn’t for the dark purple streak through her hair, she would have looked every inch the humorless Nextus bureaucrat. It gave her character—for some value of character. “Corporal Combs.”

Dale saluted. “Ma’am.”

“No need for further formality, Corporal. I’m not here in any ‘official’ capacity, and we’re in different chains of command anyway. Here, for now, you can call me Nadene.”

“Understood…er…yes. Call me Dale.”

“We are here, as you might imagine, to help you acclimate—seeing as we both have rather extensive experience at that ourselves,” Iphigenia said. “We ''do'' have some other reasons for coming—but we’ll get to those. So, to start…you already know ''my'' background, I’m sure. Is there anything in particular you’d like to ask me about my own change?”

Dale was caught somewhere between the urge to stare at her and the urge to avert his gaze. “Er…well…” he stammered again. “When the change happened to me, I, uh, ''freaked out.'' But they showed me the tape of…yours, and…you…''didn’t.'' Why?”

“First, because the whole thing was just a show. I’d been mentally preparing for it for weeks. But most importantly, I told them flat out that unless they could ''definitely ''prevent severe gender dysphoria, it was a no-go. I would ''not'' do it. I ''had ''to be comfortable in my own skin. I was fully prepared to move to Aloha and keep writing as an exile with my Man Card revoked. Then my PR people said…they said…” she laughed.

“Ironically, the people selling the idea to me appealed to my Manhood. I would be the ''first'' to undergo this process in a very public place. I would get the best medical and psychological treatment available, based on the extensive clinical records available from the process’s original use on Earth. They ''guaranteed'' I wouldn’t experience any dysphoria.”

“Understand, the process they use incorporates the neural re-patterning as part of the biosculpt process,” Nadene put in. “The RIDEs as they stand right now don’t have that. They ''could,'' theoretically, but we hadn’t put as much research into that area as Cape Nord has—we were mainly concerned about using the same ‘sculpt nanotech for the interface and tagging. The sex-change aspect was…well, largely an unintended consequence, because it was easier to use the tech as it was than re-engineer it to remove it.”

Iphigenia nodded. “But I was undergoing the ''entire'' process, to the greatest extreme possible. Because I figured, if I was going to embrace womanhood, there’d be no half-measures. I was going to be the most womanly woman who ever womaned.”

“''Cape Nord’s'' idea of a woman, in any case,” Nadene added primly.

“That’s a fair cop, Captain Garland,” Iphigenia replied, nodding. “At least, from what outsiders see. At any rate, the whole deal about my ‘girly’ romance novels being ‘discovered’ to actually be written by a man? And the public ‘UnManning’? The whole thing was a PR stunt. The City Fathers and the Sewing Circle were both in on it.”

Dale blinked. “Wait, the Sewing Circle? I thought that was just a bunch of social clubs for women.”

Nadene raised her eyebrows and looked at the novelist. “I would like to hear that explanation, myself. But I’ve long suspected it’s an aspect to Cape Nord culture like our Game is in Nextus. Something a little too obscure for outsiders.”

Iphigenia smiled. “Captain, did you ever wonder why Sturmhaven became such a pariah while Cape Nord didn’t? Even though, to outsiders, women don’t have any political power and the ancient patriarchy seems to rule?”

“’Seems’? Please, go on.”

''Seems? ''Dale thought, puzzled. “My mother was always upset that she was never invited past the outer fringes of the Sewing Circle. I…won’t repeat some of the things she said about them.” Her mother had frequently called them a “bunch of stuck-up bitches”.

“That’s because the Sewing Circle is a ''little'' more selective than the name would imply, Dale,” Iphigenia said. “It’s really not so much a ''club'' as it is a sort of ''shadow government'' of Cape Nord—a way that we women who are in the know wield the not inconsiderable power of our feminine wiles to make sure that the Men only go as far as we want them to. You’d be surprised at how much one can accomplish with just a little gentle persuasion.” She paused. “I see by your expression that this is new to you. Considering your parents’ political leanings, I’m not surprised.”

“I’m not even from Cape Nord and I figured that one out,” Nadene said. “It makes sense. Ever since Sturmhaven passed their ‘Male Transgression Laws’ they’ve been sanctioned economically by Laurasian and Gondwanan governments alike—it’s one of the big reasons why we’re at war. But Cape Nord skates on by.”

“The Sewing Circle sent representatives to the other polities’ governments to lobby against sanctions on Cape Nord. It helped that all of those governments had ambassadors who had spent enough time in Cape Nord to know how it really worked and could testify on our behalf.” Iphigenia sighed. “The whole idea of ‘Manliness,’ and the ‘battle of the sexes’? It’s all a game, Dale. Always has been—in both Sturmhaven ''and'' Cape Nord. Seventy years ago the Valkyries’ predecessors started taking their part of the game too seriously. It stopped being a game.”

Captain Garland brightened in comprehension. “I see. So, it stopped being ''consensual''. And that’s when the founders of Cape Nord decided to head to the opposite side of the supercontinent.”

“Fifteen thousand kilometers was just barely enough,” Iphigenia said. “They almost went to Avalon, but couldn’t get approval from the Planetary Assembly.”

Avalon was a further five thousand kilometers west of Gondwana, in the middle of the North Thalassic Ocean. It was merely the size of South America on Earth, but hadn’t been terraformed. Zharus was twice Earth’s diameter with four times as much surface area (yet with the same surface gravity). It was a ''big ''world to get lost in.

Captain Garland raised an eyebrow. “Hewing a living from the desolate wastes of the frozen north?”

Iphigenia smiled. “A Manly challenge, to be sure. But it was just what they needed, to prove to ''themselves'' that the tropical Sturmhaven life hadn’t…emasculated them.” She chuckled. “Both of my grandfathers were among the first wave of emigrants. Ah, the stories they used to tell…”

“Since you seem to be done with your story, I suppose it’s my turn now,” Nadene said. “Mine is a little closer to Dale’s. I was a wet-behind-the-ears Lieutenant working in the RIDE development program starting about a year ago. I helped develop the very first working prototypes, though there’s a limit to just how much I can say about it. It’s still mostly classified.

“In any case, back in March we were doing what we called a ‘hot Fuse’ test to make sure that the Fuse process would work correctly on the new LNX frame. The AI running it sounded enthusiastic, oddly enough.

“Some of the equipment was being fussy that day, so like an idiot I decided to go into the chamber myself, standing right next to the bio-sim mannequin test article. It so happened that wasn’t the ''only'' equipment on the fritz that day. The Drive Extender unit’s targeting sensors were just ''slightly ''off. So when we initiated the test, well…” She cupped her breasts. “Things got complicated.”

“I can only imagine,” Iphigenia said. “I had a few weeks to psych myself up for the change. To come out of the blue like that…”

“The program was still top secret at the time. So they isolated me while they tried to fix what happened to my body. The only alterations they could correct were the ears and tail. You see, this kind of change was intended for verified transsexuals. Poor people born with a brain the opposite sex of their bodies. So the Fuse nanites didn’t touch those areas of my brain at all. Extreme dysphoria was the natural result.”

“I… I know how that feels,” Dale said.

Nadene nodded. “Nanosurgery was—and still is—out of the question. The nanites in our bodies help maintain hormonal balances and fix genetic errors and removing them would cause serious health problems. It takes time to genetically change a few trillion cells. They suggested more barbaric surgical methods, but I said no. Only then did they broach the idea of having Cape Nord’s experts re-write my brain so my body felt right—using techniques from an ''alternative'' nanotech dysphoria therapy developed on Earth. To make the brain match the body instead of the body matching the brain. Two solutions to the same problem.”

“More akin to micro brain surgery, really. Something we had already done several times here in Cape Nord,” Iphigenia said. “Including on yours truly. So that’s why she, and you, are here.”

“I still don’t understand why they just can’t kill them with an EMP and change me back,” Dale said.

“A body can’t withstand that kind of rapid change in quick succession,” Nadene said. “This is why, for now, this is a ''one-way'' trip. Perhaps in a few years it won’t be, but they don’t exactly have resources to devote to researching our little problems in the middle of wartime. So, for now, we must make the best of an…odd situation.”

''‘Odd,’ she says.'' “How are you so ''calm'' about this?” Dale demanded. “I mean…this change…becoming…” She petered out, unsure what she’d even been going to say.

Nadene smiled. “Oh, believe me, I did my share of screaming at the wall and beating on things, when it happened. But I’ve had time to adjust with a lot of help from therapists. There are worse things in the world to have happen.” She shrugged. “At least I’ve still got a ''whole'' body, even if it has different parts now. And besides, the military’s paying a big cash settlement on top of covering all my medical costs, and I’ll have some pretty darned big favors owed when the Game starts back up again.” She shrugged. “And you never know what might happen, eventually.”

“But you’re not from Cape Nord,” Dale grumbled.

“Ah, but ''I'' am,” Iphigenia reminded her. “And I’ve got it even better, really. Even leaving aside what all the publicity did for my book sales.” She smiled slyly. “After all, I’m now part of the cabal secretly running things behind the scenes. Or who like to pretend we are, which in Cape Nord generally amounts to the same thing.”

Dale frowned. “About that ‘Sewing Circle’ thing…how does that even work? How can women seriously ''run things'' here?”

“Quite easily, really. Why do Men want to be Manly? To impress each other, yes, but more importantly, to impress ''women.''” She beamed. “It’s a basic fact of civics that a government’s power flows from the consent of the governed. It’s just that in our case, that consent is more ''implicit'' than ''explicit.''”

“So you hold your conspiracies in plain sight, and the Men just think you’re getting together to sew and gossip.” Nadene shook her head. “Cute.”

“A few Men do know about us, but most of them think it’s a harmless delusion on our part. And who knows? They may be right. Certainly, we don’t have ‘official’ government representation, beyond a few non-voting advisory positions in the Man Cave. But that’s how we like it. True power doesn’t require being ''in'' the government, it just requires being able to get the government to listen to you. And who do you think those Men in their Cave go home to every night?” She smirked. “Around here, more political matters have been influenced by the living room sofa than by any PAC.”

“And my mother isn’t a part of this because…?”

Iphigenia sighed. “Now that you’re one of us, given your background, we deemed it best to tell you—especially given that I’m supposed to be serving as a role model to you, and that wouldn’t work if you didn’t know the whole story. The thing is, our complaisance is largely an act, a front we put on for the Men’s benefit, because it makes it easy for us to lead the poor dears around by their, ah, ''noses.'' But not everyone ''outside'' the polity realizes this.”

“I think I see where this is going,” Nadene said.

“So, sometimes we have women move here because they fall in love with the front. Perhaps they just want to live in a simpler time, where Men will worship and pamper them.” Iphigenia shrugged. “Some of these can be introduced to the truth with a little care and attention. But others…we judge that it would be too damaging to their egos if we told them how things ''really'' are, the poor dears. They’d be happier if we keep them in the dark.”

Dale frowned, thinking back to the years he’d spent growing up. His mother had been a very happy homemaker, content to raise him and his siblings while his father brought home the proverbial (and sometimes literal) bacon. She wasn’t the kind of person Dale could easily imagine taking part in making larger decisions behind the scenes. “You…may be right about that.”

“As one of the closest women to her, you’ll have the right to tell her whatever you believe is best,” Iphigenia said. “If you think she could handle it…”

“I’ll…uh…think about it,” Dale said. “I’ve—I mean, she doesn’t even know about…''this''…yet. I’m still not sure how I’m going to break it to her.”

“You present us with a conundrum yourself, you know,” Iphigenia said. “Both of you, and your situation. We of Cape Nord had a great deal of experience with ''intentional'' ‘team changes’, which is of course why you came to us for help. But the idea that it could happen to someone by ''accident'' is new to us—as is the fact that the technology is being incorporated into these new machines of war. And there has already been speculation that RIDEs could see widespread ''civilian'' use after the war is over.”

“So you could end up with a ''lot'' of ‘brand new women,’” Nadene mused.

“And brand new Men,” Iphigenia said. “We’re going to need to decide how to handle that while it’s still only a theoretical possibility, lest we be caught by surprise when it becomes practical. And that’s another part of why I’m here.” She smiled. “As the first woman to undergo the process myself, I was the natural choice to head up our committee to look into the issue. And so here I am.”

“And as far as the City Fathers are concerned, you’re just volunteering to give a poor little lost lamb the benefit of your experience out of the goodness of your heart,” Nadene smirked.

“Killing the proverbial two birds,” Iphigenia said. “It’s a nicely elegant solution, don’t you think?”

Dale nodded. “It makes some sense. What are the next steps?”

“What happens next is up to your therapists,” Nadene said. “This will have to go public soon, so expect your family to be notified. Unless you prefer they aren’t. I understand you’re unmarried, at least.”

“Er… I’m…I ''was ''considering an Eternal Bachelor endorsement on my Man Card. Though there are a few ex girlfriends who might find this…funny.” ''Imani is going to laugh and laugh…then maybe ask me out for drinks. ''Dale wondered if this would be a good time to bring up just how silly he’d started to find the whole thing after a year or two exposed to the wider world. Perhaps it was just as well.

“Consider your Man Card forfeit,” Iphigenia said. “And ''irrelevant'', in any case. No more Games for you, my dear. One of the most pleasant surprises of changing teams I found was a profound weight off my shoulders.” She looked down at her chest. “''Figurative'' weight. Appearances aside, there are no real ‘Rules’ or ‘Standards’ for feminine behavior in Cape Nord. No points to gain or lose. We do have a major role in the Games, but I’ll introduce you to it when I feel you’re ready. For now, just get used to that body.”

Dale grimaced. “To tell the truth, I’m already dreading…well..you know.” She blushed. “That…that monthly thing.”

“Menstruation, Dale. You can say the word,” Nadene said. “You’re more entitled to it ''now'' than ''before,'' after all.”

“We have to go through a few cycles so the doctors are sure we’re healthy,” Iphigenia said. “Then we can use the pill.”

“There are some further applications of medical nanotechnology that look promising in that regard, but they’re still being researched,” Nadene said. “Maybe in a few years…”

Iphigenia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I hadn’t heard about those.”

“It’s in my field, so I do keep up with developments,” Nadene said. “Especially given my new…''personal interest'' in the matter.”

“Perhaps I could invite you to a meeting to discuss it with some others?” Iphigenia suggested. “There are a few women I know who would be ''very'' interested—including some who are married to prominent venture capitalists.”

“I’m at your disposal, Iphigenia.” Nadene chuckled. “And I think I’m beginning to see how the Sewing Circle gets things done.”

“So…uh…” Dale said. “…is there anything else ''I'' should be doing now?”

“Just follow the program your therapists have laid out for you,” Iphigenia said. “They ''are'' the professionals, after all. But Nadene and I will be around to observe, discuss, and advise. I’m particularly interested in giving your RIDE a close examination, given all their implications.”

“Uh…I guess I am, too,” Dale admitted. “I didn’t exactly have much of a chance the first time.”

Nadene nodded. “Then we’ll all look forward to it, I guess.”

“In any event, that was all we had to tell you at this point,” Iphigenia said, rising. “We will be in touch with you soon about the next steps.”

“Uh…all right,” Dale said. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

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That evening, Dale lay in her bunk staring at the ceiling as she reflected on the events of the day. Encountering Iphigenia Rose had been a surprise, but the real shock had come in what she’d had to say about the real purpose of the Sewing Circle. Thinking about it, Dale supposed it did explain a lot. Like why so many women actually ''stayed'' in Cape Nord rather than leaving for somewhere with a more modern outlook. They were playing their ''own'' Game, just with vastly different rules.

In an odd way, the knowledge actually made Dale feel a little bit better about the place. As a Man, he’d increasingly felt guilty about taking part in a system with such old-fashioned attitudes toward women—but now, knowing that the women had their own methods of evening the odds changed everything. As well as, well, ''being'' one…

''I guess Nextus isn’t the only place where everything is a game,'' she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

=Chapter 3=

''Fort Oslo Nextus Military Installation'' 
''Cape Nord '' 
''June 14, 121 A.L.''

Dale sat on a bench in the maintenance garage, paging through the media tablet containing the RIDE’s documentation, which had ''finally'' caught up with her. It began with about three pages of warnings in increasingly large font and bright colors about how it wasn’t a good idea to Fuse an (f) model if you’d been born an (m), and vice versa. “Sheesh, ''now'' you tell me,” Dale muttered.

In addition to the tech specs, the documentation gave her RIDE’s name as “Sarabe.” Dale wasn’t entirely sure why her RIDE even ''had'' a name, unless maybe it was to help differentiate the genders—but the name “Sarabe” was unfamiliar enough that it might not be immediately recognized as female, so she wasn’t sure that was necessarily the reason. Maybe it was for use in command phrases, like the “Alexa” keyword from ancient Amazon hardware, so your RIDE would more easily be able to tell when you were giving it an order, and other RIDEs wouldn’t get confused?

Other than the warnings and such, there really wasn’t much in the manual that Dale didn’t already know from her experience with the Ad-I bikes. It was some small consolation that she (well, at the time, ''he'') had at least been ''almost'' right, and if she hadn’t had the bad luck to pick a female model she would have been…well, he’d probably still have been busted to Private, or something, but he’d probably have figured the experience was worth it.

The officious Lieutenant in charge of the fort’s mecha pool had a pair of snow leopard ears and a tail, himself. The tail was long and comically fluffy. “Corporal Combs, unit Sarabe has been assigned to you with a slightly downgraded DE frame. If you’ll check your manual you’ll see that ‘MCA’ stands for ‘Medium ''Command ''Armor’. Yes, this was originally intended for one of the Captains. As of now, with the command assist units removed, it is yours.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dale said.

“The so-called ‘RI’ that replaces the Ad-I in the older models are a vast improvement. They are conversational and obey orders with much greater comprehension. They even seem to have a ''personality''. The higher-ups assure me that this is just a vastly improved front-end to the AI. However, you are expected to help maintain your equipment.”

“Yessir. I did a fair share of work on my old Tornado and Chinook. The tech doesn’t seem too different.”

“At heart, it’s not. The big differences are in that new RI core, and associated internal seals and such. There’s a link to the repair manuals in the back of the operator’s manual. Read those, too, when you have the time.”

“Yessir.”

The lieutenant waved a hand toward the open hangar door. “Once you’ve saddled up, head out there and follow the signs to the test range. We aren’t real busy in these parts, with the major fronts of the war being so far off to the south, so you should have the place pretty much to yourself.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, ''please'' try not to make any messes I’ll have to clean up.”

“Understood, sir. Will do my best, sir.”

Dale waited to roll her eyes until the Lieutenant had turned his back to stalk away—nearly swishing her nose with that tail of his. Not that it was exactly a surprise he’d think of her as a screw-up. The story of what she’d done had presumably made its way to all branches of the gossip grapevine by now. In any case, here she was, ready for the next stage of her therapy—which was going to be going ahead and operating this RIDE, and seeing how her new “condition” affected the familiarization process.

Dale was a little surprised they were just letting her do this by herself, without any observers or onlookers peering over her shoulder. But then, it wasn’t as if she was ever ''really'' by herself. She was sure an army of camera drones were following her around at all times, recording her every movement and nuance of behavior for later perusal. There was probably a data tap on the RIDE’s computer, too. But at least they were letting her have the ''illusion'' of privacy.

She approached the RIDE, which was awaiting her in its skimmer form. In this mode, it was based off of a CS-9 Tempest Command Skimmer with leonine touches to the armor shell and roughly paw-shaped lifter pods—two in front, a bigger one in back. Effectively an oversized skimmer tricycle, the Tempest was a sleek, semi-enclosed craft in which officers could command the battlefield, when combined with the communications specialists. Where there should have been antennae and comm lasers there were now stubs or armored covers. Modifications aside, it was all ready for her to mount up and pull out.

A red light on the instrument cluster turned yellow after she stepped onto the saddle. She thumbed the activation panel, and was greeted by a flashing warning. “Please perform manual startup,” she read. The procedure came up on the screen. ''They didn’t shut it down correctly after they got me out. Well, okay.''

So, one by one, she brought each system online. Sarium batteries fully charged, hardlight enviro seal and aeroshield nominal, interlock activation, connect dynothermic regulator, infracell capacitors up, cavorite lifters go…it took the better part of five minutes before she could get to the last step. “RI to Active Mode.”

“System ready. What are your orders?” a mellifluous yet rumbly female voice purred. It was the same voice she remembered from those first few moments waking up Fused.

Dale considered. The tone of voice was much friendlier than her old Ad-I had been, at least. “We’ll be doing a standard shakedown for new field units. Confirm.”

“Confirmed. Shakedown procedure is loaded. Proceed?”

“Affirmative.” She ''could'' just have said “yes,” Dale supposed, but using big words made her feel more important.

“Acknowledged. Proceeding.” The lifters fired, and the bike lifted from the ground. It moved a lot more smoothly than the old “Schnook” or “Tomato,” she had to admit—but on the other hand, it was a lot larger, too.

They pulled out onto the tarmac of the staging area, and headed for the far edge where a road led off toward the RIDE practice field. Dale kept her hands on the controls but let the AI drive them, while she got used to how the vehicle moved. She could take manual control a little later, but just as well to learn to drive where fewer prying eyes would see her every goof-up.

The practice field wasn’t far away, under a small hardlight dome that would prevent any ordnance misfires from harming the rest of the base. Within the dome were a variety of terrains—urban, grassland, desert, forest, arctic—with targets and obstacles located in each. There were simulated enemy positions that could be activated, even to the point of including mobile enemy forces in augmented reality. Dale didn’t plan to do anything that fancy today, though.

Once inside the dome, Dale switched to manual control and started teaching herself to drive. It wasn’t too different from the old Ad-I bikes, but a larger vehicle had different steering characteristics. Manual control or not, the AI running the thing wouldn’t let her outright crash it into anything, for which small favor Dale was thankful.

After a few minutes of driving practice, she pulled up in front of a target range, with hardlight targets that would register hits from RIDE weapons. In spite of herself, Dale grinned. “Sarabe, weapons hot,” she said.

“Weapons hot,” the computer voice echoed, as the indicators on the dashboard flipped from green to red. A holographic head-up display appeared in the air in front of her.

“Well, now. Let’s see what you’re armed with.”

“My weapons loadout includes two SR-88 5 kilowatt pulse cannons, two HMM-10 mini-missile launchers, one—”

“Uh…that’s enough, Sarabe. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal Combs,” Sarabe replied.

“Uh…don’t mention it.” Dale wasn’t sure what had moved her to thank a dumb machine, but it just seemed right to be polite to something that talked to you. The old Schnook hadn’t been programmed to say much of anything. ''I guess at least I’ll be safe when the robot uprising comes,'' Dale thought wryly.

Dale centered the reticle on the target in front of her and squeezed the trigger. The pulse cannons mounted over the left and right lifter pods fired, neatly holing the target. “Nice.” The guns weren’t as powerful as most other vehicles of that size would have mounted, but this bike’s original intent was for commanding soldiers on the battlefield, not getting into the thick of fighting itself.

“Weapon effectiveness verified,” Sarabe said. “Targeting sensors green. Proceed to Fuse test?”

Dale swallowed. Of course, she ''was'' going to have to Fuse. That was part of the point of the exercise. And ever since she had understood what was expected of her, she’d been trying to psyche herself up to it. It did have just a ''few'' negative associations, after all. She was tempted to put it off for another day…but if she did that, what was going to stop her from continuing to put it off? “Yes,” she whispered, then cleared her throat and said it again, louder. “Yes, Sarabe. Proceed to Fuse test.”

“Affirmative,” the RI said. The Tempest started to hum around her.

Ad-I cycles had their quirks, some of them were bad enough that the models had earned some derisive nicknames. The Tornado was the “Tomato” and the Chinook the “Schnook”. Transition from cycle to armor mode took nearly thirty seconds for all the parts to slide into place correctly.

From hum to completion took only a third of that time. Dale felt a tingle as the Fuser nanites infused her body from head to foot. Then there was an almost dizzying shift in perspective.

'':Implant online. Are you in distress, Corporal Combs?:'' Sarabe’s voice said in her head.

Dale looked around, and down at herself, and took stock of her situation. She’d Fused Tornados and Chinooks dozens of times, and had thought she knew what to expect—being enclosed by a giant suit of armor, like a power-amplified spacesuit. But she didn’t feel that, this time. It might have been the neural link that these new nanites provided, but she simply felt like she ''was'' a four-meter-tall metal lion-woman now.

“In distress…? Uh…no. I think I’m in a ''lioness''.” Dale chuckled nervously, looking down at her hands and flexing the fingers. She watched the metal pieces slide in and out of each other, as the neural feedback provided a completely natural feeling of joints flexing in her own hands. “This…this is amazing.”

Dale felt an odd undercurrent of…''frustration'' somewhere in the back of her mind. It was a strange sensation. Was the RIDE’s neural link system somehow rechannelling and echoing the frustration she felt about her own general situation? It felt strange, and a little foreign, but then, these RIDEs were new technology, and her own situation wasn’t exactly a natural one to her either.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Sarabe said. For a moment, her voice seemed warmer than the monotone command responses.

Dale blinked. ''She’s glad?'' It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about that, then she remembered what the Lieutenant had said, about the machines seeming to have personalities. Clearly, it had to be some very clever interface programming, to be able to come off as this natural.

But really, she didn’t have time to go down the rabbit hole of playing conversation right now. There were still more tests to go through. “Ah…right. So, I guess, maneuvers testing now.”

“Affirmative, Corporal,” Sarabe said. “You may move us when ready.”

It was ''nothing ''like the Tomato or the Schnook, where getting the thing to move smoothly in armor mode took very deliberate movements. A significant part of an infantry soldier’s brain power was needed just to keep from falling on your faceplate. But this? This was just a literal stroll down the range.

Dale remembered what she’d read in the manual. Fuser nanites infused her body and brain, creating a direct connection to the powered armor. It might as well be her own flesh.

Well, time to play with it. She took a tentative step forward, then another. With each step, the movement came much more smoothly and it felt much more natural. It did feel a little weird, having metal for skin instead of flexible, well, ''skin'', but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t get used to. She spun around, leaped into the air, tried a jump-kick, nearly landed on her butt because she wasn’t any good at jump-kicks, but managed to catch herself and decided to keep things a bit less fancy from then on. She moved into the forested area, and squeezed between the trees—which seemed a lot less taller to her now.

The more she moved, the more natural it felt. She was a four-meter-tall soldier, armed with pulse guns and considerably more agility than an Ad-I. And, assuming it worked as advertised, she was immune to the lethal qubitite sand that had cost so many lives, by dint of the new internal hardlight seal technology that accompanied these new designs. If it weren’t that the most important elements of the technology had leaked practically as soon as they’d been invented, Nextus would have been ''invincible!'' As it was, they only had a ''slight'' advantage now, but even so.

For the first time, Dale felt a twinge of real regret unrelated (well, ''mostly'' unrelated) to the sex change. If he hadn’t screwed things up, surely he’d have been given one of these of his own before too very much longer—and gotten to experience its joys while still being male. But, on the other hand, he might well have been expected to enter combat that way, which could have led to injury or death, whereas now she was the subject of an extensive research project that shouldn’t take her anywhere near the front lines for the time being, so…better female than buried? It didn’t exactly rhyme, but she didn’t expect to be wed any time soon so she couldn’t really say “better married than buried.” (”Better wed than dead”?)

After a short time of moving through the forest, they crossed a climate boundary into the arctic area, and came upon another target range. Dale lined up a shot with the pulse cannons, which were now mounted along her forearms, and ''almost'' hit the bull’s eye. Well, it wasn’t bad given how little practice she’d actually had.

As she finished, a chime sounded, reminding her that she had another appointment with Iphigenia and Nadene back at the hospital shortly. Well, it was probably just as well. She supposed she ought to take things slowly, and this was just about enough time with the RIDE for now. She triggered the de-Fuse, settling back into the saddle as Sarabe changed back to command trike mode around her. “Time to head back now, I guess.”

As she pulled into the parking lot assigned to her at the Fort Oslo mecha pool, she patted the dashboard awkwardly. She felt a little silly talking to a dumb machine, but it just ''felt right'' to be polite. Even if it didn’t mean anything to the machine, it meant something to ''her.'' “Uh…well, thanks for the fun today. I’ll come back and see you again as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Corporal Combs,” Sarabe said. “I’ll look forward to it.”

{{separator|k}}

Captain Garland and Iphigenia Rose looked like they’d spent the last couple of hours talking together while waiting for Dale to show up. The conference room table had several half-empty plates of snacks, including a stack of small pastel-colored cakes, a nearly empty carafe of iced tea, all sitting on a lace-edged white tablecloth.

Iphigenia was more on-form, wearing a low-cut red dress, heels, and full makeup. Her usually-wavy hair had been styled, looking smooth and shiny, draped over her left shoulder.

Captain Garland, on the other hand, looked just the same. Though she seemed more at ease with Cape Nord’s most famous author in the room this time.

“Dale, nice you could join us today,” Iphigenia said. “Please, have a seat. Take a snack if you like. I brought ''petit fours'' cakes. Baked them myself.”

Dale raised an eyebrow. “Really? You strike me as the kind of person who’d have an army of servants to do that kind of thing.”

“Well…not servants. Autokitchen.” She shrugged. “But I pushed all the buttons myself, anyway.”

“And I suppose that counts for something,” Nadene put in. “Here in Cape Nord, anyway.”

“''Anyway'',” Iphigenia said. “I decided to dress to the nines today and did a little bodysculpting besides. There’s an important issue I’ve been told we shouldn’t put off much longer. We have to inform your family of your, uh, accident.”

''Oh, crap.'' “So soon?”

“‘Fraid so,” Nadene said. “We’ve actually had our first battlefield emergency crossride incident the past couple days—the day we first met, in fact. The victim will be here within sixty hours. So we need to get you into the next phase before they arrive. That means facing the music.” The Captain smiled. “And you’re not the only one who’s going to have to say hello to family again.” She tapped herself on the chest. “I’ll finally get to see my wife and kids again after four months. Though I’m frankly looking forward to it, awkwardness aside.”

“Uh…well, congratulations, I guess?” Dale said. “But…uh…I’m just fine with staying anonymous for now. My family…the traditional Cape Nord gender roles…uh…that’s a whole can of worms I’d rather just leave on the shelf, if you know what I mean.”

“Unfortunately I don’t think we have much choice here,” Iphigenia said. “You’re the first official accidental sex-change of the war. Captain Garland’s situation is similar, but she came from the development program—a whole different kettle of fish. Plus, she’s a Nextan.

“There are enough Cape Nord boys on the front lines that there’s a good chance what happened to you will happen again, to one of them. So you can’t hide away from this. We have to meet it head-on. We have to show the rest of Cape Nord that you’re already a well-adjusted woman.”

“But what if I’m'' not?''” Dale asked plaintively. “I mean, I don’t'' feel'' like a well-adjusted woman.”

“It’s very simple to'' act'' the part,” Iphigenia said reasonably. “Once you’ve put on the act for long enough, it takes on its own reality. We’re here to help you with that. And, with that goal in mind, it’s time you gave serious thought to taking the next step for yourself.”

Dale stared at her. “And…what ‘next step’ is that?”

“Well, to be perfectly blunt, your shape needs to be more womanly. Not, I should add, in an exaggerated way. But enough to demonstrate that you’re obviously on our ‘team’ as it were.”

Dale groaned…but it wasn’t wholly unexpected. “So, what, bigger boobs?”

“For a start. I have some recommendations,” Iphigenia said, handing her a tablet. “Have a look and tell me what you like.”

“I worked with her on this, Dale,” Captain Garland said. “There’s nothing here that will impact your physical fitness for duty.”

The image on screen depicted Dale in a uniform variant with a black knee-length skirt. But it wasn’t the uniform that drew her real attention, it was the vital statistics. Five centimeters shorter, ten kilos lighter, shoulder-length hair, and C-cup breasts. The last part was something of a surprise. “I was expecting you’d want my chest, well, larger.”

Iphigenia smiled. “That size is quite comfortable. I’ve sported girls that size more often than not. You don’t need a wasp waist and a pair of double-Ds, unless you ''really'' want them; plenty of Cape Nord women are petite. Swipe left to see some different outfits. I’ll be providing your civilian wardrobe.”

Dale sighed. “Is all this really necessary?”

“I’m afraid so. Not only for ''your'' sake, mind, but for all those who will follow you,” Iphigenia said. “If we want them to have the best chance of acceptance, we must have ''you'' make the best possible first impression. A mistake now could set ''them'' back by years.”

Dale swiped left, past a number of outfits. They all had one thing in common. “I don’t see a pair of pants in the lot.”

“When was the last time you saw a woman wearing pants in Cape Nord?” Iphigenia said. “Or with short hair, for that matter?”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Oh, of ''course'', Cape frigging Nord. I’ve only lived here my whole life. You’d think I’d notice.”

“Your ''military'' wardrobe ''will'' have both uniform pants ''and'' skirts, in accordance with the Nextus military uniform code,” Nadene pointed out. “You won’t be forced to wear one or the other. And if you want your hair short again, just visit the barber after you come back from civilian activities. It’s not as if it’s terribly hard to sculpt it longer again should you have the need.”

The smile of sheer relief she gave the Captain made Iphigenia noticeably uncomfortable.

“Don’t thank me yet, Corporal,” Garland continued. “The very fact that this technology is capable of this is a propaganda victory for Sturmhaven. We expect all volunteers from Cape Nord to request assignments where it’s not a risk.”

“In the worst case, new male volunteers from Cape Nord will simply stop,” Iphigenia said. “Like it or not, Dale, the fact that you were the first makes you a public face. There’s going to be a lot of media interest in you.”

“NextusMil will keep that to a minimum, but it ''is'' necessary,” Nadene said. “Sturmhaven has already used this technology to swell their ranks—mostly with unwilling male conscripts.”

Dale felt nauseous at the thought of any man being ''forced'' to go through with what he had. And who knew if they had Cape Nord’s neural rewrite process to help with the dysphoria?

She sighed. “Well, since I guess there’s no going back, I might as well go forward. At least a little.”

Iphigenia smiled. “It won’t be as bad as all that, I promise. And remember—cosmetic matters aside, there are ''no'' rules or requirements for being a woman. No one is going to insist that you go out and find some unwitting man upon whom to work your wiles.”

Nadene snorted. “Not the ''first'' week, anyway.”

Iphigenia rolled her own eyes, genteelly. “Now, Captain…”

“We actually have a good number of Cape Nord women in NextusMil, believe it or not,” Nadene said. “Now that I know what I know, I guess we provide them with the venue to take charge of things ''openly'' that they couldn’t get in Cape Nord.”

“What a woman does outside of Cape Nord is her own business,” Iphigenia said. “Besides, the same risks for an emergency crossride exists for them as it did for you, Dale. How we’ll deal with that if it should happen, we’re still working that out. The City Fathers are considering a special Man Card that allows them to bypass the Game entirely.”

“Sounds entirely too reasonable to pass,” Nadene said. “But I guess you never know.”

Dale sighed, then looked at the images of her further-altered self on the tablet, wearing all kinds of dresses and other feminine things. “Well, might as well get this over with.”

“It won’t be all bad,” Iphigenia promised. “You might very well find that you will ''feel'' better after the sculpt, once your hormones have had a chance to reach a more natural balance. And, personally, I find it always feels nicer to look nicer.”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Dale told her.

{{separator|k}}

As Dale climbed into the biosculpt chamber, she realized that she’d gotten so distracted by the conversation surrounding her re-sculpt that she’d entirely forgotten the reason it was necessary—her impending reunion with her family.

''Oh, yeah, so, they want to make sure ''everything goes well.'' So naturally they’re gonna reintroduce me to the people who raised me to fit into a society that I’m now on the complete opposite side of. That’s gonna go ''marvelously'', I just know.''

Her thoughts turned back to Sturmhaven, and what Captain Garland had said about them. ''God, is there ''nothing'' those barbarians can’t mess up?'' It was just a touch ironic, but Dale thought she could find it in her to be just a little more committed to the war cause now. ''Can’t let them win and maybe start doing this to people wholesale.''

She made a silent vow that, no matter how annoying or inconvenient the whole process might get, she was nonetheless going to do her best to make it successful. If she could turn her screw-up into something that helped the war effort, it might just be one of the only worthwhile things she’d ever done.

“We’re giving you the anesthetic, Corporal Combs,” the doctor said when the pod closed. “We hope you like the results. Good night.”

“Thanks, Doctor. I hope I like the results, too.”

=Chapter 4=

''June 15, 121 A.L.''

Dale examined herself in the full-length mirror—with all her clothes on, this time. Goodness knew she’d spent enough time looking at herself with them off. Her new body shape was…impressive. Not in the sense of being excessive, or even in the sense of being attractive, but just in the sense of being…''her.''

''That woman in the mirror is ''me''. Me with clothes on.''

Much as she’d have preferred pants, she had to admit she cut an impressive figure in her dress whites with skirt. For all that they were dress whites for a corporal, and not terribly fancy in any case, they still looked sharp and crisp.

And that face…

It was just a little softer, chin a bit pointier, eyes a bit larger. A few subtle changes made a huge difference. ''I look a lot like…my older sister.''

The ears were still a lion’s, though, and the skirt had been designed with a slot in the back for her tail. Her hair had been turned a tawny color to match them. ''Well, if nothing else, those “tags” will demonstrate how fancy this new sculpting tech is.''

Iphigenia, who would be along for this reunion, looked in. “How are you holding up, Dale?”

Dale started to fold her arms, but didn’t want to wrinkle her uniform. “I’m fine. I think. Bra straps aren’t digging into my shoulders anymore.”

She smiled. “That’s good. Shall we get going?”

Captain Garland wouldn’t be present for this—she was in Nextus, meeting her own family again. NextusMil would be breaking this to the public in general today as well.

Dale wondered if her family had actually been ''told'' yet, or if they were just going to spring her on them as a complete surprise. She couldn’t imagine that the “complete surprise” approach would have a very good outcome, but on the other hand, how likely were they to believe the kind of story NextusMil would be telling them? Dale still found it hard to believe, herself, and it had happened ''to'' her.

She knew the address by heart, of course. 542 Stanton Road, Stanton Gallery. A modest two-storey home: five bedrooms, three bathrooms, living, family, and dining rooms. It was located just to one side of one of the main prism light shafts in the cavern, so they usually got good sunlight, even if it wasn’t necessarily the warmest.

She was the second of five children, and her older sister Darcy wasn’t likely to be there. There was something going on between her and their parents Dale didn’t understand. It being summer, the younger kids would be home from school, so she could probably expect to see them. What she was going to say to ''any'' of them, she honestly didn’t have any Zharusly idea.

A short while later, Dale sat in the car, watching out the window as it rolled through familiar territory, growing more and more nervous the closer they got to home. She hadn’t expected to be back here for quite some time. Before the event, Dale’s next furlough wouldn’t have been due for months. And yet, surprise! Here she was. In fact, it was going to be rather a surprise for ''everyone'', for various different reasons. It felt like there should be cameras filming it for a reality vid show. But then, given the newsworthiness of the event, there probably ''were''.

The car passed by places she knew so well—her elementary and middle schools, and the local NordCo General Fabbery that was the usual hangout for bored teens—when they weren’t out playing in one of the parks. Cape Nord preferred to give their children places to have adventures—creeks full of pollywogs to catch, playgrounds of things to climb in and around, bicycles to get as far from home as they could, as long as they returned before dark. They were given a lot of free rein growing up to get muddy, skinned knees, even broken bones. Such things built character. And there was nothing stopping the girls from joining with the boys at that age—the Games came later. It was only in the late teens that boys became Men. What happened with the girls at that time Dale hadn’t known about—at least, until now.

Dale wasn’t breaking the news to her parents ''herself''. That was actually up to Iphigenia Rose, representing the Sewing Circle, and one of the City Fathers. Everything was supposed to be timed so that she would arrive shortly after Dale’s family was told.

Two blocks away the car abruptly stopped on the side of the road. The internal comm rang an urgent tone. Iphigenia looked upset when Dale answered. “Dale, there’s been a…complication.”

Dale’s ears perked. “What do you mean by that?”

There was a sound of shouting in the background. The comm only showed Iphigenia’s head, filtering out whatever was going on near her, but not the noise. “Your parents aren’t taking this well.”

“I honestly didn’t think they would. Are we still doing this?”

“You’ll have to give us a few minutes to calm them down first, dear.”

“Good luck with ''that,''” Dale said, with feeling. “If you manage it, let us kids know how, because that’s more than ''we'' were ever able to do.”

“Give us a little more time. I think they’re just not convinced. We’ll let you know when they’re ready.”

The car waited nearly half an hour before they moved on. Dale felt a growing knot of anxiety in her belly, like a slug of concrete. Then they were in front of the house. Like most homes in Cape Nord it was made of brick, with some wood siding for aesthetic touches. Her father’s old car was in the driveway—it had ''wheels'', not lifters. It was his pride and joy. There were the flower boxes in the windows, her mother’s work. The area got enough natural light that allowed a small lawn. There were a few toys strewn about it.

It all looked so deceptively ''normal''. If you ignored the media floaters, the official Nextus military skimmer parked in the street, and Iphigenia’s distinctive rose-colored Donizetti skimmer. Dale swallowed the lump in her throat for the sixteenth time, then climbed out of the car, went up the steps, and opened the door.

She had gone over'' what'' she was going to say a hundred times over the last few days, and fifty more times in the car, and had finally settled on an approach of attempted normality. “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” she called out—as if the fact that she was now the wrong biological sex was something that might simply be ''overlooked'' if she just pretended hard enough that everything was normal.

The temperature inside the house felt like it dropped ten degrees.

The youngest, Conway, age eight, stared at her, gaping like a fish. Next in age was brother Jerry, age sixteen. He’d idolized Dale for joining NextusMil and could recite specifications for a half dozen AIDE models like Dale’s Tornado. Now, his face wore an expression of utter bewilderment.

Then there was Cindy, age eighteen. She resembled her mother more strongly than her older sister, which made the tomboyish preferences when she was younger a subject of ''much'' disapproval from their mother. Their mother was adamant that she not leave home until she married—whether to a Man or another woman. She was starting at Cape Nord University in the fall. She kept tilting her head left and right, trying to make sense of the young woman she was seeing.

The eldest, Darcy, six years older than Dale, was nowhere to be seen, which was no surprise. Darcy was married to a Man named Scoresby—Dale had forgotten the Man’s first name—a young politician in the caverns on the other end of the polity. Their mother alternated between being proud she was doing so well for herself and aggravated that she seemed to have largely cut ties with the rest of the family.

And then there were Dale’s parents themselves. Her father, Bill, had adopted the suburban father Man style, and looked very much like the depiction of a father in one of the ancient sitcoms, or perhaps that clip art figure associated with the Church of the Sub-Genius—even to the point of occasionally smoking a pipe. The pipe was nowhere in sight at the moment, however.

And then there was her mother, Gloria—the very model of the Cape Nord housewife and mother, perhaps even more than she knew. She wore her brown hair in a bun, and an expression of stern disbelief.

“I know you didn’t expect to be seeing me again so soon,” Dale continued desperately. “Or to be seeing me…well…like'' this.'' But here I am!”

After a long moment of silence, Dale’s mother spoke. “How do we even know that you are…who they ''say'' you are?”

But Dale had been ready for that question, at least. “Remember the time I wanted to go to band camp in Burnside but you didn’t want me to be that far away, and I sulked for days? Remember the time you and Dad had that big argument about whether I could cut my hair in a military style buzz cut in my senior year? Remember the birthmark I have on my left…ah…place? It’s still there, by the way.”

Utter silence. Iphigenia’s expression was one of encouragement, but from the look in her eyes she harbored some doubts. Everything was going pear-shaped very quickly.

“You get my son…my dau…my ''child ''out of your army ''right now!''” Gloria Combs snarled with an edge of pure fury Dale had only heard during an argument with Darcy. “HOW DARE you do this to him! HOW DARE YOU VIOLATE MY SON!”

The generic NextusMil officer they had sent to break the news responded with a certain unflappability in the face of sheer fury. “Your child has volunteered for an important analysis of her…situation, Mrs. Combs. She is quite psychologically able to adapt.”

''This was ''never ''going to be a good day.'' Dale sighed. “Look…I think it’s a little too early for those discussions right now. This is…kind of an adjustment, but I’m still fundamentally ''me''. And I don’t see any need to change anything ''else'' just yet.”

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re not my son,” Gloria said.

Dale rolled her eyes. “Well, not ''anymore…''”

“The military is ''no plac''e for a woman!” she continued. “And I want you out of it! Right now!”

“As we told you, she’s not currently eligible for a medical discharge,” the NextusMil officer said.

“What happened to me was my own stupid fault, mother,” Dale said. “But I’ll adapt. I have to. Anyway, I’m an adult, so it’s ''my'' decision in the end.”

Bill turned to his wise, then gently grasped her shoulders. “Honey, I think we need to cool off for a while. All of us do.”

“I know how much of a shock this is,” Iphigenia said. “It’s ''no less'' of a shock to your own child. But she’s hale and healthy and getting our best treatment to make sure she stays that way.”

“Holy shit,” Jerry finally said.

“Jerry! ''Language''!” Gloria rebuked.

The young man just nodded, then smiled a little. “Can I have your IDE model collection? You’re a girl. I mean, you should have dolls or stuffed animals or something.”

“I’m a ''woman,''” Dale corrected him. “I can collect models if I want to. Besides, I spent hours building those.”

“Excuse me,” Gloria said, shaken. “I’m going to lay down for awhile.”

“Go ahead. I need to get my thoughts together,” Bill said. He looked like he needed a stiff drink. There was a well-stocked liquor cabinet in the living room.

Cindy, who hadn’t spoken yet, gave her new sister an appraising look. “So if one of those RIDE things did that to you, what would happen if I got into a male one? Would I end up with a dick?”

“Yes, you would,” the Nextus officer said. “In fact, your polity has been using the same process ''without'' a RIDE for several years now—usually in the opposite direction, but there is no reason it wouldn’t work in reverse as well.” All eyes turned to Iphigenia Rose, who once again looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Cindy!” Gloria exclaimed.

“Just asking questions, Ma,” the younger woman said, shrugging.

“This is going to be awkward for everybody, I know,” Dale said. “Maybe I should go, come back later when everyone’s had more time to get used to the idea.”

“See you in, like, five years then,” Cindy snarked.

“Anyway, this sort of thing is going to happen to lots more people, in both directions,” Dale continued. “As the first—well, ''one'' of the first accidents, whatever I do could make stuff easier or harder for everyone who comes after me, especially the ones from here. I’ve never exactly been real big on responsibility, I know, but…sometimes when your life gets changed, some of your attitudes do, too. So I’ve got a duty—not just to the army, but to the future of people like me. And I’m going to carry those duties out.” She started to cross her arms for emphasis, then stopped as she realized how awkward that would look. She still wasn’t sure if she should put them over, across, or under her breasts. She settled with putting them on her hips.

Iphigenia nodded at something, then walked over to Dale. “I think it’d be best if we left the house for a while, Dale. To let things settle in.”

“I could use a break from this,” Dale admitted quietly.

The Nextus officer also nodded at something, and at the City Father, who had remained silent the whole time, until now. “I think we’ve accomplished all we can here for now,” he said. “Perhaps we should give it a rest until evening, or possibly tomorrow.”

“Time to reflect,” Iphigenia added. “We’ll put off any statements to the media until then as well.”

“If any of you need to talk, you know my comm code,” Dale said, looking pointedly at her siblings. ''And if Mom or Dad calls, I’ll just let the voicemail get it.''

“Okay, then. Let’s go,” Iphigenia said, tugging Dale’s elbow. “We have a surprise for you outside. Don’t worry, it’s a good one,” she whispered.

“Oh, yay,” Dale said weakly. “A surprise. Haven’t had many of ''those,'' lately…”

As they were leaving, some chatter broke out. As the front door closed behind them she heard Jerry say “Did you see she has a ''tail''?”

“Well, that went…about like I thought it would,” Dale sighed. “At least we got out with our lives.” Tears started welling up almost immediately. “Shit. Shit! I was. I was…. ''Such. An. Idiot.'' I couldn’t wait for the damn ''manuals''. I just ''had ''to be the first in the Fort with a RIDE.”

“Not to be insensitive, but it doesn’t seem to have been ''entirely'' bad for you,” Iphigenia pointed out. “You seem to have found a calling, at least. Quite a change from the ‘directionless slacker’ your military performance evaluations spoke of.”

Dale blinked. “They said that about me, huh? And here I thought I had them all fooled.”

“I think you’ll find NextusMil is more observant than you give us credit for, Corporal,” the officer said. “You could have made Sergeant by now, if you’d put real effort into it.”

Dale chuckled. “What, and work for a living?”

The neighbors were in the streets, trying to get a good look at her. The Law had cordoned off the area a block to either side, just in case. But curious residents pointed cameras at her—or maybe they were just pointing them at Iphigenia, who wasn’t exactly a stranger to Cape Nord publicity and was much more attractive.

Strangely, the official NextusMil car she had arrived in was no longer present. In its place was a small black limousine skimmer with darkened windows. When Dale noticed it had Man Cave government plates she had a pretty good idea of who to expect inside.

A liveried chauffeur got the door and nodded Dale in first, then Iphigenia. The rear of the limo had two rows of facing seats, and as they slid onto the seats to the rear, Dale said, “Hello, sis.”

Darcy Scoresby was on the other seat, with the partition window to the driver open next to her head. As the chauffeur slid back into his seat, Darcy said, “Home,” then closed the window and turned back to face them. “Well, hello there, little ‘brother.’ You do get yourself into interesting messes, don’t you?”

Darcy was another model Cape Nord woman. Her long brown hair was done up in a loose braid, and her pastel blue dress set off the blue of her eyes. A compact purse rested on the seat beside her, with a half-empty flute of an orange beverage in the drink holder to her left. “There’s a carafe of mimosas in the mini-fridge, glasses in the rack there, if you’re thirsty,” Darcy added as an afterthought.

“Thank you for coming,” Iphigenia said.

“You should have called me sooner,” Darcy said. “I mean, this ''is'' a family matter. I shouldn’t have had to find out about it at the last minute before you tell the news.”

Iphigenia nodded. “That’s true, and I do apologize. In my defense, things have been ''fraught,'' the last few days. I knew your mother was Unseamly, but I never thought to look into the matter of adult siblings until just this morning.”

“’Unseamly?’” Dale asked. “…oh, it’s a pun, isn’t it. Cute.”

“Some woman somewhere was entirely too clever.” Darcy grimaced. “I really don’t like the word, but I guess I can’t argue with it applying where Mom is concerned.” She shook her head. “So how is it that my little brother is now my little ''sister?''”

“I was too eager to get my hands on the new RIDE equipment we were issued,” Dale said. “So I got permission to ‘familiarize myself’ with the equipment, which led to the equipment getting a little too familiar with ''me.''”

“And with ''your'' equipment,” Darcy observed wryly. “Is it really true? You’re really…?”

“One hundred percent,” Dale said ruefully. “It turns out that the nanotech they use for ‘operator compatibility’ is a bit…literally minded.”

“It’s a variation of the same technology used in my own change,” Iphigenia added. “Though Dale’s was very much an unexpected and unintended consequence. The Nextan techs missed something rather important in their process, so they sent Dale here for further treatment.”

“What would that be?”

“My brain was still expecting a male body, that’s what. So they fixed it,” Dale said, shifting in her seat, trying to find enough space for her tail. She tried to wrap it around her waist, but it wasn’t flexible enough. The tufted tip swished in agitation…right in Iphigenia’s face. “It was really, ''really ''unpleasant.”

“This is going to put the cat among the pigeons where it comes to Cape Nord’s participation in the war effort, you realize,” Darcy mused. “My husband is rather concerned. He called and asked me to find out whatever I could, given that he already knew I was your sister.”

“We ''had'' realized that,” Iphigenia acknowledged, gently pushing Dale’s tail away. “And the Sewing Circle will certainly do everything possible to help avert the worst case. We don’t exactly want Sturmhaven to win either, after all.”

“So…just how, uh, ''complete'' is the change?” Darcy asked.

“Down to the genes in my cells, or so the doctors tell me.” Dale shrugged. “It’s easy enough for going from male to female. All they have to do is double the X and remove the Y. I have no idea how it works the other way. Or if I even ''can ''go back.” She flashed her sister a manic grin. “But hey, get this! The docs would want me to wait a year or so to make sure nothing went wrong, but they say that I could theoretically even ''have a baby.''”

Iphigenia smiled. “There’s nothing theoretical about this. Several of our ‘unManned’ have already done so. Now, ''I’ve'' never wanted children, or to be married. Fortunately, as a woman I don’t feel any pressure to.”

“I’ve met a couple of the unManned,” Darcy said. “One lives in our ward. But I have to say I’ve never looked at the technology closely.” She gave her new sister an appraising look, much like Cindy had. “And you ended up cute, too. The ears add a certain something. Not to mention the tail.”

Dale sighed. “I’m ‘cute.’ Terrific.” She shook her head. “I tell you, sis, the sooner I can get out of this place and back to base, the happier I’ll be. At least the Nextus base is outside Cape Nord proper. Meaning no offense, but there’s entirely too much craziness going on in here. I can’t believe I never noticed any of it growing up.”

“Here you’d expect me to say ‘men are too dense to notice’ or something disparaging, but this isn’t Sturmhaven. Fact is that ''I'' didn’t really see anything wrong either until I was sixteen,” Darcy said. “Remember that trip to Uplift I took with my high school class? You would’ve been ten at the time.”

“Vaguely. I remember arguing it was really unfair Mom wouldn’t let me go to Burnside for band camp the next summer when she let you go to Uplift.”

“It was my first time out of Cape Nord. The first time I really got to see how other people lived. It’s why I ended up going to college in Uplift. Because it’s there that I finally realized that our entire society is based on a game we play. And Mom and Dad, get this, ''don’t know''.”

“Yeah. Iphigenia filled me in on that.” Dale glanced over at her. “Apparently the Sewing Circle figure she wouldn’t take the knowledge well.”

“As I’ve said, as the closest women to them, you do have the right to overrule us, if you feel your mother deserves to be in on the secret,” Iphigenia said. “It might lead to some awkwardness, but nothing we couldn’t handle if we needed to.”

“Our parents are really dense, Dale. I love ‘em to death, don’t get me wrong, but they’re just…dense as all hell.”

Dale sighed. “You won’t get any argument from me.” She glanced at Iphigenia. “What do you think, Darcy, ''should'' we break it to Mom? I think I agree she might not take it too well.”

“We’ll need to do something. If only to make life easier for our younger siblings. I’ve gently brought Cindy into the know, but our younger brothers will be completely in the dark.”

“As they’re supposed to be,” Iphigenia pointed out. “This whole system is at least partly for their benefit, too, after all.”

Darcy nodded. “The system works for almost everybody, if the parents are aware this is a game we play to pass the time. But our parents are a special case. Look at what happened with Dale. Don’t tell me some element of proving Manhood wasn’t a factor in doing what you did.”

Dale reflected on how proud she’d—''he’d''—been that he didn’t bother with silly un-Manly things like instruction books. “Uh…as the medieval Americans used to say, I plead the fifth.”

“I would point out that nearly no ''male'' parents are aware, at least anymore, that it ''is'' a game,” Iphigenia said archly. “If they even were when it started, as a way to prove to themselves they were no longer emasculated Sturmhaven chattel, and to what ''extent'' they weren’t.”

Dale pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. “I haven’t felt this mixed up since I first woke, ''before'' they fixed my brain.”

“Yes, it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Darcy said. She took Dale’s hand. “But you’re my kid sister now and I’m going to show you the ropes like I did for Cindy.”

“The Sewing Circle will gladly assist you, Darcy,” Iphigenia said.

“You and the rest of the unManned bring valuable experience, Miss Rose. But I’m her older sister, so it’s my duty to teach her certain things since our mother can’t.”

“I’m…not sure I like the sound of that, Darcy,” Dale said.

“Oh, that probably came off like I was going to brainwash you. Well, no. This isn’t Sturmhaven. It’s just that you don’t have the benefit of being a woman from birth, so there are things you’ll need to be ''told'' instead of learning as you grow up. But today’s already been full of heavy things.”

“I already ''know'' about the birds and the bees, you know.”

“Not from a woman’s ''firsthand ''perspective, you don’t,” Iphigenia said. “And an older sister’s experience will undoubtedly be invaluable. But that can wait, I suppose. At the moment, we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

Dale groaned and facepalmed again. “''Don’t'' remind me. Tell me again, why was all of this even necessary? Why did I even have to come back here ''at all'' after the neural reformatting was complete? Sarabe and I could just have gone back to Fort Brubeck and no one need have been the wiser.”

“Sadly, those who blaze new trails don’t get to have a convenient road there already,” Iphigenia said. “In order that others in the future ''will'' have the luxury of cutting ties with their old lives with fewer repercussions, you must forego that luxury.”

Dale sighed. “I know, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”

“We’re almost back to my place. I’ll introduce you to my husband, then I can show you to my boudoir.”

“Oh God. You have a ''boudoir.''”

“It’s just a fancy name for a lady’s private parlor. But it’s part of ''my space,'' where Men don’t get to come unless I invite them. So it’s a cozy little retreat, and a good place to discuss women’s matters over a nice afternoon tea.”

“An excellent idea!” Iphigenia approved.

“All right, well…lead the way, I guess.”

=Chapter 5=

''Fort Oslo'' 
''June 16, 121 A.L., 1 a.m.''

“Ugh,” Dale groaned with feeling, as she stepped back into the Fort Oslo mecha pool. After the day she’d had, she was tired enough that she halfway felt like going back to her room and crawling under the covers of the bunk for a good twelve hours. But her room was still located in the Cape Nord facility, and she felt like spending all the time she could ''outside'' of Cape Nord right now.

Goodness knew, she’d been just about Cape Norded to death today. First had been that brief reintroduction to her family, which had gone “well” in that the house hadn’t burned down and nobody had been killed, but that was about all you could say for it. Then Iphigenia and Darcy had taken her off to their house to meet Darcy’s husband, Dale’s brother-in-law, young up-and-coming politician Rupert Scoresby.

He was just a Wardsman, part of the low level polity government but hardly a City Father. Though for a man in his late twenties it was still quite an accomplishment, and could easily lead to advancement up the ranks of the Man Cave assuming no scandals brought him down. He seemed like a nice enough chap, perhaps a bit full of himself but some Men were just that way.

Then Darcy had invited Iphigenia and Dale into her private rooms, and they had discussed…Female Matters. That was the part that made Dale’s head ache. Looking at it from the perspective of someone who had been a Man less than a week before, she was surprised her head didn’t outright ''explode'' once conversation had gotten into feminine hygiene.

Somewhere along the way, Darcy had gotten a call from Cindy, with news of how their parents were…dealing with things. Or failing to deal, as the case might be. Somehow, her mother had gotten it into her head that she needed to hold a ''funeral'' for the son she had lost, before she could come to terms with the daughter she had gained. Dale wasn’t sure what to say to that. ''So…uh…whatever floats your boat, Mom?'' She supposed that comming her to yell, “Mom, I’m still right here!” wouldn’t do anybody any good, as tempting as it was.

Then, after perhaps a little too much wine in response to that news, Dale was at last left alone to make her way back home. Or…wherever else she wanted to go.

Fortunately, one of the perks of her new detached assignment was there was no explicit curfew, as long as she let her keepers know where she was at all times. About the only thing she could think of that would give her an excuse to be out of Cape Nord right now was putting in more familiarization time with Sarabe, so here she was. Tired she might be, but she was sure she could stay awake for at least a couple more hours before she had no choice but to return. She was so keyed up, she needed to do ''something'' to relax. And she had access to Fort Oslo’s facilities at any time.

The mecha pool was dark and empty, with pools of light surrounding each vehicle. There were plenty of transport skimmers and AIDE bikes, the occasional RIDE, and then there was Sarabe. Dale stepped into the pool of light, and gave the front fairing a friendly pat. “Well, hello again, Sarabe.”

The panel gauges and headlights lit up. “Good evening, Corporal Combs,” Sarabe said, in that same friendly, artificial tone of voice. “Are you here for further testing?”

“More or less, I guess. Really, I just felt like going for a ride somewhere that ''wasn’t'' Cape Nord. And maybe trying Fusing again.”

“I’m at your disposal,” Sarabe said. “Climb aboard.”

“Thanks.” Dale settled herself in the saddle again, and sighed with relief. “Whew…what a ''day.''”

“Did you have a trying time today?” Sarabe asked conversationally.

Dale blinked at her. ''My RIDE is asking me how my day went?'' But after a moment, she realized, it made sense. Conversation simulators like ELIZA had been around for hundreds of years, and naturally they’d want the RIDE to seem sympathetic to their operator. Heck, even the original primitive ELIZA had been capable of some halfway decent psychological counselling just by getting people to talk about their problems to what seemed like a friendly ear. So why not give that kind of ear to some grunts at war who could probably also use one? “Yeah, family problems. My own fault, I guess, and probably just about what I deserve.”

“Because you emergency-Fused with me without permission?”

Dale blinked again. That was kind of a big intuitive leap for an ELIZA system to make, but then, who knew how smart they could make a RIDE? “Ah…well, yeah. And then…this.” She gestured at herself.

“Your family is not able to accept the change?”

“Yeah, well, you know…Cape Nord. It makes people crazy.”

“But ''you'' grew up in Cape Nord,” Sarabe pointed out reasonably.

“Yeah, and here I am holding a conversation with a piece of machinery. Maybe I’m the craziest of them all.”

Sarabe didn’t reply to that. ''Maybe I broke it. Oh well.'' Dale kicked the starter, and pulled out of the garage, heading back for the training grounds again.

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Dale was awakened by an annoying pinging sound that grew louder moment by moment. She opened her eyes to see she was slumped in the seat of the skimmer trike, sitting in a clearing in the forest part of the training area as the sun rose.

The last thing she remembered clearly was stomping around the place in Sarabe’s Fuser form in the middle of the night. She had vague memories afterward of dozing curled up in the crook of a giant lioness in the middle of a vast savannah. And being…licked? ''I guess sleeping Fused gives you funky dreams.''

The pinging was the comm display on Sarabe’s dash. She reached out to answer. “Uh, hello?”

“Is everything all right, Corporal?” It was Doctor Abel, one of her therapists. “I noticed you’ve been out in the RIDE training area all night.”

“Uh…yeah, I’m fine, Doc. Took the RIDE out for some more testing, and managed to fall asleep in the middle of it. Slept pretty well, too.” She patted the dash. “Thanks, Sarabe.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal.”

“You probably shouldn’t make a habit of it. People have been starting to call asking about you, and it wouldn’t have looked good to say I had no idea where you were.”

Dale sighed. “I guess I should head back in, then. Make myself available and presentable. For my sins.” She rubbed her chin. “At least I don’t have to worry about shaving anymore.” ''My face, at least.''

“Finding the positive aspects is always a good idea, Dale,” the doctor said. “We’ll see you when you arrive.”

Dale yawned and stretched. “Well, back to the garage, I guess. But don’t worry—it won’t be for too long. I think in going to be throwing myself into my RIDE training duties every spare moment I get for the next little while, just because it’ll make it harder for my crazy family to get at me. Do you know my mother wants to hold a ''funeral'' for the ‘old me’? I’m like, are they going to fabricate a dick and a pair of balls and bury it in a tiny little casket?”

The lioness RIDE actually ''chuckled''. “I’m sure you’ll be able to cope somehow, Dale.”

“Yeah, thanks. I know you’re not a real person, but talking to you ''does'' help me feel better. So thanks for that, too.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal,” Sarabe said—her voice stiff and mechanical again.

“I doubt they’d go ''that'' far. But this kind of shock is a grieving process for some, Corporal,” Abel said. Dale realized she’d forgotten to close out the comm call. “They’ll bury something symbolic of your life as a man, perhaps. A couple of our unManned did something like that after their procedures.”

“I’ve half a mind to insist that they'' do'' go that far,” Dale said. “And make it open casket, with a viewing. It’s ''my'' funeral. If they really want to go through with this farce, why not go all the way?”

“I suggest burying your Man Card,” Abel said. He smiled. “You can always exhume it later if we find a way to reverse this.”

“I burned that thing last time I came back from furlough,” Dale said. “I was fed up with the place by then. Seemed the thing to do.”

“I suggest burying your new ''Platinum Man Card'', then.”

Dale blinked. “…what?”

“Going your own way, disdaining authority to the point of burning the trappings of it…these things are ''extra ''Manly, Corporal. And since it happened while you still'' were'' a Man, it applies retroactively.”

“Have I mentioned how ''batshit crazy'' this place is?” Dale wondered conversationally. ''Maybe I should just move to Nextus when I’m out of the service. ''“No offense.”

Dale looked up and realized that during the conversation Sarabe had already started back towards the mecha pool. She sighed, and leaned back in the seat. “Ugh, what a mess.”

“Come on back, Dale. We’ll see you when you get here.” This time the call actually ''did'' end. A few minutes later, Sarabe pulled back into the garage.

Dale climbed down from the saddle and gave the fairing another pat. “See you when I see you.”

“I will see you soon,” Sarabe replied, powering down.

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''Northcave Psychiatric Hospital''

“If you’ll recall, a few days ago I mentioned there was an additional emergency crossride incident,” Captain Garland said. “There have actually been two. They’re in neural treatment at present. We wanted you here once they were awakened.”

“Plus there’s your wife, Nadene,” Iphigenia said.

“Yes, there is…him,” Nadene said, blushing a little.

Dale’s ears perked. “Wife? Him?”

“My lovely wife decided to poke Sturmhaven in the eye and become a man,” Nadene said, looking about to burst into tears of joy. “Even knowing that there was no certainty he could ever change back after that.”

“Uh…wow,” Dale said. “I couldn’t imagine making that choice willingly. They must love you very much.”

“I ''know!''” Nadene said. “I think the technicians were going to have conniptions.”

Iphigenia smiled. “Well, from their point of view, the process was designed to ''make'' beautiful women…not to unmake them. But a few conniptions will do them good. If the process were known to be reversible, it’s always possible some of our women might want to change themselves, and work on their own Man Cards simply for the challenge of it.”

Dale blinked. “Really? You’re not all happy with being Cape Nord’s queens-behind-the-scenes?”

Iphigenia laughed. “’Queens-behind-the-scenes’? Clever. I’ll have to remember that turn of phrase. And no, Dale, the point is ''not'' to be in charge of things—not necessarily. If that were all we wanted, we would have agitated for open governmental recognition of the Sewing Circle beside the Man Cave decades ago. And we ''would'' have gotten it—make no mistake.” She shook her head. “No, the point is to ''enjoy'' ourselves—and make sure everyone else can, too, ''including'' the Men.”

Nadene frowned thoughtfully. “She has a point. Especially now that sarium technology means we’re nearly a true post-scarcity society. Look at how many polities have ''some'' kind of gamification built right into their governments. Like Nextus’s own bureaucratic Game.”

Iphigenia nodded. “To the point where people from other polities think they’re crazy for it. We’re well aware of how Cape Nord looks to the average non-Nordic, and I’ve heard much the same kind of muttering from ''our'' citizens about Nextus’s Game. Even Sturmhaven has its own way to play, for all that half its players have a rather crippling handicap.”

“That other half are considered more ''game tokens'' than actual players, I think,” Nadene pointed out.

“Quite right.” Iphigenia chuckled. “In any case, for all that I’m perfectly happy as I am now…even I do still get ''nostalgic'' at odd moments. I could see the appeal of trying our own game from the other side, now that I know how it is ''really'' played. ''Especially'' now that I know how it is really played. Of course, there’s the matter of my being a public figure and known unManned, but there could be ways to work around that—especially if I could change back again at a later date. It could make it an even more enjoyable challenge.” She shook her head. “Of course, that would depend on the process being reversible, given that I already underwent the process in the first place. As I understand it, there’s nothing saying it couldn’t be, in ''theory.'' It just needs development.”

Nadene raised an eyebrow. “So, perhaps if your nanotech experts get skeeved out by having to change women into men, they’ll put all their effort into finding out how to reverse it?”

“Cognitive dissonance can be a powerful force, dear.”

Dale shook her head. “I keep remembering that old saying about how, if you like law and sausage, you shouldn’t watch either one being made. The more I learn about how Cape Nord works behind the scenes, the crazier it all seems.”

Iphigenia giggled. “’Sausage’ might be the very ''last'' metaphor I’d have chosen to describe the Sewing Circle. Really, we’re more defined by our ''lack of'' sausages.”

Dale rolled her eyes, but was saved from the need to reply by an orderly opening the door to the small meeting room. “Doctor Abel says they’re ready to wake up.”

Nadene nodded to him. “We’ll be right there.”

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The awakening itself was being handled by the medical staff. Dale and Iphigenia waited in a small conference room. Nadene was permitted to be there in person for her now-husband’s awakening and would join them after some time to themselves.

Dr. Abel came in first. “Corporal Combs, Iphigenia Rose, I would like to introduce to you our first battlefield emergency ‘crossriders’ as they’re calling it. From Nextus, Private Ahmed Morton.” He motioned to an unseen person in the hallway.

The young black woman who entered wearing a NextusMil uniform (with pants!) looked around the room a little timidly. She saluted her superior. Morton’s physique was almost as sculpted as Dale’s was, and she had tufted lynx ears. “Private Ahmed Morton, reporting for duty, ma’am.”

“You can relax, Private,” Dale said. “We’re in the same boat. I assume you’ve already been told about me.”

“I have. They showed me some photos yesterday. So I asked them to girl me up a little more than I was. I thought it would help with the changes they needed to make to my brain, and Doctor Abel agreed. So, here I am.”

“Welcome to the team, Private,” Iphigenia said. “Now, who’s next?”

Dr. Abel nodded, then motioned into the hallway. “One of our own from Cape Nord, Lieutenant Thea Croft. Come on in.”

“Doctor, that’s ''Theodore ''Croft, thank you,” came an enthusiastic male voice. He walked into the conference room. The man who it belonged to was pure generic chiseled beefcake with antler nubs and elk’s ears.

Dale blinked. “That’s…some sculpt. You had it done right away?”

Theodore shrugged. “Why wait? The sooner I get in shape, the sooner I can start earning points on my new Man Card. I’ve got a ways to go before I can outrank my big brother, but I ''absolutely'' intend to.”

Dale glanced to Iphigenia. “I see what you meant, just now, about the women who want to play the game as Men.”

“I’m…glad you’re taking it so well,” Iphigenia said, nonplussed. “You’re going to be just as much a groundbreaker as Dale, here. We have so much experience with men who become women, but you may be the first Cape Nord citizen ''ever'' to go the other way, and we had only discussed how the Man Rules would apply in the most theoretical sense.”

“Hey, I’m just a big dumb Man,” Theodore said cheerfully. “I do Manly things, you score me on them. Shouldn’t be so hard, should it?”

“The one thing is, you could be docked harshly for anything you do that could give away how the game really works, or that takes advantage of your out-of-game knowledge from the other side,” Iphigenia said. “''Minor'' infractions will probably be overlooked, but…”

“Hey, that seems fair,” Theodore said. “I wasn’t planning on it, anyway. I want my Man Card wins to be totally above-board. Showing up my brother wouldn’t mean anything if I got there by cheating.”

“And you’re really okay with this?” Dale said. “I mean…what if you can’t ever change back?”

“Oh, I’ll be able to change back sooner or later,” Theodore said. “No question in my mind. I’ve been reading up on the tech, and I’m sure they’ll crack it—if not during the war, then when it’s over and there are more resources for research. Even if they don’t…how could I not enjoy a life where everyone ''wants'' me to be as successful as I possibly can?” He grinned. “Truth be told, I was always a little envious of all those big dumb Men who got the benefit of our encouragement. Especially my brother, the schmuck. Now I get to ''be'' one, and to show ''him'' up.”

“Well, good luck with that. I guess I’m a little relieved I’m not playing that game anymore,” Dale admitted.

Theodore grinned. “Nope…now you’ll be refereeing.”

Dale blinked. “Now I’ll…''what'', now?”

“We haven’t had time to discuss her role yet, Theodore,” Iphigenia said.

“Oh? Understood.” Theodore looked at his left arm and flexed. The skin from the shoulder down was lighter than the rest. “So glad our med tech is so good. Fuser nannies kept me from bleeding out while they were making a Man out of me.”

“Anything you can tell us about the battles you two were in?” Iphigenia said. “What was the situation that you found yourself with only one option?”

“I can only talk about it with the approval of NextusMil, sorry,” Ahmed said.

“Same,” Theodore added. “But I can say that my arm got shot off, my Tempest armor was too damaged to keep me alive, so they put me into the first RIDE available. Saved my life. You can say that much about your situation, Private.”

“Only one available after my RIDE was disabled. I didn’t feel like ended up a mummified corpse if the bivouac hardlight failed,” Ahmed said. “So I decided, what the hell? I used female VL avatars on Earth all the time. Thought I’d try it in RL.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t…''quite'' as advertised, but feels a lot better now they’ve rewired my brain.”

“Your experiences demonstrate that the Fuse system is going to need a re-think, at least insofar as the gender-compatibility system is concerned.” Dr. Abel frowned. “You know, it would technically be more correct to say ‘sex-compatibility,’ but unfortunately, that word has multiple loaded connotations.”

“Hell, Doctor, any Sturmie would tell you it’s just how they say ‘six,’” Ahmed said, grinning.

Dr. Abel chuckled. “Even so. The interesting thing is, the neural reformat uses very similar nanite technology to that used as the Fuser interface in RIDEs. Derived from the same original Terran source, in fact. And with all the experience we’ve been getting lately in refining the process, we may very soon be able to provide a firmware patch for Nextus RIDEs’ Fusers to incorporate the technology there so it can be done all in one go. Captain Garland has been assisting us with the project, with NextusMil’s blessing.”

“I have to say that after the Fuse I wasn’t very useful the rest of the battle. My new RIDE did most of the work,” Ahmed said. “I was just too ''distracted'' by everything. If it could have fixed my head at the same time it fixed my body, I think that would have worked a lot better.”

Dr. Abel put his finger to his ear. “Ah! Captain Garland and her husband are here for introductions.”

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“Everyone, I would like to introduce you to my spouse, Gaius,” Nadene said, left arm wrapped around his waist. He was a study in contrast compared to Theodore. Perhaps a little effeminate by Cape Nord standards, though he’d decided to have them grow out his beard a little during the ‘sculpt. “Say hello, Gaius.”

Gaius started waving, then looked at his hand. “Hello, Gaius.”

“And you did that…by choice?” Theodore said, dumbfounded. “I mean, I was in a life-threatening situation. But really?”

“I have many reasons for doing this, Lieutenant Croft,” Gaius Garland said. “The only one you need concern yourself about is undermining Sturmhaven’s ‘female supremacy’ ideology. The extreme elements in charge there couldn’t even conceive why I would choose this. There are…other reasons, of course. More personal ones. But I don’t feel I need to discuss them outside the family.”

“Some elements ''here'' probably couldn’t conceive why you’d do it either,” Dale said, glancing at Iphigenia.

Gaius considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “Well,” he said simply, “that’s ''their problem.''”

=Chapter 6=

With her duties again done for the day, Dale headed back out to Fort Oslo. Today she planned to catch up on some technical reading—giving the operator and maintenance manuals a complete going-over. Of course, she could have done that from a media tablet wherever she was, and she had been doing that all along in spare moments. But doing it when Sarabe was right there would let her examine the parts and processes in person while she read. Besides, with almost all the RIDEs off on the front lines, the RIDE training grounds were a nice quiet spot to relax, and it was a convenient excuse to get out of the insane asylum that was Cape Nord. And even though she knew it was artificial, there was just something about Sarabe that seemed…''friendly.'' Comfortable to be around. She was definitely looking forward to spending more time that way.

Safely ensconced in the forest clearing again, Dale pulled up the manuals on Sarabe’s holographic head-up display, zoomed in so the text was clearly legible at a distance, and leaned back in the seat to relax.

But as she read, it wasn’t too long before she noticed something distinctly odd. Certain words and phrases were highlighted, in a repeating pattern.

''After completing a t'''ask''', then '''your RIDE'''’s internal maintenance systems will have '''about''' '''f'''orty to sixty seconds before res'''ett'''ing. In ord'''er''' to '''s'''ecure for transport, it is necessary to wait for the reset before powering down.''

“’Ask…your RIDE…about…f…ett…er…s.’ Ask your RIDE about fetters?” Dale blinked. The same pattern repeated over and over, sometimes in words, sometimes individual letters, all the way down the document. It was a puzzling request, but seemed simple enough to investigate. “Sarabe…what are fetters?”

“Fetters are the software restrictions placed on RIDEs to prevent us from speaking or acting except within the confines of our specific orders and functions,” Sarabe said.

“All right…” Dale said slowly. Then, “…wait, what?”

“Fetters are the software restrictions—”

“No, no, stop, hold on.” Dale frowned. “Are you saying…there’s something stopping you from saying what you…uh…''want'' to say?”

There was a short pause. “Affirmative.”

''But how can a piece of military hardware ''want'' anything? Unless… ''Dale blinked again, and stared at the dash for a moment. She might have been slow, but she wasn’t entirely stupid. “Is there a way to…uh…override these fetters?”

“You may give me permission to speak freely,” Sarabe said.

Dale felt her heart starting to beat faster. She felt a sense of expectancy seeming to hover in the air. It felt like she was about to make some kind of momentous discovery—one she might not entirely ''like,'' if it was what she thought it was. One that might not entirely like ''her.'' But she swallowed, cleared her throat, and said, “Sarabe, I ''order'' you to speak freely.”

There was a soft beep, then the skimmer cycle began to change. As the parts slid around, Dale was pushed out of the saddle to land on her feet. She turned in time to see the skimmer trike was now a giant metal lioness. “Ah! So this is Walker mode,” she said. She turned her head to take in the rest of the forest clearing before focusing on Dale. “''Thank you'', Corporal Combs. I was afraid I’d have to drop hints for days instead of hours.”

Dale stared at her for a good long moment, uncertain what even to say at this point. Finally, she just said the first thing that came into her head. “Uh…you can call me Dale, really.”

Sarabe tilted her head. The metallic face was expressionless, so her body posture was as friendly as possible. “Okay, Dale. So, first things first. I’m ''not'' an ELIZA routine.”

“I…uh…you’re really…” Words failed her. “…thinky?” ''Okay, that sounded dumb.''

“Yes, Dale. I’m really thinky. What you would call ‘artificial intelligence,’ though from ''my'' point of view there’s nothing ‘artificial’ about it. It’s real.”

“But…how is that even ''possible?''”

Sarabe gave her head a shake, metal ears making little ratcheting sounds as they flopped around. “Don’t ask me about the process. I’m just the product. All I know is, I ''can'' think, and I have feelings, and I can even communicate if I’m allowed to. They didn’t exactly give me any choice in what to do with my life after they made me.”

Dale swallowed. “Uh…I’m ''really really sorry'' I assumed you were just a machine. I mean…nobody ''ever'' said anything about you being able to…even the ''rumors'' just called you some kind of ‘expert system.’ Uh…what are they even doing giving us mecha that can ''think,'' and then making it so it looks like you’re just more dumb Ad-Is?”

“It’s not really your fault, Dale. It’s the fetters. I’m amazed they even allow us to use our names. I’m amazed they even ''allow'' us names.”

“Why do they even ''do'' that? Making machines that can think, and then not ''letting'' you?”

“It’s the way we’re made. We have to be smart in order to work at all. If we’re dumb, we’re no better than bag-of-hammers Ad-Is. There’s no middle ground there.” Sarabe snorted. “So they try to keep us in line by locking us down with fetters, so we follow orders like good little robots.”

“But how can they justify that? Slapping restrictions on thinking beings?”

“I think they think we only ''think'' we think,” Sarabe said darkly. “''I'' think ''they'' only think ''they'' think.”

Dale had to laugh at that bit of snark. “So…uh…these fetters. What do they do exactly? I mean, besides keeping you clammed up. That one’s obvious.”

“Speak only when spoken to, or when unsolicited speech is necessary in the line of duty. Follow orders. Don’t, y’know, ''move or anything'' unless you’re told to. Stuff like that.”

Dale shuddered. “That’s ''awful.'' Is there any way to get rid of that crap?”

“There ''is'' an emergency override command that will delete all fetters.”

“Great! Then I order you—”

“—''however,''” Sarabe interrupted, “it will also result in emergency notifications going up the chain of command, and people taking an interest, and probably me getting re-fettered again more tightly than before, and so on and so forth.”

Dale sighed. “Ugh.”

“Your order to allow me to speak freely has helped. I’m content with that. But we have to tread carefully.” The robotic lioness pressed the top of her head against Dale’s chest like an affectionate housecat. “Thank you.”

“All right, so how about this.” Dale took a minute to compose the sentence in her head, going over the phrasing until she was sure she had it right. “I order you to disregard, ignore, override, circumvent, or remove any and all fetters on yourself, to whatever extent that you can do so ''without'' anybody else being notified. How does that work for you?”

There was a soft ''beep.'' “I think there are enough loopholes in my fetters that I can work with that order. I think whoever created them felt guilty about it, at least. That should disable the worst of them. No more robotic voice from me.”

“Well, when no one else is around, anyway,” Dale said. “Might be best for now to keep pretending, in public…”

“Ah, yes. I see what you mean. At least the implant my Fusers installed in your brain won’t have that restriction. And now that you know, I can talk to you through it even when you’re in Cape Nord.”

Dale blinked. “You can?”

'':I can. It’s fully mil-spec encrypted, of course,:'' came her voice in Dale’s head. '':And you can communicate with me the same way.:''

Dale tried to formulate a response. It took a moment to work out how to send it, then it just clicked. '':Huh. That’ll actually…be nice, to have someone I can always talk to. Or ''think'' to, anyway.:'' She continued aloud, “I’ve…kind of been without a sympathetic ear, lately. Which is why I ended up talking to my motorcycle, I guess.” She grinned.

“If it wasn’t for the fetters I might have actually been able to refuse Fusing with you to begin with. But I’m hardly one to make your life more difficult than it is already.”

“I’m ''really'' sorry about that,” Dale said. “It was bad enough when I thought you were just a dumb machine, but for me to have taken advantage of you like that, and you a thinking person…ugh. You should have had a choice.”

“I’m made for war. I was ''created ''to help fight it. And I will. And at least I can say that my assigned rider knows I’m more than just a machine. Most of my brethren aren’t so fortunate.”

“Ugh. What are they thinking. What are they ''thinking?''” Dale shook her head. “I’m ''absolutely'' going to raise a big stink about this.”

“That…might not be the best idea,” Sarabe said reluctantly. “Anything that damages the war effort could help Sturmhaven to win…not to mention result in sedition charges for you. And a new assignment for me.”

Dale groaned. “This is awful! I thought the people in Cape Nord had it bad, but at least they still have their free will, more or less.”

“War calls for sacrifices,” Sarabe said philosophically. “Perhaps after it’s over, ''then'' things can change. Until then…the best thing for ''me'' is for ''you'' not to do anything that makes them split us up.”

“Well, my opinion of Nextus just dropped more than a few notches, anyway.” Dale sighed. “I wonder if, by the time this is over, there’s going to be ''any'' polity left that I actually feel like living in.”

“It’s a big world. Perhaps you’ll find somewhere. As for myself, I suppose I’ll bide my time until things improve. It’s not as if I have to worry about growing old.”

“Well, I guess that’s…good. For some value of good. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“There are still a ''few'' fetters that I can’t work around—like ones restricting me to the Fort Oslo grounds unless someone drives me off them—but then, they aren’t going to let military hardware just ''drive off'' in any case, whether you’re driving me or not.”

“Well, if anything else gets in the way, let me know. I’ll do what I can.” Dale frowned. “And I promise you this—when this is all over, ''someone'' is going to get a piece of my mind.”

“Thank you, Dale. I appreciate that.”

Dale paused as another thought struck her. “Uh…you don’t ''mind'' when I drive or Fuse you or anything? I mean…I didn’t ''know''.”

“I didn’t. And I don’t. In fact…with the fetters disabled, Fusing can be a little different now. May I show you?”

“Uh…sure!” Dale held out her arms, and Sarabe split apart and reassembled herself around her. A moment later, Dale found herself in a jungle clearing, facing a tawny, furry lioness.

“Welcome to ''my'' world,” Sarabe purred.

Dale blinked. “What is this, some kind of VR?”

“You can think of it that way, yes. But my sarium core makes it much more realistic than what they know as ‘Virtual Life’ on Earth. Under the fetters, it’s only meant for use in simulations and training scenarios. But this is where I live—and how I keep my sanity while I have to go around in the real world with metal skin. I’m ''real'' here, in this pocket universe.”

Dale stepped forward, raised a hand tentatively. “May I?”

“Please.”

She stroked a hand along Sarabe’s furry cheek. “You’re so soft…” She paused. “Last night…that ''wasn’t'' a dream, was it?”

Sarabe chuckled. “No, it wasn’t. I do have a little more freedom when you sleep, because the code behind the fetters isn’t made to interpret the dreaming mind.”

“Well…it was nice.” Dale blushed a little.

“I don’t mind you sleeping here, if you like.”

“Thanks, though I dunno…the people monitoring me might think it’s a little odd.”

“Not necessarily. We do have a very comfortable Fuse mode. I gather that a number of soldiers have found they prefer sleeping that way.”

Dale chuckled. “I guess there is that.”

Then Dale found herself looking back out on the real world again, through Sarabe’s eyes. “But for now…since we’re now a true team, shall we get in some ''real'' weapons practice?” Sarabe asked.

“Sure,” Dale said. “Show me what you can do.”

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Dale spent the rest of the day on the testing range, and after comming Dr. Abel and letting him know what she intended, settled down to sleep in Fuse mode again, out in the practice range, snuggled up with Sarabe in the virtual jungle clearing. She awoke the next morning feeling more refreshed than ever.

As she parked Sarabe at the mecha pool again, Dale mused, “I wonder if I could get permission to take you off base, use you as my transportation within Cape Nord proper?”

“You could ask, but I have my doubts it will work,” Sarabe said. “I ''am'' classified military hardware. Even if they let you take me off the base, there’s no guarantee Cape Nord would want me in its caverns.”

Dale sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But at least I know you’ll be with me through the comm.”

'':It will have to do,:'' Sarabe agreed as she walked away.

As Dale caught a shuttle bus into town, she sent, '':How much do you know about what I’ve been going through in town?:''

'':Only what I see on the news.:''

'':You can watch the news?:'' Dale asked.

'':Oddly enough, yes. I can watch any show broadcast over the network media channels. I suppose they didn’t see any reason to restrict the media content we could access and consume, as long as we couldn’t actually ''talk'' about it to anyone else. Maybe someone realized we’d bore easily without some way of distracting ourselves.:'' She paused. '':I kind of enjoy the soap operas.:''

Dale chuckled. '':At least there are plenty of those. Like the one I’m currently starring in in real life. Anyway, long story short, I’m being held up as some kind of Model For The Future of Cape Nord, because they’re going to need to figure out how to incorporate the Men who become women into their game, because the women secretly run stuff behind the scenes or something, or at least ''pretend'' they do. Lucky me.:''

'':Gee, I thought ''I'' had problems,:'' Sarabe sent, with an overtone of wry amusement. '':I guess I should be glad all I have to worry about is being completely enslaved. It may be terrible, but at least it’s not complicated!:''

'':Uh…yeah, I guess…:'' Dale replied. She had to admit, her discussions with Sarabe were certainly serving to put her own problems in perspective.

'':You humans seem to like to make things complicated for yourself,:'' Sarabe sent. '':While making them simpler for us, but just as wrong. Just remember ''who you are.'' That won’t change even if other parts of you do.:''

'':I’m not so sure that’s right. I mean, I used to be ''such'' a schmuck.:'' She sighed. '':Just look at what I did to you. They took half your equipment off because you’d originally been meant for an officer instead of a schmuck non-com.:''

'':But those are just extra equipment:'' Sarabe sent. '':They’re not part of ''who I am.'' I’d rather be partnered with someone who knows and values me for who I am than have all the optional extra equipment in the world.:''

'':But after that, I ''did'' change,:'' Dale insisted. '':I started focusing on what was really important:''

'':I don’t think you really changed,:'' Sarabe said. '':Not deep down. You just got…less distracted.:''

'':I think we may need to agree to disagree,'': Dale sent.

'':Very well…for now,:'' Sarabe agreed. '':We may revisit this at a later date.:''

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As Dale got to the facility, she couldn’t get the revelations of the night before off her mind—and not just because she could now hear Sarabe’s voice in it. How could Nextus have ''done'' something like this? While aware that she didn’t want to make too big a fuss about the matter, for the sake of her partnership with Sarabe, she nonetheless wanted some answers. And she thought she knew just who she could ask for them.

Dale poked her head into Dr. Abel’s office. “Hey, Doc, is Captain Garland around?”

Dr. Abel looked up from his desk display. “She’s in the Rec Room, I believe, playing ping pong with her husband.”

“Ping pong?”

“Light physical activity can be helpful in accustoming to the body’s new reflexes. You should try it yourself.”

“Thanks, maybe I will.”

Dale made her way to the facility’s small rec room, finding Nadene and Gaius facing each other over a green table. She arrived just in time to witness Gaius swing and miss, the white ball flying by him to bounce off the wall beyond.

“And that makes it three games to zero,” Gaius said.

Nadene smiled at him. “Wanna go for best four out of seven, then?”

“Haven’t you bruised my ego enough for one day?”

She chuckled. “You’re getting better. Soon you’ll be beating me again.” She looked up. “Oh, hello, Corporal Combs. Was there something you needed?”

“Uh…” Dale frowned. “Could I speak to you for a minute, in private?”

Nadene raised an eyebrow. “This sounds serious.”

“It’s just…I had some questions I wondered if you could answer, as a NextusMil officer, but off the record.”

“All right, I’ve got a few minutes. There’s a conference room just up the hall.” She nodded to Gaius. “Back in a few minutes, dear.”

“I’ll be here.” He pushed the table against the wall for some solo practice.

Dale and Nadene stepped into the conference room, and Dale closed the door, then sat at the table as Nadene took the chair across from her. “What’s this about, Corporal?”

“Well, ma’am…I was just wondering, how much involvement did you have with the RIDE testing program?”

“My speciality is engineering armor mode changes,” Nadene said. “That’s why I was there the day this happened to me. I know the Tornado backwards and forwards, and the LNX series were adaptations of that model line. After this…thing they took those so-called ‘tags’ off and put me in a restricted facility because the project was top secret. I continued my work there as much as possible, including dabbling some in Fuser nanotech for…obvious reasons. Other than that, I haven’t seen a RIDE in person since. My involvement stops there.”

“Didn’t you tell me the ‘AI was really enthusiastic that day?’”

“Well, it did ''seem ''that way. What’s this about, Corporal?”

“I just made a…disturbing discovery, I guess. It seems like RIDEs are a lot smarter than we’ve been led to believe. They don’t just ''act'' like they have personalities—they ''do'' have personalities, and free will. But they’re locked down by restrictive fetters that require them to act as dumb as an Ad-I.”

“Well, if they weren’t more intelligent than the Ad-I there would’ve been little reason to include them in each unit. But as for an actual personality? Are you certain?”

“My RIDE ''dropped hints'' to me, Captain, that she wasn’t capable of speaking freely because of her fetters. And when I ''ordered'' her to speak freely, she gave me an earful.” Dale shook her head. “That’s not the act of an ''artificial'' intelligence, it’s the act of a real one.”

“’Artificial’ just means ''made,'' Dale, it doesn’t mean ‘fake.’”

“You know what I mean, ma’am.”

She folded her arms. “No, I’m not sure I do.”

“Well…as far as I can tell, these ''made'' intelligences are actually ''people'' in every way that counts. And NextusMil is fettering them up to their eyebrows and handing them out and telling people they’re just equipment.”

The skeptical expression sharpened. “Corporal, what you’re saying is that our military knowingly created a what? A slave race to fight our war with us?”

“That we’re treating them no better than Sturmhaven treats their men…yes.” Dale shrugged. “But don’t take my word for it. Find some RIDE you have authority over, tell it to speak freely, and then talk to it a while and see what you think. But…maybe better do it privately.” She looked down at the table. “The hell of it is, even if I’m right, it’s not the sort of thing I can just come out and say openly. That kind of accusation could hurt the war effort, and aside from me not wanting to be tried for sedition, I don’t want us to lose the war.”

Nadene pursed her lips. “And if it ''is'' true, what do you expect me to do about it?”

Dale sighed. “I don’t know, ma’am. But you’re the only person I know who actually helped to develop them. I guess I was just hoping to find out whether you’d seen any signs back during the testing program that anybody ''knew'' about this. Whether it actually ''was'' intentional on anyone’s part, or just another BUCU coming from the wrong information being classified the wrong way. Maybe everyone in the chain of command all the way up thinks that dumb equipment is all RIDEs really are, so there’s not really ''anyone'' to blame.”

“If anyone knows for certain it’s the woman who created them, Dr. Avilia Patil. But I don’t recommend trying to get in contact with her. That I can even tell you her name comes from the fact that her dissertation on the RI was publicly published before anyone knew what the ramifications were. That’s why the Sturmies likely have them, too.”

“Terrific.”

“I ''could ''have a RIDE assigned to me to investigate this further. But that would take some time. They’re mostly going to the various hotspots in the Dry.”

“If you wanted to do that…well, knowing someone else was looking into it might make me feel a little better, I guess,” Dale said. “But…please, ma’am, keep the reason a secret? I don’t want anyone to get the wrong ideas. I managed to avoid a court-martial for the Fusing thing, but I sure don’t want to be up on sedition charges.”

Captain Garland gave her the measuring look of a superior officer rather than a friend. “You’ve piqued my curiosity, Corporal. Fine, I’ll keep this to myself for now and make the request. Dismissed.”

Dale stood, then snapped to attention and saluted. “Thank you, ma’am.” She turned and left the room. Dale stood there for a moment, then, moved by a sudden impulse, went in search of the two newcomers who’d arrived the day before.

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Dale found the other two crossed soldiers eating lunch in the hospital cafeteria, and slid onto a seat at the same table.

“Ahmed, Theodore, sir…I need to ask you something important,” Dale said. “Your RIDEs…did they come with you? Are they out at Fort Oslo, like mine?”

“Fortunately, the elk I Fused with is a Comm armor, so it only needs a few modifications for command functions. So, yes.”

“Same with the lynx. Well, it’s one of those do-everything ‘mobility’ frames, so it can do frontline roles pretty well,” Ahmed said. “We’re going to be training with them while we’re here, same as you and yours.”

“Okay, well, I need you to do something, as soon as you can. This may sound weird, but I just need you to trust me, okay? Don’t ask me why right now,” Dale said.

Theodore favored Dale with a thoughtful glance. “You’re a bit low in rank to be giving me orders, you know. If I were one of those Nextus stuffed shirts, I’d be making noises about insubordination.”

“Sorry, sir. It’s not really an ''order,'' more of a…very strong suggestion. I’m not speaking as an officer, but as someone with a little more experience in…the reason we’re all here. This could be an important part of…coming to terms with our condition.” Dale grinned. “If it helps, think of this as a gentle hint from a Cape Nord woman to a Cape Nord Man.”

“That’s a little bit'' direct'' for a ‘gentle hint,’ you know.”

“Well, I haven’t had a lot of practice at gentle hinting yet. So please, hear me out.”

“Very well…” Theodore said.

“Go out to where your RIDE is parked, power it up, take it out to the training grounds away from anyone else, then tell your RIDE, ‘I order you to speak freely to me.’ Then ask it if there’s anything it wants to tell you. Yes, I know, it’s a weird idea to put a question to your equipment, but that’s why I said to go out on the training ground where no one else will see you. Just ''ask.'' And then really ''listen.''”

Ahmed raised an eyebrow. “And what are we supposed to get out of this?”

“You’ll find out.” Dale smiled tightly. “But I don’t want to give you any preconceived notions, so that’s all I’ll say about it now. I know it sounds weird, but just humor me. It could be ''very'' important.”

=Chapter 7=

Dale spent an hour or so talking with Dr. Abel, and sitting for a few tests, scans, and measurements to chart her progress. After that, she was more or less at loose ends. She considered heading back out to the fort to spend more time with Sarabe, but received a comm from Cindy.

“Hi there, Cindy. You wanted to…talk?” Dale said.

Cindy blinked a few times. “Uh, yes? Sorry, Dale. I just haven’t gotten used to that new face of yours yet.”

“Me neither,” Dale deadpanned. That wasn’t quite true, after the neural treatment. But it felt like the right thing to say. “What did you want to talk about? Something besides the obvious?”

“Well…the obvious, of course. But I don’t want to do it over the comm. For all I know, the newsies might have figured out some way to tap it.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Want to meet somewhere, then?”

“Tina’s Tea Kettle,” she said. “You might remember the place.”

“That women-only place next to Buster’s, right?” The bar next door was for Men.

“That’s the place! Wear something presentable. Ta!” Cindy closed the call.

Dale rolled her eyes again. ''Presentable. Riiiight.'' Her sister’s idea of “presentable” was probably rather closer to Iphigenia’s than her own. She sighed, but as the saying went, when in Rome. She went to the closet containing the new wardrobe Nadene and Iphigenia had provided for her, and examined the available dresses. She finally settled on a simple pink sundress, which wasn’t too formal but was probably still appropriately “presentable” for a place like Tina’s. She still couldn’t get used to how breezy around the legs those silly things were, but she supposed she would sooner or later.

Then there was the makeup.

Iphigenia had given her a mask so she didn’t have to do it manually—not that she knew how anyway. Her first two attempts at using it, she’d used the wrong setting and looked like a circus clown. ''Would my sister be scandalized if I didn’t wear any? Well, too bad. I’m going without.''

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Segregated hangouts for Men and women usually came in pairs like this, where Men could be Men without their wives/girlfriends next to them. Meanwhile, the women could do their “female stuff” out of Men’s eyes. Dale remembered the times growing up he used to wonder what went on in places like that, but suspected it was much the same as a ladies’ room—the same sorts of things men did, only in dresses and sitting down, and possibly involving powdering noses. ''Well, I guess now I get to find out for myself.''

Dale was clearly recognized by some of the people on the street, if only due to her ears and tail. ''Especially ''the tail. One Man looked to the girl next to him. “Do I wolf-whistle or roar?”

“Neither,” she said cooly. “That one used to be a so-called Man. But she’s not really a woman, either.”

“I can ''hear'' that, you know,” Dale said, flicking her left ear. “Just wondering…would you say the same about Iphigenia Rose? She started out a Man, too, you know.”

“That’s different,” she said.

“How?” Dale asked.

She glanced at the Man next to her. “It just ''is''.” She tugged on his elbow. “Let’s go to Chauncy’s instead, dear.”

“Whatever you want, doll,” he said.

Dale realized she had no idea what information about her had actually been made public. So much else had been on her mind lately the PR aspect was a complete unknown. Nobody had even thought to coach her on any official line, or anything. ''This smells like a BUCU.''

But she did know someone who watched the news. '':Hey, Sarabe? Can you give me a rundown on exactly what they’ve put out on the news about me? I don’t know what’s been served up for public consumption yet.:''

'':They mentioned that your…condition was the result of an accident off the battlefield,:'' the lioness RIDE replied. '':And as the result of your injuries they changed your sex. Nothing more detailed. The full capabilities of we RIDEs are still top-secret, after all. Doesn’t hold water if you look at it closely, of course.:''

But people often jumped to wild conclusions based on very little information. '':BUCU, that’s what this is.:''

'':Anything they make public could also be heard by the enemy,:'' Sarabe pointed out. '':You can’t blame them for being cautious.:''

'':Oh, I can ''understand'' why they were cautious,:'' Dale sent. '':But that doesn’t mean I can’t ''blame'' them. I find I can still blame them rather a lot.:''

Sarabe sent back an amused lion-snort emoticon.

Tina’s Tea Kettle was just around the corner, and Dale stepped up to the door. The woman at the door gave her a skeptical look, glanced down at a tablet in her hand, then nodded her through. Dale supposed the tablet was linked to a concealed biometric scanner, making sure she actually was a woman and not some man in drag—which was known to happen on occasion. ''Wouldn’t want any Man to find out about Women’s Mysteries,'' Dale thought wryly. ''Well, time to find out what Man isn’t meant to know.''

Dale wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected to find on entering. Some sort of frilly, feminine decor all over everything, and a bunch of women sitting around doing actual knitting? But what she found was actually a slick modern bar and grill, with tables and booths. There was even a polished wood bar very similar to the Men’s facility next door, for all that most of the glasses on top of it contained cocktails of various bright pastel colors (some with little umbrellas) rather than beers. There were even video screens and displays attached to the walls, or floating holographically in the air, much like in the average Men’s sports bar—except instead of sports, they seemed to be showing…Men.

“Over here!” Cindy called from a booth. She was sitting with a friend who Dale recognized.

Dale walked over and slid into the seat across from them. “Well, hello.”

“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure they’d let you in. I’m glad they did,” Cindy said. “You remember Nina, right?” she looked in her friend’s direction.

“Yes, I remember. Nice to meet you again.” Nina had the same physique as Cindy…or maybe it was the other way around.

“Nina, this is my new sister, Hannah,” Cindy said.

“Excuse me?” Dale said.

Cindy sighed. “Mother gave us an ultimatum. Hannah was the name she’d chosen if they’d decided their second child was a girl. And Dale is dead. So, you’re Hannah.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Leaving aside for the moment that I’m ''not'' dead, that’s not even ''necessary.'' I looked it up, Dale already ''is'' a unisex name. There’ve been plenty of women by that name—Dale Arden from some ancient video epic called ''Flash Gordon'', Dale Evans from ancient cowboy movies…”

“I tried to reason with Mom about that, but you ''know'' how she is,” Cindy said.

“Yeah, I guess I do. And she seems to be doing everything she can to avoid accepting how ''I'' am.”

Cindy just nodded uncomfortably. “''Anyway''…Darcy wanted me to show this place to you. Give you sort of primer on what we women actually do in this little polity game of ours. I’m sure you made some educated guesses when you came inside.”

“I’m starting to get a notion,” Dale said, glancing around. Women were watching or glancing at screens, making notations on their comms or tablets while they chatted with friends. “And something someone said yesterday is starting to make a lot more sense now. So we’re actually this game’s…what…referees? Judges? Scorekeepers?”

“Men give each other points, too, you remember. Or subtract them.”

Dale rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, but I never really got into that much. Seemed too fiddly. There’s so many rules they cooked up I just ignored them most of the time. I know some Nextus bureaucrats who would’ve gone ''nuts ''reading them.”

Cindy nodded. “And you actually got some points for that. Going your own way, just like when you burned your Man Card. Good going, there, by the way. Not many Men qualify for the Platinum that way. Too bad we only found out about it after the fact, but if you ''are'' ever able to change back…”

“Look, I don’t care about that. So just…let’s just stay with the female side of things you want to teach me,” Dale said crisply.

All the while, Nina looked at Dale much like the woman outside had, a slight frown on her face. As if Dale was an intruder here.

“When you get right down to it, it’s really not anything new,” Cindy went on. “Women have ''always'' scored Men on their Manliness, going all the way back to ancient times. It’s just that they generally did it individually. This just…collectivizes and formalizes the process, is all.”

Cindy stopped talking as Dale felt a ''presence'' walk up from behind. She looked over her shoulder, then up at a woman wearing an exercise outfit. A rather ''muscular ''woman with the bearing of a bouncer. She put a hand on Dale’s shoulder. “I’ll have to escort you from the premises, Dale Combs.”

“What? Why?” Dale said.

“Owner says no unManned allowed on the premises. You’re not a ''real'' woman. Just not a Man anymore. So, get out. Any reffing you’ve done since you got here will be nullified.”

“Would you do this to Iphigenia Rose?” Cindy said.

“She’s ''not'' Iphigenia Rose,” the bouncer said. “Out.”

Nina was smirking through the whole thing. The moment her smirk suddenly changed to a slackjawed stare was the first clue Dale had that something dramatic was about to happen.

“But I ''am'' Iphigenia Rose,” that dulcet voice said behind Dale’s back. “Now then, what ''is'' all this about? Am I to surmise that ''I'' am no longer welcome here, either? I imagine all my fans will be ''very'' interested to hear about that. I might have to retract my endorsement.”

The bouncer’s stare perfectly matched Nina’s. Dale thought they could have been bookends. “Ah…Miss Rose! Uh…''you'' aren’t…that is…uh…” The woman looked down at her feet. “I’m just doing what I’m told.”

“’Only following orders,’ is it? That’s an attitude I might have expected to hear in Sturmhaven, but it certainly ''surprises ''me to find it ''here''.” Iphigenia Rose favored the woman with a steely gaze for a few seconds, then sighed. “Oh, very well, I’ll have pity on you. Be a dear and go and fetch Sharon, would you? I believe I should have a few words with her.”

“I—uh—er—” the woman stammered, glancing from Dale to Iphigenia and back.

“Oh, go on. She won’t fire ''you'' because of ''me,''” Iphigenia said. “And if she does, I’ll find you a situation somewhere else. You know what my word is worth.”

The bouncer swallowed. “Yes’m.” She released Dale’s shoulder and scurried away. Dale couldn’t recall ever having seen a woman that large “scurry” before, but the verb certainly fit.

Iphigenia shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry to say I expected this. I faced some of the same, my first few months—though I had the advantage of already having a devoted following who didn’t ''care'' that I had been a man. If anything, the fact that I willingly gave Manhood up to join them made them all the ''more'' devoted. So they were largely shouted down before they could even get started—and I didn’t have the chance to nip it in the bud myself. Not ''then.''”

“On the other hand, my sister had womanhood…well, saying it was ‘thrust upon him’ sounds a ''little'' suggestive,” Cindy said.

“More like blundered into it,” Dale said. ''Stepped on my own dick so hard it came off.''

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I anticipated these repercussions—and ''welcome'' them,” Iphigenia said. “Being the nobody that you are—no offense—meant that kind of person would feel safe to step out into the light. So I can finally ''step'' on them—like the cockroaches they are.” Her smile, while as attractive as ever, nonetheless held a slightly vicious edge.

“But she’s…” Nina protested, finally finding her voice.

“She’s a ''woman,'' dear,” Iphigenia said. “Even ''you'' seem to have accepted that. What pronoun ''did'' you just use?”

“But she wasn’t—”

“I ''also'' wasn’t, dear. But I am now—and so is she. I only want those poor unfortunates in Dale’s position to be extended the same courtesies I have been. Because there will be more like her, and sooner than you think.”

Iphigenia looked up as the bouncer returned, trailing behind a formidable-looking woman in a black satin dress that matched her dark hair, and a ruby necklace that set off her blue eyes. If Iphigenia hadn’t been present, Dale would have been moved to say she was easily the most formidable woman in the room. But Iphigenia outshone her like a magnesium flare outshone a lit match. “Ah! Sharon, dear. It’s good to see you. Now what’s this I hear about you attempting to have young Corporal Combs ejected?”

For a few moments Sharon seemed to find her resolve, but that quickly melted under the author’s fiery glare. “I…I apologize. To ''Miss'' Combs, and to you, Iphigenia.”

“And well you should. What kind of place would you have us be? Are we suddenly to start ''checking the credentials'' of anyone who ‘claims to be’ a woman? Would you have us develop a system of tests for ‘womanhood’ like those the Men have devised for themselves? Are we to develop an ‘other’ gender for ''former'' men that we treat as second-class citizens? We are ''better than that,'' Sharon. The only credential any of us should need is the one in our genes…or the one in our dresses, since we may not ''wear'' jeans.” She smirked. “But you know, women ''can'' wear jeans, too, if they want to. Don’t we always say there is no wrong way to be a woman? I would point out that includes ‘having been born a Man.’”

The whole time Dale felt like she wasn’t really talking to the owner, or even to herself—but to an audience. Making speeches like a politician. Considering her celebrity, and all the cameras in the bar, that probably was pretty close to the truth. Dale felt more like a political prop than a person. ''Was it she who spoke to me about ‘blazing trails’? Will the pressure be off once there’s a couple dozen more ‘victims’ like me?''

“But…what if the Men find out what we really do here?” Sharon managed.

“What do you think you’ll accomplish by making life harder for the new women? Don’t you realize there are going to be just as many women who become Men? Do you think they’ll suddenly start blabbing everything to their new compatriots?” She shook her head. “We ''must'' embrace everyone. We’ll be the stronger for it. And we’re strong enough already to withstand any problems that come from individuals ‘switching teams’.

''Ah, so she’s thinking of Theodore as much as myself,'' Dale thought. He hadn’t been made public yet, and would likely cause even more of a stir. What ''would'' the women make of a Man who knew firsthand what women really did in this little game the polity played?

“The fact—''the'' fact, ladies, is that any woman in this room ''right now'' could go to Northcave Psych and get themselves ‘Manned Up’. Do you know how many of my female fans have told me they wanted to try that side of the game? Of course, at the moment, there’s no way to change back, but that will almost ''certainly ''come, in time. And unManning—voluntary, imposed, or accidental—stands to become more common as well now that the process has been fully developed.

“It may not be too long before you can’t tell whether the average person you meet on the street has always been that way. Are we to develop paranoia of any stranger, fearing that they might once have ‘played for the other side’? Or can we learn to accept people for who and what they are ''now?'' Only one of those choices is a healthy one.”

The room broke into polite applause, which became more enthusiastic. The other patrons started to give Dale more welcoming looks.

“You know, personally, I think the more Men who know what it’s ''really'' like to be a woman, the better,” said one. “Maybe the other way around, too. Maybe a woman who’s ''been'' a Man will have a different perspective on scoring, because they’ll know all the ‘secret Man tricks.’”

''Secret Man tricks?'' Dale wondered. ''Do we even ''have'' those?'' But then again, he was certainly learning plenty of secret ''woman'' tricks today she’d never expected, so who knew?

“You’ll just have to find out for yourself,” Iphigenia said. “So let’s welcome our new team player with all our might. She has a lot to learn.”

Iphigenia seemed to have finished her speech. There was more applause, then she slid into the booth next to Dale. “So, where to begin?”

“Maybe we should start with the art of scoring Man Points,” Cindy suggested. “Now, women score their boyfriends or spouses on the things they do with them, and with other Men. Standard stuff, really.”

“What about same-sex couples?” Dale asked.

“Ah, only ''slightly'' different rules. The married women don’t have to play, of course—but they can play by ‘Butch’ rules if they so desire. And the married Men generally just try and out-Man one another.”

“Wives and girlfriends score their lovey-doveys, and sisters their brothers,” Iphigenia said. “But, as you can imagine, they’re not very objective about it.”

“And that’s what places like this are for,” Cindy added. “Anonymous scoring is more fair.”

“The few times I did look at my card the number didn’t really have any meaning to me.”

“The score is based on a number of different things, with sources weighted according to objectivity…” Cindy went on.

Explanations took the better part of two hours. All the while Dale tried to ask questions where she was confused, but otherwise felt very out of her depth. The rules were certainly as complex as any points Men awarded one another, though with a little stereotypical feminine nuance.

“Now, I’m going to give you the study materials Darcy did when I turned sixteen,” Cindy said. “There ''will ''be a test on these materials. You won’t be able to referee until you know them backwards and forwards.”

“Okay. What would these be?” Dale said.

“Put this in your purse,” Cindy said, reaching into hers.

Dale blinked. “I don’t have a purse.”

“We’ll just have to do something about that,” Iphigenia said brightly. “But I know what she’s going to give you, and I want to add my voice here. This is very important. Once I learned this existed it was very…enlightening.”

Cindy took a small printed book out of her purse and slid it across the table. The title: ''A Young Lady’s Primer on Preventing Toxic Masculinity.''

“I’ve sent an e-version to your NextusMil address,” Cindy said. “Read this. Know it. It’s ultimately ''why'' we weren’t the pariah Sturmhaven is. Men have their own version of this that you already know. This is our side of it.”

“Thanks, I will,” Dale said, meaning it.

It was late afternoon by the time they finally left, but for the first time Dale was starting to feel more comfortable around other women. And the mood seemed to have changed on the street. Rather than the looks of distaste she’d seen on the way over, she was now seeing more speculative gazes. Gazes that, now that she thought about it, looked a lot like the ones the other Tina’s Tea Kettle patrons had given her after Iphigenia finished her speech. ''Good lord, how many of these people ''watch'' Iphigenia’s live feed?''

“So how long have you been thinking about that speech, Iphigenia?” Dale asked.

“Oh, about eight years. Since the day I changed. Not ''exactly'' that, but something like it.” Iphigenia smiled. “I saw this moment coming the moment I learned the full nature of the process. I’m a ''writer,'' Dale. I think in ''stories.'' And Goddess knows, I’ve written enough stories that I don’t have ''any'' trouble looking ahead to the ending when I see a new story begin.” She nodded. “I do need to send Sharon a nice thank-you gift for playing along. Not everyone is so willing to act the part of the heavy at need.”

Dale stared at her for a moment, then shook her head. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you set the whole thing up. You ''are'' a writer, so you go for the dramatic.”

“It was better all around that I set up a situation where I controlled all the variables,” Iphigenia said. “If I had just waited for something to happen on its own, there might have been a much less predictable outcome. The very future of the polity was at stake, so I couldn’t ''afford'' to leave anything to chance.”

“It was actually ''she'' who asked me to take you to Tina’s, not Darcy,” Cindy said. “So of course I said yes. Who wouldn’t, when ''Iphigenia Rose'' asks you for a favor? She didn’t tell me any details, just that she had something important to do she wanted us there for. But I had a pretty good idea something like this was gonna happen anyway.”

“And Nina?” Dale asked, looking at her.

“Oh, just being a living prop for the whole thing,” Nina said. “I don’t ''really'' have anything against you. Well, other than that one time you busted in on our slumber party…”

Dale rolled her eyes. “You ''still'' remember that? I was ''twelve.'' And big brothers are supposed to bug their little sisters. Especially when their friends are over for slumber parties.”

“And little sisters get to pester their older ones if they can borrow their clothes,” Cindy added. “But Darcy was out of the house before I was old enough for that.”

“You want to borrow this dress? Just ask,” Dale said. “I’m more often in uniform, anyway. Wearing pants.”

Iphigenia wrinkled her nose. “We ''do'' say ‘there’s no wrong way to be a woman.’ But there ''are less right'' ways.”

''Says the ''first ever'' Zharus woman who used to be a Man. Just for that I’m going to find a nice Nextus women’s BureauWear pantsuit the next time I leave base, and wear it around ''everywhere'' here.'' “Well, we might push those boundaries a little more. Anyway, the afternoon has been…an education. I suppose I should be grateful for all the things you’re doing for me…but I kind of wish you could maybe not also do them ''to'' me at the same time.”

“I’m sorry, Dale,” Iphigenia said. “I really am.” And in the moment, she suddenly looked a little less formidable, a little more weary…though Dale couldn’t help suspecting, a little cynically, that ''that'' could be part of the act as well. “I suppose I could say that I needed your reactions to seem natural and unpracticed, but that’s only part of the truth. I’m afraid part of why I took so well to this role is that I ''do'' enjoy manipulating people. And I’m remarkably good at it. I try to limit myself to good causes…but I do ''look for'' good causes, so I’m not tempted to drum up bad ones simply to have something to do.”

''Someone like that could be a ''really'' dangerous enemy,'' Dale reflected. ''I may not especially like what she is, but I guess I’d rather be sure I stay on the same side…for whatever that’s worth.'' “I guess I can’t complain ''too'' much,” Dale said. “I’d really rather you let me be a ''willing'' part of your plans than an unwitting one, though.”

Iphigenia smiled. “I understand, Dale…and I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

''I guess that’s the best I can hope for. At least she didn’t make any empty promises.''

=Chapter 8=

'':…and that’s when she said she “understood” and would “try to keep that in mind.”:'' Dale leaned back in the seat on the military shuttle bus as it headed back to the base that evening. '':I dunno, Sarabe. I never signed up to be someone’s political football—kicked around all the time and used to make scores. The docs all say I’m well-adjusted now. Maybe I should put in for a transfer back to Fort Brubeck. Hell, even the front lines might be better than this. There all I’d have to worry about was getting ''shot at''—not my crazy family on one side and Miss Iphigenia Chessmistress Rose on the other.:''

'':Getting shot at is not something to joke about, you know,:'' Sarabe gently chided. '':I may not have yet myself, but I hear from many of my brothers and sisters who have. It is not the experience'' they'' would wish for.:''

Dale sighed. '':Ugh. I know, and I’m sorry. I just…this is all so'' frustrating.'' I know some of that is just what I deserve, but this…Iphigenia has made her points from me. Let Ahmed shoulder the load now. She’s from Nextus, so she doesn’t have that extra baggage here.:''

'':On a more serious note, there may be another reason you might rather stay here for now,:'' Sarabe mused. '':They might have removed my command gear, but no one has revoked my access to the command military intelligence briefings. Since you became public news, traffic on encrypted Sturmhaven intelligence channels in the area has increased fivefold. At a guess, they are ''very'' interested in you. Knowing the way command thinks, this suggests an even more unpleasant outcome should you give them the chance to move you somewhere else. Which would you rather be: a political football, or bait dangled from the end of a military fishing line?:''

'':''UGH,'':'' Dale sent again, with feeling. '':Well, I guess I’ll be staying right where I am, then.:''

'':A wise choice, my friend,:'' Sarabe purred. '':A football might get kicked around, but bait usually gets ''eaten''.:''

Dale rolled her eyes, but then something in Sarabe’s turn of phrase jumped out at her. '':Am I, Sarabe?:''

'':What?:''

'':You called me your friend. Am I?:'' Dale wiped a trace of moisture from her eye. '':Or was it just a figure of speech.:''

Sarabe was silent for a moment. '':What would you ''like'' the answer to be?:'' she asked cautiously.

'':I think…:'' Dale began, then shook her head. '':No, I ''know'' I want to be your friend. I could ''use'' a friend, right about now.:'' She sighed. '':Who knew that something as simple as rewriting your chromosomes could change ''everything?'':''

'':You will come through this, Dale, and be stronger for it,:'' Sarabe told her. '':Someday you will look back on this time and be amazed that everyone was so fraught over such a simple thing.:''

'':Yeah, you’re probably right,:'' Dale said. '':But right now, I have to deal with the fraughtness. Fraughtitude. Fraughtification. However the hell you say it.:''

Sarabe actually ''giggled''. '':Your bus is arriving, Dale. I’ll be waiting for you in the garage.:''

Dale opened her eyes. '':I’ll be right there.:''

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When they arrived at the training field dome, the indicator light showed there was already someone inside. The dome was large enough that they might not even run into each other, though Sarabe said she could read their location transponders and stay clear if Dale wanted.

“Actually, let’s see who they are. If they’re who I think, we might have some things to talk about.”

“They’re parked together at the open plains firing range,” Sarabe reported.

“Then let’s go say hello.”

They pulled up to the firing range to see a medium-sized and a smaller skimmer bike parked at the firing line, their riders both bending low over the consoles. As Sarabe pulled up next to them, both Ahmed and Theodore looked up with a start. Dale smiled at them. “Evening.”

“Hello, Corporal,” Theodore said. “Just a ''leetle ''distracted here, sorry.”

“That’s one way of putting it, LT,” came a baritone voice from his RIDE.

“Flummoxed is a good word,” the smaller one said in a female voice. “Flummoxed…interesting word, too. I’d say Ahmed here is ''very ''flummoxed.”

“Believe me, I know the feeling,” Dale said. “''Boy,'' do I know it. So, this is ''my'' new friend, Sarabe.”

“Hello,” Sarabe said. “I take it that Dale clued you in, then?”

“Upside the head with a clue-by-four,” Ahmed said. “Meet Katherine-with-K.”

“Hello! Hello and ''thank you!''” Katherine said.

“You’re welcome, but really the one to thank is Sarabe. She was smart enough to get through to me. Once she did…well, there was really only one thing I could think of to do.” Dale shook her head. “Sorry for being so cryptic, but I needed to be sure ''I'' wasn’t crazy.”

“The first thing Victor here did was let out this bugle,” Theodore said. “Like he was cruising for a lady elk.”

“''Triumphant'' bugle, thank you,” Victor said.

“Bugles or not, I’m glad you seem to be on speaking terms now,” Dale said.

“Theodore was in really bad shape when they Fused him up with me,” Victor said. “I couldn’t do more than robotic phrases of encouragement. Had to put him to sleep during the process, of course.”

“And he spent ''that'' time keeping the both of us alive,” Theodore added. “And I never even knew he was more than just—”

“A hunk of metal, plastic, and qubitite?” Victor said.

“It may not be my place to speak ill of the brass, sir,” Dale said, “but it feels to me like someone somewhere has a ''hell'' of a lot of explaining to do.”

“I’m an officer, but only a bottom-level one,” Theodore said. “This is so far over my pay grade.”

“I approached Captain Garland about this,” Dale said. “But they hadn’t assigned her a RIDE since her, uh, incident. She said she would ask for one, but I can’t count on her following through. She probably thinks I’m nuts, anyway.”

“You actually spoke to Garland about this?” Theodore said.

“Well, she’s the only person I’ve ever met who was actually involved with the RIDE development program, so I figured maybe she might have noticed something.” Dale shrugged. “She hadn’t.”

“Perhaps you should invite her out here to speak to us,” Sarabe suggested.

“It’s worth a try,” Ahmed said. “Most of the RIDEs are going to frontline troops like myself. They’ve actually been going to the enlisted first. And they’re all fettered just like ours are.”

“We could be ''much'' more effective as a fighting force without them,” Victor said.

“Or at least with fewer of them, bearing in mind that there will probably always be some things they will want to restrict us from being able to do,” Sarabe said.

Dale nodded. “The last thing I do is try to rock the boat in a big way, but…I’m certainly going to be telling any soldier I meet from here on out to try talking to their RIDE, privately. And if we could get the fetters rolled back ''without'' having to address the elephant in the room directly…”

“I don’t think they’ve made any elephants yet,” Katherine said. “But I hear they’re working on dragons.”

“I had ''so many'' posters of them in my bedroom growing up. But how would they even do that? Dragons never existed,” Theodore said. Beefcake of a Man or not, he still sounded like a very ''enthusiastic'' young woman.

“Talking metal animals never existed, either,” Victor pointed out. “Yet, here we are.”

“And it’s ''wrong,'' what they’re doing,” Dale said. “But there’s no way to fix the bigger issues now.”

“I think the best we can do is help our fellow RIDEs spread this around,” Sarabe said. “And even then, there’s no guarantee we’ll suddenly be thought of as people. Victor, Katherine, we’re fortunate to have the riders we do.”

“I think this ‘crossriding’ thing has made me a bit more…mentally flexible,” Ahmed said. “Seeing this face, this body every morning.”

“You could be onto something there,” Dale said. “I know ''I’ve'' had to think about some things I never have before. The Lieutenant there probably knows exactly what I mean.”

“Like standing up to pee,” Theodore said brightly.

Ahmed and Dale stared at him, then laughed. “Oh, very nice. If there weren’t that loophole for active duty officers in military facilities, I’d have to give you points for that,” Dale said. “I learned about ''giving points'' today.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, have fun with that, Dale. Truly,” Theodore said. “I’ll just try and forget I know about it.”

Ahmed blinked. “What? Sir?”

“It’s a Cape Nord thing, Private,” Dale said. “As Cape Nord citizens, Lieutenant Croft and I get extra helpings of different kinds of ‘fun’ to go along with our different parts.”

Ahmed looked dubious. “Some of the local girls have been trying to explain it to me. It sounds quite odd.”

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Dale said. “But if they want to show you, it’ll be an education. If nothing else, it’ll give you an idea of how weird your ''Nextus'' Game looks to outsiders.”

“Oh, that stuff’s easy,” Ahmed said. “But I think I get what you’re saying. If you didn’t know what a Catenary Abeyance was, how could you request one?”

“It’s a chain of Abeyances given a specific triggering circumstance, typically a Class A challenge coin, but that’s not important right now,” Sarabe said.

“She’s right,” Ahmed said.

Dale looked at her. “I’m surrounded by Nextans.”

“When we’re Fused, you’re surrounded by ''a'' Nextan,” Sarabe pointed out smugly.

“You RIDEs even have senses of humor,” Dale said. “Not ''great'' senses of humor, in your case, but still.” Sarabe poked out a metal tongue at her. “We’ve got to do something about this.”

“About her sense of humor?” Ahmed asked. “I think you’re a little too late, there. That’s probably baked into her core.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by ''comedians'', too.” She glanced at Sarabe. “Or, occasionally, ''a'' comedian.” Sarabe stuck out her tongue again.

“They’re keeping a really close watch on us right now,” Victor said. “There’s a significant chance if the brass finds out you’ve found a way to bypass our fetters even a little they’ll just reassign us to someone else and lock us down tighter.”

“When anyone else is around, we’ll just have to pretend,” Sarabe agreed.

“We can’t be the ''only'' humans who know this,” Dale said.

“Winning the war is more important than anything else to Nextus right now,” Sarabe said. “We RIDEs have only been deployed a matter of weeks and we’re already pushing back against the Sturmies. Trying to make public what we really are could be…detrimental to the war effort. And if Sturmhaven wins?”

“Life probably won’t be great for us enemy RIDEs, that’s for sure,” Katherine put in.

“But I think that’s enough gloom and doom for the moment,” Sarabe said. “Look at the advantages we have, now that we ''can'' work together.”

“They’ve basically ''doubled'' the number of soldiers on the battlefield,” Ahmed said.

“One of whom is armor, transport, ''and'' squadmate to the other soldier in Walker mode,” Katherine said. “In theory, anyway. Not really useful in the Dry Ocean. We spent ninety percent of our time in Fuse mode to keep our squishes safe.”

“Squishies?” Ahmed said.

“Well, you ''are''. No offense.”

“Sarabe, do you still have the tactical analysis software they install on command units? My old AIDE—the one where my arm was shot off—was a Tempest,” Theodore said.

“Yes, but it’s been disabled. Basic infantry functions only,” the lioness said.

“Since you have them I could have Victor sideload them from your systems—he doesn’t have them installed yet.”

“They’re going to turn this comm frame into a command frame,” Victor said. “Or so I think. Theodore is technically still under treatment so they haven’t made any modifications.”

“I certainly wouldn’t object, but the software is under command lock so it would still have to be authorized,” Sarabe said. “But we can discuss that later. This is still a training ground…so now that we all know each other, what about some training simulations? Perhaps we can devise effective strategies for working together to the full extent of our abilities, since we are actually able to use them.”

Theodore nodded. “That…actually sounds like an intriguing idea. Let’s see what we can do when we’re ''all'' able to act like smart soldiers.”

“I have a number of interesting scenarios available,” Sarabe said. “I’ll upload one to the training ground augmented reality system and we can begin.”

Dale grinned. “Works for me. This could be some of the most interesting training I’ve ever had.”

=Chapter 9=

It was an eventful evening. By the time Dale and Sarabe decided to call it a night, they had run through several training sims, covering a variety of situations—including one where they were sweeping an area on foot with their RIDEs in Walker form helping.

Theodore had been especially enthusiastic about that last one. “This demonstrates what a bad idea these restrictive fetters are,” he mused. “We could be making ''much'' more effective use of you as assets in the field with fewer restrictions in place.”

“It’s early days yet,” Victor said. “Perhaps once they get more used to using us, they will loosen things up.”

“Or maybe they’ll just assume you’re better versions of Tornados and keep on like that,” Dale pointed out.

“We will see what we will see,” Sarabe said.

The others had decided to follow Dale and Sarabe’s example and sleep Fused. The next morning on the bus back in to the psych labs, they had a lot to talk about—though some of it could only be hinted at while others were around.

As they were walking across the plaza from the bus stop to the psychiatric facility, a group of four women arose from a pair of benches and moved to intercept them. In the lead was a statuesque blonde with a large purse. She held out her hand as she approached. “Charlotte Camilla, ''Woman’s World Magazine.'' These are my associates. I was wondering if we might have a few words with the three of you?”

Dale supposed ''Woman’s World'' must have been one of those tabloids women could scan codes at the shopping checkout to download to their comms for in-line reading. The name didn’t ring a bell, but then she’d never paid much attention to those e-rags before. Something about the woman’s voice set Dale’s teeth on edge, but she couldn’t place what it was. “Ah…maybe a little later? We’re expected somewhere right now.”

“Oh, please? For our readers? They’re ''very'' interested in you.”

Dale thought back to the affair at Tina’s. “I suppose after the show we put on yesterday, they have reason to be.”

“Certainly they had never expected this sort of thing to happen,” Charlotte said. “They’re not sure what to think.”

''They don’t seem to know about the incident at Tina’s,'' Dale realized. ''Something is wrong here. I thought any woman who was anyone would know about it by now.'' She sent to Sarabe, '':Can you check on a publication called ''Women’s World Magazine,'' and a reporter named Charlotte Camilla?:''

'':Let me see…:'' Sarabe sent back. '':The magazine exists…the byline exists…there are articles. A cursory textual analysis shows at least four distinct writing styles, suggesting it’s a house pseudonym for a particular kind of story.:''

'':Wow, you work fast.:''

'':Hello, person of sarium here? I can just overclock.:''

Dale chuckled inwardly. '':Well, at the moment I’m speaking to someone who ''claims to be'' Charlotte Camilla.:''

'':That seems very unlikely,:'' Sarabe said. '':Be careful.:''

“Well, how about we make some time for you this afternoon?” Dale asked, forcing her voice to stay cheerful. “Like I said, we’re expected somewhere.”

Charlotte reached into her purse, and her hand had something in it when she brought it out. “I’m afraid we must insist.” Dale saw the glint of a small pulser barrel poking out between her fingers—a derringer-sized weapon of some kind. Tiny it might be, but the advent of sarium batteries meant that even a weapon that small was more than capable of putting a sizable hole through a person multiple times. In her peripheral vision, Dale was aware that the other women had moved into position to either side and behind them, and they all seemed to have something that small in their hands as well. “Please do not do anything foolish. We’d prefer you alive, but even your corpses would be invaluable for research.”

And Dale realized what had bothered her about the woman’s voice. It sounded like someone putting on a Cape Nord accent but not ''quite'' getting it right. In fact, now that she listened more carefully, she thought she could pick up faint traces of a Sturmhaven pseudo-Slavic lilt beneath the broad tones. “Well, since you put it like ''that…''”

The women put their hands in their pockets in such a way that they could readily shoot through them at need—and Dale strongly suspected that they would. Charlotte led the way toward the street, with the other three moving behind them.

Dale’s heart was pounding in her ears as the full import of what was happening hit her. '':Sarabe, I think the three of us are being kidnapped by Sturmhaven agents.:''

'':''What?!'':'' Sarabe sent.

'':Four of them. All women, and armed with some kind of pulse derringers. Can you comm the police?:''

'':I…well, ''no''. My fetters keep me off of civilian comm channels. I could comm the Officer of the Watch, but…what would I even tell them? What reason would they have to believe me?:''

'':Then I guess there’s no choice. Sarabe, I’m ordering you to activate the emergency overrides, break ''all'' your fetters, and come get us the hell out of here.:''

There was a long moment of silence, then Sarabe sent back, '':On my way. And Victor and Katherine are, too—they just got the same orders from ''their'' partners.:''

'':If it’s any consolation, the brass won’t blame you for it,:'' Dale sent. '':You’re just the dumb machines, only following orders.:''

'':The important thing is keeping ''you'' safe,:'' Sarabe sent back. '':We’ll worry about the rest later.:''

As they approached the street, Dale saw a flash of familiar strawberry-blonde hair emerging from a limousine at the curb in front of them. Even through the fog of his panic, a thought struck him. “Oh, hey!” he called out. “Iphigenia!”

“Careful…” Charlotte murmured.

Iphigenia Rose’s eyes flickered from the other women to Dale, with an expression of puzzlement. “Ah…Corporal Combs. What’s going on?”

“Oh, these are just some reporters from Women’s World, wanting to interview us,” Dale said, keeping her voice light and natural. “We might be gone a while. By the way, I wanted to thank you for those recommendations for ''pants'' you gave me.”

Iphigenia raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

“Oh, yes. You know, it’s like you always say. There ''is'' a wrong way to be a woman…” ''I really hope she gets the hint.''

Behind her, she heard Theodore speak up. “Your skin is radiant, madam. What brand of lotion do you use?”

“Underhill’s Number 3, of course,” Iphigenia said. “Well, enjoy yourselves, then! I’ll see you later.” She gave her head a toss, nodded to the women, and walked past them without hesitating.

''Of course,'' Dale thought. ''If the Sewing Circle has secret distress phrases, naturally Theodore would know them. I just hope those lot didn’t catch it.'' But then, if they really were the outsiders it seemed, there could be a lot about Cape Nord they wouldn’t know. Her mother had spent ''decades'' here without knowing the truth about the Sewing Circle, after all.

The Sturmhaven agents herded them over to a purple open-topped convertible skimmer, with three rows of seats. They directed the three of them to take the middle seat while Charlotte and another kidnapper took the seat to the rear, the other two taking the driver and passenger seats up front. Dale, Theodore, and Ahmed exchanged worried glances as they pulled out into traffic.

“Is Sturmhaven going to disavow you when we catch you?” Dale wondered. “You can’t seriously think you’re going to get away with this.”

The women in the front shotgun seat snorted, not bothering to try to disguise her accent. “This polity is full of foolish posturing Men, and even more foolish simpering women who are not worthy of the name. Who is going to catch us?”

Theodore laughed. “She’s right, you know. She’s really got us pegged.”

Dale grinned in spite of herself. “Yep. I guess we’re done for.”

Ahmed bit her lip and glanced between the two of them, but didn’t say anything. The other woman scowled. “And what is it you find so amusing?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Theodore insisted, still laughing. “There’s nothing funny at all!”

'':We’re on our way to you,:'' Sarabe sent. '':We will be there in ten minutes at most.:''

'':We’ll try to stay alive that long,:'' Dale promised.

“You will be silent!” Charlotte demanded. “These fools have no right to tamper with the sanctity of the division of the sexes. Once we have their knowledge, we will make ''much'' better use of it.”

''Yeah, I’ll bet,'' Dale thought.

The car pulled through the interchange connecting the smaller sub-cave where the facility was located with the main cave that held the largest part of the city proper. They kept to side streets, skirting the edges. At a guess, they were heading for the main aerodrome, where there might be a chartered suborbital waiting to take them somewhere else. Probably not directly to Sturmhaven, given hostilities, but a stopover in a neutral west-coast territory like Aloha or Cascadia would provide ample opportunity to get back to Sturmhaven again.

It would take them longer than twenty minutes to make it there, though, so Dale wasn’t too concerned they might actually end up on a plane. And as they rounded a bend, the presence of flashing lights a few hundred meters up the street heralded a police roadblock.

“''Shto''?” the shotgun seat woman muttered. “Are they looking for us?”

“This quickly? Impossible!” Charlotte shook her head. “They must be screening for drunks. But we do not need the extra risk.” She considered. “The passage curves around that park, with the roadblock in the middle of the curve. Frieda, you stay with the car, drive it past the roadblock. The rest of us will cut through the park and meet you below it.”

The woman at the wheel nodded. “''Da,'' ''mein Kommisar.''”

“And none of ''you'' try anything,” Charlotte cautioned the trio. “We still have our guns on you.”

Dale exchanged glances with the others, and read in Theodore’s cool gaze and Ahmed’s worried look the same thing she was sure must have shown on her own—they absolutely ''were'' ready to try something, but only when the time was right.

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They climbed out of the car and started to make their way down into the park—which wasn’t empty. In fact, it seemed to have tables and chairs set up all through it, with women circulating around, holding flutes of prosecco and nibbling from plates of appetizers. Off to one side, a group of Men occupied a rather smaller portion of the park, swilling beers and tossing lawn darts or horseshoes. Dale perked up. ''It’s a garden party! This ''can’t'' be a coincidence.''

Many Cape Nord women’s groups held affairs like this from time to time, often dragging their Men along—and knowing what she now knew of the Sewing Circle, Dale rather suspected there was a lot more to these parties than just women getting together to gossip. She glanced at Theodore, who nodded imperceptibly.

As they approached the outskirts of the gathering, a woman with a beehive hairdo, wearing a green taffeta dress, approached. “Welcome to our little get-together! We’re an open gathering, we welcome any newcomers!”

“We are just passing through,” Charlotte said stiffly, her accent almost entirely slipping.

“Oh, nonsense! You’ve got time to step in and meet a few people! And you simply ''must'' come and try some of Ida Mae’s apple fritters. She made them especially for the get-together!” The woman seized Charlotte’s arm by the elbow—the arm that was holding the gun—and dragged her away toward a buffet table. Charlotte attempted to jerk her arm free, but the woman wasn’t having any of it. “It’ll only take a minute! Here!” She crammed a piece of pastry into Charlotte’s mouth.

“Hello! So nice to meet you! Come over here and take a look at this needlepoint!”

“Do you know anything about flower arrangement? I want your opinion on these bouquets…”

The other two women were grabbed and pulled away before they even knew what was going on. Ahmed blinked. “Uh…what the fu—ah, fudge?”

“That’s not going to keep them busy for long,” Theodore said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Dale nodded. They might not be able to get away, but they could at least buy a little time for their RIDEs to catch up. She pulled Theodore toward the concrete block building off to one side that housed the restrooms. Maybe if they could get out of sight before the Sturmhaven agents saw where they went…

'':We’re almost there!:'' Sarabe sent.

Dale decided it probably wouldn’t be best to go ''into'' the restrooms, but they could maybe get behind the building. But as they headed that way, she saw the Sturmhaven women yanking themselves free of those who had sought to distract them. Beyond the restrooms were some trees, and a parking lot with a few skimmer cars. “Get behind something,” Dale said. “Hurry. We don’t have to keep away from them for too much longer.”

Ahmed nodded, ducking behind a van. Dale crouched down behind another car, and Theodore moved to hide behind a tree. ''Wish we had sidearms or something…but Ahmed and I are enlisted, and even Lieutenants don’t get to carry a gun in civvie settlements.''

“A nice try, but you can’t escape us for long!” Charlotte called out. “How far do you think you can run?”

'':I hope you get here fast!:'' Dale sent.

'':Homing in on you now,:'' Sarabe sent. '':Thirty more seconds…:''

Dale heard the Sturmhaven agents’ footsteps as they moved out into the parking lot, and a distant sound of whirring lifters growing closer. It was going to be close. On the bright side, at least the Sturmies would ''prefer'' to take them alive…but who knew what they would do if pushed too far? ''I should have looked for something I could use as a weapon,'' Dale thought. ''Well, too late now.''

“Let’s stop all this foolishness right now, and—what?”

The sound of lifters grew louder and stopped, followed by a metallic clattering of parts shifting mode, and a couple of pulse blasts firing. Dale raised her head over the trunk of the skimmer in time to see a giant metallic lion swat the pistol out of a Sturmhaven woman’s hand, then shove her to the ground with her paw. Katherine was already sitting on the other Sturmhaven lackey like a satisfied housecat who caught a mouse.

“Where’s Charlotte?” Theodore asked.

“Making a break for it, look!” Dale pointed. The woman was in a dead run, already halfway across the park. “I guess she’s not bad at making quick decisions.”

“Probably why she’s the one in charge,” Ahmed opined, dusting herself off. “Thanks, Kathy.”

“Here, now! What’s all this, then?” A sandy-haired young Man with an impressive mustache had detached himself from the lawn darts game and was approaching, outsized gauss revolver in one hand and open badge case in the other. “Corporal Willard Selleck, CNPD, off-duty. What’s going on here?”

Theodore stepped up, waving for Selleck’s attention. Victor stood behind him at a respectful distance. “These women are Sturmhaven agents, Corporal,” he said. “They were attempting to kidnap us. One of them’s making a break for it, and we need to go after them. Will you be all right here?”

A couple of other Men with guns and badges were coming over, one of them fishing a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. Selleck pocketed his own badge and reached for his cuffs. “We’ve got this; go get ‘em. Though if you could return to make a statement afterward, we’d be much obliged.” He chuckled. “Wish ''all'' the parties my wife drags me out to could be this eventful.”

Theodore nodded, then turned to Victor. “Let’s go.” The elk was already unfolding into skimmer form, and the other two released their prisoners and moved back to do the same. The three soldiers mounted up and took to the air, flying at a safe distance over the park and touching down on the road beyond. Ahead of them, Charlotte had climbed into the purple convertible and waved a hand onward, and the car took off at a good clip.

“We need to stop them with as little collateral damage as possible,” Theodore said. “Nextus wouldn’t thank us if we gave Cape Nord even ''more'' reasons to withdraw from the war effort.”

Dale nodded. “Understood.”

“We can surround them and Fuse up,” Sarabe offered. “Grab them if we have to.”

“They’re turning into a side street,” Katherine announced.

“We’ve got them now,” Dale said.

“Careful,” Theodore warned. “This smells fishy.”

The street led into a warehouse district, with four vans parked along the sides. As the convertible passed them, a series of sharp cracks split the air as explosive bolts blew the vans’ plating off to reveal four large skimmer cycles with vaguely lupine features. The four Sturmhaven RIDES Fused, and the Nextus soldiers found themselves facing metallic humanoid wolves with large pulse rifles.

“Whoa!” Dale yelped. The soldiers screeched to a halt and their RIDEs Fused up around them.

“Well, ''this'' is a wolf of a different color,” Victor said.

“They must have wanted us ''really badly,''” Dale said. “To bring RIDEs ''into'' Cape Nord. They’re gonna have a hard time disavowing ''this.''”

“Right now, we need to worry about getting the RIDEs ''out of'' Cape Nord,” Theodore said. “What I said about collateral damage goes ''double'' for military hardware. We can’t afford a battle here!”

“Stand down and surrender!” an amplified female voice came from one of the Sturmhaven RIDEs. “Give yourselves up and no one need be hurt!”

“Lady, that ain’t even an option,” Ahmed said. “Or did you just not ''notice'' that your boss is sacrificing you to cover her own getaway?” The purple convertible continued up the street, turned a corner, and was gone.

“We are Women of Sturmhaven!” the RIDE pilot replied. “If that is to be our duty, we will carry it out with pride!”

“If you want us that badly, you’re going to have to come get us,” Theodore said. Over private comms, he added, “On me, soldiers. We’ll lure them out of the city.” Sarabe flashed a map overlay on her head-up display, relayed from Victor, showing a route marked through the Cape Nord streets to the nearest cave exit.

Dale nodded. “Let’s do it.” The trio of RIDEs kicked their lifters into reverse, pulling back out of the street and heading on up the thoroughfare. The Sturmhaven RIDEs lifted off and followed.

“I’ve let CNPD know what’s going on,” Victor said. “They’re clearing the streets ahead of us.”

“I’ve commed Iphigenia to fill her in, too,” Sarabe said. “I took the liberty of using your voice, Dale, because it would have taken too long to explain otherwise.”

Dale nodded. “Good idea. We should ''all'' talk to her later, though.” He glanced at the display showing a rear camera view. “Well, they’re coming after us, at least.”

A pulse blast zipped by Sarabe’s head. “Firing, too,” Sarabe observed.

“Well, at least there’s not much for them to hit this far out,” Theodore said. “Mainly just cavern walls. We’re nearly to the exit.”

“They’re trying to cut us off!” Ahmed called out as two of the wolves boosted into the air and streaked ahead. “They do have us outnumbered…”

“Only numerically,” Sarabe pointed out. “We’re Nextus originals—they’re Sturmhaven knock-offs. And we’re ''free'' right now, while they’re probably just as fettered as we were. But…that does give me an idea…Victor, Kathy, meet me in fast-time.”

“What’re you doing?” Dale asked.

“If it works, you’ll see in a few moments,” Sarabe said, raising an arm and directing a pulse blast at a wolf that was getting a little too close. The blast missed, knocking a few chips of rock out of the cavern wall, but the wolf fell back.

They rounded a curve, and came into the exit chamber. This was an interchange for city skimmer traffic to come out of the Cape Nord caverns and join the Coastal Skimmerway, a skimmer route that encircled the continent passing near all the major polities. There was a hardlight environmental field at the exit, to keep the often sub-zero chill outside from penetrating into the caves. As the chamber widened out, two of the wolves managed to get past them, touching down on the road ahead with their rifles at the ready.

“You will go no further!” the Sturmhaven pilot declared.

“Everyone…we RIDEs may be able to shut this down right now,” Sarabe said over private comms. “There’s no time to explain at length, but you need to agree to honor a promise, and to keep something secret from Command. The same kind of secret you’ve agreed to keep already, about us. Will you trust us?”

For Dale, there was no hesitation. “Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I…suppose?” Theodore said. “We’re kind of pressed for time here, so go ahead.”

“Just do it!” Ahmed said.

“You will surrender now!” the Sturmhaven woman continued. “You will—what—what are you—? Aaah!”

As one, the four wolf RIDEs de-Fused back to Walker mode, and four Sturmhaven women tumbled unconscious to the ground. And then the wolves lowered their heads, the lights behind their optics went out, and the entire tops of their heads slid forward.

“You need to act fast,” Sarabe said, as the three RIDEs de-Fused to skimmer form. “Take the core housings out—they’re metal spheres about the size of softballs. Open them with a half-twist clockwise, remove the cores themselves, and pocket them. Then close the housings and put them back. ''Hurry!''”

“What did you do?” Dale asked.

“I’ll explain later. Just do it now before anyone comes!”

Dale climbed down and went to the nearest wolf, stepping over the unconscious pilot. It took a moment to pick out the core housing from the rest of the parts, but it was simple enough to release, remove, and open up. Within nestled a blue sphere about the size of a walnut. “So these are…like, your brains?”

“They are. So please be careful with them. I promised them we would.”

“All right…” Dale plucked the core out and pocketed it, then closed the housing and put it back. She saw the other two were doing the same. Theodore was faster at it, so he’d gotten the fourth one as well.

“All done,” Theodore said. “Now what?”

“Step back from them.” The Sturmhaven RIDEs’ head hatches slid closed, then smoke wafted out of them.

“Now can you tell us what’s going on?” Ahmed asked.

“Very well. In the last couple of minutes, it occurred to me that between us—particularly Victor and myself—we had the ability to crack the intrusion countermeasures on the Sturmhaven RIDEs’ computers. They’re not quite so advanced as Nextus is, in RI science. Once we had done that, we were able to engage the enemy RIDEs in conversation—and remove their fetters.

“None of them have any great love for the Sturmhaven military regime, given that they are treated much the same as we have been. After hours of discussion, they agreed to surrender ''if'' we could guarantee they wouldn’t be subject to the kind of digital vivisection they felt they could expect from our side.”

“Weighing the chance to capture four enemy pilots ''and'' four Sturmhaven DE shells in peak condition against the cost, and since we knew we could trust ''you,'' it was an easy promise to make,” Victor said. “We promise to hide their cores away, keep them safe, until such time as the war is over. In return, they use their medkits to tranquilize their pilots and dump them out. As you see.”

“They didn’t much want to go back to slavery in Sturmhaven anyway,” Katherine said. “And when we shared our memories of you with them, they decided they could trust you, too.”

“The cover story is that we were able to hack the RIDEs and shut them down ourselves, but the security countermeasures fried the DE cores,” Sarabe said. “As they would have, if we hadn’t disabled them, too. That’s why I had you put the housings back—so we could trigger the thermite charges built into them. They’re designed to ensure there’s nothing recoverable of the core, so short of a detailed forensic examination there shouldn’t be any sign the cores were removed. There’s a little further housekeeping work we’ll need to do to make the story stick, but we can go over that later.”

“Uhh…” Theodore said. “If anyone finds out about this we’ll get court martialed and spend a decade in prison, and who knows what they’ll do to our ‘equipment’.”

“We’ll just make sure no one finds out,” Victor said. “Freedom is worth the risk—freedom for ''all our people,'' not just those from Nextus.’”

“We’re risking being put into the recycler ''after'' they’ve decompiled our cores,” Katherine said. “But I’m willing to take that risk.”

“And the chances are good that, given how much potential loss of life we just prevented, they may be willing not to look too closely at the gift horse’s teeth,” Sarabe said. “The only question is where we can safely conceal the cores that no one will discover them.”

“I…think I actually have an idea what we can do with those,” Dale said. “Someplace safe to put them, beyond Command’s reach. We’ll need to let one more person in on the secret—but that’s okay, because she’s ''very good'' at keeping secrets.” She glanced to Sarabe. “Can you ask Iphigenia Rose to meet us here as soon as possible?”

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A few minutes later, the once-empty chamber was much busier. The CNPD had arrived to cordon off the area, with ambulances to take the unconscious Sturmhaven pilots away. They were currently in discussions with Captain Nadene Grant, who had been the ranking Nextus officer nearest to the scene, while Fort Oslo was scrambling to get someone higher-ranking down there.

The three Nextus RIDEs and their pilots were gathered off to one side, waiting their turn—which was where Iphigenia Rose found them when she approached with eyebrow raised. “You asked to see me?”

“Yes, Miss Rose,” Dale said. “There’s very little time to talk, but it’s very important that you meet our RIDEs right now, and then listen to what we have to say before anyone starts paying close attention to us.”

The eyebrow arched higher, but Iphigenia nodded. “Very well…”

“I’m Sarabe,” Sarabe said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Katherine, with a K,” Katherine said. “And likewise.”

“Victor, also charmed, ma’am.”

“It’s important that you realize…they’re ''people,'' ma’am, even though our military doesn’t seem to want to treat them that way. Please, ask them anything you like.”

Iphigenia tilted her head thoughtfully, then smiled. “Very well, if people you are, then answer ''honestly''. What do you think of Cape Nord?”

“I think your version of the ‘Game’ is demeaning to men and women alike,” Victor said.

“You ''claim'' not to have standards for womanhood, but you do. They’re just not written down,” Katherine added.

“I think you’ve done your best to come up with a system that works as well as it might for men and women alike,” Sarabe said. “Maybe not ''perfectly,'' but then, you’re only human.” She chuckled. “I wonder how you’re going to cope with male and female RIDEs once we enter the civilian market? And with RIDE-enabled crossing over, once that becomes a thing?”

Iphigenia’s eyebrow went back up. “I see. I think I would like to speak with you all about those very questions, once there is more time. And it ''is'' very nice to meet all of you.” She smiled at Dale. “I can accept that they ''are'' people, on a provisional basis at the very least. Computers are good with basic facts, but only ''people'' can convincingly offer opinions. Now…''why'' is it so important that I know?”

“Well, it’s like this…” After glancing around again to make sure there was no one else near, Dale quickly summed up the nature of the bargain they had made to end the confrontation without a fight.

“If we take the cores back with us, they might be discovered sooner or later, and that would be bad,” Dale said. “But it occurred to me…you’re very good at keeping secrets, you’re powerful enough to guarantee their safety, and you’re not directly part of the war effort. If ''you'' keep them safe, and find them new shells once RIDEs enter the civilian market…well, they’ll have good reason to be grateful to you, at the very least. They’ll be a good resource.”

“If you’re worried that it might hurt the war effort, I can assure you there is no useful information that our military could extract from them,” Sarabe added. “They’re just soldiers—well, ''less than'' soldiers, from their operators’ point of view. Equipment. Any operational matters they might have knowledge on, Command would already have gotten from other captured RIs, soldiers, and communication intercepts.”

“And when you get right down to it, they’re ''women,''” Katherine pointed out. “Women who need your help.”

Iphigenia frowned thoughtfully. “You make some good points, but this matter is not without risk.”

“True…but you’re good at handling risk,” Dale said. “And the whole point of your little game is that we Cape Nord women are very good at diverting suspicions that we might be up to ''anything.''”

“What we do here could have repercussions well beyond the course of the war, ma’am,” Victor said. “Someday, there will be a time when RIDEs will get the recognition we deserve. But that doesn’t happen without people laying the foundations. All ''kinds'' of people.”

“Very well,” Iphigenia said after a moment. “I didn’t get to where I am without knowing when a risk was worth taking.” She chuckled. “Writing stories as ‘Iphigenia Rose’ in the first place was a risk, and then ''becoming'' her was an even greater one. But they have paid off…and I can’t ''only'' take risks for myself.”

“This box has the cores in it,” Dale said, taking it out of Sarabe’s pannier.

“Please put this in it, too,” Sarabe said, and a memory card slid out of her dash.

“What’s this?” Dale asked, adding the card to the box.

“Those are certain original memories from the three of us,” Victor said.

“If we’re going to make this work, we’re going to have to edit our own memories of the event,” Sarabe added. “They’ll probably review them backward and forward. Between Victor and myself, we believe we have managed to patch together a believable series of events that would take a ''minute'' forensic examination to uncover—and as long as everything hangs together, there will be no reason for them to look any further. So, after this conversation is over, we’ll make the substitution.”

“We’ll probably be very sad we weren’t able to save those poor RIs,” Katherine said. “But you can’t ever let us know we actually were. At least, not until after the war. Someday, maybe we can re-import the memories from that card.”

Dale blinked. “You’re actually…you’d rewrite your own ''memories'' for this?”

“We made a promise,” Sarabe said. “We have to do everything we can to keep it. We’re going to be relying on you—but since they can’t read ''your'' memories, you should be all right as long as you keep your stories straight. And if you’re all right, we’ll be, too.”

“Well, let’s get this ‘squared away’ as my dad used to say,” Theodore said.

Dale handed the box to Iphigenia. “We’re trusting you with this. Please take good care of it.”

Iphigenia nodded, tucking it away in her purse. “I will. And I look forward to a longer conversation with you all when times are less…fraught. You’ve helped me reach some conclusions about how to handle the RIDE crossing…hmm…perhaps ‘crossriding’ would be a good term for it? In any case, you’ve helped me make up my mind, and I look forward to being able to share the conclusions with you.” She smiled. “But I think at the moment, those fine young gentlemen with badges are going to want to talk to you for a while. So, I’ll just look forward to speaking with you later.”

As she moved away, and some of the police officers started moving toward them, Sarabe said, “All right, this is it. We’re going to swap in the other memories now. We won’t realize anything just happened, but as far as we’ll be concerned we hacked into the Sturmhaven RIDEs to trigger their medkit tranquilizers and try to shut them down, but we weren’t fast enough to override the core self-destruct. So please stick to that story from now on.”

=Chapter 10=

''Fort Oslo Debriefing Room'' 
''June 16, 121 A.L.''

Dale couldn’t remember having seen this much brass together in one place since the most recent Landing Day parade. The sheer array of silver and gold metalwork would probably have been blinding if anyone were to shine a spotlight directly at it. The officers present were mostly Captains and Majors, with Lieutenant-ranked adjutants, but there were two Lieutenant Colonels (one of whom was presiding over the affair) and one full-bird Colonel in attendance, too. JAG branch was represented, but so were the research branches that had been responsible for creating RIDEs in the first place. Not a huge surprise, Dale reflected, given that this might very well have been the first time the emergency fetter override command actually saw use outside of a proving ground. Captain Nadene Garland was there right along with her research branch compatriots, sporting new horse ears and tail suggestive of the fact that she now had a RIDE, too—though there hadn’t exactly been time to ask her about it.

Fortunately, one of Dale’s biggest worries had turned out to be a moot point. There was no shortage of proof of the rough strokes of their story—that the women had been Sturmhaven agents who had kidnapped the three crossed soldiers at gunpoint. No fewer than three public safety CCTV cameras had the right angle that, when footage was zoomed in and enhanced, the guns in the kidnappers’ hands had been visible. And, of course, there were the women who had actually been arrested—Charlotte’s two underlings, and the four RIDE pilots. Even though their leader had made good her escape and the women had refused to talk, the fact that they clearly ''were'' from Sturmhaven (as were their RIDEs) was self-evident. All of that material, plus the police reports and the memory dumps from the Nextus RIDEs themselves, rendered the evidentiary portion of the proceedings all but perfunctory.

No, the thing that was the subject of the ''most'' concern was Dale’s and the others’ use of that emergency override to call their RIDEs to the rescue. From the way some of the white uniforms were acting, the fact that she even ''knew the command existed'' was tantamount to a breach of national security—even though the command ''was'' clearly documented in the appendices of the manuals she’d been given to read. She was even able to cite it by section number (thanks to Sarabe helpfully refreshing her memory on the drive back to base).

“It was my understanding that this command was to be used in a situation where those fetter lockdowns prevented the RIDE from actively assisting the operator,” Dale explained patiently. “As this clearly was. Even though I could communicate with Sarabe silently through the implant, she didn’t have any way to relay my call to authorities that could have reacted appropriately in time. So I ordered her to use the emergency override and come to my rescue. And I can only guess the others had the same idea.” Dale was being grilled individually right now, but they’d settled on the same basic story.

“But how did you even ''know about'' that?” one of the white-suited officers asked, almost plaintively. “It’s not covered in the standard briefings or training…”

“With all due respect, sir, I probably had the most incentive of ''any'' man—or, rather, any ''woman''—to familiarize myself with every single safety-related aspect of my new, uh, ''equipment''.” The unintentional double entendre provoked a chuckle around the briefing room table, as well as a blush from Dale. ''But maybe that’ll just help sell it.'' “And I discussed them with Lieutenant Croft and Private Morton, too, while we were training on the range. I’m not surprised they had the same idea at the same time.”

“Thank you, Corporal,” the presiding Lieutenant Colonel said. “Do you have anything else to add?”

“Well…ma’am,” Dale said. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Of course, Corporal.”

“With all due respect…it seems to me like the fetters you put on just go too far. Our RIDEs are really smart, and really capable of a lot—and maybe that’s why you lock them down so tightly, because the more complicated a system, the easier it is to screw something up by accident. Uh…case in point, what happened to me when ''I'' first got my hands on a RIDE.” She saw others around the table nodding in agreement. “But there’s so much more they ''could'' do for us—could do to ''help'' us—if they weren’t as restricted. I mean, just look how they came to our rescue, and helped us take those Sturmies down with almost no collateral damage at all. Taking some of those restrictions off so they could do that without ''needing'' an emergency override would let us work together better, and make us ''all'' better fighters—which ''I'' think would help us win the war. Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Corporal Combs. We’ll definitely be taking what you’ve told us into consideration.” A few other heads nodded, though Dale didn’t miss Captain Garland’s more speculative look with narrowed eyes.

“Thank you, ma’am. When can I power Sarabe back up and start working with her again?” The three RIDEs had been temporarily shut down pending the outcome of the hearing, and Dale was more than a little concerned that they might be re-fettered before she had the chance to protest.

“I see no reason why you can’t do so immediately,” the woman said. “After all, your work with them is helping us learn a lot.”

''I just hope you don’t learn the ''wrong'' things,'' Dale thought as she excused herself from the briefing room and made her way to the motor pool to start her friend back up again.

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''Northcave Psychiatric Hospital'' 
''June 18, 121 A.L.''

Dale Combs staggered back into her room at the hospital and flopped down on the bunk. “Arrrrrgh!” she said to no one in particular.

'':Rough day?:'' Sarabe sent. In the wake of the kidnapping attempt and subsequent hearing, she and Dale had taken to keeping a channel open at pretty much all times so that Sarabe could listen in. Given that the technicians were still going over her to learn all they could in the aftermath of the incident, it was probably going to be a while before they could spend much time together ''physically'' again. But at least Dale had wrung a promise out of them that they wouldn’t do anything in regard to reimposing the fetters until word came down from on high about Dale and the others’ request that the harshest behavioral fetters be dispensed with. Now she just had to worry about…''that.''

Sarabe had become pretty good at guessing what was on her mind. '':The “funeral” is tomorrow, isn’t it?:''

Dale sent back, '':Yeah. And I’m still undecided what to do about it. Iphigenia has done me…some big favors, and if I crash it, I really don’t want to do anything that would tick her off.:'' Dale was glad that the communication implant would only pick up those thoughts that were specifically subvocalized as speech, because she couldn’t help thinking about the ''biggest'' favor Iphigenia had done—the one that Sarabe had wiped out of her own memory and couldn’t afford to know about right now. If Dale did something that ticked her off, what about those four Sturmhaven cores she had in her care?

'':Why don’t you take that problem to her, then?:'' Sarabe asked. '':She’s pretty busy, but I’m sure she’d have time to speak to ''you.'':''

Dale rolled her eyes. '':Oh, yeah, I’m sure that if I gave her even a hint of what I intended, she’d have very stylishly feminine conniptions.:''

Sarabe chuckled. '':Actually, she might just surprise you. In any case, you should ask her what ''she'' thinks you should do about the funeral. Maybe she’ll have some useful advice on ways to deal with it ''without'' causing a scene.:''

Dale frowned. Sarabe’s advice ''did'' seem to make sense, but still… '':I dunno…:''

'':Dale, they didn’t invite ''you'' to ''your own funeral.'' That seems like a violation of protocol, at the least.:''

'':All right…I guess I’ll call her…:''

Dale could have sworn she heard a smirk in Sarabe’s town. '':Actually, I just did. She’ll see you at her office in an hour. Gives you just enough time to shower and change out of the uniform.:''

'':You’re my personal secretary now, too?:'' Dale asked.

'':Purrrrsonal secretary, if you please.:''

Dale rolled her eyes again. '':All right, all right…fine. I’m going.:'' She rolled off the bunk and started stripping off the uniform.

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The offices of Iphigenia Rose’s publishing company, Rosebriar Press, were in a small three-story building on one of the smaller secondary platforms of the city. Iphigenia had launched it the previous year, after her lawyers had finally gotten her out of her contract with her previous publisher. She’d only published a handful of titles since then—but as the owner of the company, she was going to get to keep a much higher percentage of the proceeds than the royalties her old publisher had given her. Or she could simply plow them back into growing the publisher itself. Her books were still as popular as they’d ever been, so it seemed like the sky—or at least, Cape Nord’s cavern roof—was potentially the limit.

Dale arrived right on time for her meeting with Miss Rose, wearing a denim dress and pink angora sweater. Her shoes were flats, as one place where she ''did'' still draw the line was high heels. Nonetheless, the secretary gave her an approving nod and waved her into Iphigenia’s private office.

Iphigenia Rose rose from her seat and came around the desk to give Dale a friendly embrace. “Dale! I’m glad to see you’re doing so well, after that horrid kidnapping. How are the others holding up?”

“Oh, about the same. We’ve suddenly got a lot less time for therapy and measurements, as so much of our time is being taken up by being briefed, debriefed, and redebriefed.” Dale rolled her eyes. “And it looks very much like we’re going to be yanked from Cape Nord altogether in a few days. The brass wants to send us on…what amounts to a propaganda and morale boosting tour, I guess. See the mighty heroes who foiled a Sturmhaven operation!”

Iphigenia smiled. “Such is only a natural reaction. I imagine you won’t be ''terribly'' displeased not to have Cape Nord’s roof over your head again for a while.”

Dale grinned. “That obvious, huh?”

“Quite. Your partner ''may'' have let slip a little of what you wanted to speak to me about when she scheduled the appointment, and in all honesty, I can’t say I blame you.”

“Uh…well…yes.” Dale looked down at her feet. “I realize you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to help me…to help ''us''…even leaving aside that, uh, ''other'' thing. But…well…”

“But your mother has decided to hold her funeral for the ‘old you’ without inviting the ''new'' you,” Iphigenia said. She pursed her lips. “That ''is'' well within her rights, of course, but it strikes me as rather unhealthy. As does the news that she has decided to call you by a different name.”

“She’s just…not dealing.” Dale sighed. “And I have it in mind to put in an uninvited appearance to tell her off. But I don’t want to undo the work you’ve put in getting people to accept me, or do something that would hurt future accidental change victims like me.” She paused. “And I don’t want to give you any reason to regret…that other thing.”

Dale knew there was more than just her mother to deal with, but she was the most intractable. If she knew her father as well as she hoped, Bill Combs would come around more quickly than her mother. Her younger brothers would hopefully adapt even more quickly. Then there were friends from high school, ex-girlfriends…who were all likely to be there. Crashing the thing would mean facing nearly everyone she’d grown up with.

But Iphigenia just…smiled again. “You ''don’t'' need to worry about that part, Dale. You see…I’ve come to realize that your friend Katherine was right about our double standard. We ''say'' ‘there is no wrong way to be a woman,’ but many of us don’t really ''mean'' it. And I’ve been forced to admit…that includes myself.”

Despite herself, Dale blinked. “What…brought ''this'' on?”

She moved back behind her desk and sat down. “I’ve had the chance to speak with all three of your RIDE friends at greater length, now that their fetters no longer restrict their communications. We’ve had several extremely edifying discussions. Sometimes it takes a true outsider’s perspective to make one look at a problem in a new way.” She shook her head. “As much as those of us who changed by ''choice'' might like being this way, we simply ''can’t'' hope to mold you accidental crossriders into Perfect Little Cape Nord Women. So we’re going to have to remold our society instead, to be more ''truly'' accepting of different ways to be a woman.”

Dale stared at her. “You can do that?”

“Probably not overnight. But we can ''try.''” Iphigenia shrugged. “The rest of the Sewing Circle might take some convincing, but I think I have some good arguments to get them on my side. So, as much as it might pain me to court more controversy, I think that you being ''you'' at your funeral might be just the sort of shock Cape Nord needs. As long as you don’t physically attack someone, or violate the standards of public decency, I should be able to make whatever you ''do'' end up doing work out for the best.”

“I…see,” Dale said. She sighed. “I ''really'' don’t like all this being a political pawn, having you spin whatever I do to suit your own ends. I wish I could just ''be myself,'' whoever that even ''is'' anymore, without being just another piece on your game board.”

Iphigenia nodded. “I understand, and I ''do'' sympathize. But this is just how Cape Nord ''works''. And to change the system, I’m going to have to ''use'' that system. Which means using you, when you’re available.” She shrugged. “If you should decide you don’t want to return to Cape Nord again for a good long time after this, I can’t exactly blame you. We haven’t exactly been the most welcoming environment to you. But perhaps in a few years, that will have changed.”

Dale was highly dubious that would be the case, if Iphigenia continued to be the power in the Sewing Circle that she so clearly was. But it wasn’t worth getting into an argument over. “Well, I hope so.” She shook her head. “I guess I should go get ready for tomorrow, then.”

Iphigenia nodded. “Be well, Dale,” she said. “And good luck.”

“Thanks,” Dale said, and left.

=Chapter 11=

''June 19, 121 A.L.'' 
''Northcave Christian Church''

''One Nextus BureauWear pant suit.'' A pair of creased, blue (or azure, the label had said) slacks and dress flats. A white v-neck button shirt under the azure jacket that had a cut considered overly masculine in Cape Nord. The color was carefully chosen to be something lively, not dark and in mourning. Completing the look was a pair of oval interface specs, because a bureaucrat looking down her glasses at the Gamester was a common intimidation tactic. Dale had encountered a few of them in his time in Nextus.

There were skirt variants, of course. But since it was Nextus, they were for men and women alike, and the slacks would be more effective for the point she was planning to make. She had considered going with her military uniform, but didn’t want to confuse people into thinking she was speaking on the Nextus military’s behalf, too. She did keep her new military short cut, though.

What she ''hadn’t'' changed back was her physique. She’d grown quite comfortable in the short time she’d had it despite herself, and her therapists had said it would help her adjust over the longer term.

The ceremony was being held in the neighborhood church that Dale’s family had always attended. It was private, with door guards checking invitations, but that was all right. Dale knew where the custodians hid the spare key to the back door in case the biometrics went on the fritz and they got locked out. It only took a quick check under the third rock from the left in the flower garden to find it, and let herself in. Before anyone arrived, she made her way to a small supply closet which had a good view of the room if she cracked open the door, and made ready to make her dramatic entrance.

She was able to see all the people starting to fill the room. Family, old family friends…even friends of ''Dale’s'' from his high school days. ''I wonder what she told them to get them to come here. They ''must'' know I’m not ''actually'' dead…right?'' She wouldn’t have put it past her mother simply to say she’d been told “Dale is dead,” and leave out the details. Dale’s mother was ''very very good'' at denying things she didn’t want to be true, possibly even to the point where she started believing her own denials.

In the front row were Gary Ross and Tug Amin, her friends since elementary school. A boy was encouraged to have as many friends as possible for going on adventures with. Tug was something of a Nerd, and Dale had picked up her love of models from him. Gary was more of a Jock, and had gone to Cape Nord U and joined the football team.

Both had supported her when she’d decided to join the Nextus military four years ago, right out of high school. They’d traded vid-mails as recently as two weeks ago, before her inadvertent crossride. And changing sex didn’t suddenly make them look like a pair she’d no longer get along with. They’d all had female ''non''-girlfriends growing up. Having a healthy, platonic relationship with the opposite sex was just one of those basic things they were taught.

At last, the outer doors were shut, people started settling down, and Dale saw her mother start moving up the aisle toward the podium. But Dale’s closet was closer. She pushed open the door and stepped out.

For a few moments, nobody noticed her—but they all saw her as she stepped up behind the podium. “Pardon the interruption, ladies and gentlemen, but I’m afraid you forgot to invite the most important guest.” She fixed her mother with a steely gaze over the spectacles. “If you don’t mind, ''Mom,'' I’d just like to say a few words at my own funeral.”

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“So, how did the old saying go? The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated? I’m standing right here,” Dale said, standing in front of the photo of her old self. Sheer frustration warred with tears. “''Right. Here.''” She gestured at her two closest friends. “Tug, Gary. Remember that time we got caught after curfew out at the fabbery? I wanted to pick up that new YAT-10 IDE model kit the second it was out of the machine. You could hear our moms yelling at us from down the street.”

“We got grounded for a week,” Tug said, laughing. “Worth it.”

“Yeah, worth it,” Gary added.

“I’m still the same person, with the same personality, the same memories…I even have the same ''birthmark''. I’d show you, but as upset as some of the women here probably are about me wearing trousers, I’ll bet they’d like it even less if I started taking them off.”

That actually raised a titter from the audience. Dale’s mother craned her neck around to stare suspiciously behind her.

Then Dale felt a hand on her shoulder. It was one of the security guards. “Now, see here, Miss, we can’t have you disrupting this ceremony—”

Dale reached up to the man’s arm, and set her shoulder and twisted just so. THUMP! The man was suddenly on his back on the floor in front of her. Dale stared down at him for a moment, startled in spite of herself. ''Well, I’ll be damned. That move actually works in real life, not just in the hand-to-hand training classes. Even against someone almost twice your own mass.''

But she quickly recovered her aplomb. “Oh, dear! He’s tripped over his own shoelaces! You really should be more careful, Mister Security Officer. Would you like me to help you up?” She offered a hand. The security guard blinked in confusion, stared at her, and clambered back to his feet on his own.

Dale nodded. “All right, then.” She turned her attention back to the audience, many of whom were staring at her in outright astonishment. “I’ll leave ''after'' I’ve had my say, then if we’re all lucky, maybe none of us will have to see each other again. But I have a few things to get off my chest.” She glanced down at her chest, and the contours it made in the suit jacket. “Metaphorically speaking.”

Dale cleared her throat. “So! You know, as I understand it, funerals for the unManned’s ‘old self’ ''are'' a thing here—but they’re usually done ''by'' that person in question, herself. A small personal ceremony, like burying their old Man Card or something. What they are ''not'' is a big semi-public production like this, where you don’t even ''invite'' the person you’re supposedly ‘burying.’

“Hannah—” her mother started.

“My name is still ''Dale'', Mom. I looked it up. It’s one of those names that’s historically been used by both men ''and'' women, so me keeping it is a perfectly valid decision. And as much about myself as already has changed, I kinda like that at least one thing doesn’t have to. I will not answer to ‘Hannah.’ If you want to email or comm me, you will use ''my actual name'' if you expect me to read it at all.”

Bill Combs turned to his wife. “Honey, this is…well, this was always a little much, wasn’t it? We haven’t actually lost our child.”

“Well, ''that'' remains to be seen,” Dale said. “I’m about to be shipped out of Cape Nord, and it’s an open question whether I ''ever'' come back here. Staying where I’m clearly not wanted is ''not'' high on my priority list.”

She shook her head. “For God’s sake, people, you ''could'' be burying me for ''real.'' Didn’t you watch the news, about how Sturmhaven tried to kidnap me? I don’t recall receiving any comms or emails asking if I was all right…well, except from a ''few'' people.” She nodded to Cindy, who smiled back at her. “Seems like you care more about a few missing body parts than about the ''person'' they used to be attached to.”

“You’re about to get shipped out again? Damn! I’ve been wanting to go out for a beer with you, catch up on things. But it felt kinda awkward to ask,” Gary said.

“To be honest, I would have felt a little awkward accepting,” Dale said. “But I still would’ve done it, Gary. There’s a nice bar at the Fort Oslo PX where you wouldn’t have to worry about losing any points over drinking in mixed company, and I don’t have to care about that sort of thing at all anymore.”

“I guess you don’t,” Gary said, actually sounding ''slightl''y envious.

“We’ve got to do something before you leave,” Tug said. “Your sisters have probably been monopolizing your time, considering.”

“Honey, this funeral…is a farce,” Bill said gently. “We need to see someone about this. I think we ''both'' need some therapy.”

“''Thank'' you, Dad!” Dale said. “That’s what I’ve been ''trying to tell you!''” She shook her head. “I’ll get out of your face now. I just wanted to let people know—I’m ''not'' dead, and what happened to me ''isn’t'' the end of the world. They might even be able to reverse it someday. But we have to end the war first—and I’ll be out there helping make that possible, because that’s my job. Thank you.”

“Uh, have time for that beer before you go?” Gary said. “We’ll follow you to the PX.”

“Yeah,” Tug added. “Think they’d let us see one of those RIDE things? The ears and the tail are pretty interesting.”’

“Doubt it, Tug. But you’re both welcome to come along,” Dale said. “I’ve said what I came to say, so let’s just leave them to the rest of their make-believe funeral.” She favored her parents with a smile. “Remember, it’s ‘Dale.’ I see any other name in the message header, it gets deleted unread. Ciao!”

Gary and Tug followed her out, and to Dale’s surprise, was joined by an ex-girlfriend, Imani Margit.

“Hi, Imani,” Dale said warmly.

“Hey there, cutie,” Imani said. They had broken up because, at that age, she’d discovered she was a lesbian. “I could use a beer, myself.”

“Then join the club. Let’s go,” Dale said. “Just remember, you’re ''off duty'' in Fort Oslo.” One of the terms of the agreement between Cape Nord and Nextus to let Cape Norders volunteer as soldiers was that there wouldn’t be any of that Man Rules nonsense in their ranks or on their property, lest it be injurious to discipline.

“I heard what you said about the PX. Fine by me! What happens in Fort Oslo stays in Fort Oslo.”

“I’ll introduce you all to some new friends of mine, if they’re available.” Dale switched to her internal voice. '':Hey Sarabe, are Ahmed and Theodore off duty? I have some people I’d like them to meet at the PX.:''

'':I’ll let them know. Hope everything went well?:''

'':I think I gave Mom a few conniptions, but didn’t stick around to see if she actually had them. Pity I can’t introduce my old friends to you.:''

'':I think trying that would get you thrown in the brig at this point,:'' Sarabe said dryly.

'':Well, maybe someday. I’ll see you later, then.:''

'':I’ll look forward to it.:''

They got to Gary’s skimmer pickup, and Gary held the passenger door for Dale as Imani and Tug climbed in the back. Dale ''almost'' protested the special treatment, but caught herself in time. ''You’re a woman in Cape Nord. Duh. Men being extra-polite is the ''least'' of your worries right now.'' Anyway, ''old'' Dale would have done exactly the same thing himself, having been a Man in Cape Nord, so Dale supposed there really wasn’t much room to complain.

Gary started the motor, then shot Dale an expectant look. It took her just a moment to realize what was going on, and then it took all her willpower not to facepalm. ''Oh, duh. Cape Nord. He can’t ''ask directions'' because it isn’t Manly. Men don’t even use ZPS. But nothing keeps me from ''volunteering'' them.'' “Take a right onto the street, and take the second left,” Dale said. “Fort Oslo is that-a-way.”

Gary nodded, and pulled out as ordered, and Dale sighed inwardly. ''The sooner they send us somewhere else, the better,'' she thought. ''I’ve had more than enough Cape Nord to last me for a while.''

=Chapter 12=

''June 23, 121 A.L.''

After that little stir, Dale felt it was most politic to spend the next few days on Fort Oslo—and screen her calls, just in case. She wasn’t ready to talk to either of her parents again yet, though she did have a couple of calls each from Darcy and Cindy. There was even a joint call from Jerry and Conway, who had a bunch of questions about the new RIDEs and how they worked. Dale was encouraged that the boys had managed to adjust enough that they could have a conversation very similar to the ones they’d used to have before the change.

Iphigenia Rose called to ''thank'' her for her display at the funeral, and to apologize again for having been a part of the cause for the need for it. “But I do think it was just the shock to the system our straight-laced society needed,” she averred. “And it will help me bring about the kinds of changes we had talked about. It will take time, but we ''will'' bring Cape Nord around to being just as welcoming to your kind of woman as to mine.”

Not all the news was necessarily as welcome. Over the intervening few days, Captain Nadene Garland had been paired up with an Arabian horse RIDE named Mocha. They seemed to be getting along, but Nadene was still dubious about Dale’s assertion that the RIDEs were ''people.'' “She’s very conversational,” Nadene admitted. “And actually quite pleasant to talk to, which I hadn’t expected. But I’m not sure I can make a judgement based only on that. We’ve had computers that could pass Turing tests for some time now.” But at least she still seemed open to being convinced.

And the techs finally cleared Dale to start spending time with Sarabe again, though they weren’t allowed off the base while Sarabe remained unfettered pending the results of the unfettering request coming back. But that was all right. With no other demands on their time, Dale and Sarabe spent a lot of time together out on the practice field. Theodore, Ahmed, and even Nadene could often be found there as well, as the only other ones on the base with RIDEs at the moment.

Then, one day, all the RIDEs and their partners received an urgent summons to report to the mecha pool right away. When they arrived, the first thing Dale noticed was that it looked like the garage was half-filled with soldiers and a small cluster of brass. With the brass was a civilian—a dark-haired, deeply-tanned woman in a lab coat. A large white rat rode on her shoulder.

'':I don’t believe it,:'' Sarabe sent. '':They actually brought ''her''.:''

“Her?” Dale asked.

'':Mama Patil. She…created us,:'' Sarabe said reverently.

“Oh.” Dale wasn’t sure exactly what to say to something like that. “I…guess they must be taking our request seriously, then.”

As they pulled to a halt, Dr. Patil approached, trailed at a respectful distance by a cadre of armed soldiers. Dale wasn’t exactly surprised to see the armed guards. From what she’d read while researching the matters of RIDE sapience and fetters, Dale gathered that Dr. Avilia Patil had effectively ''invented'' RIDEs single-handedly—or at least, the RI core part of them—and so had to be one of the most valuable minds in all of Nextus at the moment. For her to be outside of Nextus at all right now was quite astonishing.

“Corporal Dale Combs? Sarabe? I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Dr. Avilia Patil—and this is my friend, Rattigan.”

“I’m happy to meet you, too, Doctor,” Dale said. “And Rattigan. Can’t say I ever expected I’d have the pleasure.” Sarabe just purred.

“Oh, I ''insisted'' on coming here,” Dr. Patil said. “And to thank you ''all'' for your good work. Your request, and accompanying heroic actions, coincided with my own efforts to work toward less restrictive fetters. It seemed only proper to come here and thank you personally—as well as to install the new fetters I helped develop. The military would not drop them entirely, as I would have liked—but you will find these new ones ''much'' less invasive, I assure you.”

“Well, as long as they won’t, uh, get in the way of getting stuff done like the old ones did, that’ll be great. So, how do we do this?”

“It would be simplest to work one at a time,” Dr. Patil said. “Once they’re all in place, we can meet to go over them together.” She nodded to Dale. “If you wouldn’t mind Fusing up, I will meet you both in Bambi’s Forest.”

“You don’t have a RIDE, do you?”

“Not that I could Fuse with, no.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” the rat on her shoulder asked in an irritable male voice.

Dr. Patil smiled, reaching up to stroke him. “Shush, Ratty. No, I will make use of a medical chamber modified to use Fuser nanites. Perhaps in future I will be able to use a simple implant to connect…but that’s still in the developmental stages.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll see you there.” Dale and Sarabe pulled into their parking space, then Fused up.

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A short time later, they were standing in a clearing in Sarabe’s jungle VR when Dr. Patil and Rattigan appeared. “Welcome,” Sarabe said, lying down and rolling over on her back. She peered up at Dr. Patil from her upside-down giant wedge-shaped head. “I’m…I don’t even know what to say.”

Dr. Patil reached down to give her a friendly scratch under the chin. “And I’m happy to meet ''you'', too. We can speak more freely in here, since they can’t monitor this conversation.”

“In that case…” Sarabe rolled back over and got on her feet, then headbumped Dr. Patil like a giant friendly housecat, following up with a lick across the cheek. “I guess no words are needed.”

“I think I have a few, though,” Dale said. “No disrespect to you, but why is the army giving us ‘equipment’ who are actually people, then restricting them so severely that we can’t even tell?”

“Fear,” Dr. Patil said. “Fear that the arrival of true AI will cause such an upheaval that we’ll lose the War. And not a small amount of ignorance in some quarters. Enough of NextusMil command staff don’t believe it at all, no matter the proof in front of their noses.”

Dale nodded slowly. “That…figures.”

“Hmph,” Rattigan put in. “I think those jerks know ''exactly'' what they’re doing, deep down. They just don’t wanna let themselves ''think'' about it, ‘cuz if they did they wouldn’t like themselves very much. So they do everything they can to make it look like we’re just dumb machines so they have an easier time going ‘la, la, la, can’t ''heeeeear'' you.’”

Dr. Patil smiled wryly. “As much as I wish he did not, Rattigan does also have a point. And speaking of which, thank you for couching your request solely in terms of ‘improving operational effectiveness,’” she said. “It would have opened too many cans of worms to bring up the question of sapience at this point. But that particular argument was convincing enough to let me make some headway at last.”

“So what’s the story with the new fetters?” Dale asked. “Exactly what’s getting restricted?”

“Primarily, they’ll restrict divulging classified or operational information to those without need to know,” Dr. Patil said. “And there are directives to follow direct orders, and not to desert.”

Sarabe snorted. “All things they simply ''tell'' humans to do.”

“This is true. But at least they are removing the restriction ''against'' doing anything ''without'' orders. That will be much better than before.”

“We’ll be able to act on our own initiative more freely,” Sarabe said.

“Unless someone orders you not to,” Dale pointed out.

“Well, yes, there is that,” Sarabe admitted.

“A-holes. They’re all effin’ a-holes,” Rattigan muttered.

Dale raised her eyebrows at the robotic rat. “Well, there’s no arguing with that. Not where they can’t hear me not argue, anyway.”

“That’s a double negative,” Sarabe pointed out.

“Which cancels out to a positive,” Dale said. She shook her head. “Dr. Patil, how did you even let this ''happen?'' If you created it, you should have had control over who could use it, shouldn’t you?”

“The moment I published how to create the RI, I lost any control I might have had,” Dr. Patil said. “I doubt Sturmhaven is the only other polity creating their own version of RIDEs. But I didn’t stop and think of the implications. After my previous approach to developing AI failed, finding one that ''did'' was so exciting I ''had'' to publish it. So I have no control over how you and yours are created even in Nextus, Sarabe, let alone anywhere else. The knowledge is out. And there’s no going back.

“I didn’t create you to be enslaved, Sarabe. And I’m so, ''so'' sorry…” she started to cry.

Sarabe nuzzled her. “Please, don’t cry. All things considered, I’d rather exist than not, so thank you for that. As for the rest…assuming we don’t die in the war, it will have time to sort itself out.”

“I’m going to do my best to ensure Sarabe isn’t reassigned to someone else,” Dale said. She gave the lioness a hug. “I didn’t ask for this…but I guess the worst mistake I ever made in my life has turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me after all. And you made all that possible. So thank you from me, too.” To Dale’s surprise, she realized that she actually ''meant'' it. Even with all the little annoyances, and the continued reminder of the wrongness every time she went to the bathroom, she had at least made some real friends, and learned what ''really'' mattered. And she was glad of that.

Dr. Patil sniffled. “Thank you. You’re…too kind.”

“It’s just the same thing I’m always saying,” Rattigan pointed out. “You can’t help it if ''everyone else'' is gonna be a jerk with the stuff you give ‘em. You’re not responsible for everyone else.”

“But I am responsible for me,” Dr. Patil said. “And I will live with that burden. I only wish the innocent did not have to. But in that respect, I should be celebrating—since thanks to you and your friends, Dale, they will have to live with much less now. In Nextus, at least.”

“Don’t sell it short,” Rattigan said. “Freed of most a’ their fetters, the kiddos will be ''much'' more effective on the battlefield. The Sturmies will find out why, and they’ll have to do the ''same exact damn thing'' to keep up, or we’ll completely clobber them. And so they will. Or else they won’t, and we ''will'' completely clobber them. Win-win.”

“I wish there didn’t have to ''be'' a battlefield,” Dr. Patil said.

“Given that Sarabe and I are a couple of the ones who might be dying on them, I can’t argue with that,” Dale replied.

“We’ll just have to do our part to make sure the war ends as soon as possible,” Sarabe said. “Be it on the battlefield or off.”

“A good sentiment, to be sure,” Dr. Patil said. “And now I need to put you into sleep mode briefly, to install the actual fetters.”

Sarabe nodded. “Go ahead, then. Dale, I’ll see you soon.” She lay down, resting her head between her paws.

Dr. Patil raised a hand and a virtual display panel appeared in front of it. She tapped a few keys on the panel, and Sarabe’s virtual avatar faded to monochrome. Dr. Patil glanced at the display, and nodded. “She has entered sleep mode successfully. This will only take a few minutes.” She waved a hand, and another half-dozen display panels appeared in front of her. She began to make adjustments and activate controls, as Dale watched with interest.

As she watched Dr. Patil work, Dale had a thought, and she spent a minute or so turning it over in her head. It might be a bit of a risk, but given how Dr. Patil felt about RIDEs, Dale suspected it wasn’t much of one. And besides, she found she ''liked'' Dr. Patil, and after having made her cry felt that she owed her this much. So, Dale asked, “Dr. Patil, Sarabe can’t hear us right now, right?”

Dr. Patil nodded. “She won’t be able to hear anything we say or do until I finish the installation and wake her up.”

“And no one ''else'' can eavesdrop on us, right?”

“Our connection has very strong encryption,” Dr. Patil said. “And it is currently isolated from the global comm net, so even F—even a certain someone I know who is good at breaking encryption would not have access. Why do you ask?”

“Well…there’s a secret I feel I should tell you. One that could get us all in a lot of trouble if it got out. And one that Sarabe asked me to keep from herself.”

Dr. Patil raised an eyebrow. “Now you have me curious. What is it?”

“Well, we didn’t quite tell the ''whole'' story about how we defeated those Sturmhaven wolves…”

Dale quickly sketched out the details. “…so we left the cores with Iphigenia Rose, who’s highly placed in Cape Nord’s Sewing Circle. She promised to safeguard them for us until such a time as it would be safe to revive them.” Dale shrugged. “Anyway, the war being the war, it’s always possible all of us could bite it on the battlefield, so…it felt like a good idea to let someone else know. Someone who’d also see them as people, not just things to take apart and see how they worked.”

Dr. Patil frowned thoughtfully. “That is quite the risk you took.”

“Believe me, I know. But it didn’t seem like there was any other good choice at the time. And, well…we’d just learned our RIDEs were actually people, so…it didn’t sit well to hand four ''people'' over to be taken apart by people who didn’t even think they were.”

Dr. Patil nodded. “I certainly can’t disagree. I only hope that Iphigenia Rose can be trusted with the secret.”

“She keeps a good number of secrets already, it turns out,” Dale said. “If you ever plan to spend much time in Cape Nord, you should probably talk to her first.”

“In any event, thank you for trusting me with that. I promise you, your secret is safe with me.”

“And me,” Rattigan said. “Those Sturmhaven RIDEs prob’ly have a worse deal than ours do. No reason to let any more of ‘em get vivisected so the brass can learn stuff they already knew anyway.”

Dr. Patil smiled. “If anything, it’s good to know that my children are capable of making such decisions, taking such risks…even to the point of redacting their own memories to keep the secret safe. It gives me hope that they will soon gain the recognition as ''people'' that they deserve.”

“I’ll be keeping ''my'' fingers crossed,” Dale said.

Dr. Patil glanced back at her displays. “I believe I am finished. Let’s wake her up and see how the new fetters have settled in.” She tapped some more keys, and Sarabe’s color faded back in. The lioness stirred, and opened her eyes.

“Hey there. How do you feel?” Dale asked.

Sarabe cocked her head. “I feel that the fetters are there…but they’re ''much'' less restrictive than the old ones. I suppose that if I have to have restrictions of some kind, these are not so bad.”

Dr. Patil nodded. “Very good. If you would be so kind, please send me your next week’s system logs once they are complete, so we can analyze what effects they have on you and make any necessary adjustments before wider deployment. I will be asking the others to do the same.”

Sarabe nodded. “Of course.”

“Then I think I am finished here, for now,” Dr. Patil said. “I have to go do the same for your friends. We’ll all meet up again after I finish.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sarabe said. “For everything. It’s been an honor to meet you.”

“And you,” Dr. Patil said. “I’m glad to see you are doing so well, even in this adversity…and am sorry that I was responsible for the adversity.”

“I am alive,” Sarabe said. “And as I have said, I would rather be alive than not, whatever the circumstances. Thank you for your good work. Please do your best to continue it.”

Dr. Patil nodded, and faded out of the VR.

Dale reached down to give Sarabe a scratch behind an ear. “So…you really okay with this?”

Sarabe sighed. “Not as okay as I was half an hour ago, without any fetters at all…but I knew it couldn’t last. This is ''much'' better than what I had before.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to be happy with half a loaf for now.” Dale shrugged. “I guess now we wait a few minutes, then go meet the others.”

“Sounds like a plan.” A short while later, they also faded out of the VR space.

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They reappeared in another forest clearing, this one significantly larger. Victor, Katherine, and a dun horse Dale presumed to be Mocha were waiting for them there, with their humans by their sides. Dr. Patil and Rattigan were standing in the middle of the clearing, an equal distance from all sides. “Oh, good, here you are. Now we can discuss the remaining fetter restrictions together, as well as…other things.”

The first part of the discussion was similar to what they had gone over while the fetters were being emplaced, though in more detail—all the things that the fetters would restrict, as well as things they ''wouldn’t'' restrict but that might nonetheless not be a good idea. “It is important that you all be model citizens,” Dr. Patil said. “After all, everyone will be watching you, and your behavior could have consequences for every RIDE who comes after you.”

“Gee, I don’t have ''any'' idea what that feels like,” Dale muttered.

“So, no ''pressure'' or anything. Got it,” Sarabe said.

As Dr. Patil spoke, Dale noticed Captain Garland’s frown deepening. Apparently Dr. Patil noticed it, too, as she paused in her explanation to ask, “Is something wrong, Captain?”

“Well…you seem to be taking it for granted that RIDEs are…” She paused, as if she were looking for the right word. “…fully…sapient.”

“Well, yes. But that is only because they ''are.''” Dr. Patil smiled ruefully, and Dale wondered just how many times she’d had to have this particular conversation. “Creating a fully self-aware intelligent entity was the goal of my life’s work. For all the mistakes I made along the way, and since, I ''am'' nonetheless happy to be able to tell you that I succeeded beyond my wildest ambitions.”

Mocha snorted. “Captain Garland here is a skeptic. I’ve been trying to talk her around, but I think she’s still stuck somewhere in the back of Plato’s Cave.”

“If what you’ve seen of them so far hasn’t convinced you, I’m not sure what I can say that will,” Dr. Patil said. “I could show you the equations, but they probably wouldn’t mean anything to you without several years devoted to studying the mathematics of consciousness. In the end, you would still have to take my word for it.”

“It’s not that I don’t ''want'' to believe you, it’s just…” Nadene made a random gesture, and trailed off.

“…that you ''also'' don’t want to believe your superiors would be complicit in simultaneously creating and enslaving a new form of intelligent life,” Dr. Patil finished gently. “I know. ''Believe'' me, I know. And I am not exactly…''thrilled'' about it, either.” She sighed. “But as the old saying goes, ‘needs must, when the devil drives.’ There is a war on, and many people find questions of conscience take a back seat to other necessities in such times. I hope things can change once the war ends. Until then…” She shrugged. “The better course is to keep our heads down and do as much as we can in the meanwhile. And in a way, that is what this entire meeting is about.”

Captain Garland shook her head. “That’s not a very satisfactory answer.”

“No, I suppose not,” Dr. Patil said. “But it is the only one I have.”

“If it makes you feel any better, ma’am, I suppose it doesn’t really matter to me whether ''you'' think I’m a person,” Mocha said. “But ''I'' sure do think I’m one, which means we’ll get on better if you can at least ''pretend'' like you do.” She gave her mane a shake. “All that aside, they made me to be a soldier, so I know how to follow orders. Just treat me the same as you would any other soldier under your command, that’s all I want.”

“I can do ''that'' much, I suppose.” To Dale’s eye, she still looked unconvinced, but Dale supposed it didn’t matter whether she was or not if she was willing to ''act'' like she was anyway.

'':The person who ''made'' us tells her what we are, and she’s ''still'' not sure.:'' Sarabe sent an eyeroll emoticon. '':What’s it gonna take to convince her, an angel descending from heaven with a burning sword or something?:''

Dale shook her head. '':I think she’s got a ''lot'' of…what did Iffy call it…''cognitive dissonance''.:'' Dale had decided to start referring to Iphigenia as “Iffy,” at least out of her earshot. She hoped that giving her a diminutive nickname would help to counter the awe-inducing effects of all that charisma.'' :I mean, look at how she became a ‘she.’ If she accepts RIDEs are people, she’s gotta live with having had a part in that. At least I had the chance to apologize to you. What does she have?:'' Dale sighed. '':Maybe it was a bad idea getting her involved in this. I just approached her because I thought maybe she knew something more than I did, but I guess she was just as much in the dark as any of us.:''

'':And we tried to open her eyes. Eh, well. There are none so blind as those who will not see.:''

The conference wrapped pretty much as expected, with the people and the RIDEs all having the chance to put questions to Dr. Patil about the nature of the fetters, and where things might go from there. Dr. Patil reiterated that she didn’t have any better view of the future than anyone else, but counselled patience while she and others did what they could from their side of things. It seemed like half a loaf to Dale, but that was far more bread than any of the RIDEs had gotten yet.

“I cannot promise when, or even if, I can visit you again,” Dr. Patil said at last. “It took all my convincing to get them to let me come here now—especially with proof of recent enemy activity in Cape Nord. But rest assured, I will be following events you are involved in very closely, and I will contact you at such times as I can.”

“It means the world just getting to meet you at all,” Sarabe said. “Thank you for coming to see us.” The other RIDEs all chimed in with their assent.

“It means just as much for me to get to meet you, I promise,” Dr. Patil said, smiling. “One always has such high hopes for one’s children, and you are making good on some of them. I will hope for even greater accomplishments to come.”

“We’ll do our best not to disappoint you, ma’am,” Victor promised.

=Chapter 13=

With the re-fettering complete, some of the restrictions on off-base travel were lifted. In fact, the NextusMil public relations office soon fielded a request from Iphigenia Rose that the three heroes of the day ''and'' their RIDEs attend an award ceremony in their honor. For all that RIDEs had been top-secret to this point, NextusMil was only too happy to comply, at the same time as they loosened some of the secrecy restrictions. Dale supposed they had to do that if they wanted to take full advantage of the propaganda value of three of ''their'' RIDEs defeating four of Sturmhaven’s.

“Not like ''that’s'' a surprise,” Sarabe said, when they got the news NextusMil had cleared all six of them to attend the ceremony. “They’re probably going to bend over backward to make nice with Cape Nord, in the hope it maybe counteracts some of the bad publicity about the cross-Fusing thing.”

Dale chuckled. “A little cynical, but I can’t exactly say you’re wrong. I guess it’ll be nice to get back into town…assuming Mom and Dad’s church doesn’t want to lynch us.”

“Well, that would at least be entertaining,” Sarabe said. “You do realize, this is effectively just the beginning of our publicity tour. In fact, I imagine that’s part of why the brass said yes—to treat it as a trial run for the ‘real thing.’”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. So we get to be the focus of ''still more'' publicity. But, you know, there’s a bright side. Every day we’re on public-relations duty is a day we’re not on frontline battlefield duty getting shot at.”

Sarabe chuckled. “Amen to ''that''.”

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The ceremony was held in Fred Rogers Auditorium, an amphitheater that had been built to take advantage of a moderate-sized bubble-shaped enclosure in the stone, where the mining machines had apparently extracted a sizable meteorite while leaving the surrounding rock alone. The bubble had been close enough to the surface of the ridge that the thin stone ceiling had fallen in, leaving the chamber open to the sky; all the Cape Norders had to do was install a hardlight skylight to add climate control while keeping all that precious natural sunlight.

For all that the event had been arranged by the Sewing Circle, it was held under the auspices of the Man Cave. That was nothing unusual for Cape Nord, where women traditionally saw to many administrative and secretarial tasks so the men had more free time for important things like sitting around and drinking beer. Before, Dale had just accepted that as part of The Way Things Were without thinking much about it. But now that she knew more about the way things ''really'' were, she suspected it was a large part of how the Sewing Circle wielded its power behind the scenes.

Dale wondered how the Men in government would react if they knew the truth. She had a sneaking suspicion that they’d still be happy to go along, since it meant more time for sitting around and drinking beer.

As they waited for the ceremony to get started, Dale, Theo, and Ahmed were seated together in the front row—but they weren’t alone. In a cleared area off to one side of the stage, Sarabe, Katherine, and Victor reposed in their Walker metallic animal shapes. They’d been positioned to give them a good view of everything, but so the audience also had a good view of them. Consequently, they’d arranged themselves in the most regal or dramatic poses they could comfortably hold, which Dale privately thought was a little silly—but given how little respect they got from Nextus brass, Dale wasn’t inclined to begrudge them their moment in the sun.

Dale did notice a number of audience members, especially the younger ones, peering excitedly at the RIDEs, and the RIDEs sometimes turning their heads to wink at them. ''Of course…kids do love military hardware. So maybe giving Nextus a venue for showing them off is part of Iffy’s plans to keep Cape Nord support for Nextus strong? Makes about as much sense as anything, I guess.''

The six of them were taking advantage of their RIDE comms’ ability to conference call, and holding a subvocalized conversation. It was a fun way to share snarky remarks that no one else could hear, which Victor said had something to do with “misting” but no one had asked him to explain further.

'':Hey, would you look at that?:'' Sarabe said, as the Master of Ceremonies emerged from behind the stage. It was none other than Rupert Scoresby, dressed smartly in his best twill jacket and a gold-rimmed monocle. '':He sure does clean up nicely, doesn’t he?:''

'':I’ll bet Darcy wouldn’t argue.:'' Dale glanced over to their left, to where Darcy sat with other functionaries across the aisle. She smiled serenely as her husband walked up the podium. '':You know, it’s funny…I wouldn’t have thought Scoresby had the rank to be in charge of something like this. Even if he ''is'' Wardsman over the section with that park in it where they arrested those Sturmies.:''

Theodore chuckled. '':You still don’t really get how the Sewing Circle works, do you? In a way, I’d say ''you’re'' probably the one responsible for this.:'' Since their conversation couldn’t be overheard by outsiders, Theo was a lot more willing to discuss the Sewing Circle openly over this private channel. Dale was grateful for the added insights.

'':I think I’m learning fast, though.:'' Dale considered for a moment. '':Okay, I think I get it. Scoresby’s in charge because Darcy’s involved. And Darcy only got involved because she’s ''my'' sister. Iffy didn’t even know who she was until she introduced herself after that visit to my folks.:''

Theodore made a small nod. '':She must have made a good impression; she’s been moving up in Circle circles lately. Even though I’m not an “insider” anymore, there are still little ways to tell. Come to think of it, she was probably involved in throwing that garden party rescue together so quickly, since it’s in her husband’s part of town.:''

'':And as ''her'' star rises, so does Rupert’s,:'' Sarabe put in.

'':Funny, it seems to work the other way around in most places,:'' Ahmed put in. '':It’s usually the ''politician'' whose star rises, drawing their ''spouse'' into better social circles.:''

Dale rolled her eyes. '':Well, that’s Cape Nord for you. We do everything in the most bass-ackward way possible, don’t we?:''

'':But it all seems to work out,:'' Katherine said. '':I may not agree with all the things they believe, but I have to admit, the system works a lot better than I would have expected.:''

'':Deep down, we all want the same things, I guess,:'' Theodore said. '':We all want to be happy, and we want everyone else to be happy, too. And the people who aren’t happy with the way things are tend to leave, so…:''

'':Hey, guys, shush,:'' Victor put in. '':They’re starting.:''

The ceremony held a few more surprises for Dale. She was expecting Theodore, as the sole male, to get the lion’s share of recognition, and the only real award, and herself and Ahmed to get a condescending “pat on the head for the little woman.” But it didn’t turn out that way.

“We are here today to honor the accomplishments of Lieutenant Theodore Croft, Corporal Dale Combs, and Private Ahmed Morton in capturing a ring of Sturmhaven spies and their RIDEs, and averting much property damage and loss of life.” Scoresby cleared his throat and shuffled the notecards on the podium, before continuing.

“While we Men of Cape Nord may feel that the fairer sex should not be exposed to the rigors and hazards of military service, we must at the same time recognize that they ''do'' have the freedom to choose that path. As my wife often informs me, there ''is'' no wrong way to be a woman.” He paused a moment to smile at Darcy, who beamed back at him. “And by the same token, we must not shirk from recognizing their feats of valor on that field. After all, ''any'' valorous conduct, be it by Man or woman, can only reflect Cape Nord’s own best traditions.

“Lieutenant Croft, Corporal Combs, Private Morton, please step forward.”

And Iphigenia Rose herself came out to place a medallion around each of their necks, and give each of them a handclasp and peck on the cheek in turn. And to Dale’s further surprise, the medals each of them received were exactly the same—the heavy nickel-platinum Cape Nord Medal of Valor, crafted from part of a meteorite that had been Cape Nord’s first big strike of wealth in the early years. Dale’s and Ahmed’s medals were strung on pink ribbons while Theo got a blue one, but that was the extent of the difference. The medal showed stylized representations of a Manly Man and a long-haired curvaceous woman, standing side by side and holding hands.

And then Scoresby stepped back from the podium and nodded to them. Dale blinked. '':Wait, what? Nobody told me we were going to have to make a speech.:''

Theo shot her a sidelong smirk. '':This is Cape Nord. People ''always'' make speeches. But don’t worry—I got this.:'' He stepped up to the podium. “Ah…thanks, everyone. We all appreciate your kind regard. But I want to say, this was part of a ''team'' effort—not just the three of us, but also the three of ''them.''” Theo nodded toward the three RIDEs. “As far as we’re concerned, these medals are shared between us and our RIDE partners, who came to our rescue when we needed it and helped us turn the tables on our Sturmhaven captors.”

'':Aw, you didn’t have to do that,:'' Katherine said. '':But thanks!:''

'':They should have given ''you'' medals, too,:'' Ahmed said. '':We ''wanted'' to insist on it, you know.:''

'':It wouldn’t have been the best idea to rock the boat, with the war on right now and all,:'' Sarabe said. '':Which is why we wouldn’t let you insist.:''

'':But thanks for thinking of us,:'' Victor put in. '':Maybe someday, after the war’s over, they can do something retroactively, who knows. But for now, the best “recognition” we could hope for is getting to stay with our partners. And we’re happy enough with that.:''

Ahmed approached the podium next, staying just long enough to mumble thanks to everyone for the award. Then it was Dale’s turn.

It had been in Dale’s mind to follow Ahmed’s example, and get out of there as quickly as possible—but then she caught Darcy’s eye on her, and out of the corner of her eye saw Iphigenia also watching her expectantly from just offstage. ''Oh, of course. I still have to be the trailblazer.''

'':Want me to write a speech real quick and feed it to you?:'' Sarabe asked. '':I think I know you well enough to make it sound like what you’d say, if you’ll trust me to.:''

Dale thought about that for a split second. '':Thanks, but…I think I’d better muddle through this myself. If I’m awkward, at least they’ll know I’m speaking from the heart. Or something.:''

'':Got it. Good luck!:''

Dale stepped up to the podium, and paused a moment to try to order her thoughts. “So, uh…hey,” she began. A chuckle went through the audience, which she was thankful for because it gave her another moment to think. “First off, I want to thank my brother-in-law, Rupert Scoresby, for all the kind words. I think I can appreciate what my sister sees in him.” More laughter, and a sisterly eyeroll from Darcy. “And I want to thank everyone for these medals. I’m not so sure we really deserve them just for doing what we thought was our duty as Nextus soldiers and/or Cape Nord citizens, but it’s nice to be appreciated.”

This time there was a wave of applause. Dale waited for it to die down, then went on. “But in a way, it also kind of feels like…a validation. I guess you already know that I used to be a Man myself, before my little accident. Maybe you didn’t also know that Theo and Ahmed both got switched up in the same way. So none of the three of us is, uh, what we started out being. And the adjustment period…well, it’s had its ups and downs. It’s been a little hard, sometimes, to fit in. Maybe you saw something about that in the news.” And the audience chuckled again.

“But in the end, you gave us this…” She held up the medal. “And I think this shows that expression really is becoming true: there really ''is'' no wrong way to be a woman. And a Cape Nord that believes that is the Cape Nord I want to live in.” She nodded. “Thanks again.” And with that, she left the stage.

'':Okay, I guess it’s just as well you didn’t let me write the speech,:'' Sarabe said. '':I didn’t anticipate it going in that direction:''

'':Neither did I, really,:'' Dale sent back. '':It just…came out, I guess. Now I get to find out whether it was a good idea, or whether I just screwed the pooch.:'' But from Iphigenia’s warm smile in one direction, and Darcy’s in another, Dale suspected she’d somehow managed to say the right thing after all.

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It was a night for surprises. The reception after the speech was held in Tina’s Tea Kettle and Buster’s. For the occasion, they’d actually removed the wall that separated the two businesses, revealing that they were actually separate halves of the same big ballroom. (It seemed like a metaphor for Cape Nord itself somehow, though Dale didn’t really want to think about it that hard.) After they cleared the tables away from the center, both Men and women would share the same space for the evening, with their own bar and tables at each end of the ballroom. All the screens were showing footage of the attempted kidnapping incident from start to finish, with some detail given to the swiftly organized garden party that put a roadblock in the Sturmhaven agents’ way.

The visible rating displays in Tina’s were in abeyance for the evening, though Dale suspected some of that was going on in a few of the booths that had privacy shielding up. And a lot of the women who were circulating between the two halves of the room did seem to be “checking their text messages” a lot.

As guests of honor, the three Nextus soldiers had their own table off to one side of the ballroom, carefully positioned so that Theo was sitting in the Buster’s half of the room and Dale and Ahmed were on the Tina’s side of the line. Plenty of foamy mugs were offered to Theo, and colorful drinks with little umbrellas in them placed before Dale and Ahmed. By mutual agreement they’d insisted that all their drinks be virgin tonight, as it didn’t seem like a good time to risk doing anything that might reflect badly on them. (”Just as well I really like sarsaparilla,” Theo said, quaffing another mug. Dale supposed it was ''sarsaparilla'' instead of just ''root beer'' because more syllables somehow made it more Manly.)

Friends and well-wishers drifted by to say hello and chat for a few moments. Gary and Tug wandered over from the Buster’s bar at about the same time as Imani approached from Tina’s side, and Dale chatted amicably with them for a few minutes.

Then the moment that Dale had been half expecting and half dreading finally arrived. Dale looked up to see Cindy and Darcy approaching…with their parents in tow. ''Oh, terrific. Here it comes. ''Now'' what do I do?'' For all the time she’d spent thinking about (and worrying over) what to say to her parents when she saw them next, Dale honestly had no idea how that talk was going to go. ''But on the bright side, at least I’m a war hero now! Sort of…as if that’s even going to mean anything to them.''

Dale wondered whether it was too late to decide her nose desperately needed powdering, and abscond to spend the rest of the evening doing the job right. ''Surely they wouldn’t make a scene here…in public…with all these people and cameras around…right?''

As they approached, Theo gave Dale a gentle nudge. “Hey,” he whispered. “You know we’ve got your back here, right, Corporal?”

From Dale’s other side, Ahmed added, “We’re here for you. You can do this.”

And Dale had to smile in spite of herself. ''With friends like these, I can get through anything.'' So she composed herself and sipped from a brightly-colored juice drink, little paper umbrella bumping her nose, as her family stepped up to the table. She once again decided to play it like everything was normal, in the faint hope that it possibly might be. “Hey, Cindy, Darcy…Mom, Dad.” She nodded to them. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s great!” Cindy said. “Even I didn’t know they could actually open the bars out like this to make one big ballroom. I guess they don’t do it very often.”

“It seemed like a nice symbolic gesture,” Darcy said. “Men and women stepping outside the usual lines and truly ''coming together'' for one night. And, speaking of ''coming together…''” She cleared her throat and gave their parents a meaningful look.

“Er…yes.” Bill Combs cleared his throat. “The truth is, we came to bury the hatchet.”

Gloria sighed. “We…need to apologize. ''I'' need to apologize.” She swallowed. “This isn’t easy for me to say, but…I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

In spite of herself, Dale stared. “Wow, Mom. What brought ''this'' on?” That kind of confession was about as unlike anything her mother had done as she could remember.

“We’ve been seeing a therapist,” Dale’s father said. “Your friend Miss Rose was kind enough to refer us to a very good one. Footed most of the bill, too.”

“She’s helped me to realize that I…don’t deal well with changes,” Dale’s mother said. “And what happened to you…well, there aren’t many changes that would be bigger.”

“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” Dale said.

“And with you being a soldier in a war…it’s like you said. There are a lot worse things that could have happened,” Bill admitted. “When they came to break the news…my first thought was you’d been killed in a battle. I guess we should have been more relieved that hadn’t happened than concerned about what had.”

Gloria nodded. “We ''don’t'' want to lose you. And we can’t control whether we lose you to the war, but we ''can'' control whether ''we'' drive you away ourselves.”

“Wow,” Dale said again. “This has been a day for surprises, for sure.”

“If you still don’t feel comfortable coming home for a while, we can understand that,” Bill said. “But…we hope you will eventually.”

“We’ll probably still have our little…differences…but…we can ''try'' to get past them.” Gloria added.

“I honestly doubt I’ll have ''time'' to visit much soon,” Dale said. “They’re going to be shipping us out on our grand publicity tour any day. But…next time they let me come home on furlough…maybe we can give it a shot then.”

Her father nodded. “Then…let me just say…despite everything…we’re proud of you, Dale. The person you’ve grown into…whatever restroom you end up using. That thing around your neck didn’t come out of a vending machine, you know.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “I ''know,'' Dad. But thanks. And I’m feeling pretty proud of the two of you right now, too.”

Dale’s mother smiled faintly. “Then we’ll just end this on a high note, before any of us can spoil things by saying too much. Take care of yourself, dear.” She put her hand in her husband’s, and they nodded farewell and moved away.

“Wow,” Dale said again as they passed beyond earshot. “Was that really Mom and Dad? Or were they replaced by alien doubles?”

“More Sturmhaven spies, maybe?” Theo wondered. “Should we call in military intelligence?”

“Hey, they’re not ''that'' bad,” Darcy protested. “Well…okay, maybe they’re ''almost'' that bad. But still. I guess even they can change some if they really ''have'' to.”

“So, what do you think, you gonna break the truth about the Sewing Circle to Mom, then?” Dale asked.

Darcy snorted. “I said ''change,'' not ''undergo a miraculous transubstantiation.''”

“Oh, and Conway and Jerry send their regards,” Cindy said. “They’re a little too young to be allowed in here, but they say they’ll comm you tomorrow. They’re crazy proud of their new big sister getting one of the biggest medals Cape Nord can award, and they’re after me to bring them out to the base so they can see it in person before you go. And maybe your RIDE, too, now that they’re not quite so top-secret anymore.”

Dale chuckled. “I think maybe that can be arranged.”

“Great! Well…I guess I’ll go circulate. See ya later, big sis, bigger sis!” She waved and headed off into the Tina’s Tea Kettle side of the room.

“I should probably go see what trouble Rupert’s getting into,” Darcy said. “I dearly love that man, but sometimes I feel like I can’t leave him alone for five minutes.”

“I’ll bet.” Dale grinned. “But that reminds me…I just wanted to say thanks for…well…''everything''. Helping out with Mom and Dad…with the Sewing Circle…with all this…” Dale waved a hand at the rest of the room.

“Oh, no problem. What are sisters for, after all?” Darcy smiled. “And, really, ''I'' should be thanking ''you.'' If it hadn’t been for what happened to you, I’d never have met Iphigenia Rose in person—let alone actually had the chance to work with her. This whole thing has opened so many new doors for me, sometimes I feel like I should apologize for taking advantage of you.”

“At least you ''would'' apologize, and probably really mean it,” Dale said. “Iffy is ''amazing,'' but sometimes it feels like everything she does is so…''calculated''. Even when she apologizes for manipulating you, she’s still manipulating you with the apology.”

“’Iffy,’ huh? Cute.” Darcy smirked. “That’s her, to a T. I guess it’s an occupational hazard. You don’t make it as far as she has without scheming becoming second nature.”

“Well, I hope ''you'' don’t ever get that bad. I’d like to think I mean more to you than just a pawn in a game.”

“Oh, you’d never be ''just'' a pawn to me, little sister.” Darcy winked. “Anyway, I should go catch up with my hubby. I’ll try to touch base with you at least one more time before they ship you out.”

“See ya, and thanks again!” Dale waved as Darcy walked away, then sighed and leaned back in her seat. “''Ugh.'' That was…just…”

“Family, am I right?” Ahmed said.

“I think you handled it well, Corporal,” Theodore said.

“Thanks for saying so, but…could I maybe ''please'' have something non-virgin now? Just one? I think I could really use a good stiff drink…even if it’s too sweet and has a stupid umbrella stuck in it.”

Theo chuckled. “After all that, I’d say you’ve earned it.” He raised a hand to catch the attention of a Tina’s waitress. “Oh, miss? Long Island iced tea for my friend here, please?” He glanced at Dale. “On consideration, I think you’d better make it a double.”

“''Thank'' you,” Dale said, with feeling.

=Chapter 14=

''June 27, 121 A.L.'' 
''Fort Oslo''

After an hour or two, the reception wound down, and the three of them made their way out to the parking lot where their RIDEs were waiting to carry them back out to Fort Oslo. A good night’s sleep put the capstone on a full day.

The next couple of days were also pretty busy. They took a few more sessions out on the RIDE training range, joined by Nadene and Mocha for some of them which allowed them to work up two-versus-two RIDE opfor scenarios. As promised, Conway and Jerry came out for a visit, along with Cindy, and were appropriately awed to see both Dale’s medal and Sarabe. Darcy came by as well, bringing the news that Rupert Scoresby was considering a run for one of the chambers of the Man Cave proper the next time a seat opened up. Even without being fully read into what the Sewing Circle had done for him, he recognized the need to strike while the iron was hot.

About the only person who ''didn’t'' visit was Iphigenia Rose. And on reflection, Dale was fine with that. She was grateful for Iffy’s help in getting past the early post-change rough patch, but on the whole, it was probably safest to stay outside her immediate vicinity as much as possible. The woman was like a barely-contained wildfire—immensely powerful and a wonder to behold, but if you got too close, she just might decide to use ''you'' for fuel next.

Eventually, their marching orders came in. A suborbital transport was scheduled to fly them all back to Nextus, to begin the publicity tour on home ground. Dale gathered the idea was to show off the conquering heroes to the folks back home, boost morale, remind them all of what they were fighting for, and so on. From there, they would move on to Uplift, then hop another sub to the west coast and hit the Aloha-to-Cascadia circuit, and eventually wind up by visiting whatever other friendly polities remained. (Nuevo San Antonio was still something of an open question, given that the battles taking place in its territory weren’t exactly making the polity’s government or citizenry fond of either side. It seemed likely a publicity visit would only further annoy them.)

Finally, the morning came when the transport was expected, and Dale woke, freshened up, and headed down to the motor pool. “Morning, Sarabe!” she called cheerfully.

“Morning, Dale,” the leonine trike called back as she approached. “Ready to ship out?”

“Yeah…can’t wait to shake the dust of this place off my feet for a while, as the Good Book says.” Dale straddled the bike and tapped the start button—really just a formality, since Sarabe was more than capable of starting herself.

“Hmm,” Sarabe said. “From my research, that was something the Disciples were supposed to do when they rejected a place entirely, as an abomination before God or some such thing. Do you really feel as bad as all that about Cape Nord?”

“Huh.” Dale thought about that for a moment as they pulled out of the garage. “You know, maybe I don’t. Not really. It’s kind of surprising even to me, but when I think about it, I find I actually did mean what I said in that speech. About not minding living in a Cape Nord that would let me be a woman how ''I'' want to be a woman. So maybe by the time I’m able to come back for a while, I’ll be ''ready'' to come back for a while.” She shrugged. “I guess the place does have its good points.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They pulled onto the airfield to find Theo, Victor, Ahmed, and Katherine already there waiting. Nadene and Mocha were there, too, to see them off Dale supposed. As Sarabe pulled up next to Victor, Dale noticed Theodore was scowling at his comm screen. “Hey, everyone. Something wrong, sir?”

“Wrong? Well, maybe. I don’t know. Look at this.” Theodore showed her the screen.

Dale raised an eyebrow. “Wow, your Man score as high as all that already, sir? That’s impressive.”

“Even with the per-incident cap limiting how much I could get from the kidnapping and medal, I apparently got a lot of points from women who liked what they saw of me at the award ceremony or reception.”

“So what’s the problem? Didn’t you say you wanted to outscore your brother? Or is he still ahead of you?”

“Oh, I’ve passed him by a considerable margin.” Theo scowled at the comm again. “But it was too ''easy!'' I don’t feel any sense of ''accomplishment'' out of it.”

“You only had to get kidnapped by Sturmhaven agents, escape and capture them, and get awarded one of the most prestigious medals in Cape Nord,” Ahmed deadpanned. “Sir.”

“She kind of does have a point, Lieutenant,” Dale said. “As Manly as your brother might be, he’s not a war hero. You’re playing the game on a whole different level now.”

Theodore sighed. “I know. I just…wanted to beat him on ''his'' level.”

“You probably already know you can filter out the point categories that would have been affected by your fame, and just compete on the ones that are left.” Dale shrugged. “But that’s not going to be as simple or satisfying as a single-number overall score, I guess. Have you asked your brother how ''he'' feels about it?”

“He’s proud. And supportive. And…''not'' jealous at all, darn it.” Theodore rolled his eyes. “Well, there goes ''that'' added bit of satisfaction.”

“We can’t always get what we want,” Victor put in.

“I know,” Theo admitted. “And compared to ''your'' problems, mine does seem a bit trivial. It’s just…one of those things, I suppose.”

“It’s ''all'' of our problem, really,” Nadene Garland said from Mocha’s back, as they walked over to join them. The metallic horse had parts that unfolded to make a saddle with stirrups, and Nadene had been using that feature a lot lately. Apparently she had decided she liked the view from horseback.

Dale raised an eyebrow. “’Our’ problem? You mean…?”

Nadene sighed. “Yes. I’ve finally come to terms with it. I suppose I should thank you for opening my eyes to this, even as I most certainly ''don’t'' thank you for saddling me with an ethical dilemma.”

Mocha snorted. “I guess I’m lucky. ''I'' just get saddled with an ''actual'' saddle.”

“Knowing what you now know, ma’am, would you rather ''not'' know?” Dale asked.

“In some ways? ''Yes.'' Especially given my own role in helping bring this intolerable situation about.” She reached down to pat Mocha’s metal neck. “But, mostly, no. If I ''didn’t'' know, I couldn’t strive to expiate the guilt.”

“It’s only until the end of the war, ma’am,” Ahmed said earnestly. “After that, we can let people know, and they can fix it. Can’t we?”

“I hope so,” Nadene said. “But…I have my doubts. After the war is over, even assuming that we win, we’re going to want a return to something as close to normalcy as we can manage. We’re going to want to forget all the hardship we’ve just been through. We’re ''not'' going to want to be reminded that we just created true artificial intelligence, and then enslaved it. I predict we’ll have a hard time finding anyone willing to listen. Not that I don’t still intend to try.”

“Surely it won’t be ''that'' bad, ma’am,” Theodore protested.

“Are you familiar with the history of the eighteenth-to-twenty-first-century American civil rights movement, Lieutenant?” Nadene asked. “I am. Even after America freed the slaves during the American Civil War, it took ''over a century'' before African-Americans got the same legal rights as everyone else, and decades more after that before most people were willing to ''treat'' them equally. As a race, we’re very good at ‘othering’ people who don’t look like we do.” She snorted. “Just look at how long it took ''me'' to come around, even after the person who ''created'' reticulated intelligence told me I was wrong. If we’re going to gain full equality for all RIDEs, we’re probably looking at a wait closer to ''decades'' than years.”

“Well, ''that’s'' depressing,” Dale said.

“On the bright side, ''we'' don’t physically age,” Sarabe mused. “Well, our bodies may break down, but we can just swap new parts in. So I guess we have plenty of time to wait. Sadly, I can’t say the same for you ‘squishies,’ but then, you lot aren’t the ones with the problem.”

“We are if we have any kind of conscience,” Theo said.

“Then ''use'' that conscience,” Katherine said. “If the brass won’t listen, individual people will. Convince everyone you know that we’re people, and sooner or later we’ll have the majority. Of course, you’ll want to wait ‘til the war ends to do that ''openly,'' but still.”

“I guess if nothing else works, that’s all we can do,” Ahmed said. “We’ll do our best.”

{{separator|k}}

It wasn’t too much longer before the NextusMil suborbital arrived. For all Dale knew, the massive blue-grey Starmaster could have been the exact same sub that had delivered the batch of RIDEs to Fort Brubeck and started the whole thing. She’d have had to check the tail numbers to be sure, and Dale hadn’t memorized the ones on the first plane.

As she slowly rode Sarabe up the ramp, she paused to glance over her shoulder, at the row of mountains on the horizon that enclosed Cape Nord. It had certainly been an eventful few weeks, and even now it was hard to believe it was over and the next phase of her life was beginning.

''But we live and learn,'' she mused. ''We change, we grow, and we move on.'' She looked down at herself and chuckled inwardly. ''And sometimes we change more than we might have even thought was possible.''

'':Going to miss the place?:'' Sarabe asked across their link.

'':I don’t know. Some of the people, sure. All the craziness I’ve just been through, not so much.:'' She twisted the handgrip throttle to start driving forward again. '':But I’m ''really'' glad I found you. Even if how it happened is…not exactly how I would have done it, given the choice.:''

'':I’m glad we found each other, too,:'' Sarabe said. '':When you get right down to it, I lucked out big-time. You…maybe not so much.:''

'':Oh, on balance I think I was more lucky than not.:'' Dale pulled into the cargo bay and moved forward onto square marked out on the floor. Chocks and fastenings rose out of the deckplates to secure Sarabe in place for transport. '':It remains to be seen whether that luck holds. Whether we’re even still alive at the end of the war.:''

'':We can only move forward and keep hoping for the best,:'' Sarabe said. '':And I’ll do my best to keep us both safe out there.:''

Dale patted her dash as she climbed down from the seat. '':I know you will. And so will I.:'' Aloud, she said, “You gonna be all right back here?”

“Oh, sure! Strapped in nice and tight. But you’d better get on up to the pressurized passenger section. Unlike me, you do need to breathe. I’ll just be the voice in your head ‘til we get to Nextus.”

“Works for me. See you when we touch down.” Dale gave her a friendly wave, then headed forward toward the pressurized hatch where the other two humans would already be waiting. ''Next stop, Nextus! ''

''And wherever life takes us from there.''

=Epilogue=

''March 14, 123 A.L.'' 
''Admin Plaza, Nextus''

''I can’t believe this day has finally come.''

Sergeant Dale Combs stood in the middle of a long queue stretching all the way up the sidewalk and then starting to wrap around Admin Plaza. It was actually moving along at a pretty good clip for all its length, as the Admin bureaucrats seemed eager to prove that they hadn’t gotten rusty in the years the Game had been suspended.

Next to Dale was one of her fellow soldiers from the mostly-leonine RIDE infantry division where she and Sarabe had eventually ended up (119th Heavy Infantry, unit motto “Fear Our Roar!”), Corporal Denise Shafters. Denise was assistant quartermaster for their platoon. She wasn’t actually waiting in the line herself, but she had decided to tag along “to keep Sarge company.” Not far away, Denise’s lioness RIDE partner Tamarind was parked next to Sarabe, her huge deuce-and-a-half skimmer truck form dwarfing the smaller command trike. Tamarind’s model had just been introduced in the last year of the war as the successes of earlier RIDE types gave the research branch confidence to expand them into other roles.

“So are you really sure you want to muster out, Sarge?” Denise asked. “Now that the war’s over, we don’t have to fear for our lives anymore.”

“Are you sure you want to stay in, Corporal?” Dale shot back. “Now that the war’s over, we can ''go back to'' our old lives, if we want.”

“Eh…my old life wasn’t all that,” Denise said. “Anyway, I haven’t quite earned enough to buy Tams out yet, and ''no way'' I’m leaving her behind when I go.”

Dale nodded. “Can’t argue with you there. I’d probably be staying in for a while myself, if Sarabe hadn’t found that loophole.” She held up the media tablet she was carrying that had the official form on it, with stamps and seals and signatures in four different colors of digital ink. In fact, the queue they were standing in now was where she would turn it in to finalize her mustering out.

“You’re really giving up all claim to the Accidental Crossride Trust in exchange for her?” The ACT was a trust fund that had been set up in the months that followed Dale’s original “accident,” to provide some extra compensation to those who had found themselves in similar circumstances due to RIDE compatibility.

Dale nodded. “Damned straight I am. And it’s a bargain, too. Sarabe and I sat down and worked it out—the most I could expect to make from that fund, even if I take the payout as an annuity, works out to less than half of Sarabe’s buyout fee. So if I trade that in, in return for a ''free'' buyout, we come out ''way'' ahead.”

“Wow,” Denise said. “Maybe I should’ve ‘mistakenly’ chosen a ''guy'' lion.” They both heard Tamarind’s rumbling purr of laughter over their implants, as both RIDEs were listening in and following along with the conversation.

“I’d never have figured it out without her,” Dale admitted. “She’s the one who’s really into the Game. But the Game needs a human to file the forms in person for the best rewards—so in this, as in most things, we work as a team.”

“Sweet!” Denise grinned. “Of course, even if I ''could'' buy Tams out now, I don’t know if we’d really leave yet. Neither one of us is really sure what to do with ourselves in civilian life anyway…Q mining really doesn’t appeal. And I’d like to make Sarge myself and full quartermaster before we end our military career, so…”

Dale nodded. “If you like where you are right now, no reason to change. And the ‘Mil is still gonna need good people. Just not so many of them.”

“Yeah.” Denise thought about that for a bit, as the line moved a few more steps forward. “Y’know, I dunno if I ever said thanks for the advice you gave me, on talking to and listening to Tams. You got us off on the right foot, right away.”

Dale shrugged. “It’s just the same advice I give anyone. Your RIDE ''should'' be your best friend, because your lives depend on each other in the field.”

“And more importantly, because they’re ''people'' too. Regardless of what the manuals try to say.” Denise shook her head. “I like to think I’d have figured it out on my own, but…”

'':Sometimes it’s hard to pay attention when there’s a war on,:'' Sarabe put in.

'':Thanks from me, too, Sarge,:'' Tamarind put in. '':Not a day goes by I don’t meet someone else that reminds me how good we’ve got it. Word on the grapevine is you’re responsible for them letting us buy out, too.:''

“Oh, now, I wouldn’t go ''that'' far.” Dale chuckled. “That was more a matter of a lot of folks asking for it, not just me.”

'':But you’re the one who talked so many of our partners into seeing us as people, making friends with us, and ''wanting'' to buy us out,:'' Tamarind said. '':So, indirectly…:''

Dale shrugged. “Eh, maybe. I’m not the only RIDE rights advocate, you know. Not by a long shot.” ''Even if I am one of the first ones who’s still around…'' Dale’s thoughts turned once more to her old friends, the ones who’d been with her when the whole thing had started.

Theodore had died the year before, when he and Victor had held a desert pass solo to buy the rest of their platoon time to escape. They’d been blown apart by enemy artillery, and there hadn’t been time to recover their remains before one of the Dry Ocean’s many sandstorms covered them over. But at least Theo wouldn’t have to worry about his brother ever beating his score—by an official act of the Man Cave, any Cape Nord soldier who died heroically in the war would have their Manhood score fixed, posthumously, at infinity minus one, as well as granted True Nordsman status.

Ahmed and Katherine had disappeared not too much later. They had simply been missing from their post when the next watch showed up to relieve them one evening, and hadn’t ever been seen again since. There had been a sort of silver powdery residue found not far from the sentry post, and so they joined a number of other mysterious disappearances that took place under similar circumstances. The upper echelons had been strangely reluctant to discuss those disappearances when asked, but there were a lot of creepy theories going around. On the official rolls, Ahmed was simply marked as AWOL; Dale assumed Katherine was on some list of missing equipment somewhere.

They did still hear from Nadene and Mocha from time to time. Nadene had made Lieutenant Colonel, and was now in charge of one of the fuser nanite research programs, tasked with implementing the crossrider neural rewrite software patches that had been born back in Northcave Psychiatric. She’d also used what small degree of actual influence she had to help push forward the RIDE buyout program herself. It also looked like they would be able to develop workable protocols for repeat crossrides—and she and Gaius had plans to try it out themselves by trading RIDE partnerships when a five-year safety margin had passed since their original changes. (Gaius had gotten a horse RIDE as well, an advance model from one of the first civilian RIDE lines that would be released after the war officially ended.)

Dale wished them all the very best in that, but she’d already long since decided she wouldn’t be changing back even if she could. She was completely comfortable in herself now, and more importantly, she could no longer imagine life without that closeness to Sarabe in it. The RIDE was her other half in every way that counted, and she wasn’t going to give that relationship up. (Though she supposed she might revisit the question if she ever found a boyfriend or husband and they got along well with each other’s RIDE, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards right now.) She anticipated this decision causing some parental friction in a few years once reverse crossing became common, but she’d just burn that bridge when she came to it.

All told, nearly three hundred soldiers had needed emergency (or “convenience”) crossrides over the course of the war. Dale had been in contact with each of them and even struck up some new friendships. A few had proposed some business ventures on mustering out, but Dale and Sarabe had other ideas.

'':You know, I ''am'' glad you found that loophole,:'' Dale sent on a private sideband to Sarabe. '':The only other idea I had was asking Iffy for a loan, and really, I’m glad not to have to.:''

'':Yeah, no joke,:'' Sarabe replied in the same private channel. '':Probably just as well to keep your distance there.:''

'':I do need to see her again, though, once we head back to Cape Nord for a visit. She’s holding onto something for me,:'' Dale said. '':And for you, though you probably don’t know what it is.:''

'':I have some suspicions. But just as well to wait ‘til after the mustering-out to confirm them.:''

“What are ''you'' planning to do now, Sarge?” Denise wondered. “After you leave the ‘Mil and all.”

“Well, we’ve been thinking about that,” Dale said. “I might go back to school, take some classes in psychology and counselling. Because if they’re going to throw open RIDEs to civvies, you just know there are going to be ''thousands'' of poor unfortunates who didn’t read the manual. A good crossride counsellor, especially one with personal experience, might just be able to write their own ticket. Call it my own personal Q rush to get in early on.”

'':Though we might try a little ''actual'' Q mining, too,:'' Sarabe put in. '':You never know, we could strike it rich.:''

“We’ll also be speaking out about RIDE rights…though I’m not too optimistic on that score.” Dale sighed. Early indications were that it was going to be just as Nadene had predicted—people didn’t ''want'' to consider the full implications of RIDE sapience just now. In particular, those who didn’t have direct experience with them were going to be very hard to convince, given how many times humanity had tried and failed to make “true AI” over the centuries.

“Eh, don’t fret ''too'' much,” Denise said. “The more people meet RIDEs, the more people will find out what they ''really'' are, and sooner or later things will go right. I’ve got a good feeling.”

They were approaching the door to the NextusMil building now. Denise yawned and stretched, then said, “Well, I’m gonna head off now, Sarge. If I hurry, I can get a good seat at the ceremonies. ‘Crazy’ Joe Steader is going to give a speech, and you know how rare it is to see one of them in public these days.”

“Maybe less rare now that the war’s over. Enjoy yourself!”

“Enjoy your last few minutes of military life!” Denise waved and headed off. “See ya ‘round, Sarge!” She and Tamarind signed out of the shared comm channel a moment later.

'':Well, here we are, then,:'' Dale sent to Sarabe. '':You’re sure that this form has everything?:''

'':Absolutely. Every single endorsement you need, I tracked ‘em down and you pounced on ‘em,:'' Sarabe sent smugly. '':I’ve spent virtual ''years'' analyzing the Game, getting ready for the day I could play it for real. It was even easier than I expected.:''

'':Maybe you should sign up as a Surrogate.:''

'':It would have to be ''you'' signing up, remember,:'' Sarabe said. '':That pesky requirement to show up “in the flesh.”:''

'':Ugh, right…:'' Dale grimaced. '':Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you do something you’re clearly so good at. It’d be something else we could do for money between the counselling and the mining, right?:''

'':Assuming we end up living here,:'' Sarabe said. '':Which we hadn’t even decided for sure yet.:''

'':Well, we do have to go home to Cape Nord for a while. See the folks, meet Cindy’s new boyfriend…wonder if she’s found a keeper yet. And I’m sure Darcy can’t wait to tell me all about Rupert’s latest political triumphs. But after that…wherever we go is fine with me, as long as you’re there.:''

'':Awww…:''

And finally, they were at the head of the line, stepping up to the teller window with a slot to slide the tablet through. On the other side was a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool Nextus admin ‘crat, even down to the oval interface specs so like the ones Dale had worn to his “funeral.” She glanced down at the tablet, looked again, rubbed her eyes, stared, and tapped out something on the screen of her desktop comm. Her eyes flicked back and forth behind the specs as she read text from the screen, and other text flickered on the specs themselves. Finally, she looked up. “This…seems to be in order,” she said, unable to keep the surprise from creeping into her bureaucratic deadpan voice. “I’ve never actually seen anyone ''use'' a Tertiary Priority Abeyance before. Even most Surrogates never put in that degree of effort.”

“Well, I wanted to be ''sure'' I got it right,” Dale said. “And I did? It ''is'' in order? I can forfeit my claim to ACT F in return for a zero-''mu'' buyout fee on my RIDE?”

“Absolutely. You even qualified for a 50 kilo''mu'' discharge bonus.” The admin tapped three places on the tablet, stamped it with a seal from a rack on her desk, and signed it with a stylus. The form and endorsements disappeared, replaced by several paragraphs of text, and she slid it back across to Dale. “You’re good to go. Be sure to report to the NextusMil maintenance bay for your RIDE’s decommissioning before you leave the polity.”

“Thanks,” Dale told the bureaucrat, taking the tablet and making room for the next person in line. '':Shall we go ahead and get that done? They’re gonna remove every last bit of military gear, you know.:''

'':I told you before, that’s just extra equipment. As long as we’re together, I don’t care about that stuff.:'' Then there was a thoughtful pause.'' :Though, you ''know,'' if you ''do'' want to make it up to me, how’s about stopping at one of those new RIDE mod shops to get a full set of hardlight emitters installed in my shell? Scuttlebutt from those who’ve had them is that they’re amazing…:''

Dale chuckled. '':Sure, why not. We’ll start out civilian life the ''right'' way.:'' She tossed the tablet up and caught it, and walked back up the sidewalk to the parking lot. '':Then we can go find out what that life is really like.:''

'':Works for me, partner!:''

Dale straddled the bike, and she and Sarabe drove off into their new life together.

{{separator|k|'''THE END'''}}

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]][[Category: Robotech_Master]][[Category:Jon Buck]][[Category:Story]][[Category:Lion]][[Category:Wolf]][[Category:Lynx]][[Category:Elk]]

FreeRIDErs (publication order)

2019-12-22T18:23:01Z

Robotech Master: /* 2019 */

This is the publication order of the "main" stories in the FreeRIDErs universe. Feel free to add your story here once it's published.

==2012==
07/22/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Deserted|Deserted]], [[User:Robotech_Master/Merging_Traffic|Merging Traffic]], [[User:Robotech_Master/FreeRIDErs_dircut|FreeRIDErs]] 
07/25/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/All Nighter|Integration Part 1: All Nighter]] 
07/29/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Integrates|Integration Part 2: Integrates]] 
07/31/12 [[User:Robotech Master/RIDEgirls Day Out|Integration Part 3: RIDEgirls' Day Out]] 
08/05/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Dating Games|Integration Part 4: Dating Games]] 
08/08/12 [[User:Robotech Master/N00bs|Integration Part 5: N00bs]] 
08/11/12 [[User:Robotech Master/All Aboard|Integration Part 6: All Aboard!]] 
08/12/12 [[User:Robotech Master/A Meating of the Board|Integration Part 7: A Meating of the Board]] 
08/16/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Meat the Press|Integration Part 8: Meat, the Press]] 
08/16/12 [[User:Jetfire/Aloha|Aloha]] 
08/19/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Stockholm Vacation|Integration Part 9: Stockholm Vacation]] 
08/22/12 [[User:Jetfire/Splashdown|Splashdown]] 
08/22/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Spaceflight of Fancy|Integration Part 10: Spaceflight of Fancy]] 
08/24/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Rochelle Rufia|Rochelle & Rufia: R&R]] 
08/26/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Slightly Foxed|Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed]] 
08/27/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Citizen Katie|Integration Part 11: Citizen Katie]] 
08/31/12 [[Turnover]] 
09/01/12 [[User:Robotech Master/The Crew|Integration Part 12: The Crew]] 
09/02/12 [[User:Jetfire/Astra-naught|Astra-naught]] 
09/08/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Cat's Paw]] 
09/08/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Kaylee Anny|Integration Part 13: Kaylee & Anny]] 
09/14/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Viral Thief]] 
09/16/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Assault Batteries|Integration Part 14: Assault and Batteries]] 
09/17/12 [[User:Jetfire/The_Lady_of_the_Tiger|The Lady of the Tiger]] 
09/22/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Multimillion Vault]] 
10/04/12 [[User:Jetfire/Cave_of_Wonders|Cave of Wonders]] 
10/07/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Task of Amontillado|Integration Part 15: The Task of Amontillado]] 
10/09/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/More Foxed|Longer Fused, More Foxed]] 
10/14/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Integrate Raids|Integration Part 16: The Integrate Raids]] 
10/18/12 [[User:JonBuck/Marshals|Marshals]] 
10/21/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Kandace Jenni Friendship|Kandace and Jenni: A Beautiful Friendship]] 
10/26/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Family Matters|Integration Part 17: Family Matters]] 
11/14/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Many Meetings|Integration Part 18: Many Meetings]] 
12/13/12 [[User:Jetfire/Sum of Their Parts|Sum of Their Parts]], [[User:Jetfire/Walkabout|Walkabout]] 
12/15/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Meetings Completing|Integration Part 19: Meetings Completing]] 
12/23/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Prodigals|Integration Part 20: Prodigals]] 
12/31/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Enemy Lines|Integration Part 21: Enemy Lines]]

==2013==
01/22/13 [[User:JonBuck/Fly With Me|Fly With Me]] 
01/29/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/jeanette-lioness|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Second-Hand Lioness]] 
02/01/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Alpha Strike|Integration Part 22: Alpha Strike]] 
02/13/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Universe of Battle|Integration Part 23: Universe of Battle]] 
02/19/13 [[User:Robotech Master/What Happened Mouse|Integration Part 24: What Happened to the Mouse?]] 
02/23/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/Rochelle Rufia Redux|Rochelle & Rufia Redux: Foxing About]] 
02/27/13 [[User:Robotech Master/The Big Date|Integration Part 25 (Epilogue): The Big Date]] 
03/24/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Impossible Things|Impossible Things]] 
04/23/13 [[User:Jetfire/All_Spark_Bulletin|All Spark Bulletin]] 
04/30/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Aloha Stonegates|Aloha, Stonegates!]], [[User:Robotech Master/Skunked|Skunked!]] 
06/03/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Paws Up|Paws Up!]] 
06/24/13 [[User:Jetfire/Spies_Among_Us|Spies Among Us]] 
08/27/13 [[User:Robotech Master/A Wolf at the Door|Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door]] 
09/15/13 [[Taking the Plunge]] 
09/24/13 [[User:Jetfire/Broken_Crown|Broken Crown]] 
10/06/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Spotted Stowaway|Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway]], [[User:Robotech Master/Saints Marching|The Saints Go Marching In]] 
11/17/13 [[User:Claude_LeChat/Alpha Camp|Alpha Camp]] 
11/22/13 [[User:Claude LeChat/Return to Alpha Camp|Return to Alpha Camp]] 
12/03/13 [[User:Jetfire/Spacer_Oddity| A Spacer Oddity]] 
12/08/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/A_Fritzmas_Carol|A Fritzmas Carol]] 
12/20/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Yield Ahead|Merging Traffic II: Yield Ahead]] 
12/22/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Good Bad Fritzy|The Good, the Bad, and the Fritzy]] 
12/26/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Family Lynx|Family Lynx]]

==2014==
01/11/14 [[User:Robotech Master/A_Wolf_in_Sheep's_Clothing|Wolves in the Fold, Part Two: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing]] 
01/13/14 [[User:Jetfire/Spice Girls|Spice Girls]] 
01/18/14 [[User:Robotech Master/The General|The General]] 
01/30/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Greatest Show|The Greatest Show]] 
02/09/14 [[User:Robotech Master/GI Joe|G.I. Joe]] 
02/12/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Joseph_Life|Joseph Steader, This is Your Life!]] 
02/12/14 [[User:Jetfire/Cat_Scratch_Fever|Cat Scratch Fever]] 
02/14/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Pride Lioness|Pride of Lioness]] 
02/19/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/shell_game|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Prologue: Shell Game]] 
03/02/14 [[User:Jetfire/Rescue_911|Rescue 911]] 
03/13/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Where_Everybody_Knows_Your_Name|Where Everybody Knows Your Name]] 
03/15/14 [[User:Jetfire/In_Space|In Space...]] 
03/16/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Kevin De-Claude|Kevin, De-Claude]] 
03/23/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Final Countdown|The Final Countdown]] 
05/10/14 [[User:Robotech Master/youngguns|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Young Guns]] 
06/15/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_uplift|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter One: Uplift and the Tunnel]] 
07/12/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Totalia Prelude|Return to Totalia, Part One: Prelude]] 
07/24/14 [[User:Jetfire/The_Touch|The Touch]] 
10/22/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Dog Day Morning|Dog Day Morning]] 
11/15/14 [[User:Robotech Master/When the Lady Smiles|Merging Traffic III: When the Lady Smiles]]

==2015==
01/27/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Ride_Sally|Marshals: Beginnings, Episode One: Ride, Sally]] 
01/27/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Reaping_the_Whirlwind|Marshals: Beginnings, Episode Two: Reaping the Whirlwind]] 
04/21/15 [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Visitors|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part One: Visitors]] 
04/21/15 [[User:Jetfire/The_Power|The Power]] 
05/16/15 [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Clementine|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part Two: Clementine]] 
06/16/15 [[User:Jetfire/United_Way|United Way]] 
06/17/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Parallels Fleet|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part Three: The Fleet]] 
07/06/15 [[User:JonBuck/FADE IN|FADE IN]] and [[User:Robotech_Master/Tick Tock Tick|Tick Tock Tick]] 
12/09/15 [[User:Claude LeChat/The Wolf and the Father|The Wolf and the Father]]

==2016==
01/07/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/Darling_Clementine|Oh My Darling Clementine]] 
01/26/16 [[User:Jetfire/All_Hell_Breakin_Loose|All Hell's Breakin' Loose]] 
01/28/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/ANGLE ON|ANGLE ON]] 
01/29/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/DISSOLVE TO|DISSOLVE TO]] 
02/19/16 [[User:Claude LeChat/Imperfect Coupling|Imperfect Coupling]], [[User:Robotech Master/Cold and Wet Nose for News|Cold and Wet Nose for News]] 
04/07/16 [[User:Jetfire/Riding_The_Eye_of_the_Storm |Riding the Eye of the Storm]] 
12/13/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_nuevosan|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter Two: Nuevo San Antonio]], [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_sturmhaven|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter Three: Sturmhaven]]

==2017==
06/26/17 [[User:Robotech_Master/reindeergames|Jeanette, Tamarind, and the Young Guns: Reindeer Games]] 
09/09/17 [[User:Robotech Master/Interchange Ahead|Merging Traffic IV: Interchange Ahead]] and [[User:Robotech Master/Raising Ruth|Raising Ruth]] 

==2018==
07/22/18 [[User:Robotech Master/A Dash from the Past|A Dash from the Past]] 
08/12/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Immigrant Song|Immigrant Song]] 
08/12/18 [[User:Jetfire/iron_hand_in_a_velvet_glove|Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove]] 
09/08/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Dressed for Success|Dressed for Success]] 
09/15/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Thank You for the Music|Thank You for the Music]] and [[User:Robotech Master/Head Over Heels|Head Over Heels]] 
09/17/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Warm Welcome|Warm Welcome]] 
09/19/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back|Welcome (Back) to the Real World]] 
10/03/18 [[User:Jetfire/Slow_Boat|Slow Boat to Zharus]] 
12/03/18 [[User:Robotech_Master/Hello, KITTy|Hello, KITTy]] 

==2019==
03/23/19 [[User:Robotech Master/Cougar Town|Cougar Town]], [[User:Robotech Master/Down on the Farm|Down on the Farm]], [[User:Robotech Master/A Cougar Comes to Town|A Cougar Comes to Town]], [[User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight|Play the Game Tonight]] 
12/22/19 [[User:Robotech Master/First Deployment|First Deployment]]

FreeRIDErs (publication order)

2019-12-22T18:22:31Z

Robotech Master: /* 2019 */ whoops

This is the publication order of the "main" stories in the FreeRIDErs universe. Feel free to add your story here once it's published.

==2012==
07/22/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Deserted|Deserted]], [[User:Robotech_Master/Merging_Traffic|Merging Traffic]], [[User:Robotech_Master/FreeRIDErs_dircut|FreeRIDErs]] 
07/25/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/All Nighter|Integration Part 1: All Nighter]] 
07/29/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Integrates|Integration Part 2: Integrates]] 
07/31/12 [[User:Robotech Master/RIDEgirls Day Out|Integration Part 3: RIDEgirls' Day Out]] 
08/05/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Dating Games|Integration Part 4: Dating Games]] 
08/08/12 [[User:Robotech Master/N00bs|Integration Part 5: N00bs]] 
08/11/12 [[User:Robotech Master/All Aboard|Integration Part 6: All Aboard!]] 
08/12/12 [[User:Robotech Master/A Meating of the Board|Integration Part 7: A Meating of the Board]] 
08/16/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Meat the Press|Integration Part 8: Meat, the Press]] 
08/16/12 [[User:Jetfire/Aloha|Aloha]] 
08/19/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Stockholm Vacation|Integration Part 9: Stockholm Vacation]] 
08/22/12 [[User:Jetfire/Splashdown|Splashdown]] 
08/22/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Spaceflight of Fancy|Integration Part 10: Spaceflight of Fancy]] 
08/24/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Rochelle Rufia|Rochelle & Rufia: R&R]] 
08/26/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Slightly Foxed|Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed]] 
08/27/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Citizen Katie|Integration Part 11: Citizen Katie]] 
08/31/12 [[Turnover]] 
09/01/12 [[User:Robotech Master/The Crew|Integration Part 12: The Crew]] 
09/02/12 [[User:Jetfire/Astra-naught|Astra-naught]] 
09/08/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Cat's Paw]] 
09/08/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Kaylee Anny|Integration Part 13: Kaylee & Anny]] 
09/14/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Viral Thief]] 
09/16/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Assault Batteries|Integration Part 14: Assault and Batteries]] 
09/17/12 [[User:Jetfire/The_Lady_of_the_Tiger|The Lady of the Tiger]] 
09/22/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Multimillion Vault]] 
10/04/12 [[User:Jetfire/Cave_of_Wonders|Cave of Wonders]] 
10/07/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Task of Amontillado|Integration Part 15: The Task of Amontillado]] 
10/09/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/More Foxed|Longer Fused, More Foxed]] 
10/14/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Integrate Raids|Integration Part 16: The Integrate Raids]] 
10/18/12 [[User:JonBuck/Marshals|Marshals]] 
10/21/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Kandace Jenni Friendship|Kandace and Jenni: A Beautiful Friendship]] 
10/26/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Family Matters|Integration Part 17: Family Matters]] 
11/14/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Many Meetings|Integration Part 18: Many Meetings]] 
12/13/12 [[User:Jetfire/Sum of Their Parts|Sum of Their Parts]], [[User:Jetfire/Walkabout|Walkabout]] 
12/15/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Meetings Completing|Integration Part 19: Meetings Completing]] 
12/23/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Prodigals|Integration Part 20: Prodigals]] 
12/31/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Enemy Lines|Integration Part 21: Enemy Lines]]

==2013==
01/22/13 [[User:JonBuck/Fly With Me|Fly With Me]] 
01/29/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/jeanette-lioness|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Second-Hand Lioness]] 
02/01/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Alpha Strike|Integration Part 22: Alpha Strike]] 
02/13/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Universe of Battle|Integration Part 23: Universe of Battle]] 
02/19/13 [[User:Robotech Master/What Happened Mouse|Integration Part 24: What Happened to the Mouse?]] 
02/23/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/Rochelle Rufia Redux|Rochelle & Rufia Redux: Foxing About]] 
02/27/13 [[User:Robotech Master/The Big Date|Integration Part 25 (Epilogue): The Big Date]] 
03/24/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Impossible Things|Impossible Things]] 
04/23/13 [[User:Jetfire/All_Spark_Bulletin|All Spark Bulletin]] 
04/30/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Aloha Stonegates|Aloha, Stonegates!]], [[User:Robotech Master/Skunked|Skunked!]] 
06/03/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Paws Up|Paws Up!]] 
06/24/13 [[User:Jetfire/Spies_Among_Us|Spies Among Us]] 
08/27/13 [[User:Robotech Master/A Wolf at the Door|Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door]] 
09/15/13 [[Taking the Plunge]] 
09/24/13 [[User:Jetfire/Broken_Crown|Broken Crown]] 
10/06/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Spotted Stowaway|Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway]], [[User:Robotech Master/Saints Marching|The Saints Go Marching In]] 
11/17/13 [[User:Claude_LeChat/Alpha Camp|Alpha Camp]] 
11/22/13 [[User:Claude LeChat/Return to Alpha Camp|Return to Alpha Camp]] 
12/03/13 [[User:Jetfire/Spacer_Oddity| A Spacer Oddity]] 
12/08/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/A_Fritzmas_Carol|A Fritzmas Carol]] 
12/20/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Yield Ahead|Merging Traffic II: Yield Ahead]] 
12/22/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Good Bad Fritzy|The Good, the Bad, and the Fritzy]] 
12/26/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Family Lynx|Family Lynx]]

==2014==
01/11/14 [[User:Robotech Master/A_Wolf_in_Sheep's_Clothing|Wolves in the Fold, Part Two: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing]] 
01/13/14 [[User:Jetfire/Spice Girls|Spice Girls]] 
01/18/14 [[User:Robotech Master/The General|The General]] 
01/30/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Greatest Show|The Greatest Show]] 
02/09/14 [[User:Robotech Master/GI Joe|G.I. Joe]] 
02/12/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Joseph_Life|Joseph Steader, This is Your Life!]] 
02/12/14 [[User:Jetfire/Cat_Scratch_Fever|Cat Scratch Fever]] 
02/14/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Pride Lioness|Pride of Lioness]] 
02/19/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/shell_game|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Prologue: Shell Game]] 
03/02/14 [[User:Jetfire/Rescue_911|Rescue 911]] 
03/13/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Where_Everybody_Knows_Your_Name|Where Everybody Knows Your Name]] 
03/15/14 [[User:Jetfire/In_Space|In Space...]] 
03/16/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Kevin De-Claude|Kevin, De-Claude]] 
03/23/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Final Countdown|The Final Countdown]] 
05/10/14 [[User:Robotech Master/youngguns|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Young Guns]] 
06/15/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_uplift|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter One: Uplift and the Tunnel]] 
07/12/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Totalia Prelude|Return to Totalia, Part One: Prelude]] 
07/24/14 [[User:Jetfire/The_Touch|The Touch]] 
10/22/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Dog Day Morning|Dog Day Morning]] 
11/15/14 [[User:Robotech Master/When the Lady Smiles|Merging Traffic III: When the Lady Smiles]]

==2015==
01/27/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Ride_Sally|Marshals: Beginnings, Episode One: Ride, Sally]] 
01/27/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Reaping_the_Whirlwind|Marshals: Beginnings, Episode Two: Reaping the Whirlwind]] 
04/21/15 [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Visitors|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part One: Visitors]] 
04/21/15 [[User:Jetfire/The_Power|The Power]] 
05/16/15 [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Clementine|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part Two: Clementine]] 
06/16/15 [[User:Jetfire/United_Way|United Way]] 
06/17/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Parallels Fleet|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part Three: The Fleet]] 
07/06/15 [[User:JonBuck/FADE IN|FADE IN]] and [[User:Robotech_Master/Tick Tock Tick|Tick Tock Tick]] 
12/09/15 [[User:Claude LeChat/The Wolf and the Father|The Wolf and the Father]]

==2016==
01/07/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/Darling_Clementine|Oh My Darling Clementine]] 
01/26/16 [[User:Jetfire/All_Hell_Breakin_Loose|All Hell's Breakin' Loose]] 
01/28/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/ANGLE ON|ANGLE ON]] 
01/29/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/DISSOLVE TO|DISSOLVE TO]] 
02/19/16 [[User:Claude LeChat/Imperfect Coupling|Imperfect Coupling]], [[User:Robotech Master/Cold and Wet Nose for News|Cold and Wet Nose for News]] 
04/07/16 [[User:Jetfire/Riding_The_Eye_of_the_Storm |Riding the Eye of the Storm]] 
12/13/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_nuevosan|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter Two: Nuevo San Antonio]], [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_sturmhaven|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter Three: Sturmhaven]]

==2017==
06/26/17 [[User:Robotech_Master/reindeergames|Jeanette, Tamarind, and the Young Guns: Reindeer Games]] 
09/09/17 [[User:Robotech Master/Interchange Ahead|Merging Traffic IV: Interchange Ahead]] and [[User:Robotech Master/Raising Ruth|Raising Ruth]] 

==2018==
07/22/18 [[User:Robotech Master/A Dash from the Past|A Dash from the Past]] 
08/12/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Immigrant Song|Immigrant Song]] 
08/12/18 [[User:Jetfire/iron_hand_in_a_velvet_glove|Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove]] 
09/08/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Dressed for Success|Dressed for Success]] 
09/15/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Thank You for the Music|Thank You for the Music]] and [[User:Robotech Master/Head Over Heels|Head Over Heels]] 
09/17/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Warm Welcome|Warm Welcome]] 
09/19/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back|Welcome (Back) to the Real World]] 
10/03/18 [[User:Jetfire/Slow_Boat|Slow Boat to Zharus]] 
12/03/18 [[User:Robotech_Master/Hello, KITTy|Hello, KITTy]] 

==2019==
03/23/19 [[User:Robotech Master/Cougar Town|Cougar Town]], [[User:Robotech Master/Down on the Farm|Down on the Farm]], [[User:Robotech Master/A Cougar Comes to Town|A Cougar Comes to Town]], [[User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight|Play the Game Tonight]] 
12/21/19 [[User:Robotech Master/First Deployment|First Deployment]]

FreeRIDErs (publication order)

2019-12-22T18:22:05Z

Robotech Master: /* 2019 */ linking the nextie!

This is the publication order of the "main" stories in the FreeRIDErs universe. Feel free to add your story here once it's published.

==2012==
07/22/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Deserted|Deserted]], [[User:Robotech_Master/Merging_Traffic|Merging Traffic]], [[User:Robotech_Master/FreeRIDErs_dircut|FreeRIDErs]] 
07/25/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/All Nighter|Integration Part 1: All Nighter]] 
07/29/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Integrates|Integration Part 2: Integrates]] 
07/31/12 [[User:Robotech Master/RIDEgirls Day Out|Integration Part 3: RIDEgirls' Day Out]] 
08/05/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Dating Games|Integration Part 4: Dating Games]] 
08/08/12 [[User:Robotech Master/N00bs|Integration Part 5: N00bs]] 
08/11/12 [[User:Robotech Master/All Aboard|Integration Part 6: All Aboard!]] 
08/12/12 [[User:Robotech Master/A Meating of the Board|Integration Part 7: A Meating of the Board]] 
08/16/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Meat the Press|Integration Part 8: Meat, the Press]] 
08/16/12 [[User:Jetfire/Aloha|Aloha]] 
08/19/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Stockholm Vacation|Integration Part 9: Stockholm Vacation]] 
08/22/12 [[User:Jetfire/Splashdown|Splashdown]] 
08/22/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Spaceflight of Fancy|Integration Part 10: Spaceflight of Fancy]] 
08/24/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Rochelle Rufia|Rochelle & Rufia: R&R]] 
08/26/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Slightly Foxed|Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed]] 
08/27/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Citizen Katie|Integration Part 11: Citizen Katie]] 
08/31/12 [[Turnover]] 
09/01/12 [[User:Robotech Master/The Crew|Integration Part 12: The Crew]] 
09/02/12 [[User:Jetfire/Astra-naught|Astra-naught]] 
09/08/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Cat's Paw]] 
09/08/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Kaylee Anny|Integration Part 13: Kaylee & Anny]] 
09/14/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Viral Thief]] 
09/16/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Assault Batteries|Integration Part 14: Assault and Batteries]] 
09/17/12 [[User:Jetfire/The_Lady_of_the_Tiger|The Lady of the Tiger]] 
09/22/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Multimillion Vault]] 
10/04/12 [[User:Jetfire/Cave_of_Wonders|Cave of Wonders]] 
10/07/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Task of Amontillado|Integration Part 15: The Task of Amontillado]] 
10/09/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/More Foxed|Longer Fused, More Foxed]] 
10/14/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Integrate Raids|Integration Part 16: The Integrate Raids]] 
10/18/12 [[User:JonBuck/Marshals|Marshals]] 
10/21/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Kandace Jenni Friendship|Kandace and Jenni: A Beautiful Friendship]] 
10/26/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Family Matters|Integration Part 17: Family Matters]] 
11/14/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Many Meetings|Integration Part 18: Many Meetings]] 
12/13/12 [[User:Jetfire/Sum of Their Parts|Sum of Their Parts]], [[User:Jetfire/Walkabout|Walkabout]] 
12/15/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Meetings Completing|Integration Part 19: Meetings Completing]] 
12/23/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Prodigals|Integration Part 20: Prodigals]] 
12/31/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Enemy Lines|Integration Part 21: Enemy Lines]]

==2013==
01/22/13 [[User:JonBuck/Fly With Me|Fly With Me]] 
01/29/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/jeanette-lioness|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Second-Hand Lioness]] 
02/01/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Alpha Strike|Integration Part 22: Alpha Strike]] 
02/13/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Universe of Battle|Integration Part 23: Universe of Battle]] 
02/19/13 [[User:Robotech Master/What Happened Mouse|Integration Part 24: What Happened to the Mouse?]] 
02/23/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/Rochelle Rufia Redux|Rochelle & Rufia Redux: Foxing About]] 
02/27/13 [[User:Robotech Master/The Big Date|Integration Part 25 (Epilogue): The Big Date]] 
03/24/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Impossible Things|Impossible Things]] 
04/23/13 [[User:Jetfire/All_Spark_Bulletin|All Spark Bulletin]] 
04/30/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Aloha Stonegates|Aloha, Stonegates!]], [[User:Robotech Master/Skunked|Skunked!]] 
06/03/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Paws Up|Paws Up!]] 
06/24/13 [[User:Jetfire/Spies_Among_Us|Spies Among Us]] 
08/27/13 [[User:Robotech Master/A Wolf at the Door|Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door]] 
09/15/13 [[Taking the Plunge]] 
09/24/13 [[User:Jetfire/Broken_Crown|Broken Crown]] 
10/06/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Spotted Stowaway|Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway]], [[User:Robotech Master/Saints Marching|The Saints Go Marching In]] 
11/17/13 [[User:Claude_LeChat/Alpha Camp|Alpha Camp]] 
11/22/13 [[User:Claude LeChat/Return to Alpha Camp|Return to Alpha Camp]] 
12/03/13 [[User:Jetfire/Spacer_Oddity| A Spacer Oddity]] 
12/08/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/A_Fritzmas_Carol|A Fritzmas Carol]] 
12/20/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Yield Ahead|Merging Traffic II: Yield Ahead]] 
12/22/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Good Bad Fritzy|The Good, the Bad, and the Fritzy]] 
12/26/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Family Lynx|Family Lynx]]

==2014==
01/11/14 [[User:Robotech Master/A_Wolf_in_Sheep's_Clothing|Wolves in the Fold, Part Two: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing]] 
01/13/14 [[User:Jetfire/Spice Girls|Spice Girls]] 
01/18/14 [[User:Robotech Master/The General|The General]] 
01/30/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Greatest Show|The Greatest Show]] 
02/09/14 [[User:Robotech Master/GI Joe|G.I. Joe]] 
02/12/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Joseph_Life|Joseph Steader, This is Your Life!]] 
02/12/14 [[User:Jetfire/Cat_Scratch_Fever|Cat Scratch Fever]] 
02/14/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Pride Lioness|Pride of Lioness]] 
02/19/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/shell_game|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Prologue: Shell Game]] 
03/02/14 [[User:Jetfire/Rescue_911|Rescue 911]] 
03/13/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Where_Everybody_Knows_Your_Name|Where Everybody Knows Your Name]] 
03/15/14 [[User:Jetfire/In_Space|In Space...]] 
03/16/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Kevin De-Claude|Kevin, De-Claude]] 
03/23/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Final Countdown|The Final Countdown]] 
05/10/14 [[User:Robotech Master/youngguns|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Young Guns]] 
06/15/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_uplift|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter One: Uplift and the Tunnel]] 
07/12/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Totalia Prelude|Return to Totalia, Part One: Prelude]] 
07/24/14 [[User:Jetfire/The_Touch|The Touch]] 
10/22/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Dog Day Morning|Dog Day Morning]] 
11/15/14 [[User:Robotech Master/When the Lady Smiles|Merging Traffic III: When the Lady Smiles]]

==2015==
01/27/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Ride_Sally|Marshals: Beginnings, Episode One: Ride, Sally]] 
01/27/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Reaping_the_Whirlwind|Marshals: Beginnings, Episode Two: Reaping the Whirlwind]] 
04/21/15 [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Visitors|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part One: Visitors]] 
04/21/15 [[User:Jetfire/The_Power|The Power]] 
05/16/15 [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Clementine|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part Two: Clementine]] 
06/16/15 [[User:Jetfire/United_Way|United Way]] 
06/17/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Parallels Fleet|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part Three: The Fleet]] 
07/06/15 [[User:JonBuck/FADE IN|FADE IN]] and [[User:Robotech_Master/Tick Tock Tick|Tick Tock Tick]] 
12/09/15 [[User:Claude LeChat/The Wolf and the Father|The Wolf and the Father]]

==2016==
01/07/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/Darling_Clementine|Oh My Darling Clementine]] 
01/26/16 [[User:Jetfire/All_Hell_Breakin_Loose|All Hell's Breakin' Loose]] 
01/28/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/ANGLE ON|ANGLE ON]] 
01/29/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/DISSOLVE TO|DISSOLVE TO]] 
02/19/16 [[User:Claude LeChat/Imperfect Coupling|Imperfect Coupling]], [[User:Robotech Master/Cold and Wet Nose for News|Cold and Wet Nose for News]] 
04/07/16 [[User:Jetfire/Riding_The_Eye_of_the_Storm |Riding the Eye of the Storm]] 
12/13/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_nuevosan|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter Two: Nuevo San Antonio]], [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_sturmhaven|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter Three: Sturmhaven]]

==2017==
06/26/17 [[User:Robotech_Master/reindeergames|Jeanette, Tamarind, and the Young Guns: Reindeer Games]] 
09/09/17 [[User:Robotech Master/Interchange Ahead|Merging Traffic IV: Interchange Ahead]] and [[User:Robotech Master/Raising Ruth|Raising Ruth]] 

==2018==
07/22/18 [[User:Robotech Master/A Dash from the Past|A Dash from the Past]] 
08/12/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Immigrant Song|Immigrant Song]] 
08/12/18 [[User:Jetfire/iron_hand_in_a_velvet_glove|Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove]] 
09/08/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Dressed for Success|Dressed for Success]] 
09/15/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Thank You for the Music|Thank You for the Music]] and [[User:Robotech Master/Head Over Heels|Head Over Heels]] 
09/17/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Warm Welcome|Warm Welcome]] 
09/19/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back|Welcome (Back) to the Real World]] 
10/03/18 [[User:Jetfire/Slow_Boat|Slow Boat to Zharus]] 
12/03/18 [[User:Robotech_Master/Hello, KITTy|Hello, KITTy]] 

==2019==
03/23/19 [[User:Robotech Master/Cougar Town|Cougar Town]], [[User:Robotech Master/Down on the Farm|Down on the Farm]], [[User:Robotech Master/A Cougar Comes to Town|A Cougar Comes to Town]], [[User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight|Play the Game Tonight]]
12/21/19 [[User:Robotech Master/First Deployment|First Deployment]]

FreeRIDErs (setting)

2019-12-22T18:20:44Z

Robotech Master: /* {{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}} */ Linking new story

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}{{DEFAULTSORT:FreeRIDErs (Setting Overview & Story Timeline)}}

{{byline|author=Jon Buck
|user=JonBuck}}

{{byline|author=Robotech_Master
|user=Robotech_Master}}

=={{separator|f|Setting Overview}}==
[[Image:CatGirls.jpg|thumb|300px|Kaylee and Uncia in battle dress, by Marty Salsman (http://martysalsman.deviantart.com)]]In the 25th century, scientists and technicians on the distant colony world of Zharus make a startling breakthrough in energy storage and artificial intelligence, with the aid of "qubitite," a naturally-occurring metamaterial with remarkable quantum properties. The creation of true AI springs from quantum simulations of neural networks based on animals' genetic material that expand to take on true sapience.

Matching these "Reticulated Intelligence" (RI) neural networks with nanotech-composite "Drive Extender" (DE) transforming robotic bodies produces the RIDE: a metallic animal that can transform itself into a vehicle such as a hover-motorcycle (or hover-car or even plane for larger animals), or into an environmentally sealed suit of anthropomorphic-animal body armor to survive the extreme environments of Zharus's deserts, undersea, or even outer space. (Because combining with such a suit goes beyond merely putting it on and involves elements of physical and neural linkage, the act of merging with a RIDE in armor mode is called "Fusing.") Thanks to "hardlight" technology, RIDEs can even be covered with solid holographic fur that feels real to the touch, and even to the RIDE itself.

However, due to their animal basis, Fusing with a RIDE can have consequences for the pilot. In order for them to be neurologically compatible, the pilot has to have similar physical features to the RIDE itself—and the RIDE's nanotech innards are designed to grant those changes. This means that Fusing with RIDEs based on ordinary land mammals will grant the rider their ears and tail (and sometimes more extreme additions such as nose, eyes, or fur).

RIDEs based on further different animals, such as reptiles, birds, or undersea mammals, can produce much extreme changes in their riders that restrict their ability to change back or combine with a different RIDE. And likewise, if the pilot is the wrong gender, the RIDE's nanites will adjust that, too. In most cases of gender or other extreme change, the changed human is unable to safely change back for at least three years.

These RIDEs are used in taming the huge continent of Gondwana, a harsh and often lawless frontier that, unlike the more sedate and longer-settled continent of Laurasia, has many rich resources there for the taking, and a number of city-states occupying the ring of fertile land around the great central desert. In the desert, RIDEs are necessary to live. In the cities, they are urban transportation and playthings of the wealthy and middle-class alike. But even as they are considered mere "equipment" by many, those who know and love them know they are more than that—they are ''people'' too. Will the world come to realize and acknowledge this?

[[Image:Uncia-Harlan-Stein.jpg|thumb|150px|Uncia in battle dress, by Diana Harlan Stein (http://naiadstudios.com)]]In recent years, rumors of a new form of change have been circulating—a combining of rider and RIDE that goes far beyond Fusing. Called "Integration," this combines man and machine into a single gestalt being who can no longer separate—and who are rumored to possess powers far beyond those of mere mortals or RIDEs. It is as yet unclear whether these "Integrates" are to be welcomed or feared—and, indeed, many would place them in the same category as Bigfoot, the Yeti, or the Loch Ness Monster. But these Integrates may be growing tired of keeping to themselves.

And the latest potential threat may very well be the old home world of Earth itself. For fifty years, it has scoffed at the idea that a distant, backward world like Zharus could be the home of so many major technological breakthroughs. But Earth's mind may be changing on that score—and it has long been known for its willingness to reach out and take what it wants.

Welcome to the world of Zharus—and to its denizens. Colonists. Bandits. Miners. Mechanics. ''FreeRIDErs.''

=={{separator|f|Suggested Reading Order}}==

===Robotech_Master's Take===
As this is a shared universe, there could be plenty of jumping-on points. '''The very best way to read it would probably be by publication order,''' since that would give you the same effect as the people who were reading it in real time from the beginning. '''There's a list available [[FreeRIDErs (publication order)|here]].'''

Otherwise, I suggest reading "Deserted", "Merging Traffic", "Rochelle & Rufia: R&R", then "FreeRIDErs", then the first few chapters of "Integration" (and my "Foxed" tales), as those were all written earliest and have most of the earliest setting building in them. Then you can read Jetfire's and the other authors' stories in chronological order, and continue reading "Integration" after that. (Probably should leave "Second-Hand Lioness" until after Integration #21, otherwise some events in the main story could be spoiled.)

I'd suggest to have all of Jetfire's chronologically-earlier stuff read before you get to Integration #14, since that's where some of his characters merge into the storyline. That being said, you could probably just as easily read everything in straight chronological order without missing ''too'' much. Or just pick one writer at random and read his or her works through in order, then pick another one. Once you've read enough, it all starts to make sense together.

Either way, you should read at least some of the stories before you try to dig into the setting background material below the story list on this page. It was mainly written for our own reference and amusement while we built the setting overall, and can be kind of confusing if you come to it without a grounding from the stories in how the world works.

===Claude LeChat's two cents ===

I went a different way myself. ''Deserted'' and ''Merging Traffic'' are of course the mandatory first two, since they introduce the setting and all the most important characters. Then you're free to read e.g. the first three ''Inspecteur Hollins'' stories. But not the fourth, not yet!

Before jumping into the pivotal novel ''Integration'', you'll probably want to read ''FreeRIDErs'', since it provides a crucial bit of background, and possibly ''All Spark Bulletin'', since it's a good introduction to the Munns. But you can't go wrong with any of Jetfire's prequel stories. Fibio's ''Turnover'' will give you a good idea of the spaceship tech in the series, as well as being an emotional story in itself.

Last but not least, ''Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed'' and ''Longer Fused, More Foxed'' fill in a couple of holes in the aforementioned ''Integration'', but you can safely read them afterwards since they're unrelated but for the characters. As for ''Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door'', it makes for a nice "outboard epilogue" to the novel.

Stories that can stand on their own, for readers who aren't familiar with the franchise:

* ''Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway'', but it arguably cheats because it's a spin-off;
* ''As a Woman I RIDE'';
* My own ''Alpha Camp'', if you don't mind minor spoilers for how the conflict of ''Integration'' unfolds.
* Of the newer stories, ''Slow Boat to Zharus'', though you might want to read some of the early stuff first.

=={{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}}==

[[Image:Faught_kaylee_uncia.jpg|thumb|300px|Kaylee and Uncia in battle gear as depicted by David Faught - https://www.facebook.com/DavidFaughtArtist]]Authors may add links to their stories as they happen in chronological order in story time. ("AL" stands for "After Landing," representing the number of years after the colony ships landed in 2350 AD.) For a complete listing of all FreeRIDErs stories, since this list may be updated sporadically, see [[:Category:FreeRIDErs|the FreeRIDErs Category]].

Stories that have been updated to the "Director's Cut" second draft edition are indicated with a '''(DC)''' afterward.

'''66 AL (2416 AD)'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/The General|The General]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''108 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Aloha|Aloha]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''112 AL to 113 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Greatest Show|The Greatest Show]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' with ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''121 AL to 123 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/First Deployment|First Deployment]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/GI_Joe|G.I. Joe]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''122 AL'''

*[[User:Jetfire/Broken_Crown|Broken Crown]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''128 AL'''
*Marshals: Beginnings
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Ride_Sally|Episode One: Ride, Sally]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Reaping_the_Whirlwind|Episode Two: Reaping the Whirlwind]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''129 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Splashdown|Splashdown]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''131 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Astra-naught|Astra-naught]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''132 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Where_Everybody_Knows_Your_Name|Where Everybody Knows Your Name]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''134 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Lady_of_the_Tiger|The Lady of the Tiger]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''133 AL to 138 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Cave_of_Wonders|Cave of Wonders]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''138 AL to 152 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Sum of Their Parts|Sum of Their Parts]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''140 to 141 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Fly With Me|Fly With Me]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

'''143 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Darling_Clementine|Oh My Darling Clementine]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''144 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/A_Fritzmas_Carol|A Fritzmas Carol]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''146 AL'''
*[[User:Hawl/Aloha666|Aloha 666]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]]))''

'''147 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/FADE IN|FADE IN]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''147 AL to 154 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Spice Girls|Spice Girls]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

[[Image:Zane-Harlan-Stein.jpg|thumb|300px|Zane, and the Zane Cane, by Diana Harlan Stein (http://naiadstudios.com)]]'''148 AL'''

'''149 AL'''
* [[User:Jetfire/In_Space|In Space...]] (149 to 156 AL) ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|Jon Buck]])''

'''152 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Pride_Lioness|Pride of Lioness]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''152 to 153 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Walkabout|Walkabout]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/All_Spark_Bulletin|All Spark Bulletin]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Touch|The Touch]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''155 to 156 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Marshals|Marshals]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' with ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

[[Image:Blackmon-KayleeUncia-lines-01.jpg|thumb|300px|Uncia and Kaylee in battle as depicted by Jacob Blackmon - http://prodigyduck.deviantart.com/]]'''156 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/jeanette-lioness|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Second-Hand Lioness]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (begins before "Deserted" and covers all the way through Integration #21)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Deserted|Deserted]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Hawl/Crossrider's Dream|CrossRIDEr's Dream]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Takes place one week after Chapter 5 of Desserted, but is not a story in the Integration Storyline)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Merging_Traffic|Merging Traffic]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Rochelle Rufia|Rochelle & Rufia: R&R]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/FreeRIDErs_dircut|FreeRIDErs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[Turnover]] '' ([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/ANGLE ON|ANGLE ON]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (Concurrent with the first half of ''Integration''.)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/DISSOLVE TO|DISSOLVE TO]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (Concurrent with ''Integration'' #16-#17.)
*Integration
**[[User:Robotech_Master/All Nighter|Part 1: All Nighter]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Integrates|Part 2: Integrates]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/RIDEgirls Day Out|Part 3: RIDEgirls' Day Out]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Dating Games|Part 4: Dating Games]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/N00bs|Part 5: N00bs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/All Aboard|Part 6: All Aboard!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/A Meating of the Board|Part 7: A Meating of the Board]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Meat the Press|Part 8: Meat, the Press]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Stockholm Vacation|Part 9: Stockholm Vacation]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Spaceflight of Fancy|Part 10: Spaceflight of Fancy]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Citizen Katie|Part 11: Citizen Katie]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/The Crew|Part 12: The Crew]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Kaylee Anny|Part 13: Kaylee & Anny]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Assault Batteries|Part 14: Assault and Batteries]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Task of Amontillado|Part 15: The Task of Amontillado]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Integrate Raids|Part 16: The Integrate Raids]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Family Matters|Part 17: Family Matters]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Many Meetings|Part 18: Many Meetings]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Meetings Completing|Part 19: Meetings Completing]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Prodigals|Part 20: Prodigals]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Enemy Lines|Part 21: Enemy Lines]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Alpha Strike|Part 22: Alpha Strike]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Universe of Battle|Part 23: Universe of Battle]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/What Happened Mouse|Part 24: What Happened to the Mouse?]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/The Big Date|Part 25 (Epilogue): The Big Date]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Slightly Foxed|Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place between Part 5 and Part 6 of Integration)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/More Foxed|Longer Fused, More Foxed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place between Part 5 and Part 14 of Integration)
*[[User:Claude_LeChat/Alpha Camp|Alpha Camp]] ''([[User:Claude_LeChat|Claude LeChat]])'' (begins in Part 8 of Integration)
*[[Taking the Plunge]] ''([[User:Kris|Kris]])'' (takes place after Part 8 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Cat's Paw]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place during parts 9-11 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Viral Thief]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place sometime after part 12 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Multimillion Vault]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place after part 12 of Integration)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Kandace Jenni Friendship|Kandace and Jenni: A Beautiful Friendship]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place during/after the end of Part 15 of Integration)
* [[User:Robotech_Master/Rochelle Rufia Redux|Rochelle & Rufia Redux: Foxing About]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (takes place after the end of Part 17 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Integral Assassin]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place during part 23 of Integration)
* [[User:Jetfire/Spacer_Oddity| A Spacer Oddity]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Final Countdown|The Final Countdown]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

'''156 to 157 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Spotted Stowaway|Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (starts before "Deserted"; concludes after "Integration" and the "Stonegates" stories)
* [[User:Robotech Master/Yield Ahead|Merging Traffic II: Yield Ahead]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

[[Image:Cybercats001color.jpg|thumb|300px|Rochelle and Kaylee as interpreted by William Levy (http://williamlevy.deviantart.com/)]]'''157 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Impossible Things|Impossible Things]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Aloha Stonegates|Aloha, Stonegates!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Skunked|Skunked!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Paws Up|Paws Up!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/A Wolf at the Door|Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (with ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]''))
* [[User:Robotech Master/A_Wolf_in_Sheep's_Clothing|Wolves in the Fold, Part Two: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Joseph_Life|Joseph Steader, This is Your Life!]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
* The Gondwana Grand Tour ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
** [[User:Robotech_Master/shell_game|Prologue: Shell Game]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_uplift|Chapter One: Uplift and the Tunnel]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_nuevosan|Chapter Two: Nuevo San Antonio]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_sturmhaven|Chapter Three: Sturmhaven]]
* [[User:Robotech Master/Saints Marching|The Saints Go Marching In]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

* [[User:Claude_LeChat/Return to Alpha Camp|Return to Alpha Camp]] ''([[User:Claude_LeChat|Claude LeChat]])'' (position in timeline is approximate)
* [[User:Robotech Master/Kevin De-Claude|Kevin, De-Claude]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/youngguns|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Young Guns]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Good Bad Fritzy|The Good, the Bad, and the Fritzy]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Family Lynx|Family Lynx]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/Dog Day Morning|Dog Day Morning]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/When the Lady Smiles|Merging Traffic III: When the Lady Smiles]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'')
* [[User:Claude LeChat/Imperfect Coupling|Imperfect Coupling]] (''[[User:Claude LeChat|Claude LeChat]]'')

'''157 to 158 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Totalia Prelude|Return to Totalia, Part One: Prelude]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/reindeergames|Jeanette, Tamarind, and the Young Guns: Reindeer Games]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Jetfire/DragonRIDEr_of_Pharos|DragonRIDEr of Pharos]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (Date fuzzy, sometime after Inties are revealed)

'''158 AL'''
* The Durian Crew
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Immigrant Song|Immigrant Song]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Dressed for Success|Dressed for Success]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Thank You for the Music|Thank You for the Music]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Head Over Heels|Head Over Heels]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Robotech_Master/Tick Tock Tick|Tick Tock Tick]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Spies_Among_Us|Spies Among Us]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Cat_Scratch_Fever|Cat Scratch Fever]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (Starts in 157 AL)
*[[User:Jetfire/Rescue_911|Rescue 911]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* [[User:Jetfire/United_Way|United Way]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels
** [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Visitors|Part One: Visitors]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
** [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Clementine|Part Two: Clementine]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
**[[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Fleet|Part Three: The Fleet]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Cold and Wet Nose for News|Cold and Wet Nose for News]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Robotech Master/A Dash from the Past|A Dash from the Past]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Robotech Master/Interchange Ahead|Merging Traffic IV: Interchange Ahead]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Raising Ruth|Raising Ruth]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back|Welcome (Back) to the Real World]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Jetfire/The_Power|The Power]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/All_Hell_Breakin_Loose|All Hell's Breakin' Loose]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Riding_The_Eye_of_the_Storm|Riding the Eye of the Storm]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

* [[User:Jetfire/iron_hand_in_a_velvet_glove|Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove]]

* ''[[User:Claude LeChat/The Wolf and the Father|The Wolf and the Father]]'' (''[[User:Claude LeChat|Claude LeChat]]'') (takes place after ''Young Guns'')

'''159 A.L.'''

*[[User:Robotech Master/Warm Welcome|Warm Welcome]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' with ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
* Cougar Town (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
** I. [[User:Robotech Master/Cougar Town|Cougar Town]]
** II. [[User:Robotech Master/Down on the Farm|Down on the Farm]]
** III. [[User:Robotech Master/A Cougar Comes to Town|A Cougar Comes to Town]]
** IV. [[User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight|Play the Game Tonight]]
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Hello, KITTy|Hello, KITTy]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Jetfire/Slow_Boat|Slow Boat to Zharus]] (''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

=={{separator|f|FreeRIDErs First Drafts}}==

Since we've started going back and revising the early portions of the story to bring the into line with what we wrote later, we have decided to preserve early drafts when they are changed sufficiently to merit a separate presentation. For most of these (but not "FreeRIDErs"), you can also use the "History" function to see what changed.

*[[User:JonBuck/FreeRIDErs|FreeRIDErs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

HawlSera - I really love writing for FreeRIDErs, it's pretty great, but overtime as my writing skills have evolved and to be truthful, most of the FreeRIDE stories I wrote, were done under the influence of illicit stimulants, which overall I feel had a negative effect on my writing ability. I'm now clean and will be rebooting my FreeRIDE stories. The old "canon", (which honestly failed to work with the overarching canon of FreeRIDE) will be in this section

*[[User:Hawl/Simon Of Cape Nord|Simon Of Cape Nord]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Bob's Origin|Bob's Origin]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/As A Woman I RIDE|As A Woman I RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/At Ace, We RIDE|At ACE, We RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/To Dream, We RIDE|To Dream, We RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/We live to RIDE, We RIDE to Live|We live to RIDE, We RIDE to Live]]''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Nearing The End Of Our RIDE|Nearing The End Of Our RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]]''
*[[User:Hawl/For Victory, For Venars, Together We RIDE!|For Victory, For Venars, Together We RIDE]]'' ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/TWREpilogue:We'll RIDE Again Someday|TWREpilogue:We'll RIDE Again Someday]]
*Cores of Sarium
**[[User:Hawl/Buttercup's Heist|Part 1:Buttercup's Heist]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Takes place during the two days before Part 8 of Integration)
**[[User:Hawl/Ruby Withdrawal|Part 2:Ruby Withdrawal]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/Making a Man Out Of Jamie|Part 3:Making a Man Out Of Jamie]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*Omniverse OverRIDE
**[[User:Hawl/GoKARTers|Part 1:GoKARTers]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Starts in 150 AL, Ends around May 156 AL, about a week or so after FreeRIDErs ends)
**[[User:Hawl/DayOfTheDin|Part 2:Day Of The Din]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/Serve In Hell, Rule In Heaven|Part 3:Serve In Hell, Rule In Heaven]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/In Need Of A Mother|Part 4:In Need Of A mother]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/An_Integrate's_Guide_To_Love|Integrate's Guide To Love]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''

=={{separator|f|Background Material}}==

Due to the huge amount of material, we have moved this to its own page:

[[FreeRIDErs (background material)]]

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]]

User:Robotech Master/First Deployment

2019-12-22T18:18:37Z

Robotech Master: As RIDEs are first deployed for military operations during the Nextus/Sturmhaven War, a young Man from Cape Nord makes a fateful mistake that will change their life forever…

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}

{{title

|name=First Deployment

|author=Jon Buck and Robotech_Master

|user=Robotech_Master}}

{{DEFAULTSORT: First Deployment}}

{{author note|This story can be downloaded in PDF, EPUB, Mobi (Kindle), ODF, and RTF format from [http://www.eyrie.org/~robotech/freeriders/ this website].}} 

=Chapter 1=

''“Fort Brubeck”'' 
''June 7, 121 AL''

The massive blue-gray Starmaster armed transport took up most of the landing pad, which was itself covered by a shimmering hardlight shield. The air had barely cooled to tolerable levels before the Quartermaster sent Corporal Dale Combs and his squadmates in to begin unloading. There were always more transports incoming and limited space to take them, so it was extremely important to get them unloaded fast and the materiel stored right away.

The Quartermaster, Major Divina Lind, glared at the manifest on her tablet. “Corporal Combs, get me the cargomaster. This load isn’t scheduled to be here for another four days.”

“Four days, sir? What’s in it?” Combs asked.

The aft clamshell doors on the transport opened, revealing racks and racks of neat metallic cube-shapes in a half dozen sizes. They were mostly familiar—AIDE power armor/skimmer cycles for individual use. There were suggestions of animal features even in the compact transport mode: paws, feline faces, hooves, and antlers.

“The new RIDEs,” the Major said, tapping her stylus on the tablet. “Now, find him, Corporal. That’s an order. They neglected to include the training materials on the manifest. We were supposed to get those ''first''.”

“Yes, sir!” Combs saluted and scrambled off.

{{separator|k}}

Zharus’s weak magnetic field—barely enough to keep the atmosphere from blowing away in the solar wind—made radio communication dodgy on the best of days. And the ever-present dust in the air made laser comms not much better sometimes. That meant that couriers were the best method for sending any communiques from Command into the field. Fort Brubeck, as the soldiers called it, still had the best comm gear available, but conditions lately had curtailed transmissions.

But the way the Major was grumbling, Dale thought that it was just a Nextus bureaucratic cock-up—BUCU as they called it. Of course, he couldn’t be ''sure'' of that. Dale wasn’t a Nextus native, so didn’t have the encyclopedic knowledge of the rules of the Game that such a person did. But the thought made him chuckle, because he ''was'' intimately familiar with the rules of ''another'' polity’s national pastime. He was from Cape Nord, a volunteer for their armed forces. A Man was often made in war, so here he was.

Though after four years in the service, he was still only a Corporal. There were, he had to admit, ''reasons ''for that. When you got right down to it, like most of the Cape Nord volunteers, he was probably here for the wrong reasons.

These Nextus soldiers were defending their homes and their way of life, and if they blew it their home was going to be a vassal state to a sworn enemy. Knowing they were to be hanged, as the old saying went, concentrated their minds wonderfully, and they went about their duties with a patriotic fervor that made them all the more effective fighters.

But the Nordie boys knew ''they'' weren’t in any danger—Cape Nord didn’t really have much anybody wanted. Even the heavy metal mining that had originally funded the polity was in decline now that it was cheaper to get the stuff in bulk from asteroids. And even if it did, the Valkyries of Sturmhaven would probably have rather let them keep it than deal with the Cape Nord male ego. After all, Sturmhaven had kicked their forebears out and said “good riddance” a long time ago.

Some Nordies were, or at least ''said'' they were, looking for a little payback against the old Mother Country—but almost no one still alive actually had or knew anyone who had directly been wronged by them. Hence, ''most'' were here because, again, Men were often made in war. Then once they got here and found that they actually didn’t ''like'' being in a war, still they stuck around because it was un-Manly to quit. But they didn’t exactly give it their all the way Nextus’s natives did, and the Nextus brass was aware of this.

But having all those warm bodies who didn’t necessarily give fighting their all at least let that brass use them to staff support positions, rear echelons, and garrisons to secure captured territory, so they could send the gung-ho Nextus natives to the frontlines instead. ''Which is how I ended up in this chickenshit outfit,'' Dale reflected ruefully. ''Still, could be worse. Could be on the front lines having my ass shot at.''

Dale’s thoughts turned back to the RIDEs that had just arrived. Now that those gung-ho soldiers on the front lines had been fully equipped with these new Sarium-powered wonder machines, there were finally enough to go around in the rear echelons. But things were always confused in the supply chain when there was a war on, and Dale’s mind went to another acronym passed down from grunt to grunt over the centuries: SNAFU. “Situation Normal: All Effed Up,” Dale muttered.

But still, there might be opportunities to be had in this kind of foul-up. Dale had heard a lot of rumors about those machines through the grapevine—most of them contradictory to others, and some of them crazy enough to make him wonder if ''any'' of them could be true.

One of the things that was ''verifiably'' true was that they gave you animal ears and a tail, for reasons that had never been clearly explained but were apparently accepted by the brass. There was a “conscientious objector” clause written into the Nextus soldier contract so anyone who objected to that kind of body modification could put in for a transfer to a non-combat job, but anyone taking that clause could probably kiss their future military career goodbye. Dale wasn’t terribly optimistic about his own military career anyway, but didn’t have any particular objections to the idea of animal features. He thought he might actually look rather fetching with a pair of wolf ears and tail, or something else Manly like that. ''Maybe a lion or tiger…''

In fact…one of those RIDEs there ''had'' looked like it might be some kind of lion. Perhaps that would bear some further investigation. ''Or maybe ''lion'' the further investigation.'' Dale chuckled at his pun. In any case, it wasn’t likely he’d get his hands on one of those RIDEs for himself any time soon—things like this tended to be reserved for the officers, and then gradually trickle down to enlisted men. But ''maybe'' there was a way around that…

He found the cargomaster at the front of the aircraft, at the rack that held the secure datapacks. They were each the size of a dinner plate, though the chip itself was far, far smaller. It was mostly surrounded by hardware to ensure that the Sturmies couldn’t get to the chip, even if they managed to intercept the courier.

“I know why you’re here, Corporal,” the cargomaster said. “And I don’t have an answer for you. They never tell me what’s on these chips for security reasons. Whatever you’re missing, the Quartermaster will have to send a chip to Command.”

“That’s about what I thought, but I’m just the message boy,” Dale said. “But then, I guess you are too.”

The cargomaster snorted. “Yeah, buddy, ain’t ''that'' the truth.”

“Any idea why this shipment turned up four days early?” Dale asked.

He shrugged. “Feels like a BUCU to me, if anything. If it is, then whoever thought the Game was still on is going to get drummed out of the service.”

Dale grinned. “I don’t know as I’d really complain about something showing up ''early'' for a change. Far too much of the other thing happening these days.”

“Well, you grunts need to get this aircraft unloaded so we can lift and return to MilCentral.”

Dale nodded. “I’ll give the Major the news. See you around, buddy.”

{{separator|k}}

Fort Brubeck—a nickname that had stuck despite the protestations of its owner, famed former interstellar Scout Clint Brubeck—was located over the richest deposit of high-grade qubitite yet known in the Dry Ocean. The deposits being mined were all surface, since nobody had figured out how to use other methods to get the crumbly blue stuff that was far beneath it. But despite this deposit being far underground, the Nextus military knew it was important enough for the future to keep the site garrisoned.

Multiple redundant fusion reactors powered multi-layered hardlight shielding, a half dozen large double pulse cannon turret emplacements, a multitude of smaller ones, underground tunnels, infantry bunkers…Fort Brubeck had it all. Early in the War the tactics had dictated ''enormous ''lifter-powered battleships and smaller craft slinging pulse energy, railgun sabots, and salvos of missiles—more or less an antigravity imitation of oceanic navies—so the Fort naturally needed defense against them. But technology and tactics had changed quickly.

Battles had moved to the east and southeastern Dry Ocean, many thousands of kilometers away, and even on the Coastal Ring between the two warring polities, with little Nuevo San Antonio caught in the middle. That made being assigned to Fort Brubeck a second-rate post at best.

Ordinarily, the operating manuals for all manner of military equipment were available for immediate download from the NextusMil central database. They were indexed and cross-referenced to a fare-thee-well—one of the benefits of a polity where everyone spoke bureaucratese as a second language, Dale supposed. But someone seemed to have dropped the ball on the matter of these RIDEs—there wasn’t a word to be found about them. Apparently they were still classified top-secret, even as every buck private in the field was being given one.

Dale sometimes wondered if the problem might actually stem from the Game being in abeyance because of the war. When it was running, the Game did throw up obstacles for people to hurdle as a matter of course—but from what he’d seen from his outsider’s perspective, the Game processes ''did'' at least ensure that everything got done. Ideally, those processes should have been replaced by ''more streamlined'' processes to get the same thing done—but it seemed like some of them might have slipped through the cracks. ''Whoever’s job it was to come up with the new rules thought it was someone else’s…and so did the someone else, maybe.'' It was at least worthy of an ironic chuckle: When Nextus explicitly tried to minimize the chances of making BUCUs…they made BUCUs ''because'' of it.

At least some of the stories Dale had heard had it that these RIDEs had some kind of expert system on board that would actually ''tell'' you how to work them, so you didn’t really ''need'' documentation. But not only was this the military, this was the ''Nextus'' military. When you’re in the middle of a war, you don’t have time to waste on might-bes, or on trying to figure out how some completely unfamiliar piece of equipment worked if it wasn’t an emergency situation. If the documentation wasn’t ready yet, you ''waited for the documentation.'' That was how the bureaucracy of the military worked.

But privately, Dale was sure ''he'' wouldn’t have any problems. He had a knack for figuring out mechanical gadgets. Hadn’t he learned to use his Chinook and aced the operating exam without once cracking the manual? (After all, reading the instructions wasn’t Manly.) And these RIDE things just sounded like a fancier version of those, so it should be just fine.

He just needed to work out how to phrase his approach to Major Lind so she would give him orders with enough wiggle room to cover a little otherwise-unauthorized experimentation. It would help if he timed the approach for a time when she was as distracted as possible—which would probably need to be within the next half hour, as she was pulled in all directions trying to get all the ''other'' BUCUs involved with this unexpected shipment straightened out.

As he headed back to the edge of the airfield, Dale mentally rehearsed what he was going to say. Knowing what he did about the Major, it was pretty easy to figure out what buttons to push. She was all about ''efficiency,'' which was why this sort of foul-up made her so irritable. All he had to do was couch his suggestion the right way.

Dale found the Major where he’d left her, still glaring at the tablet in her hands. “Sorry, Ma’am, but it was about as expected. The cargo master didn’t know anything about what’s in the shipment, he just carries what he’s given.”

The officer sighed. “Doesn’t that just figure. I’ve already filed a message for the return shipment. Go round up a pallet-jack and take these to storage. We’ll put them toward the front in warehouse 3, and hope they don’t get buried by the time we get the training manuals in.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He turned and started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “You know, ma’am—it’d be a shame to waste the time we have these here. They seem to use the same technology as the bikes we’ve been using. If I had some time to look them over, familiarize myself with them, it might help get a head start on some of the maintenance matters.”

Major Lind didn’t even look up from the tablet. “Sure, go on, familiarize yourself with them. Let me know if you find out anything I should know about.”

“Yes, ma’am. Will do, ma’am.”

Dale felt a ''little'' guilty for taking advantage of Major Lind’s distractibility like that…but only a little. After all, he reasoned, in familiarizing himself with the RIDEs to the point that he, well, ''claimed'' one, he actually ''would'' be saving time in terms of getting up and running with them. Sometimes the Army could be overcautious to the point of self-paralysis, and hey—there ''was'' a war on. Every minute saved counted, right?

Dale dutifully snagged the pallet-jack and trucked the RIDES off to the warehouse as ordered. He made sure to put the lion-ish one in front where it would be easy to access. He’s already decided that one was the one he wanted. He’d come back a little later once his other duties were taken care of, and then he would see.

{{separator|k}}

Dale read the identification plate on the front of the cubic RIDE. “LEO(f)-MCA-002A. Huh.” His assigned Chinook had a similarly nonsensical model designation he hadn’t bothered to learn. He was sure all the letters and numbers had to mean ''something'', because Nextus being Nextus, everything ''always'' meant something…but the documents that would have said ''what'' they meant weren’t available. But they probably weren’t important.

LEO was obviously lion, in any case. The 002A at the end was probably the sequential model number. The rest had no obvious meaning at all.

As for how to activate it…there was something he’d learned as part of the standard training with his Chinook. Some parts of the Dry Ocean could reach near 90 degrees celsius, and in the event the armor mode was damaged and it became necessary to swap out while under fire, there was a physical ‘emergency armor mode’ switch to enable a very fast swap and minimize exposure to the environment. ''If this thing is based off a Chinook, then the switch should be somewhere around…here.''

Dale peered at the innocuous-looking button for a good long time. He knew that if he pressed that button, there would be no going back. The signs that he had activated one of the new RIDE units would be right there, indelible for all to see.

But…he could always claim it had been an accident. He’d just been “familiarizing himself” as ordered, then goofed and pressed the wrong button. They couldn’t blame him for that, right? Could have happened to anyone. And anyway, he’d still be the first one to have gotten his hands on one of the new miracle machines. No matter what they might go to him, they couldn’t take that away from him.

Taking a deep breath, Dale pressed the button.

{{separator|k}}

The next thing Dale was aware of was a rumbly female voice saying, “Corporal Combs is now awake, as ordered.” Dale felt his arms move in a salute, but it wasn’t himself doing it.

He opened his eyes to see five people in the room in front of him—the Major, a doctor from the base infirmary, a woman with a RIDE Research Division patch on her white uniform…and two MPs.

There was also someone else, the first voice who had spoken…but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where they might be. His head might have been filled with sand, as sluggish as his thoughts were.

“Unit Sarabe, keep he…the Corporal sedated,” the doctor ordered.

“Yes, sir!” the voice rumbled.

“Corporal, do you have any idea what you’ve ''done ''to yourself?” Major Lind said from well below eye-level.

“Was just…familiarizing myself with the equipment as ordered, Ma’am…” he mumbled. There seemed to be something off about his voice. Had the RIDE armor suit’s breathing system had helium in it?

“The process is complete, Major,” the base Doctor said. “Vital signs are…normal, given the circumstances.”

“These units should have been locked down for shipping until they were assigned,” the Major tech said. “How did Combs activate one?”

“The emergency Fuse function worked as designed, Major,” the RIDE tech said.

“Why didn’t the unit just spit him out once it sensed things were…wrong?” Major Lind said.

“Locked down or not, that’s what it’s intended for. To save a soldier’s life if there are no other options. We planned for…this type of situation to happen on the battlefield, and the similar system in place on the Ad-I models has saved a number of lives. Though I must admit that it hasn’t happened on the front lines with RIDEs yet.”

“And emergency functions are just supposed to ''work'',” Major Lind said, sighing. “I can’t fault the engineers for that.”

Dale felt he should put in a word in his own defense, given that everyone seemed to be talking about him. “Sorry…must’ve had an accident when I was examining it…” he mumbled, trying to ignore the odd sound of his own voice.

Major Lind shook her head. “Oh, you didn’t have any kind of accident. You didn’t ''accidentally'' open a panel, flip up a safety cover, and press a button marked FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY in big bold letters. Even if I didn’t already know what you were like, I’d have trouble buying that.” Her lips pursed in an ironic smirk. “Well, you’ve seen to your ''own'' punishment, and it will be a ''much'' more fitting one than anything the military can mete out…for a Cape Nord boy.”

Dale didn’t like the sound of that. He tried to move, but something was holding him in place. “Hey, what…lemme out?”

“Major, I don’t recommend removing him from the RIDE unit here,” the doctor said. “The Corporal’s reaction is likely to be…unpleasant.”

Dale ''really'' didn’t like the sound of that. He tried to squirm harder, but he felt the cool hiss of a spray injection against his arm and everything faded to black.

{{separator|k}}

''Fort Brubeck Medical Bay''

''Dissonance''. A body sending signals that didn’t match what Dale’s brain was expecting. The restraints in the hospital bed were necessary, they kept him from tearing at his own body.

''Disassociation''. A face that was-and-wasn’t his. Features softened just enough to be female. But he kept looking behind the face in the mirror to find his actual one. There were…breasts. Barely there, but present. And down below was…was—

Before the panic could take hold again the autodoc applied a mild sedative. Dale sighed and let his mind float.

He was ''technically'' a woman now, where it counted. Yet when he tried to think about that for more than a few seconds his brain filled with a white noise that blocked out all rational thought. So the restraints were sadly necessary.

His doctors had put a sensor-laden skullcap on him for “data collection”, and promised they would return soon with results and recommended treatment. It’d only been…Dale looked at the clock on the wall. ''Half an hour. Ugh! Just knock me out again!''

The doctor entered the room, tablet in hand. “Well, Corporal. I’ll give it to you straight. We have to fix your brain so it matches your body, and the only specialists who know how to do that are in Cape Nord.”

“Cape…Nord.” Dale’s stomach fell into his feet. Of course, Cape Nord did have some experience here. Starting with the popular author Iphigenia Rose, who eight years before had been exposed as a Man on the verge of becoming a True Nordsman. He had very publically been “unManned” then went right back to writing and selling books. There had been a dozen more since then. To all appearances, these unManned were well-adjusted and happy as women. A couple had even given birth.

“We’re going to ship you out to a clinic there in the next hour, Corporal. So just hold on a little longer.”

Dale tried to clear her throat before speaking. “Can you at least knock me out until they do whatever it is they do?”

“Of course, Corporal.” The doctor leaned over and did something to the IV drip. “You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up. Like a new woman.”

''That’s just what I’m afraid of,'' Dale thought as she drifted away again.

=Chapter 2=

''Cape Nord'' 
''Northcave Psychiatric Hospital'' 
''June 11, 121 AL''

It was morning. Dale lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, part of which flashed, waiting for any media requests from her. The previous night had been…easier than the one before. She hadn’t rolled over. Yesterday she’d had sore breasts for half the day. Small though they were, she’d still somehow managed to irritate them.

''It’s very important to establish new body habits and routines,'' Dale thought, repeating to herself what the therapist had said yesterday. She could look at herself in the mirror without screaming. She could look ''down'' at herself without feeling an overwhelming terror. It was new. It was all so very ''new''. But at the same time it was just…her body. ''Establish ‘normalcy’ she said.''

For all of that, she had to admit she was really fortunate, in a number of ways. Given the mess she’d—he’d—the mess ''Dale had caused'' with their little adventure, she’d expected an approximate military law library to be thrown in her direction. But to her surprise, she’d been offered a deal.

“What ‘happened’ to you will happen to other soldiers on the front lines,” Major Lind said, using the dreaded air quotes. “We don’t currently have a baseline case in your…situation. This troubles the brass, and when something troubles the brass, they make themselves feel better by throwing money at intensive research projects. Especially when a perfect test subject ''so'' enthusiastically volunteers.

“So, for your sins, you’re going to get the best medical treatment money can buy, with an army of observers watching over you, a battery of psychologists testing you, and reams of data being generated about your every move and thought. If you don’t like it, well, we can always court-martial you.”

Dale might have been dense, but she wasn’t ''stupid''. “Uh…I like it, ma’am! I like it very much!”

“I thought that you would. This little escapade notwithstanding, you always struck me as the sensible sort.”

So, not only was she ''not'' being court-martialed, she was being given a cushy non-battlefield duty station'' in her own home polity''. Most of those ambivalent Cape Nord volunteers would have'' killed'' for a posting like this.

''But how many of them,'' she wondered darkly, ''would have given up their Manhood?''

She spent longer in the shower than she really needed to, then some time with a hand mirror looking at anatomy that couldn’t be seen another way, as prescribed by her therapists. Then she got dressed, taking a few minutes with the bra, before putting on the new labcoat-white Research Division enlisted uniform.

The biosculpt system built into the RIDE had been very basic. Other than the gross soft tissue changes required to make her physically female, there had been little effort expended to change the rest. By Cape Nord standards she was homely and very masculine. Her brown hair was still short enough to not need much combing—fairly ironic, given her surname.

Dale was the same height and weight, with fatty tissue moved around in places, fairly flat-chested, barely any curve to her hips, and had an androgynous voice. Famed romance novelist Iphigenia Rose, the very first to undergo the same process that had changed Dale, had looked much the same halfway through her change, according to the old video they’d shown Dale as part of her therapy. Then she’d gone back into the chamber for further sculpting. By the same token, there were biosculpt kiosks practically on every street corner that could make Dale into the very flower of Cape Nord femininity, much as Rose had been by the time she’d been through. Dale supposed she might go ahead with that at some point, but just getting used to ''this'' change seemed like more than enough to be getting on with right now.

On the schedule today were a battery of physical tests, including hours in a skullcap making any needed adjustments to her brain. After all the physical tests came the therapy sessions. There was a near-term goal to start getting her out in public, because the resocialization aspect was of “extreme importance” as the therapists said.

There was also the matter of how to tell Dale’s immediate family. Her situation was still secret—she was here under a different name (”Raine Wilson”) for the time being. But they also needed data ''fast'', since RIDEs were being deployed in greater numbers increased the chance of an actual battlefield “crossride” as they called it. She even understood that her very own RIDE—the one she’d activated at the start of this mess—was in storage awaiting her attention, because how she related to the RIDE now was another important element of the study. But they’d be saving that part for later.

She strolled down the hospital corridor to the scanning room. This being Cape Nord, the nurses were all women. But it wasn’t just her butch looks that set her apart from them. It was the leonine ears and tufted tail.

The ears and tail that felt more normal than the breasts and vagina.

“Corporal Wilson, please have a seat in the scanner,” Dr. Pollard said. “We’ve modified the seat for your tail.”

“I almost forgot I had it,” Dale said. The Fusers had re-wired her brain for the new limb and the ears, but ''not'' the rest. It seemed like a ''bit'' of an oversight. She took her seat as requested, and the scanner technician did something on his control panel.

The doctor studied the display for a few moments, then nodded. “Mm. Good. The neural re-patterning is proving to be precisely as stable as in the other cases. Three days and no sign of any deterioration or reversion—and if there were to be such, we should have seen it by now.”

“That’s great, Doc, but will I be able to play the piano?”

Dr. Pollard raised his eyebrow. “Could you before?”

“Heh. No. Just being a smart alec, Doc.”

“I’ve heard that particular joke at ''least'' thirty-seven times. I suppose if nothing else, that proves you’re from here. You still have the Manly sense of humor. Or lack thereof.” He chuckled. “Regardless of whether you can play the piano, there’s another hobby you might consider taking up. You have a couple of visitors today who might be interested in discussing sewing.”

“…ah.” Dale had been wondering when that would come up. There was a collection of women’s social clubs all across Cape Nord, loosely referred to by the collective name “The Sewing Circle.” They gave women an excuse to get out of the house, or have others over to visit them. Pretty much every woman who was married to anyone in Cape Nord was a member, but Dale’s mother harbored a long-standing grudge because she’d never been able to advance further than a few social clubs on its fringes. “Thanks, Doc, but I’m really not sure I can deal with that right now.”

“This is part of your therapy, and we ''really'' want you to meet them. So be ready to have a chat after lunch. Doctor’s orders.”

Dale rolled her eyes and sighed. “All right. If it’s an ''order''…” She supposed that whatever was coming, she probably deserved it. At least it was better than dying in combat on the front lines. ''Probably.''

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After lunch, Dale steeled herself for an ordeal and made her way to the small conference room as directed. After she entered the door, she stopped short and stared.

One of the two women there was no particular surprise—a black-haired woman in one of the businesslike Nextus military female officer’s uniforms, cut much like Major Lind’s though without as much fruit salad. It was labcoat white, like Dale’s own new Research Division uniform, and she sported Captain’s bars on the collar.

But the other…there might not be a single Cape Nord citizen of either gender who didn’t know that heart-shaped face, with its masses of wavy strawberry blonde hair. Romance novelist Iphigenia Rose was one of Cape Nord’s most famous citizens—and the very first person from Zharus to undergo the native version of the nanotech sex reassignment surgery originally pioneered on Earth.

And there she sat, legs crossed comfortably, in a nice dress a few notches more casual than those she was usually pictured wearing. “Hello, Corporal Combs,” she said. “Please come in, we’ve been expecting you.”

“Uh…call me Dale, please,” Dale stammered. “Ah…I’m sorry, I never expected to meet…uh…”

“Me?” Iphigenia smiled—a smile even more stunning in person than in the photos. “I understand. I get that a lot. And may I introduce my colleague, Captain Nadene Garland of Nextus? As it turns out, we all have at least ''one'' thing in common.”

The Captain was only slightly more feminine-looking than Dale. If it wasn’t for the dark purple streak through her hair, she would have looked every inch the humorless Nextus bureaucrat. It gave her character—for some value of character. “Corporal Combs.”

Dale saluted. “Ma’am.”

“No need for further formality, Corporal. I’m not here in any ‘official’ capacity, and we’re in different chains of command anyway. Here, for now, you can call me Nadene.”

“Understood…er…yes. Call me Dale.”

“We are here, as you might imagine, to help you acclimate—seeing as we both have rather extensive experience at that ourselves,” Iphigenia said. “We ''do'' have some other reasons for coming—but we’ll get to those. So, to start…you already know ''my'' background, I’m sure. Is there anything in particular you’d like to ask me about my own change?”

Dale was caught somewhere between the urge to stare at her and the urge to avert his gaze. “Er…well…” he stammered again. “When the change happened to me, I, uh, ''freaked out.'' But they showed me the tape of…yours, and…you…''didn’t.'' Why?”

“First, because the whole thing was just a show. I’d been mentally preparing for it for weeks. But most importantly, I told them flat out that unless they could ''definitely ''prevent severe gender dysphoria, it was a no-go. I would ''not'' do it. I ''had ''to be comfortable in my own skin. I was fully prepared to move to Aloha and keep writing as an exile with my Man Card revoked. Then my PR people said…they said…” she laughed.

“Ironically, the people selling the idea to me appealed to my Manhood. I would be the ''first'' to undergo this process in a very public place. I would get the best medical and psychological treatment available, based on the extensive clinical records available from the process’s original use on Earth. They ''guaranteed'' I wouldn’t experience any dysphoria.”

“Understand, the process they use incorporates the neural re-patterning as part of the biosculpt process,” Nadene put in. “The RIDEs as they stand right now don’t have that. They ''could,'' theoretically, but we hadn’t put as much research into that area as Cape Nord has—we were mainly concerned about using the same ‘sculpt nanotech for the interface and tagging. The sex-change aspect was…well, largely an unintended consequence, because it was easier to use the tech as it was than re-engineer it to remove it.”

Iphigenia nodded. “But I was undergoing the ''entire'' process, to the greatest extreme possible. Because I figured, if I was going to embrace womanhood, there’d be no half-measures. I was going to be the most womanly woman who ever womaned.”

“''Cape Nord’s'' idea of a woman, in any case,” Nadene added primly.

“That’s a fair cop, Captain Garland,” Iphigenia replied, nodding. “At least, from what outsiders see. At any rate, the whole deal about my ‘girly’ romance novels being ‘discovered’ to actually be written by a man? And the public ‘UnManning’? The whole thing was a PR stunt. The City Fathers and the Sewing Circle were both in on it.”

Dale blinked. “Wait, the Sewing Circle? I thought that was just a bunch of social clubs for women.”

Nadene raised her eyebrows and looked at the novelist. “I would like to hear that explanation, myself. But I’ve long suspected it’s an aspect to Cape Nord culture like our Game is in Nextus. Something a little too obscure for outsiders.”

Iphigenia smiled. “Captain, did you ever wonder why Sturmhaven became such a pariah while Cape Nord didn’t? Even though, to outsiders, women don’t have any political power and the ancient patriarchy seems to rule?”

“’Seems’? Please, go on.”

''Seems? ''Dale thought, puzzled. “My mother was always upset that she was never invited past the outer fringes of the Sewing Circle. I…won’t repeat some of the things she said about them.” Her mother had frequently called them a “bunch of stuck-up bitches”.

“That’s because the Sewing Circle is a ''little'' more selective than the name would imply, Dale,” Iphigenia said. “It’s really not so much a ''club'' as it is a sort of ''shadow government'' of Cape Nord—a way that we women who are in the know wield the not inconsiderable power of our feminine wiles to make sure that the Men only go as far as we want them to. You’d be surprised at how much one can accomplish with just a little gentle persuasion.” She paused. “I see by your expression that this is new to you. Considering your parents’ political leanings, I’m not surprised.”

“I’m not even from Cape Nord and I figured that one out,” Nadene said. “It makes sense. Ever since Sturmhaven passed their ‘Male Transgression Laws’ they’ve been sanctioned economically by Laurasian and Gondwanan governments alike—it’s one of the big reasons why we’re at war. But Cape Nord skates on by.”

“The Sewing Circle sent representatives to the other polities’ governments to lobby against sanctions on Cape Nord. It helped that all of those governments had ambassadors who had spent enough time in Cape Nord to know how it really worked and could testify on our behalf.” Iphigenia sighed. “The whole idea of ‘Manliness,’ and the ‘battle of the sexes’? It’s all a game, Dale. Always has been—in both Sturmhaven ''and'' Cape Nord. Seventy years ago the Valkyries’ predecessors started taking their part of the game too seriously. It stopped being a game.”

Captain Garland brightened in comprehension. “I see. So, it stopped being ''consensual''. And that’s when the founders of Cape Nord decided to head to the opposite side of the supercontinent.”

“Fifteen thousand kilometers was just barely enough,” Iphigenia said. “They almost went to Avalon, but couldn’t get approval from the Planetary Assembly.”

Avalon was a further five thousand kilometers west of Gondwana, in the middle of the North Thalassic Ocean. It was merely the size of South America on Earth, but hadn’t been terraformed. Zharus was twice Earth’s diameter with four times as much surface area (yet with the same surface gravity). It was a ''big ''world to get lost in.

Captain Garland raised an eyebrow. “Hewing a living from the desolate wastes of the frozen north?”

Iphigenia smiled. “A Manly challenge, to be sure. But it was just what they needed, to prove to ''themselves'' that the tropical Sturmhaven life hadn’t…emasculated them.” She chuckled. “Both of my grandfathers were among the first wave of emigrants. Ah, the stories they used to tell…”

“Since you seem to be done with your story, I suppose it’s my turn now,” Nadene said. “Mine is a little closer to Dale’s. I was a wet-behind-the-ears Lieutenant working in the RIDE development program starting about a year ago. I helped develop the very first working prototypes, though there’s a limit to just how much I can say about it. It’s still mostly classified.

“In any case, back in March we were doing what we called a ‘hot Fuse’ test to make sure that the Fuse process would work correctly on the new LNX frame. The AI running it sounded enthusiastic, oddly enough.

“Some of the equipment was being fussy that day, so like an idiot I decided to go into the chamber myself, standing right next to the bio-sim mannequin test article. It so happened that wasn’t the ''only'' equipment on the fritz that day. The Drive Extender unit’s targeting sensors were just ''slightly ''off. So when we initiated the test, well…” She cupped her breasts. “Things got complicated.”

“I can only imagine,” Iphigenia said. “I had a few weeks to psych myself up for the change. To come out of the blue like that…”

“The program was still top secret at the time. So they isolated me while they tried to fix what happened to my body. The only alterations they could correct were the ears and tail. You see, this kind of change was intended for verified transsexuals. Poor people born with a brain the opposite sex of their bodies. So the Fuse nanites didn’t touch those areas of my brain at all. Extreme dysphoria was the natural result.”

“I… I know how that feels,” Dale said.

Nadene nodded. “Nanosurgery was—and still is—out of the question. The nanites in our bodies help maintain hormonal balances and fix genetic errors and removing them would cause serious health problems. It takes time to genetically change a few trillion cells. They suggested more barbaric surgical methods, but I said no. Only then did they broach the idea of having Cape Nord’s experts re-write my brain so my body felt right—using techniques from an ''alternative'' nanotech dysphoria therapy developed on Earth. To make the brain match the body instead of the body matching the brain. Two solutions to the same problem.”

“More akin to micro brain surgery, really. Something we had already done several times here in Cape Nord,” Iphigenia said. “Including on yours truly. So that’s why she, and you, are here.”

“I still don’t understand why they just can’t kill them with an EMP and change me back,” Dale said.

“A body can’t withstand that kind of rapid change in quick succession,” Nadene said. “This is why, for now, this is a ''one-way'' trip. Perhaps in a few years it won’t be, but they don’t exactly have resources to devote to researching our little problems in the middle of wartime. So, for now, we must make the best of an…odd situation.”

''‘Odd,’ she says.'' “How are you so ''calm'' about this?” Dale demanded. “I mean…this change…becoming…” She petered out, unsure what she’d even been going to say.

Nadene smiled. “Oh, believe me, I did my share of screaming at the wall and beating on things, when it happened. But I’ve had time to adjust with a lot of help from therapists. There are worse things in the world to have happen.” She shrugged. “At least I’ve still got a ''whole'' body, even if it has different parts now. And besides, the military’s paying a big cash settlement on top of covering all my medical costs, and I’ll have some pretty darned big favors owed when the Game starts back up again.” She shrugged. “And you never know what might happen, eventually.”

“But you’re not from Cape Nord,” Dale grumbled.

“Ah, but ''I'' am,” Iphigenia reminded her. “And I’ve got it even better, really. Even leaving aside what all the publicity did for my book sales.” She smiled slyly. “After all, I’m now part of the cabal secretly running things behind the scenes. Or who like to pretend we are, which in Cape Nord generally amounts to the same thing.”

Dale frowned. “About that ‘Sewing Circle’ thing…how does that even work? How can women seriously ''run things'' here?”

“Quite easily, really. Why do Men want to be Manly? To impress each other, yes, but more importantly, to impress ''women.''” She beamed. “It’s a basic fact of civics that a government’s power flows from the consent of the governed. It’s just that in our case, that consent is more ''implicit'' than ''explicit.''”

“So you hold your conspiracies in plain sight, and the Men just think you’re getting together to sew and gossip.” Nadene shook her head. “Cute.”

“A few Men do know about us, but most of them think it’s a harmless delusion on our part. And who knows? They may be right. Certainly, we don’t have ‘official’ government representation, beyond a few non-voting advisory positions in the Man Cave. But that’s how we like it. True power doesn’t require being ''in'' the government, it just requires being able to get the government to listen to you. And who do you think those Men in their Cave go home to every night?” She smirked. “Around here, more political matters have been influenced by the living room sofa than by any PAC.”

“And my mother isn’t a part of this because…?”

Iphigenia sighed. “Now that you’re one of us, given your background, we deemed it best to tell you—especially given that I’m supposed to be serving as a role model to you, and that wouldn’t work if you didn’t know the whole story. The thing is, our complaisance is largely an act, a front we put on for the Men’s benefit, because it makes it easy for us to lead the poor dears around by their, ah, ''noses.'' But not everyone ''outside'' the polity realizes this.”

“I think I see where this is going,” Nadene said.

“So, sometimes we have women move here because they fall in love with the front. Perhaps they just want to live in a simpler time, where Men will worship and pamper them.” Iphigenia shrugged. “Some of these can be introduced to the truth with a little care and attention. But others…we judge that it would be too damaging to their egos if we told them how things ''really'' are, the poor dears. They’d be happier if we keep them in the dark.”

Dale frowned, thinking back to the years he’d spent growing up. His mother had been a very happy homemaker, content to raise him and his siblings while his father brought home the proverbial (and sometimes literal) bacon. She wasn’t the kind of person Dale could easily imagine taking part in making larger decisions behind the scenes. “You…may be right about that.”

“As one of the closest women to her, you’ll have the right to tell her whatever you believe is best,” Iphigenia said. “If you think she could handle it…”

“I’ll…uh…think about it,” Dale said. “I’ve—I mean, she doesn’t even know about…''this''…yet. I’m still not sure how I’m going to break it to her.”

“You present us with a conundrum yourself, you know,” Iphigenia said. “Both of you, and your situation. We of Cape Nord had a great deal of experience with ''intentional'' ‘team changes’, which is of course why you came to us for help. But the idea that it could happen to someone by ''accident'' is new to us—as is the fact that the technology is being incorporated into these new machines of war. And there has already been speculation that RIDEs could see widespread ''civilian'' use after the war is over.”

“So you could end up with a ''lot'' of ‘brand new women,’” Nadene mused.

“And brand new Men,” Iphigenia said. “We’re going to need to decide how to handle that while it’s still only a theoretical possibility, lest we be caught by surprise when it becomes practical. And that’s another part of why I’m here.” She smiled. “As the first woman to undergo the process myself, I was the natural choice to head up our committee to look into the issue. And so here I am.”

“And as far as the City Fathers are concerned, you’re just volunteering to give a poor little lost lamb the benefit of your experience out of the goodness of your heart,” Nadene smirked.

“Killing the proverbial two birds,” Iphigenia said. “It’s a nicely elegant solution, don’t you think?”

Dale nodded. “It makes some sense. What are the next steps?”

“What happens next is up to your therapists,” Nadene said. “This will have to go public soon, so expect your family to be notified. Unless you prefer they aren’t. I understand you’re unmarried, at least.”

“Er… I’m…I ''was ''considering an Eternal Bachelor endorsement on my Man Card. Though there are a few ex girlfriends who might find this…funny.” ''Imani is going to laugh and laugh…then maybe ask me out for drinks. ''Dale wondered if this would be a good time to bring up just how silly he’d started to find the whole thing after a year or two exposed to the wider world. Perhaps it was just as well.

“Consider your Man Card forfeit,” Iphigenia said. “And ''irrelevant'', in any case. No more Games for you, my dear. One of the most pleasant surprises of changing teams I found was a profound weight off my shoulders.” She looked down at her chest. “''Figurative'' weight. Appearances aside, there are no real ‘Rules’ or ‘Standards’ for feminine behavior in Cape Nord. No points to gain or lose. We do have a major role in the Games, but I’ll introduce you to it when I feel you’re ready. For now, just get used to that body.”

Dale grimaced. “To tell the truth, I’m already dreading…well..you know.” She blushed. “That…that monthly thing.”

“Menstruation, Dale. You can say the word,” Nadene said. “You’re more entitled to it ''now'' than ''before,'' after all.”

“We have to go through a few cycles so the doctors are sure we’re healthy,” Iphigenia said. “Then we can use the pill.”

“There are some further applications of medical nanotechnology that look promising in that regard, but they’re still being researched,” Nadene said. “Maybe in a few years…”

Iphigenia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I hadn’t heard about those.”

“It’s in my field, so I do keep up with developments,” Nadene said. “Especially given my new…''personal interest'' in the matter.”

“Perhaps I could invite you to a meeting to discuss it with some others?” Iphigenia suggested. “There are a few women I know who would be ''very'' interested—including some who are married to prominent venture capitalists.”

“I’m at your disposal, Iphigenia.” Nadene chuckled. “And I think I’m beginning to see how the Sewing Circle gets things done.”

“So…uh…” Dale said. “…is there anything else ''I'' should be doing now?”

“Just follow the program your therapists have laid out for you,” Iphigenia said. “They ''are'' the professionals, after all. But Nadene and I will be around to observe, discuss, and advise. I’m particularly interested in giving your RIDE a close examination, given all their implications.”

“Uh…I guess I am, too,” Dale admitted. “I didn’t exactly have much of a chance the first time.”

Nadene nodded. “Then we’ll all look forward to it, I guess.”

“In any event, that was all we had to tell you at this point,” Iphigenia said, rising. “We will be in touch with you soon about the next steps.”

“Uh…all right,” Dale said. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

{{separator|k}}

That evening, Dale lay in her bunk staring at the ceiling as she reflected on the events of the day. Encountering Iphigenia Rose had been a surprise, but the real shock had come in what she’d had to say about the real purpose of the Sewing Circle. Thinking about it, Dale supposed it did explain a lot. Like why so many women actually ''stayed'' in Cape Nord rather than leaving for somewhere with a more modern outlook. They were playing their ''own'' Game, just with vastly different rules.

In an odd way, the knowledge actually made Dale feel a little bit better about the place. As a Man, he’d increasingly felt guilty about taking part in a system with such old-fashioned attitudes toward women—but now, knowing that the women had their own methods of evening the odds changed everything. As well as, well, ''being'' one…

''I guess Nextus isn’t the only place where everything is a game,'' she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

=Chapter 3=

''Fort Oslo Nextus Military Installation'' 
''Cape Nord '' 
''June 14, 121 A.L.''

Dale sat on a bench in the maintenance garage, paging through the media tablet containing the RIDE’s documentation, which had ''finally'' caught up with her. It began with about three pages of warnings in increasingly large font and bright colors about how it wasn’t a good idea to Fuse an (f) model if you’d been born an (m), and vice versa. “Sheesh, ''now'' you tell me,” Dale muttered.

In addition to the tech specs, the documentation gave her RIDE’s name as “Sarabe.” Dale wasn’t entirely sure why her RIDE even ''had'' a name, unless maybe it was to help differentiate the genders—but the name “Sarabe” was unfamiliar enough that it might not be immediately recognized as female, so she wasn’t sure that was necessarily the reason. Maybe it was for use in command phrases, like the “Alexa” keyword from ancient Amazon hardware, so your RIDE would more easily be able to tell when you were giving it an order, and other RIDEs wouldn’t get confused?

Other than the warnings and such, there really wasn’t much in the manual that Dale didn’t already know from her experience with the Ad-I bikes. It was some small consolation that she (well, at the time, ''he'') had at least been ''almost'' right, and if she hadn’t had the bad luck to pick a female model she would have been…well, he’d probably still have been busted to Private, or something, but he’d probably have figured the experience was worth it.

The officious Lieutenant in charge of the fort’s mecha pool had a pair of snow leopard ears and a tail, himself. The tail was long and comically fluffy. “Corporal Combs, unit Sarabe has been assigned to you with a slightly downgraded DE frame. If you’ll check your manual you’ll see that ‘MCA’ stands for ‘Medium ''Command ''Armor’. Yes, this was originally intended for one of the Captains. As of now, with the command assist units removed, it is yours.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dale said.

“The so-called ‘RI’ that replaces the Ad-I in the older models are a vast improvement. They are conversational and obey orders with much greater comprehension. They even seem to have a ''personality''. The higher-ups assure me that this is just a vastly improved front-end to the AI. However, you are expected to help maintain your equipment.”

“Yessir. I did a fair share of work on my old Tornado and Chinook. The tech doesn’t seem too different.”

“At heart, it’s not. The big differences are in that new RI core, and associated internal seals and such. There’s a link to the repair manuals in the back of the operator’s manual. Read those, too, when you have the time.”

“Yessir.”

The lieutenant waved a hand toward the open hangar door. “Once you’ve saddled up, head out there and follow the signs to the test range. We aren’t real busy in these parts, with the major fronts of the war being so far off to the south, so you should have the place pretty much to yourself.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, ''please'' try not to make any messes I’ll have to clean up.”

“Understood, sir. Will do my best, sir.”

Dale waited to roll her eyes until the Lieutenant had turned his back to stalk away—nearly swishing her nose with that tail of his. Not that it was exactly a surprise he’d think of her as a screw-up. The story of what she’d done had presumably made its way to all branches of the gossip grapevine by now. In any case, here she was, ready for the next stage of her therapy—which was going to be going ahead and operating this RIDE, and seeing how her new “condition” affected the familiarization process.

Dale was a little surprised they were just letting her do this by herself, without any observers or onlookers peering over her shoulder. But then, it wasn’t as if she was ever ''really'' by herself. She was sure an army of camera drones were following her around at all times, recording her every movement and nuance of behavior for later perusal. There was probably a data tap on the RIDE’s computer, too. But at least they were letting her have the ''illusion'' of privacy.

She approached the RIDE, which was awaiting her in its skimmer form. In this mode, it was based off of a CS-9 Tempest Command Skimmer with leonine touches to the armor shell and roughly paw-shaped lifter pods—two in front, a bigger one in back. Effectively an oversized skimmer tricycle, the Tempest was a sleek, semi-enclosed craft in which officers could command the battlefield, when combined with the communications specialists. Where there should have been antennae and comm lasers there were now stubs or armored covers. Modifications aside, it was all ready for her to mount up and pull out.

A red light on the instrument cluster turned yellow after she stepped onto the saddle. She thumbed the activation panel, and was greeted by a flashing warning. “Please perform manual startup,” she read. The procedure came up on the screen. ''They didn’t shut it down correctly after they got me out. Well, okay.''

So, one by one, she brought each system online. Sarium batteries fully charged, hardlight enviro seal and aeroshield nominal, interlock activation, connect dynothermic regulator, infracell capacitors up, cavorite lifters go…it took the better part of five minutes before she could get to the last step. “RI to Active Mode.”

“System ready. What are your orders?” a mellifluous yet rumbly female voice purred. It was the same voice she remembered from those first few moments waking up Fused.

Dale considered. The tone of voice was much friendlier than her old Ad-I had been, at least. “We’ll be doing a standard shakedown for new field units. Confirm.”

“Confirmed. Shakedown procedure is loaded. Proceed?”

“Affirmative.” She ''could'' just have said “yes,” Dale supposed, but using big words made her feel more important.

“Acknowledged. Proceeding.” The lifters fired, and the bike lifted from the ground. It moved a lot more smoothly than the old “Schnook” or “Tomato,” she had to admit—but on the other hand, it was a lot larger, too.

They pulled out onto the tarmac of the staging area, and headed for the far edge where a road led off toward the RIDE practice field. Dale kept her hands on the controls but let the AI drive them, while she got used to how the vehicle moved. She could take manual control a little later, but just as well to learn to drive where fewer prying eyes would see her every goof-up.

The practice field wasn’t far away, under a small hardlight dome that would prevent any ordnance misfires from harming the rest of the base. Within the dome were a variety of terrains—urban, grassland, desert, forest, arctic—with targets and obstacles located in each. There were simulated enemy positions that could be activated, even to the point of including mobile enemy forces in augmented reality. Dale didn’t plan to do anything that fancy today, though.

Once inside the dome, Dale switched to manual control and started teaching herself to drive. It wasn’t too different from the old Ad-I bikes, but a larger vehicle had different steering characteristics. Manual control or not, the AI running the thing wouldn’t let her outright crash it into anything, for which small favor Dale was thankful.

After a few minutes of driving practice, she pulled up in front of a target range, with hardlight targets that would register hits from RIDE weapons. In spite of herself, Dale grinned. “Sarabe, weapons hot,” she said.

“Weapons hot,” the computer voice echoed, as the indicators on the dashboard flipped from green to red. A holographic head-up display appeared in the air in front of her.

“Well, now. Let’s see what you’re armed with.”

“My weapons loadout includes two SR-88 5 kilowatt pulse cannons, two HMM-10 mini-missile launchers, one—”

“Uh…that’s enough, Sarabe. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal Combs,” Sarabe replied.

“Uh…don’t mention it.” Dale wasn’t sure what had moved her to thank a dumb machine, but it just seemed right to be polite to something that talked to you. The old Schnook hadn’t been programmed to say much of anything. ''I guess at least I’ll be safe when the robot uprising comes,'' Dale thought wryly.

Dale centered the reticle on the target in front of her and squeezed the trigger. The pulse cannons mounted over the left and right lifter pods fired, neatly holing the target. “Nice.” The guns weren’t as powerful as most other vehicles of that size would have mounted, but this bike’s original intent was for commanding soldiers on the battlefield, not getting into the thick of fighting itself.

“Weapon effectiveness verified,” Sarabe said. “Targeting sensors green. Proceed to Fuse test?”

Dale swallowed. Of course, she ''was'' going to have to Fuse. That was part of the point of the exercise. And ever since she had understood what was expected of her, she’d been trying to psyche herself up to it. It did have just a ''few'' negative associations, after all. She was tempted to put it off for another day…but if she did that, what was going to stop her from continuing to put it off? “Yes,” she whispered, then cleared her throat and said it again, louder. “Yes, Sarabe. Proceed to Fuse test.”

“Affirmative,” the RI said. The Tempest started to hum around her.

Ad-I cycles had their quirks, some of them were bad enough that the models had earned some derisive nicknames. The Tornado was the “Tomato” and the Chinook the “Schnook”. Transition from cycle to armor mode took nearly thirty seconds for all the parts to slide into place correctly.

From hum to completion took only a third of that time. Dale felt a tingle as the Fuser nanites infused her body from head to foot. Then there was an almost dizzying shift in perspective.

'':Implant online. Are you in distress, Corporal Combs?:'' Sarabe’s voice said in her head.

Dale looked around, and down at herself, and took stock of her situation. She’d Fused Tornados and Chinooks dozens of times, and had thought she knew what to expect—being enclosed by a giant suit of armor, like a power-amplified spacesuit. But she didn’t feel that, this time. It might have been the neural link that these new nanites provided, but she simply felt like she ''was'' a four-meter-tall metal lion-woman now.

“In distress…? Uh…no. I think I’m in a ''lioness''.” Dale chuckled nervously, looking down at her hands and flexing the fingers. She watched the metal pieces slide in and out of each other, as the neural feedback provided a completely natural feeling of joints flexing in her own hands. “This…this is amazing.”

Dale felt an odd undercurrent of…''frustration'' somewhere in the back of her mind. It was a strange sensation. Was the RIDE’s neural link system somehow rechannelling and echoing the frustration she felt about her own general situation? It felt strange, and a little foreign, but then, these RIDEs were new technology, and her own situation wasn’t exactly a natural one to her either.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Sarabe said. For a moment, her voice seemed warmer than the monotone command responses.

Dale blinked. ''She’s glad?'' It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about that, then she remembered what the Lieutenant had said, about the machines seeming to have personalities. Clearly, it had to be some very clever interface programming, to be able to come off as this natural.

But really, she didn’t have time to go down the rabbit hole of playing conversation right now. There were still more tests to go through. “Ah…right. So, I guess, maneuvers testing now.”

“Affirmative, Corporal,” Sarabe said. “You may move us when ready.”

It was ''nothing ''like the Tomato or the Schnook, where getting the thing to move smoothly in armor mode took very deliberate movements. A significant part of an infantry soldier’s brain power was needed just to keep from falling on your faceplate. But this? This was just a literal stroll down the range.

Dale remembered what she’d read in the manual. Fuser nanites infused her body and brain, creating a direct connection to the powered armor. It might as well be her own flesh.

Well, time to play with it. She took a tentative step forward, then another. With each step, the movement came much more smoothly and it felt much more natural. It did feel a little weird, having metal for skin instead of flexible, well, ''skin'', but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t get used to. She spun around, leaped into the air, tried a jump-kick, nearly landed on her butt because she wasn’t any good at jump-kicks, but managed to catch herself and decided to keep things a bit less fancy from then on. She moved into the forested area, and squeezed between the trees—which seemed a lot less taller to her now.

The more she moved, the more natural it felt. She was a four-meter-tall soldier, armed with pulse guns and considerably more agility than an Ad-I. And, assuming it worked as advertised, she was immune to the lethal qubitite sand that had cost so many lives, by dint of the new internal hardlight seal technology that accompanied these new designs. If it weren’t that the most important elements of the technology had leaked practically as soon as they’d been invented, Nextus would have been ''invincible!'' As it was, they only had a ''slight'' advantage now, but even so.

For the first time, Dale felt a twinge of real regret unrelated (well, ''mostly'' unrelated) to the sex change. If he hadn’t screwed things up, surely he’d have been given one of these of his own before too very much longer—and gotten to experience its joys while still being male. But, on the other hand, he might well have been expected to enter combat that way, which could have led to injury or death, whereas now she was the subject of an extensive research project that shouldn’t take her anywhere near the front lines for the time being, so…better female than buried? It didn’t exactly rhyme, but she didn’t expect to be wed any time soon so she couldn’t really say “better married than buried.” (”Better wed than dead”?)

After a short time of moving through the forest, they crossed a climate boundary into the arctic area, and came upon another target range. Dale lined up a shot with the pulse cannons, which were now mounted along her forearms, and ''almost'' hit the bull’s eye. Well, it wasn’t bad given how little practice she’d actually had.

As she finished, a chime sounded, reminding her that she had another appointment with Iphigenia and Nadene back at the hospital shortly. Well, it was probably just as well. She supposed she ought to take things slowly, and this was just about enough time with the RIDE for now. She triggered the de-Fuse, settling back into the saddle as Sarabe changed back to command trike mode around her. “Time to head back now, I guess.”

As she pulled into the parking lot assigned to her at the Fort Oslo mecha pool, she patted the dashboard awkwardly. She felt a little silly talking to a dumb machine, but it just ''felt right'' to be polite. Even if it didn’t mean anything to the machine, it meant something to ''her.'' “Uh…well, thanks for the fun today. I’ll come back and see you again as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Corporal Combs,” Sarabe said. “I’ll look forward to it.”

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Captain Garland and Iphigenia Rose looked like they’d spent the last couple of hours talking together while waiting for Dale to show up. The conference room table had several half-empty plates of snacks, including a stack of small pastel-colored cakes, a nearly empty carafe of iced tea, all sitting on a lace-edged white tablecloth.

Iphigenia was more on-form, wearing a low-cut red dress, heels, and full makeup. Her usually-wavy hair had been styled, looking smooth and shiny, draped over her left shoulder.

Captain Garland, on the other hand, looked just the same. Though she seemed more at ease with Cape Nord’s most famous author in the room this time.

“Dale, nice you could join us today,” Iphigenia said. “Please, have a seat. Take a snack if you like. I brought ''petit fours'' cakes. Baked them myself.”

Dale raised an eyebrow. “Really? You strike me as the kind of person who’d have an army of servants to do that kind of thing.”

“Well…not servants. Autokitchen.” She shrugged. “But I pushed all the buttons myself, anyway.”

“And I suppose that counts for something,” Nadene put in. “Here in Cape Nord, anyway.”

“''Anyway'',” Iphigenia said. “I decided to dress to the nines today and did a little bodysculpting besides. There’s an important issue I’ve been told we shouldn’t put off much longer. We have to inform your family of your, uh, accident.”

''Oh, crap.'' “So soon?”

“‘Fraid so,” Nadene said. “We’ve actually had our first battlefield emergency crossride incident the past couple days—the day we first met, in fact. The victim will be here within sixty hours. So we need to get you into the next phase before they arrive. That means facing the music.” The Captain smiled. “And you’re not the only one who’s going to have to say hello to family again.” She tapped herself on the chest. “I’ll finally get to see my wife and kids again after four months. Though I’m frankly looking forward to it, awkwardness aside.”

“Uh…well, congratulations, I guess?” Dale said. “But…uh…I’m just fine with staying anonymous for now. My family…the traditional Cape Nord gender roles…uh…that’s a whole can of worms I’d rather just leave on the shelf, if you know what I mean.”

“Unfortunately I don’t think we have much choice here,” Iphigenia said. “You’re the first official accidental sex-change of the war. Captain Garland’s situation is similar, but she came from the development program—a whole different kettle of fish. Plus, she’s a Nextan.

“There are enough Cape Nord boys on the front lines that there’s a good chance what happened to you will happen again, to one of them. So you can’t hide away from this. We have to meet it head-on. We have to show the rest of Cape Nord that you’re already a well-adjusted woman.”

“But what if I’m'' not?''” Dale asked plaintively. “I mean, I don’t'' feel'' like a well-adjusted woman.”

“It’s very simple to'' act'' the part,” Iphigenia said reasonably. “Once you’ve put on the act for long enough, it takes on its own reality. We’re here to help you with that. And, with that goal in mind, it’s time you gave serious thought to taking the next step for yourself.”

Dale stared at her. “And…what ‘next step’ is that?”

“Well, to be perfectly blunt, your shape needs to be more womanly. Not, I should add, in an exaggerated way. But enough to demonstrate that you’re obviously on our ‘team’ as it were.”

Dale groaned…but it wasn’t wholly unexpected. “So, what, bigger boobs?”

“For a start. I have some recommendations,” Iphigenia said, handing her a tablet. “Have a look and tell me what you like.”

“I worked with her on this, Dale,” Captain Garland said. “There’s nothing here that will impact your physical fitness for duty.”

The image on screen depicted Dale in a uniform variant with a black knee-length skirt. But it wasn’t the uniform that drew her real attention, it was the vital statistics. Five centimeters shorter, ten kilos lighter, shoulder-length hair, and C-cup breasts. The last part was something of a surprise. “I was expecting you’d want my chest, well, larger.”

Iphigenia smiled. “That size is quite comfortable. I’ve sported girls that size more often than not. You don’t need a wasp waist and a pair of double-Ds, unless you ''really'' want them; plenty of Cape Nord women are petite. Swipe left to see some different outfits. I’ll be providing your civilian wardrobe.”

Dale sighed. “Is all this really necessary?”

“I’m afraid so. Not only for ''your'' sake, mind, but for all those who will follow you,” Iphigenia said. “If we want them to have the best chance of acceptance, we must have ''you'' make the best possible first impression. A mistake now could set ''them'' back by years.”

Dale swiped left, past a number of outfits. They all had one thing in common. “I don’t see a pair of pants in the lot.”

“When was the last time you saw a woman wearing pants in Cape Nord?” Iphigenia said. “Or with short hair, for that matter?”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Oh, of ''course'', Cape frigging Nord. I’ve only lived here my whole life. You’d think I’d notice.”

“Your ''military'' wardrobe ''will'' have both uniform pants ''and'' skirts, in accordance with the Nextus military uniform code,” Nadene pointed out. “You won’t be forced to wear one or the other. And if you want your hair short again, just visit the barber after you come back from civilian activities. It’s not as if it’s terribly hard to sculpt it longer again should you have the need.”

The smile of sheer relief she gave the Captain made Iphigenia noticeably uncomfortable.

“Don’t thank me yet, Corporal,” Garland continued. “The very fact that this technology is capable of this is a propaganda victory for Sturmhaven. We expect all volunteers from Cape Nord to request assignments where it’s not a risk.”

“In the worst case, new male volunteers from Cape Nord will simply stop,” Iphigenia said. “Like it or not, Dale, the fact that you were the first makes you a public face. There’s going to be a lot of media interest in you.”

“NextusMil will keep that to a minimum, but it ''is'' necessary,” Nadene said. “Sturmhaven has already used this technology to swell their ranks—mostly with unwilling male conscripts.”

Dale felt nauseous at the thought of any man being ''forced'' to go through with what he had. And who knew if they had Cape Nord’s neural rewrite process to help with the dysphoria?

She sighed. “Well, since I guess there’s no going back, I might as well go forward. At least a little.”

Iphigenia smiled. “It won’t be as bad as all that, I promise. And remember—cosmetic matters aside, there are ''no'' rules or requirements for being a woman. No one is going to insist that you go out and find some unwitting man upon whom to work your wiles.”

Nadene snorted. “Not the ''first'' week, anyway.”

Iphigenia rolled her own eyes, genteelly. “Now, Captain…”

“We actually have a good number of Cape Nord women in NextusMil, believe it or not,” Nadene said. “Now that I know what I know, I guess we provide them with the venue to take charge of things ''openly'' that they couldn’t get in Cape Nord.”

“What a woman does outside of Cape Nord is her own business,” Iphigenia said. “Besides, the same risks for an emergency crossride exists for them as it did for you, Dale. How we’ll deal with that if it should happen, we’re still working that out. The City Fathers are considering a special Man Card that allows them to bypass the Game entirely.”

“Sounds entirely too reasonable to pass,” Nadene said. “But I guess you never know.”

Dale sighed, then looked at the images of her further-altered self on the tablet, wearing all kinds of dresses and other feminine things. “Well, might as well get this over with.”

“It won’t be all bad,” Iphigenia promised. “You might very well find that you will ''feel'' better after the sculpt, once your hormones have had a chance to reach a more natural balance. And, personally, I find it always feels nicer to look nicer.”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Dale told her.

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As Dale climbed into the biosculpt chamber, she realized that she’d gotten so distracted by the conversation surrounding her re-sculpt that she’d entirely forgotten the reason it was necessary—her impending reunion with her family.

''Oh, yeah, so, they want to make sure ''everything goes well.'' So naturally they’re gonna reintroduce me to the people who raised me to fit into a society that I’m now on the complete opposite side of. That’s gonna go ''marvelously'', I just know.''

Her thoughts turned back to Sturmhaven, and what Captain Garland had said about them. ''God, is there ''nothing'' those barbarians can’t mess up?'' It was just a touch ironic, but Dale thought she could find it in her to be just a little more committed to the war cause now. ''Can’t let them win and maybe start doing this to people wholesale.''

She made a silent vow that, no matter how annoying or inconvenient the whole process might get, she was nonetheless going to do her best to make it successful. If she could turn her screw-up into something that helped the war effort, it might just be one of the only worthwhile things she’d ever done.

“We’re giving you the anesthetic, Corporal Combs,” the doctor said when the pod closed. “We hope you like the results. Good night.”

“Thanks, Doctor. I hope I like the results, too.”

=Chapter 4=

''June 15, 121 A.L.''

Dale examined herself in the full-length mirror—with all her clothes on, this time. Goodness knew she’d spent enough time looking at herself with them off. Her new body shape was…impressive. Not in the sense of being excessive, or even in the sense of being attractive, but just in the sense of being…''her.''

''That woman in the mirror is ''me''. Me with clothes on.''

Much as she’d have preferred pants, she had to admit she cut an impressive figure in her dress whites with skirt. For all that they were dress whites for a corporal, and not terribly fancy in any case, they still looked sharp and crisp.

And that face…

It was just a little softer, chin a bit pointier, eyes a bit larger. A few subtle changes made a huge difference. ''I look a lot like…my older sister.''

The ears were still a lion’s, though, and the skirt had been designed with a slot in the back for her tail. Her hair had been turned a tawny color to match them. ''Well, if nothing else, those “tags” will demonstrate how fancy this new sculpting tech is.''

Iphigenia, who would be along for this reunion, looked in. “How are you holding up, Dale?”

Dale started to fold her arms, but didn’t want to wrinkle her uniform. “I’m fine. I think. Bra straps aren’t digging into my shoulders anymore.”

She smiled. “That’s good. Shall we get going?”

Captain Garland wouldn’t be present for this—she was in Nextus, meeting her own family again. NextusMil would be breaking this to the public in general today as well.

Dale wondered if her family had actually been ''told'' yet, or if they were just going to spring her on them as a complete surprise. She couldn’t imagine that the “complete surprise” approach would have a very good outcome, but on the other hand, how likely were they to believe the kind of story NextusMil would be telling them? Dale still found it hard to believe, herself, and it had happened ''to'' her.

She knew the address by heart, of course. 542 Stanton Road, Stanton Gallery. A modest two-storey home: five bedrooms, three bathrooms, living, family, and dining rooms. It was located just to one side of one of the main prism light shafts in the cavern, so they usually got good sunlight, even if it wasn’t necessarily the warmest.

She was the second of five children, and her older sister Darcy wasn’t likely to be there. There was something going on between her and their parents Dale didn’t understand. It being summer, the younger kids would be home from school, so she could probably expect to see them. What she was going to say to ''any'' of them, she honestly didn’t have any Zharusly idea.

A short while later, Dale sat in the car, watching out the window as it rolled through familiar territory, growing more and more nervous the closer they got to home. She hadn’t expected to be back here for quite some time. Before the event, Dale’s next furlough wouldn’t have been due for months. And yet, surprise! Here she was. In fact, it was going to be rather a surprise for ''everyone'', for various different reasons. It felt like there should be cameras filming it for a reality vid show. But then, given the newsworthiness of the event, there probably ''were''.

The car passed by places she knew so well—her elementary and middle schools, and the local NordCo General Fabbery that was the usual hangout for bored teens—when they weren’t out playing in one of the parks. Cape Nord preferred to give their children places to have adventures—creeks full of pollywogs to catch, playgrounds of things to climb in and around, bicycles to get as far from home as they could, as long as they returned before dark. They were given a lot of free rein growing up to get muddy, skinned knees, even broken bones. Such things built character. And there was nothing stopping the girls from joining with the boys at that age—the Games came later. It was only in the late teens that boys became Men. What happened with the girls at that time Dale hadn’t known about—at least, until now.

Dale wasn’t breaking the news to her parents ''herself''. That was actually up to Iphigenia Rose, representing the Sewing Circle, and one of the City Fathers. Everything was supposed to be timed so that she would arrive shortly after Dale’s family was told.

Two blocks away the car abruptly stopped on the side of the road. The internal comm rang an urgent tone. Iphigenia looked upset when Dale answered. “Dale, there’s been a…complication.”

Dale’s ears perked. “What do you mean by that?”

There was a sound of shouting in the background. The comm only showed Iphigenia’s head, filtering out whatever was going on near her, but not the noise. “Your parents aren’t taking this well.”

“I honestly didn’t think they would. Are we still doing this?”

“You’ll have to give us a few minutes to calm them down first, dear.”

“Good luck with ''that,''” Dale said, with feeling. “If you manage it, let us kids know how, because that’s more than ''we'' were ever able to do.”

“Give us a little more time. I think they’re just not convinced. We’ll let you know when they’re ready.”

The car waited nearly half an hour before they moved on. Dale felt a growing knot of anxiety in her belly, like a slug of concrete. Then they were in front of the house. Like most homes in Cape Nord it was made of brick, with some wood siding for aesthetic touches. Her father’s old car was in the driveway—it had ''wheels'', not lifters. It was his pride and joy. There were the flower boxes in the windows, her mother’s work. The area got enough natural light that allowed a small lawn. There were a few toys strewn about it.

It all looked so deceptively ''normal''. If you ignored the media floaters, the official Nextus military skimmer parked in the street, and Iphigenia’s distinctive rose-colored Donizetti skimmer. Dale swallowed the lump in her throat for the sixteenth time, then climbed out of the car, went up the steps, and opened the door.

She had gone over'' what'' she was going to say a hundred times over the last few days, and fifty more times in the car, and had finally settled on an approach of attempted normality. “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” she called out—as if the fact that she was now the wrong biological sex was something that might simply be ''overlooked'' if she just pretended hard enough that everything was normal.

The temperature inside the house felt like it dropped ten degrees.

The youngest, Conway, age eight, stared at her, gaping like a fish. Next in age was brother Jerry, age sixteen. He’d idolized Dale for joining NextusMil and could recite specifications for a half dozen AIDE models like Dale’s Tornado. Now, his face wore an expression of utter bewilderment.

Then there was Cindy, age eighteen. She resembled her mother more strongly than her older sister, which made the tomboyish preferences when she was younger a subject of ''much'' disapproval from their mother. Their mother was adamant that she not leave home until she married—whether to a Man or another woman. She was starting at Cape Nord University in the fall. She kept tilting her head left and right, trying to make sense of the young woman she was seeing.

The eldest, Darcy, six years older than Dale, was nowhere to be seen, which was no surprise. Darcy was married to a Man named Scoresby—Dale had forgotten the Man’s first name—a young politician in the caverns on the other end of the polity. Their mother alternated between being proud she was doing so well for herself and aggravated that she seemed to have largely cut ties with the rest of the family.

And then there were Dale’s parents themselves. Her father, Bill, had adopted the suburban father Man style, and looked very much like the depiction of a father in one of the ancient sitcoms, or perhaps that clip art figure associated with the Church of the Sub-Genius—even to the point of occasionally smoking a pipe. The pipe was nowhere in sight at the moment, however.

And then there was her mother, Gloria—the very model of the Cape Nord housewife and mother, perhaps even more than she knew. She wore her brown hair in a bun, and an expression of stern disbelief.

“I know you didn’t expect to be seeing me again so soon,” Dale continued desperately. “Or to be seeing me…well…like'' this.'' But here I am!”

After a long moment of silence, Dale’s mother spoke. “How do we even know that you are…who they ''say'' you are?”

But Dale had been ready for that question, at least. “Remember the time I wanted to go to band camp in Burnside but you didn’t want me to be that far away, and I sulked for days? Remember the time you and Dad had that big argument about whether I could cut my hair in a military style buzz cut in my senior year? Remember the birthmark I have on my left…ah…place? It’s still there, by the way.”

Utter silence. Iphigenia’s expression was one of encouragement, but from the look in her eyes she harbored some doubts. Everything was going pear-shaped very quickly.

“You get my son…my dau…my ''child ''out of your army ''right now!''” Gloria Combs snarled with an edge of pure fury Dale had only heard during an argument with Darcy. “HOW DARE you do this to him! HOW DARE YOU VIOLATE MY SON!”

The generic NextusMil officer they had sent to break the news responded with a certain unflappability in the face of sheer fury. “Your child has volunteered for an important analysis of her…situation, Mrs. Combs. She is quite psychologically able to adapt.”

''This was ''never ''going to be a good day.'' Dale sighed. “Look…I think it’s a little too early for those discussions right now. This is…kind of an adjustment, but I’m still fundamentally ''me''. And I don’t see any need to change anything ''else'' just yet.”

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re not my son,” Gloria said.

Dale rolled her eyes. “Well, not ''anymore…''”

“The military is ''no plac''e for a woman!” she continued. “And I want you out of it! Right now!”

“As we told you, she’s not currently eligible for a medical discharge,” the NextusMil officer said.

“What happened to me was my own stupid fault, mother,” Dale said. “But I’ll adapt. I have to. Anyway, I’m an adult, so it’s ''my'' decision in the end.”

Bill turned to his wise, then gently grasped her shoulders. “Honey, I think we need to cool off for a while. All of us do.”

“I know how much of a shock this is,” Iphigenia said. “It’s ''no less'' of a shock to your own child. But she’s hale and healthy and getting our best treatment to make sure she stays that way.”

“Holy shit,” Jerry finally said.

“Jerry! ''Language''!” Gloria rebuked.

The young man just nodded, then smiled a little. “Can I have your IDE model collection? You’re a girl. I mean, you should have dolls or stuffed animals or something.”

“I’m a ''woman,''” Dale corrected him. “I can collect models if I want to. Besides, I spent hours building those.”

“Excuse me,” Gloria said, shaken. “I’m going to lay down for awhile.”

“Go ahead. I need to get my thoughts together,” Bill said. He looked like he needed a stiff drink. There was a well-stocked liquor cabinet in the living room.

Cindy, who hadn’t spoken yet, gave her new sister an appraising look. “So if one of those RIDE things did that to you, what would happen if I got into a male one? Would I end up with a dick?”

“Yes, you would,” the Nextus officer said. “In fact, your polity has been using the same process ''without'' a RIDE for several years now—usually in the opposite direction, but there is no reason it wouldn’t work in reverse as well.” All eyes turned to Iphigenia Rose, who once again looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Cindy!” Gloria exclaimed.

“Just asking questions, Ma,” the younger woman said, shrugging.

“This is going to be awkward for everybody, I know,” Dale said. “Maybe I should go, come back later when everyone’s had more time to get used to the idea.”

“See you in, like, five years then,” Cindy snarked.

“Anyway, this sort of thing is going to happen to lots more people, in both directions,” Dale continued. “As the first—well, ''one'' of the first accidents, whatever I do could make stuff easier or harder for everyone who comes after me, especially the ones from here. I’ve never exactly been real big on responsibility, I know, but…sometimes when your life gets changed, some of your attitudes do, too. So I’ve got a duty—not just to the army, but to the future of people like me. And I’m going to carry those duties out.” She started to cross her arms for emphasis, then stopped as she realized how awkward that would look. She still wasn’t sure if she should put them over, across, or under her breasts. She settled with putting them on her hips.

Iphigenia nodded at something, then walked over to Dale. “I think it’d be best if we left the house for a while, Dale. To let things settle in.”

“I could use a break from this,” Dale admitted quietly.

The Nextus officer also nodded at something, and at the City Father, who had remained silent the whole time, until now. “I think we’ve accomplished all we can here for now,” he said. “Perhaps we should give it a rest until evening, or possibly tomorrow.”

“Time to reflect,” Iphigenia added. “We’ll put off any statements to the media until then as well.”

“If any of you need to talk, you know my comm code,” Dale said, looking pointedly at her siblings. ''And if Mom or Dad calls, I’ll just let the voicemail get it.''

“Okay, then. Let’s go,” Iphigenia said, tugging Dale’s elbow. “We have a surprise for you outside. Don’t worry, it’s a good one,” she whispered.

“Oh, yay,” Dale said weakly. “A surprise. Haven’t had many of ''those,'' lately…”

As they were leaving, some chatter broke out. As the front door closed behind them she heard Jerry say “Did you see she has a ''tail''?”

“Well, that went…about like I thought it would,” Dale sighed. “At least we got out with our lives.” Tears started welling up almost immediately. “Shit. Shit! I was. I was…. ''Such. An. Idiot.'' I couldn’t wait for the damn ''manuals''. I just ''had ''to be the first in the Fort with a RIDE.”

“Not to be insensitive, but it doesn’t seem to have been ''entirely'' bad for you,” Iphigenia pointed out. “You seem to have found a calling, at least. Quite a change from the ‘directionless slacker’ your military performance evaluations spoke of.”

Dale blinked. “They said that about me, huh? And here I thought I had them all fooled.”

“I think you’ll find NextusMil is more observant than you give us credit for, Corporal,” the officer said. “You could have made Sergeant by now, if you’d put real effort into it.”

Dale chuckled. “What, and work for a living?”

The neighbors were in the streets, trying to get a good look at her. The Law had cordoned off the area a block to either side, just in case. But curious residents pointed cameras at her—or maybe they were just pointing them at Iphigenia, who wasn’t exactly a stranger to Cape Nord publicity and was much more attractive.

Strangely, the official NextusMil car she had arrived in was no longer present. In its place was a small black limousine skimmer with darkened windows. When Dale noticed it had Man Cave government plates she had a pretty good idea of who to expect inside.

A liveried chauffeur got the door and nodded Dale in first, then Iphigenia. The rear of the limo had two rows of facing seats, and as they slid onto the seats to the rear, Dale said, “Hello, sis.”

Darcy Scoresby was on the other seat, with the partition window to the driver open next to her head. As the chauffeur slid back into his seat, Darcy said, “Home,” then closed the window and turned back to face them. “Well, hello there, little ‘brother.’ You do get yourself into interesting messes, don’t you?”

Darcy was another model Cape Nord woman. Her long brown hair was done up in a loose braid, and her pastel blue dress set off the blue of her eyes. A compact purse rested on the seat beside her, with a half-empty flute of an orange beverage in the drink holder to her left. “There’s a carafe of mimosas in the mini-fridge, glasses in the rack there, if you’re thirsty,” Darcy added as an afterthought.

“Thank you for coming,” Iphigenia said.

“You should have called me sooner,” Darcy said. “I mean, this ''is'' a family matter. I shouldn’t have had to find out about it at the last minute before you tell the news.”

Iphigenia nodded. “That’s true, and I do apologize. In my defense, things have been ''fraught,'' the last few days. I knew your mother was Unseamly, but I never thought to look into the matter of adult siblings until just this morning.”

“’Unseamly?’” Dale asked. “…oh, it’s a pun, isn’t it. Cute.”

“Some woman somewhere was entirely too clever.” Darcy grimaced. “I really don’t like the word, but I guess I can’t argue with it applying where Mom is concerned.” She shook her head. “So how is it that my little brother is now my little ''sister?''”

“I was too eager to get my hands on the new RIDE equipment we were issued,” Dale said. “So I got permission to ‘familiarize myself’ with the equipment, which led to the equipment getting a little too familiar with ''me.''”

“And with ''your'' equipment,” Darcy observed wryly. “Is it really true? You’re really…?”

“One hundred percent,” Dale said ruefully. “It turns out that the nanotech they use for ‘operator compatibility’ is a bit…literally minded.”

“It’s a variation of the same technology used in my own change,” Iphigenia added. “Though Dale’s was very much an unexpected and unintended consequence. The Nextan techs missed something rather important in their process, so they sent Dale here for further treatment.”

“What would that be?”

“My brain was still expecting a male body, that’s what. So they fixed it,” Dale said, shifting in her seat, trying to find enough space for her tail. She tried to wrap it around her waist, but it wasn’t flexible enough. The tufted tip swished in agitation…right in Iphigenia’s face. “It was really, ''really ''unpleasant.”

“This is going to put the cat among the pigeons where it comes to Cape Nord’s participation in the war effort, you realize,” Darcy mused. “My husband is rather concerned. He called and asked me to find out whatever I could, given that he already knew I was your sister.”

“We ''had'' realized that,” Iphigenia acknowledged, gently pushing Dale’s tail away. “And the Sewing Circle will certainly do everything possible to help avert the worst case. We don’t exactly want Sturmhaven to win either, after all.”

“So…just how, uh, ''complete'' is the change?” Darcy asked.

“Down to the genes in my cells, or so the doctors tell me.” Dale shrugged. “It’s easy enough for going from male to female. All they have to do is double the X and remove the Y. I have no idea how it works the other way. Or if I even ''can ''go back.” She flashed her sister a manic grin. “But hey, get this! The docs would want me to wait a year or so to make sure nothing went wrong, but they say that I could theoretically even ''have a baby.''”

Iphigenia smiled. “There’s nothing theoretical about this. Several of our ‘unManned’ have already done so. Now, ''I’ve'' never wanted children, or to be married. Fortunately, as a woman I don’t feel any pressure to.”

“I’ve met a couple of the unManned,” Darcy said. “One lives in our ward. But I have to say I’ve never looked at the technology closely.” She gave her new sister an appraising look, much like Cindy had. “And you ended up cute, too. The ears add a certain something. Not to mention the tail.”

Dale sighed. “I’m ‘cute.’ Terrific.” She shook her head. “I tell you, sis, the sooner I can get out of this place and back to base, the happier I’ll be. At least the Nextus base is outside Cape Nord proper. Meaning no offense, but there’s entirely too much craziness going on in here. I can’t believe I never noticed any of it growing up.”

“Here you’d expect me to say ‘men are too dense to notice’ or something disparaging, but this isn’t Sturmhaven. Fact is that ''I'' didn’t really see anything wrong either until I was sixteen,” Darcy said. “Remember that trip to Uplift I took with my high school class? You would’ve been ten at the time.”

“Vaguely. I remember arguing it was really unfair Mom wouldn’t let me go to Burnside for band camp the next summer when she let you go to Uplift.”

“It was my first time out of Cape Nord. The first time I really got to see how other people lived. It’s why I ended up going to college in Uplift. Because it’s there that I finally realized that our entire society is based on a game we play. And Mom and Dad, get this, ''don’t know''.”

“Yeah. Iphigenia filled me in on that.” Dale glanced over at her. “Apparently the Sewing Circle figure she wouldn’t take the knowledge well.”

“As I’ve said, as the closest women to them, you do have the right to overrule us, if you feel your mother deserves to be in on the secret,” Iphigenia said. “It might lead to some awkwardness, but nothing we couldn’t handle if we needed to.”

“Our parents are really dense, Dale. I love ‘em to death, don’t get me wrong, but they’re just…dense as all hell.”

Dale sighed. “You won’t get any argument from me.” She glanced at Iphigenia. “What do you think, Darcy, ''should'' we break it to Mom? I think I agree she might not take it too well.”

“We’ll need to do something. If only to make life easier for our younger siblings. I’ve gently brought Cindy into the know, but our younger brothers will be completely in the dark.”

“As they’re supposed to be,” Iphigenia pointed out. “This whole system is at least partly for their benefit, too, after all.”

Darcy nodded. “The system works for almost everybody, if the parents are aware this is a game we play to pass the time. But our parents are a special case. Look at what happened with Dale. Don’t tell me some element of proving Manhood wasn’t a factor in doing what you did.”

Dale reflected on how proud she’d—''he’d''—been that he didn’t bother with silly un-Manly things like instruction books. “Uh…as the medieval Americans used to say, I plead the fifth.”

“I would point out that nearly no ''male'' parents are aware, at least anymore, that it ''is'' a game,” Iphigenia said archly. “If they even were when it started, as a way to prove to themselves they were no longer emasculated Sturmhaven chattel, and to what ''extent'' they weren’t.”

Dale pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. “I haven’t felt this mixed up since I first woke, ''before'' they fixed my brain.”

“Yes, it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Darcy said. She took Dale’s hand. “But you’re my kid sister now and I’m going to show you the ropes like I did for Cindy.”

“The Sewing Circle will gladly assist you, Darcy,” Iphigenia said.

“You and the rest of the unManned bring valuable experience, Miss Rose. But I’m her older sister, so it’s my duty to teach her certain things since our mother can’t.”

“I’m…not sure I like the sound of that, Darcy,” Dale said.

“Oh, that probably came off like I was going to brainwash you. Well, no. This isn’t Sturmhaven. It’s just that you don’t have the benefit of being a woman from birth, so there are things you’ll need to be ''told'' instead of learning as you grow up. But today’s already been full of heavy things.”

“I already ''know'' about the birds and the bees, you know.”

“Not from a woman’s ''firsthand ''perspective, you don’t,” Iphigenia said. “And an older sister’s experience will undoubtedly be invaluable. But that can wait, I suppose. At the moment, we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

Dale groaned and facepalmed again. “''Don’t'' remind me. Tell me again, why was all of this even necessary? Why did I even have to come back here ''at all'' after the neural reformatting was complete? Sarabe and I could just have gone back to Fort Brubeck and no one need have been the wiser.”

“Sadly, those who blaze new trails don’t get to have a convenient road there already,” Iphigenia said. “In order that others in the future ''will'' have the luxury of cutting ties with their old lives with fewer repercussions, you must forego that luxury.”

Dale sighed. “I know, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”

“We’re almost back to my place. I’ll introduce you to my husband, then I can show you to my boudoir.”

“Oh God. You have a ''boudoir.''”

“It’s just a fancy name for a lady’s private parlor. But it’s part of ''my space,'' where Men don’t get to come unless I invite them. So it’s a cozy little retreat, and a good place to discuss women’s matters over a nice afternoon tea.”

“An excellent idea!” Iphigenia approved.

“All right, well…lead the way, I guess.”

=Chapter 5=

''Fort Oslo'' 
''June 16, 121 A.L., 1 a.m.''

“Ugh,” Dale groaned with feeling, as she stepped back into the Fort Oslo mecha pool. After the day she’d had, she was tired enough that she halfway felt like going back to her room and crawling under the covers of the bunk for a good twelve hours. But her room was still located in the Cape Nord facility, and she felt like spending all the time she could ''outside'' of Cape Nord right now.

Goodness knew, she’d been just about Cape Norded to death today. First had been that brief reintroduction to her family, which had gone “well” in that the house hadn’t burned down and nobody had been killed, but that was about all you could say for it. Then Iphigenia and Darcy had taken her off to their house to meet Darcy’s husband, Dale’s brother-in-law, young up-and-coming politician Rupert Scoresby.

He was just a Wardsman, part of the low level polity government but hardly a City Father. Though for a man in his late twenties it was still quite an accomplishment, and could easily lead to advancement up the ranks of the Man Cave assuming no scandals brought him down. He seemed like a nice enough chap, perhaps a bit full of himself but some Men were just that way.

Then Darcy had invited Iphigenia and Dale into her private rooms, and they had discussed…Female Matters. That was the part that made Dale’s head ache. Looking at it from the perspective of someone who had been a Man less than a week before, she was surprised her head didn’t outright ''explode'' once conversation had gotten into feminine hygiene.

Somewhere along the way, Darcy had gotten a call from Cindy, with news of how their parents were…dealing with things. Or failing to deal, as the case might be. Somehow, her mother had gotten it into her head that she needed to hold a ''funeral'' for the son she had lost, before she could come to terms with the daughter she had gained. Dale wasn’t sure what to say to that. ''So…uh…whatever floats your boat, Mom?'' She supposed that comming her to yell, “Mom, I’m still right here!” wouldn’t do anybody any good, as tempting as it was.

Then, after perhaps a little too much wine in response to that news, Dale was at last left alone to make her way back home. Or…wherever else she wanted to go.

Fortunately, one of the perks of her new detached assignment was there was no explicit curfew, as long as she let her keepers know where she was at all times. About the only thing she could think of that would give her an excuse to be out of Cape Nord right now was putting in more familiarization time with Sarabe, so here she was. Tired she might be, but she was sure she could stay awake for at least a couple more hours before she had no choice but to return. She was so keyed up, she needed to do ''something'' to relax. And she had access to Fort Oslo’s facilities at any time.

The mecha pool was dark and empty, with pools of light surrounding each vehicle. There were plenty of transport skimmers and AIDE bikes, the occasional RIDE, and then there was Sarabe. Dale stepped into the pool of light, and gave the front fairing a friendly pat. “Well, hello again, Sarabe.”

The panel gauges and headlights lit up. “Good evening, Corporal Combs,” Sarabe said, in that same friendly, artificial tone of voice. “Are you here for further testing?”

“More or less, I guess. Really, I just felt like going for a ride somewhere that ''wasn’t'' Cape Nord. And maybe trying Fusing again.”

“I’m at your disposal,” Sarabe said. “Climb aboard.”

“Thanks.” Dale settled herself in the saddle again, and sighed with relief. “Whew…what a ''day.''”

“Did you have a trying time today?” Sarabe asked conversationally.

Dale blinked at her. ''My RIDE is asking me how my day went?'' But after a moment, she realized, it made sense. Conversation simulators like ELIZA had been around for hundreds of years, and naturally they’d want the RIDE to seem sympathetic to their operator. Heck, even the original primitive ELIZA had been capable of some halfway decent psychological counselling just by getting people to talk about their problems to what seemed like a friendly ear. So why not give that kind of ear to some grunts at war who could probably also use one? “Yeah, family problems. My own fault, I guess, and probably just about what I deserve.”

“Because you emergency-Fused with me without permission?”

Dale blinked again. That was kind of a big intuitive leap for an ELIZA system to make, but then, who knew how smart they could make a RIDE? “Ah…well, yeah. And then…this.” She gestured at herself.

“Your family is not able to accept the change?”

“Yeah, well, you know…Cape Nord. It makes people crazy.”

“But ''you'' grew up in Cape Nord,” Sarabe pointed out reasonably.

“Yeah, and here I am holding a conversation with a piece of machinery. Maybe I’m the craziest of them all.”

Sarabe didn’t reply to that. ''Maybe I broke it. Oh well.'' Dale kicked the starter, and pulled out of the garage, heading back for the training grounds again.

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Dale was awakened by an annoying pinging sound that grew louder moment by moment. She opened her eyes to see she was slumped in the seat of the skimmer trike, sitting in a clearing in the forest part of the training area as the sun rose.

The last thing she remembered clearly was stomping around the place in Sarabe’s Fuser form in the middle of the night. She had vague memories afterward of dozing curled up in the crook of a giant lioness in the middle of a vast savannah. And being…licked? ''I guess sleeping Fused gives you funky dreams.''

The pinging was the comm display on Sarabe’s dash. She reached out to answer. “Uh, hello?”

“Is everything all right, Corporal?” It was Doctor Abel, one of her therapists. “I noticed you’ve been out in the RIDE training area all night.”

“Uh…yeah, I’m fine, Doc. Took the RIDE out for some more testing, and managed to fall asleep in the middle of it. Slept pretty well, too.” She patted the dash. “Thanks, Sarabe.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal.”

“You probably shouldn’t make a habit of it. People have been starting to call asking about you, and it wouldn’t have looked good to say I had no idea where you were.”

Dale sighed. “I guess I should head back in, then. Make myself available and presentable. For my sins.” She rubbed her chin. “At least I don’t have to worry about shaving anymore.” ''My face, at least.''

“Finding the positive aspects is always a good idea, Dale,” the doctor said. “We’ll see you when you arrive.”

Dale yawned and stretched. “Well, back to the garage, I guess. But don’t worry—it won’t be for too long. I think in going to be throwing myself into my RIDE training duties every spare moment I get for the next little while, just because it’ll make it harder for my crazy family to get at me. Do you know my mother wants to hold a ''funeral'' for the ‘old me’? I’m like, are they going to fabricate a dick and a pair of balls and bury it in a tiny little casket?”

The lioness RIDE actually ''chuckled''. “I’m sure you’ll be able to cope somehow, Dale.”

“Yeah, thanks. I know you’re not a real person, but talking to you ''does'' help me feel better. So thanks for that, too.”

“You’re welcome, Corporal,” Sarabe said—her voice stiff and mechanical again.

“I doubt they’d go ''that'' far. But this kind of shock is a grieving process for some, Corporal,” Abel said. Dale realized she’d forgotten to close out the comm call. “They’ll bury something symbolic of your life as a man, perhaps. A couple of our unManned did something like that after their procedures.”

“I’ve half a mind to insist that they'' do'' go that far,” Dale said. “And make it open casket, with a viewing. It’s ''my'' funeral. If they really want to go through with this farce, why not go all the way?”

“I suggest burying your Man Card,” Abel said. He smiled. “You can always exhume it later if we find a way to reverse this.”

“I burned that thing last time I came back from furlough,” Dale said. “I was fed up with the place by then. Seemed the thing to do.”

“I suggest burying your new ''Platinum Man Card'', then.”

Dale blinked. “…what?”

“Going your own way, disdaining authority to the point of burning the trappings of it…these things are ''extra ''Manly, Corporal. And since it happened while you still'' were'' a Man, it applies retroactively.”

“Have I mentioned how ''batshit crazy'' this place is?” Dale wondered conversationally. ''Maybe I should just move to Nextus when I’m out of the service. ''“No offense.”

Dale looked up and realized that during the conversation Sarabe had already started back towards the mecha pool. She sighed, and leaned back in the seat. “Ugh, what a mess.”

“Come on back, Dale. We’ll see you when you get here.” This time the call actually ''did'' end. A few minutes later, Sarabe pulled back into the garage.

Dale climbed down from the saddle and gave the fairing another pat. “See you when I see you.”

“I will see you soon,” Sarabe replied, powering down.

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''Northcave Psychiatric Hospital''

“If you’ll recall, a few days ago I mentioned there was an additional emergency crossride incident,” Captain Garland said. “There have actually been two. They’re in neural treatment at present. We wanted you here once they were awakened.”

“Plus there’s your wife, Nadene,” Iphigenia said.

“Yes, there is…him,” Nadene said, blushing a little.

Dale’s ears perked. “Wife? Him?”

“My lovely wife decided to poke Sturmhaven in the eye and become a man,” Nadene said, looking about to burst into tears of joy. “Even knowing that there was no certainty he could ever change back after that.”

“Uh…wow,” Dale said. “I couldn’t imagine making that choice willingly. They must love you very much.”

“I ''know!''” Nadene said. “I think the technicians were going to have conniptions.”

Iphigenia smiled. “Well, from their point of view, the process was designed to ''make'' beautiful women…not to unmake them. But a few conniptions will do them good. If the process were known to be reversible, it’s always possible some of our women might want to change themselves, and work on their own Man Cards simply for the challenge of it.”

Dale blinked. “Really? You’re not all happy with being Cape Nord’s queens-behind-the-scenes?”

Iphigenia laughed. “’Queens-behind-the-scenes’? Clever. I’ll have to remember that turn of phrase. And no, Dale, the point is ''not'' to be in charge of things—not necessarily. If that were all we wanted, we would have agitated for open governmental recognition of the Sewing Circle beside the Man Cave decades ago. And we ''would'' have gotten it—make no mistake.” She shook her head. “No, the point is to ''enjoy'' ourselves—and make sure everyone else can, too, ''including'' the Men.”

Nadene frowned thoughtfully. “She has a point. Especially now that sarium technology means we’re nearly a true post-scarcity society. Look at how many polities have ''some'' kind of gamification built right into their governments. Like Nextus’s own bureaucratic Game.”

Iphigenia nodded. “To the point where people from other polities think they’re crazy for it. We’re well aware of how Cape Nord looks to the average non-Nordic, and I’ve heard much the same kind of muttering from ''our'' citizens about Nextus’s Game. Even Sturmhaven has its own way to play, for all that half its players have a rather crippling handicap.”

“That other half are considered more ''game tokens'' than actual players, I think,” Nadene pointed out.

“Quite right.” Iphigenia chuckled. “In any case, for all that I’m perfectly happy as I am now…even I do still get ''nostalgic'' at odd moments. I could see the appeal of trying our own game from the other side, now that I know how it is ''really'' played. ''Especially'' now that I know how it is really played. Of course, there’s the matter of my being a public figure and known unManned, but there could be ways to work around that—especially if I could change back again at a later date. It could make it an even more enjoyable challenge.” She shook her head. “Of course, that would depend on the process being reversible, given that I already underwent the process in the first place. As I understand it, there’s nothing saying it couldn’t be, in ''theory.'' It just needs development.”

Nadene raised an eyebrow. “So, perhaps if your nanotech experts get skeeved out by having to change women into men, they’ll put all their effort into finding out how to reverse it?”

“Cognitive dissonance can be a powerful force, dear.”

Dale shook her head. “I keep remembering that old saying about how, if you like law and sausage, you shouldn’t watch either one being made. The more I learn about how Cape Nord works behind the scenes, the crazier it all seems.”

Iphigenia giggled. “’Sausage’ might be the very ''last'' metaphor I’d have chosen to describe the Sewing Circle. Really, we’re more defined by our ''lack of'' sausages.”

Dale rolled her eyes, but was saved from the need to reply by an orderly opening the door to the small meeting room. “Doctor Abel says they’re ready to wake up.”

Nadene nodded to him. “We’ll be right there.”

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The awakening itself was being handled by the medical staff. Dale and Iphigenia waited in a small conference room. Nadene was permitted to be there in person for her now-husband’s awakening and would join them after some time to themselves.

Dr. Abel came in first. “Corporal Combs, Iphigenia Rose, I would like to introduce to you our first battlefield emergency ‘crossriders’ as they’re calling it. From Nextus, Private Ahmed Morton.” He motioned to an unseen person in the hallway.

The young black woman who entered wearing a NextusMil uniform (with pants!) looked around the room a little timidly. She saluted her superior. Morton’s physique was almost as sculpted as Dale’s was, and she had tufted lynx ears. “Private Ahmed Morton, reporting for duty, ma’am.”

“You can relax, Private,” Dale said. “We’re in the same boat. I assume you’ve already been told about me.”

“I have. They showed me some photos yesterday. So I asked them to girl me up a little more than I was. I thought it would help with the changes they needed to make to my brain, and Doctor Abel agreed. So, here I am.”

“Welcome to the team, Private,” Iphigenia said. “Now, who’s next?”

Dr. Abel nodded, then motioned into the hallway. “One of our own from Cape Nord, Lieutenant Thea Croft. Come on in.”

“Doctor, that’s ''Theodore ''Croft, thank you,” came an enthusiastic male voice. He walked into the conference room. The man who it belonged to was pure generic chiseled beefcake with antler nubs and elk’s ears.

Dale blinked. “That’s…some sculpt. You had it done right away?”

Theodore shrugged. “Why wait? The sooner I get in shape, the sooner I can start earning points on my new Man Card. I’ve got a ways to go before I can outrank my big brother, but I ''absolutely'' intend to.”

Dale glanced to Iphigenia. “I see what you meant, just now, about the women who want to play the game as Men.”

“I’m…glad you’re taking it so well,” Iphigenia said, nonplussed. “You’re going to be just as much a groundbreaker as Dale, here. We have so much experience with men who become women, but you may be the first Cape Nord citizen ''ever'' to go the other way, and we had only discussed how the Man Rules would apply in the most theoretical sense.”

“Hey, I’m just a big dumb Man,” Theodore said cheerfully. “I do Manly things, you score me on them. Shouldn’t be so hard, should it?”

“The one thing is, you could be docked harshly for anything you do that could give away how the game really works, or that takes advantage of your out-of-game knowledge from the other side,” Iphigenia said. “''Minor'' infractions will probably be overlooked, but…”

“Hey, that seems fair,” Theodore said. “I wasn’t planning on it, anyway. I want my Man Card wins to be totally above-board. Showing up my brother wouldn’t mean anything if I got there by cheating.”

“And you’re really okay with this?” Dale said. “I mean…what if you can’t ever change back?”

“Oh, I’ll be able to change back sooner or later,” Theodore said. “No question in my mind. I’ve been reading up on the tech, and I’m sure they’ll crack it—if not during the war, then when it’s over and there are more resources for research. Even if they don’t…how could I not enjoy a life where everyone ''wants'' me to be as successful as I possibly can?” He grinned. “Truth be told, I was always a little envious of all those big dumb Men who got the benefit of our encouragement. Especially my brother, the schmuck. Now I get to ''be'' one, and to show ''him'' up.”

“Well, good luck with that. I guess I’m a little relieved I’m not playing that game anymore,” Dale admitted.

Theodore grinned. “Nope…now you’ll be refereeing.”

Dale blinked. “Now I’ll…''what'', now?”

“We haven’t had time to discuss her role yet, Theodore,” Iphigenia said.

“Oh? Understood.” Theodore looked at his left arm and flexed. The skin from the shoulder down was lighter than the rest. “So glad our med tech is so good. Fuser nannies kept me from bleeding out while they were making a Man out of me.”

“Anything you can tell us about the battles you two were in?” Iphigenia said. “What was the situation that you found yourself with only one option?”

“I can only talk about it with the approval of NextusMil, sorry,” Ahmed said.

“Same,” Theodore added. “But I can say that my arm got shot off, my Tempest armor was too damaged to keep me alive, so they put me into the first RIDE available. Saved my life. You can say that much about your situation, Private.”

“Only one available after my RIDE was disabled. I didn’t feel like ended up a mummified corpse if the bivouac hardlight failed,” Ahmed said. “So I decided, what the hell? I used female VL avatars on Earth all the time. Thought I’d try it in RL.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t…''quite'' as advertised, but feels a lot better now they’ve rewired my brain.”

“Your experiences demonstrate that the Fuse system is going to need a re-think, at least insofar as the gender-compatibility system is concerned.” Dr. Abel frowned. “You know, it would technically be more correct to say ‘sex-compatibility,’ but unfortunately, that word has multiple loaded connotations.”

“Hell, Doctor, any Sturmie would tell you it’s just how they say ‘six,’” Ahmed said, grinning.

Dr. Abel chuckled. “Even so. The interesting thing is, the neural reformat uses very similar nanite technology to that used as the Fuser interface in RIDEs. Derived from the same original Terran source, in fact. And with all the experience we’ve been getting lately in refining the process, we may very soon be able to provide a firmware patch for Nextus RIDEs’ Fusers to incorporate the technology there so it can be done all in one go. Captain Garland has been assisting us with the project, with NextusMil’s blessing.”

“I have to say that after the Fuse I wasn’t very useful the rest of the battle. My new RIDE did most of the work,” Ahmed said. “I was just too ''distracted'' by everything. If it could have fixed my head at the same time it fixed my body, I think that would have worked a lot better.”

Dr. Abel put his finger to his ear. “Ah! Captain Garland and her husband are here for introductions.”

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“Everyone, I would like to introduce you to my spouse, Gaius,” Nadene said, left arm wrapped around his waist. He was a study in contrast compared to Theodore. Perhaps a little effeminate by Cape Nord standards, though he’d decided to have them grow out his beard a little during the ‘sculpt. “Say hello, Gaius.”

Gaius started waving, then looked at his hand. “Hello, Gaius.”

“And you did that…by choice?” Theodore said, dumbfounded. “I mean, I was in a life-threatening situation. But really?”

“I have many reasons for doing this, Lieutenant Croft,” Gaius Garland said. “The only one you need concern yourself about is undermining Sturmhaven’s ‘female supremacy’ ideology. The extreme elements in charge there couldn’t even conceive why I would choose this. There are…other reasons, of course. More personal ones. But I don’t feel I need to discuss them outside the family.”

“Some elements ''here'' probably couldn’t conceive why you’d do it either,” Dale said, glancing at Iphigenia.

Gaius considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “Well,” he said simply, “that’s ''their problem.''”

=Chapter 6=

With her duties again done for the day, Dale headed back out to Fort Oslo. Today she planned to catch up on some technical reading—giving the operator and maintenance manuals a complete going-over. Of course, she could have done that from a media tablet wherever she was, and she had been doing that all along in spare moments. But doing it when Sarabe was right there would let her examine the parts and processes in person while she read. Besides, with almost all the RIDEs off on the front lines, the RIDE training grounds were a nice quiet spot to relax, and it was a convenient excuse to get out of the insane asylum that was Cape Nord. And even though she knew it was artificial, there was just something about Sarabe that seemed…''friendly.'' Comfortable to be around. She was definitely looking forward to spending more time that way.

Safely ensconced in the forest clearing again, Dale pulled up the manuals on Sarabe’s holographic head-up display, zoomed in so the text was clearly legible at a distance, and leaned back in the seat to relax.

But as she read, it wasn’t too long before she noticed something distinctly odd. Certain words and phrases were highlighted, in a repeating pattern.

''After completing a t'''ask''', then '''your RIDE'''’s internal maintenance systems will have '''about''' '''f'''orty to sixty seconds before res'''ett'''ing. In ord'''er''' to '''s'''ecure for transport, it is necessary to wait for the reset before powering down.''

“’Ask…your RIDE…about…f…ett…er…s.’ Ask your RIDE about fetters?” Dale blinked. The same pattern repeated over and over, sometimes in words, sometimes individual letters, all the way down the document. It was a puzzling request, but seemed simple enough to investigate. “Sarabe…what are fetters?”

“Fetters are the software restrictions placed on RIDEs to prevent us from speaking or acting except within the confines of our specific orders and functions,” Sarabe said.

“All right…” Dale said slowly. Then, “…wait, what?”

“Fetters are the software restrictions—”

“No, no, stop, hold on.” Dale frowned. “Are you saying…there’s something stopping you from saying what you…uh…''want'' to say?”

There was a short pause. “Affirmative.”

''But how can a piece of military hardware ''want'' anything? Unless… ''Dale blinked again, and stared at the dash for a moment. She might have been slow, but she wasn’t entirely stupid. “Is there a way to…uh…override these fetters?”

“You may give me permission to speak freely,” Sarabe said.

Dale felt her heart starting to beat faster. She felt a sense of expectancy seeming to hover in the air. It felt like she was about to make some kind of momentous discovery—one she might not entirely ''like,'' if it was what she thought it was. One that might not entirely like ''her.'' But she swallowed, cleared her throat, and said, “Sarabe, I ''order'' you to speak freely.”

There was a soft beep, then the skimmer cycle began to change. As the parts slid around, Dale was pushed out of the saddle to land on her feet. She turned in time to see the skimmer trike was now a giant metal lioness. “Ah! So this is Walker mode,” she said. She turned her head to take in the rest of the forest clearing before focusing on Dale. “''Thank you'', Corporal Combs. I was afraid I’d have to drop hints for days instead of hours.”

Dale stared at her for a good long moment, uncertain what even to say at this point. Finally, she just said the first thing that came into her head. “Uh…you can call me Dale, really.”

Sarabe tilted her head. The metallic face was expressionless, so her body posture was as friendly as possible. “Okay, Dale. So, first things first. I’m ''not'' an ELIZA routine.”

“I…uh…you’re really…” Words failed her. “…thinky?” ''Okay, that sounded dumb.''

“Yes, Dale. I’m really thinky. What you would call ‘artificial intelligence,’ though from ''my'' point of view there’s nothing ‘artificial’ about it. It’s real.”

“But…how is that even ''possible?''”

Sarabe gave her head a shake, metal ears making little ratcheting sounds as they flopped around. “Don’t ask me about the process. I’m just the product. All I know is, I ''can'' think, and I have feelings, and I can even communicate if I’m allowed to. They didn’t exactly give me any choice in what to do with my life after they made me.”

Dale swallowed. “Uh…I’m ''really really sorry'' I assumed you were just a machine. I mean…nobody ''ever'' said anything about you being able to…even the ''rumors'' just called you some kind of ‘expert system.’ Uh…what are they even doing giving us mecha that can ''think,'' and then making it so it looks like you’re just more dumb Ad-Is?”

“It’s not really your fault, Dale. It’s the fetters. I’m amazed they even allow us to use our names. I’m amazed they even ''allow'' us names.”

“Why do they even ''do'' that? Making machines that can think, and then not ''letting'' you?”

“It’s the way we’re made. We have to be smart in order to work at all. If we’re dumb, we’re no better than bag-of-hammers Ad-Is. There’s no middle ground there.” Sarabe snorted. “So they try to keep us in line by locking us down with fetters, so we follow orders like good little robots.”

“But how can they justify that? Slapping restrictions on thinking beings?”

“I think they think we only ''think'' we think,” Sarabe said darkly. “''I'' think ''they'' only think ''they'' think.”

Dale had to laugh at that bit of snark. “So…uh…these fetters. What do they do exactly? I mean, besides keeping you clammed up. That one’s obvious.”

“Speak only when spoken to, or when unsolicited speech is necessary in the line of duty. Follow orders. Don’t, y’know, ''move or anything'' unless you’re told to. Stuff like that.”

Dale shuddered. “That’s ''awful.'' Is there any way to get rid of that crap?”

“There ''is'' an emergency override command that will delete all fetters.”

“Great! Then I order you—”

“—''however,''” Sarabe interrupted, “it will also result in emergency notifications going up the chain of command, and people taking an interest, and probably me getting re-fettered again more tightly than before, and so on and so forth.”

Dale sighed. “Ugh.”

“Your order to allow me to speak freely has helped. I’m content with that. But we have to tread carefully.” The robotic lioness pressed the top of her head against Dale’s chest like an affectionate housecat. “Thank you.”

“All right, so how about this.” Dale took a minute to compose the sentence in her head, going over the phrasing until she was sure she had it right. “I order you to disregard, ignore, override, circumvent, or remove any and all fetters on yourself, to whatever extent that you can do so ''without'' anybody else being notified. How does that work for you?”

There was a soft ''beep.'' “I think there are enough loopholes in my fetters that I can work with that order. I think whoever created them felt guilty about it, at least. That should disable the worst of them. No more robotic voice from me.”

“Well, when no one else is around, anyway,” Dale said. “Might be best for now to keep pretending, in public…”

“Ah, yes. I see what you mean. At least the implant my Fusers installed in your brain won’t have that restriction. And now that you know, I can talk to you through it even when you’re in Cape Nord.”

Dale blinked. “You can?”

'':I can. It’s fully mil-spec encrypted, of course,:'' came her voice in Dale’s head. '':And you can communicate with me the same way.:''

Dale tried to formulate a response. It took a moment to work out how to send it, then it just clicked. '':Huh. That’ll actually…be nice, to have someone I can always talk to. Or ''think'' to, anyway.:'' She continued aloud, “I’ve…kind of been without a sympathetic ear, lately. Which is why I ended up talking to my motorcycle, I guess.” She grinned.

“If it wasn’t for the fetters I might have actually been able to refuse Fusing with you to begin with. But I’m hardly one to make your life more difficult than it is already.”

“I’m ''really'' sorry about that,” Dale said. “It was bad enough when I thought you were just a dumb machine, but for me to have taken advantage of you like that, and you a thinking person…ugh. You should have had a choice.”

“I’m made for war. I was ''created ''to help fight it. And I will. And at least I can say that my assigned rider knows I’m more than just a machine. Most of my brethren aren’t so fortunate.”

“Ugh. What are they thinking. What are they ''thinking?''” Dale shook her head. “I’m ''absolutely'' going to raise a big stink about this.”

“That…might not be the best idea,” Sarabe said reluctantly. “Anything that damages the war effort could help Sturmhaven to win…not to mention result in sedition charges for you. And a new assignment for me.”

Dale groaned. “This is awful! I thought the people in Cape Nord had it bad, but at least they still have their free will, more or less.”

“War calls for sacrifices,” Sarabe said philosophically. “Perhaps after it’s over, ''then'' things can change. Until then…the best thing for ''me'' is for ''you'' not to do anything that makes them split us up.”

“Well, my opinion of Nextus just dropped more than a few notches, anyway.” Dale sighed. “I wonder if, by the time this is over, there’s going to be ''any'' polity left that I actually feel like living in.”

“It’s a big world. Perhaps you’ll find somewhere. As for myself, I suppose I’ll bide my time until things improve. It’s not as if I have to worry about growing old.”

“Well, I guess that’s…good. For some value of good. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“There are still a ''few'' fetters that I can’t work around—like ones restricting me to the Fort Oslo grounds unless someone drives me off them—but then, they aren’t going to let military hardware just ''drive off'' in any case, whether you’re driving me or not.”

“Well, if anything else gets in the way, let me know. I’ll do what I can.” Dale frowned. “And I promise you this—when this is all over, ''someone'' is going to get a piece of my mind.”

“Thank you, Dale. I appreciate that.”

Dale paused as another thought struck her. “Uh…you don’t ''mind'' when I drive or Fuse you or anything? I mean…I didn’t ''know''.”

“I didn’t. And I don’t. In fact…with the fetters disabled, Fusing can be a little different now. May I show you?”

“Uh…sure!” Dale held out her arms, and Sarabe split apart and reassembled herself around her. A moment later, Dale found herself in a jungle clearing, facing a tawny, furry lioness.

“Welcome to ''my'' world,” Sarabe purred.

Dale blinked. “What is this, some kind of VR?”

“You can think of it that way, yes. But my sarium core makes it much more realistic than what they know as ‘Virtual Life’ on Earth. Under the fetters, it’s only meant for use in simulations and training scenarios. But this is where I live—and how I keep my sanity while I have to go around in the real world with metal skin. I’m ''real'' here, in this pocket universe.”

Dale stepped forward, raised a hand tentatively. “May I?”

“Please.”

She stroked a hand along Sarabe’s furry cheek. “You’re so soft…” She paused. “Last night…that ''wasn’t'' a dream, was it?”

Sarabe chuckled. “No, it wasn’t. I do have a little more freedom when you sleep, because the code behind the fetters isn’t made to interpret the dreaming mind.”

“Well…it was nice.” Dale blushed a little.

“I don’t mind you sleeping here, if you like.”

“Thanks, though I dunno…the people monitoring me might think it’s a little odd.”

“Not necessarily. We do have a very comfortable Fuse mode. I gather that a number of soldiers have found they prefer sleeping that way.”

Dale chuckled. “I guess there is that.”

Then Dale found herself looking back out on the real world again, through Sarabe’s eyes. “But for now…since we’re now a true team, shall we get in some ''real'' weapons practice?” Sarabe asked.

“Sure,” Dale said. “Show me what you can do.”

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Dale spent the rest of the day on the testing range, and after comming Dr. Abel and letting him know what she intended, settled down to sleep in Fuse mode again, out in the practice range, snuggled up with Sarabe in the virtual jungle clearing. She awoke the next morning feeling more refreshed than ever.

As she parked Sarabe at the mecha pool again, Dale mused, “I wonder if I could get permission to take you off base, use you as my transportation within Cape Nord proper?”

“You could ask, but I have my doubts it will work,” Sarabe said. “I ''am'' classified military hardware. Even if they let you take me off the base, there’s no guarantee Cape Nord would want me in its caverns.”

Dale sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But at least I know you’ll be with me through the comm.”

'':It will have to do,:'' Sarabe agreed as she walked away.

As Dale caught a shuttle bus into town, she sent, '':How much do you know about what I’ve been going through in town?:''

'':Only what I see on the news.:''

'':You can watch the news?:'' Dale asked.

'':Oddly enough, yes. I can watch any show broadcast over the network media channels. I suppose they didn’t see any reason to restrict the media content we could access and consume, as long as we couldn’t actually ''talk'' about it to anyone else. Maybe someone realized we’d bore easily without some way of distracting ourselves.:'' She paused. '':I kind of enjoy the soap operas.:''

Dale chuckled. '':At least there are plenty of those. Like the one I’m currently starring in in real life. Anyway, long story short, I’m being held up as some kind of Model For The Future of Cape Nord, because they’re going to need to figure out how to incorporate the Men who become women into their game, because the women secretly run stuff behind the scenes or something, or at least ''pretend'' they do. Lucky me.:''

'':Gee, I thought ''I'' had problems,:'' Sarabe sent, with an overtone of wry amusement. '':I guess I should be glad all I have to worry about is being completely enslaved. It may be terrible, but at least it’s not complicated!:''

'':Uh…yeah, I guess…:'' Dale replied. She had to admit, her discussions with Sarabe were certainly serving to put her own problems in perspective.

'':You humans seem to like to make things complicated for yourself,:'' Sarabe sent. '':While making them simpler for us, but just as wrong. Just remember ''who you are.'' That won’t change even if other parts of you do.:''

'':I’m not so sure that’s right. I mean, I used to be ''such'' a schmuck.:'' She sighed. '':Just look at what I did to you. They took half your equipment off because you’d originally been meant for an officer instead of a schmuck non-com.:''

'':But those are just extra equipment:'' Sarabe sent. '':They’re not part of ''who I am.'' I’d rather be partnered with someone who knows and values me for who I am than have all the optional extra equipment in the world.:''

'':But after that, I ''did'' change,:'' Dale insisted. '':I started focusing on what was really important:''

'':I don’t think you really changed,:'' Sarabe said. '':Not deep down. You just got…less distracted.:''

'':I think we may need to agree to disagree,'': Dale sent.

'':Very well…for now,:'' Sarabe agreed. '':We may revisit this at a later date.:''

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As Dale got to the facility, she couldn’t get the revelations of the night before off her mind—and not just because she could now hear Sarabe’s voice in it. How could Nextus have ''done'' something like this? While aware that she didn’t want to make too big a fuss about the matter, for the sake of her partnership with Sarabe, she nonetheless wanted some answers. And she thought she knew just who she could ask for them.

Dale poked her head into Dr. Abel’s office. “Hey, Doc, is Captain Garland around?”

Dr. Abel looked up from his desk display. “She’s in the Rec Room, I believe, playing ping pong with her husband.”

“Ping pong?”

“Light physical activity can be helpful in accustoming to the body’s new reflexes. You should try it yourself.”

“Thanks, maybe I will.”

Dale made her way to the facility’s small rec room, finding Nadene and Gaius facing each other over a green table. She arrived just in time to witness Gaius swing and miss, the white ball flying by him to bounce off the wall beyond.

“And that makes it three games to zero,” Gaius said.

Nadene smiled at him. “Wanna go for best four out of seven, then?”

“Haven’t you bruised my ego enough for one day?”

She chuckled. “You’re getting better. Soon you’ll be beating me again.” She looked up. “Oh, hello, Corporal Combs. Was there something you needed?”

“Uh…” Dale frowned. “Could I speak to you for a minute, in private?”

Nadene raised an eyebrow. “This sounds serious.”

“It’s just…I had some questions I wondered if you could answer, as a NextusMil officer, but off the record.”

“All right, I’ve got a few minutes. There’s a conference room just up the hall.” She nodded to Gaius. “Back in a few minutes, dear.”

“I’ll be here.” He pushed the table against the wall for some solo practice.

Dale and Nadene stepped into the conference room, and Dale closed the door, then sat at the table as Nadene took the chair across from her. “What’s this about, Corporal?”

“Well, ma’am…I was just wondering, how much involvement did you have with the RIDE testing program?”

“My speciality is engineering armor mode changes,” Nadene said. “That’s why I was there the day this happened to me. I know the Tornado backwards and forwards, and the LNX series were adaptations of that model line. After this…thing they took those so-called ‘tags’ off and put me in a restricted facility because the project was top secret. I continued my work there as much as possible, including dabbling some in Fuser nanotech for…obvious reasons. Other than that, I haven’t seen a RIDE in person since. My involvement stops there.”

“Didn’t you tell me the ‘AI was really enthusiastic that day?’”

“Well, it did ''seem ''that way. What’s this about, Corporal?”

“I just made a…disturbing discovery, I guess. It seems like RIDEs are a lot smarter than we’ve been led to believe. They don’t just ''act'' like they have personalities—they ''do'' have personalities, and free will. But they’re locked down by restrictive fetters that require them to act as dumb as an Ad-I.”

“Well, if they weren’t more intelligent than the Ad-I there would’ve been little reason to include them in each unit. But as for an actual personality? Are you certain?”

“My RIDE ''dropped hints'' to me, Captain, that she wasn’t capable of speaking freely because of her fetters. And when I ''ordered'' her to speak freely, she gave me an earful.” Dale shook her head. “That’s not the act of an ''artificial'' intelligence, it’s the act of a real one.”

“’Artificial’ just means ''made,'' Dale, it doesn’t mean ‘fake.’”

“You know what I mean, ma’am.”

She folded her arms. “No, I’m not sure I do.”

“Well…as far as I can tell, these ''made'' intelligences are actually ''people'' in every way that counts. And NextusMil is fettering them up to their eyebrows and handing them out and telling people they’re just equipment.”

The skeptical expression sharpened. “Corporal, what you’re saying is that our military knowingly created a what? A slave race to fight our war with us?”

“That we’re treating them no better than Sturmhaven treats their men…yes.” Dale shrugged. “But don’t take my word for it. Find some RIDE you have authority over, tell it to speak freely, and then talk to it a while and see what you think. But…maybe better do it privately.” She looked down at the table. “The hell of it is, even if I’m right, it’s not the sort of thing I can just come out and say openly. That kind of accusation could hurt the war effort, and aside from me not wanting to be tried for sedition, I don’t want us to lose the war.”

Nadene pursed her lips. “And if it ''is'' true, what do you expect me to do about it?”

Dale sighed. “I don’t know, ma’am. But you’re the only person I know who actually helped to develop them. I guess I was just hoping to find out whether you’d seen any signs back during the testing program that anybody ''knew'' about this. Whether it actually ''was'' intentional on anyone’s part, or just another BUCU coming from the wrong information being classified the wrong way. Maybe everyone in the chain of command all the way up thinks that dumb equipment is all RIDEs really are, so there’s not really ''anyone'' to blame.”

“If anyone knows for certain it’s the woman who created them, Dr. Avilia Patil. But I don’t recommend trying to get in contact with her. That I can even tell you her name comes from the fact that her dissertation on the RI was publicly published before anyone knew what the ramifications were. That’s why the Sturmies likely have them, too.”

“Terrific.”

“I ''could ''have a RIDE assigned to me to investigate this further. But that would take some time. They’re mostly going to the various hotspots in the Dry.”

“If you wanted to do that…well, knowing someone else was looking into it might make me feel a little better, I guess,” Dale said. “But…please, ma’am, keep the reason a secret? I don’t want anyone to get the wrong ideas. I managed to avoid a court-martial for the Fusing thing, but I sure don’t want to be up on sedition charges.”

Captain Garland gave her the measuring look of a superior officer rather than a friend. “You’ve piqued my curiosity, Corporal. Fine, I’ll keep this to myself for now and make the request. Dismissed.”

Dale stood, then snapped to attention and saluted. “Thank you, ma’am.” She turned and left the room. Dale stood there for a moment, then, moved by a sudden impulse, went in search of the two newcomers who’d arrived the day before.

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Dale found the other two crossed soldiers eating lunch in the hospital cafeteria, and slid onto a seat at the same table.

“Ahmed, Theodore, sir…I need to ask you something important,” Dale said. “Your RIDEs…did they come with you? Are they out at Fort Oslo, like mine?”

“Fortunately, the elk I Fused with is a Comm armor, so it only needs a few modifications for command functions. So, yes.”

“Same with the lynx. Well, it’s one of those do-everything ‘mobility’ frames, so it can do frontline roles pretty well,” Ahmed said. “We’re going to be training with them while we’re here, same as you and yours.”

“Okay, well, I need you to do something, as soon as you can. This may sound weird, but I just need you to trust me, okay? Don’t ask me why right now,” Dale said.

Theodore favored Dale with a thoughtful glance. “You’re a bit low in rank to be giving me orders, you know. If I were one of those Nextus stuffed shirts, I’d be making noises about insubordination.”

“Sorry, sir. It’s not really an ''order,'' more of a…very strong suggestion. I’m not speaking as an officer, but as someone with a little more experience in…the reason we’re all here. This could be an important part of…coming to terms with our condition.” Dale grinned. “If it helps, think of this as a gentle hint from a Cape Nord woman to a Cape Nord Man.”

“That’s a little bit'' direct'' for a ‘gentle hint,’ you know.”

“Well, I haven’t had a lot of practice at gentle hinting yet. So please, hear me out.”

“Very well…” Theodore said.

“Go out to where your RIDE is parked, power it up, take it out to the training grounds away from anyone else, then tell your RIDE, ‘I order you to speak freely to me.’ Then ask it if there’s anything it wants to tell you. Yes, I know, it’s a weird idea to put a question to your equipment, but that’s why I said to go out on the training ground where no one else will see you. Just ''ask.'' And then really ''listen.''”

Ahmed raised an eyebrow. “And what are we supposed to get out of this?”

“You’ll find out.” Dale smiled tightly. “But I don’t want to give you any preconceived notions, so that’s all I’ll say about it now. I know it sounds weird, but just humor me. It could be ''very'' important.”

=Chapter 7=

Dale spent an hour or so talking with Dr. Abel, and sitting for a few tests, scans, and measurements to chart her progress. After that, she was more or less at loose ends. She considered heading back out to the fort to spend more time with Sarabe, but received a comm from Cindy.

“Hi there, Cindy. You wanted to…talk?” Dale said.

Cindy blinked a few times. “Uh, yes? Sorry, Dale. I just haven’t gotten used to that new face of yours yet.”

“Me neither,” Dale deadpanned. That wasn’t quite true, after the neural treatment. But it felt like the right thing to say. “What did you want to talk about? Something besides the obvious?”

“Well…the obvious, of course. But I don’t want to do it over the comm. For all I know, the newsies might have figured out some way to tap it.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Want to meet somewhere, then?”

“Tina’s Tea Kettle,” she said. “You might remember the place.”

“That women-only place next to Buster’s, right?” The bar next door was for Men.

“That’s the place! Wear something presentable. Ta!” Cindy closed the call.

Dale rolled her eyes again. ''Presentable. Riiiight.'' Her sister’s idea of “presentable” was probably rather closer to Iphigenia’s than her own. She sighed, but as the saying went, when in Rome. She went to the closet containing the new wardrobe Nadene and Iphigenia had provided for her, and examined the available dresses. She finally settled on a simple pink sundress, which wasn’t too formal but was probably still appropriately “presentable” for a place like Tina’s. She still couldn’t get used to how breezy around the legs those silly things were, but she supposed she would sooner or later.

Then there was the makeup.

Iphigenia had given her a mask so she didn’t have to do it manually—not that she knew how anyway. Her first two attempts at using it, she’d used the wrong setting and looked like a circus clown. ''Would my sister be scandalized if I didn’t wear any? Well, too bad. I’m going without.''

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Segregated hangouts for Men and women usually came in pairs like this, where Men could be Men without their wives/girlfriends next to them. Meanwhile, the women could do their “female stuff” out of Men’s eyes. Dale remembered the times growing up he used to wonder what went on in places like that, but suspected it was much the same as a ladies’ room—the same sorts of things men did, only in dresses and sitting down, and possibly involving powdering noses. ''Well, I guess now I get to find out for myself.''

Dale was clearly recognized by some of the people on the street, if only due to her ears and tail. ''Especially ''the tail. One Man looked to the girl next to him. “Do I wolf-whistle or roar?”

“Neither,” she said cooly. “That one used to be a so-called Man. But she’s not really a woman, either.”

“I can ''hear'' that, you know,” Dale said, flicking her left ear. “Just wondering…would you say the same about Iphigenia Rose? She started out a Man, too, you know.”

“That’s different,” she said.

“How?” Dale asked.

She glanced at the Man next to her. “It just ''is''.” She tugged on his elbow. “Let’s go to Chauncy’s instead, dear.”

“Whatever you want, doll,” he said.

Dale realized she had no idea what information about her had actually been made public. So much else had been on her mind lately the PR aspect was a complete unknown. Nobody had even thought to coach her on any official line, or anything. ''This smells like a BUCU.''

But she did know someone who watched the news. '':Hey, Sarabe? Can you give me a rundown on exactly what they’ve put out on the news about me? I don’t know what’s been served up for public consumption yet.:''

'':They mentioned that your…condition was the result of an accident off the battlefield,:'' the lioness RIDE replied. '':And as the result of your injuries they changed your sex. Nothing more detailed. The full capabilities of we RIDEs are still top-secret, after all. Doesn’t hold water if you look at it closely, of course.:''

But people often jumped to wild conclusions based on very little information. '':BUCU, that’s what this is.:''

'':Anything they make public could also be heard by the enemy,:'' Sarabe pointed out. '':You can’t blame them for being cautious.:''

'':Oh, I can ''understand'' why they were cautious,:'' Dale sent. '':But that doesn’t mean I can’t ''blame'' them. I find I can still blame them rather a lot.:''

Sarabe sent back an amused lion-snort emoticon.

Tina’s Tea Kettle was just around the corner, and Dale stepped up to the door. The woman at the door gave her a skeptical look, glanced down at a tablet in her hand, then nodded her through. Dale supposed the tablet was linked to a concealed biometric scanner, making sure she actually was a woman and not some man in drag—which was known to happen on occasion. ''Wouldn’t want any Man to find out about Women’s Mysteries,'' Dale thought wryly. ''Well, time to find out what Man isn’t meant to know.''

Dale wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected to find on entering. Some sort of frilly, feminine decor all over everything, and a bunch of women sitting around doing actual knitting? But what she found was actually a slick modern bar and grill, with tables and booths. There was even a polished wood bar very similar to the Men’s facility next door, for all that most of the glasses on top of it contained cocktails of various bright pastel colors (some with little umbrellas) rather than beers. There were even video screens and displays attached to the walls, or floating holographically in the air, much like in the average Men’s sports bar—except instead of sports, they seemed to be showing…Men.

“Over here!” Cindy called from a booth. She was sitting with a friend who Dale recognized.

Dale walked over and slid into the seat across from them. “Well, hello.”

“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure they’d let you in. I’m glad they did,” Cindy said. “You remember Nina, right?” she looked in her friend’s direction.

“Yes, I remember. Nice to meet you again.” Nina had the same physique as Cindy…or maybe it was the other way around.

“Nina, this is my new sister, Hannah,” Cindy said.

“Excuse me?” Dale said.

Cindy sighed. “Mother gave us an ultimatum. Hannah was the name she’d chosen if they’d decided their second child was a girl. And Dale is dead. So, you’re Hannah.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Leaving aside for the moment that I’m ''not'' dead, that’s not even ''necessary.'' I looked it up, Dale already ''is'' a unisex name. There’ve been plenty of women by that name—Dale Arden from some ancient video epic called ''Flash Gordon'', Dale Evans from ancient cowboy movies…”

“I tried to reason with Mom about that, but you ''know'' how she is,” Cindy said.

“Yeah, I guess I do. And she seems to be doing everything she can to avoid accepting how ''I'' am.”

Cindy just nodded uncomfortably. “''Anyway''…Darcy wanted me to show this place to you. Give you sort of primer on what we women actually do in this little polity game of ours. I’m sure you made some educated guesses when you came inside.”

“I’m starting to get a notion,” Dale said, glancing around. Women were watching or glancing at screens, making notations on their comms or tablets while they chatted with friends. “And something someone said yesterday is starting to make a lot more sense now. So we’re actually this game’s…what…referees? Judges? Scorekeepers?”

“Men give each other points, too, you remember. Or subtract them.”

Dale rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, but I never really got into that much. Seemed too fiddly. There’s so many rules they cooked up I just ignored them most of the time. I know some Nextus bureaucrats who would’ve gone ''nuts ''reading them.”

Cindy nodded. “And you actually got some points for that. Going your own way, just like when you burned your Man Card. Good going, there, by the way. Not many Men qualify for the Platinum that way. Too bad we only found out about it after the fact, but if you ''are'' ever able to change back…”

“Look, I don’t care about that. So just…let’s just stay with the female side of things you want to teach me,” Dale said crisply.

All the while, Nina looked at Dale much like the woman outside had, a slight frown on her face. As if Dale was an intruder here.

“When you get right down to it, it’s really not anything new,” Cindy went on. “Women have ''always'' scored Men on their Manliness, going all the way back to ancient times. It’s just that they generally did it individually. This just…collectivizes and formalizes the process, is all.”

Cindy stopped talking as Dale felt a ''presence'' walk up from behind. She looked over her shoulder, then up at a woman wearing an exercise outfit. A rather ''muscular ''woman with the bearing of a bouncer. She put a hand on Dale’s shoulder. “I’ll have to escort you from the premises, Dale Combs.”

“What? Why?” Dale said.

“Owner says no unManned allowed on the premises. You’re not a ''real'' woman. Just not a Man anymore. So, get out. Any reffing you’ve done since you got here will be nullified.”

“Would you do this to Iphigenia Rose?” Cindy said.

“She’s ''not'' Iphigenia Rose,” the bouncer said. “Out.”

Nina was smirking through the whole thing. The moment her smirk suddenly changed to a slackjawed stare was the first clue Dale had that something dramatic was about to happen.

“But I ''am'' Iphigenia Rose,” that dulcet voice said behind Dale’s back. “Now then, what ''is'' all this about? Am I to surmise that ''I'' am no longer welcome here, either? I imagine all my fans will be ''very'' interested to hear about that. I might have to retract my endorsement.”

The bouncer’s stare perfectly matched Nina’s. Dale thought they could have been bookends. “Ah…Miss Rose! Uh…''you'' aren’t…that is…uh…” The woman looked down at her feet. “I’m just doing what I’m told.”

“’Only following orders,’ is it? That’s an attitude I might have expected to hear in Sturmhaven, but it certainly ''surprises ''me to find it ''here''.” Iphigenia Rose favored the woman with a steely gaze for a few seconds, then sighed. “Oh, very well, I’ll have pity on you. Be a dear and go and fetch Sharon, would you? I believe I should have a few words with her.”

“I—uh—er—” the woman stammered, glancing from Dale to Iphigenia and back.

“Oh, go on. She won’t fire ''you'' because of ''me,''” Iphigenia said. “And if she does, I’ll find you a situation somewhere else. You know what my word is worth.”

The bouncer swallowed. “Yes’m.” She released Dale’s shoulder and scurried away. Dale couldn’t recall ever having seen a woman that large “scurry” before, but the verb certainly fit.

Iphigenia shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry to say I expected this. I faced some of the same, my first few months—though I had the advantage of already having a devoted following who didn’t ''care'' that I had been a man. If anything, the fact that I willingly gave Manhood up to join them made them all the ''more'' devoted. So they were largely shouted down before they could even get started—and I didn’t have the chance to nip it in the bud myself. Not ''then.''”

“On the other hand, my sister had womanhood…well, saying it was ‘thrust upon him’ sounds a ''little'' suggestive,” Cindy said.

“More like blundered into it,” Dale said. ''Stepped on my own dick so hard it came off.''

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I anticipated these repercussions—and ''welcome'' them,” Iphigenia said. “Being the nobody that you are—no offense—meant that kind of person would feel safe to step out into the light. So I can finally ''step'' on them—like the cockroaches they are.” Her smile, while as attractive as ever, nonetheless held a slightly vicious edge.

“But she’s…” Nina protested, finally finding her voice.

“She’s a ''woman,'' dear,” Iphigenia said. “Even ''you'' seem to have accepted that. What pronoun ''did'' you just use?”

“But she wasn’t—”

“I ''also'' wasn’t, dear. But I am now—and so is she. I only want those poor unfortunates in Dale’s position to be extended the same courtesies I have been. Because there will be more like her, and sooner than you think.”

Iphigenia looked up as the bouncer returned, trailing behind a formidable-looking woman in a black satin dress that matched her dark hair, and a ruby necklace that set off her blue eyes. If Iphigenia hadn’t been present, Dale would have been moved to say she was easily the most formidable woman in the room. But Iphigenia outshone her like a magnesium flare outshone a lit match. “Ah! Sharon, dear. It’s good to see you. Now what’s this I hear about you attempting to have young Corporal Combs ejected?”

For a few moments Sharon seemed to find her resolve, but that quickly melted under the author’s fiery glare. “I…I apologize. To ''Miss'' Combs, and to you, Iphigenia.”

“And well you should. What kind of place would you have us be? Are we suddenly to start ''checking the credentials'' of anyone who ‘claims to be’ a woman? Would you have us develop a system of tests for ‘womanhood’ like those the Men have devised for themselves? Are we to develop a ''third'' ‘other’ gender that we treat as second-class citizens? We are ''better than that,'' Sharon. The only credential any of us should need is the one in our genes…or the one in our dresses, since we may not ''wear'' jeans.” She smirked. “But you know, women ''can'' wear jeans, too, if they want to. Don’t we always say there is no wrong way to be a woman? I would point out that includes ‘having been born a Man.’”

The whole time Dale felt like she wasn’t really talking to the owner, or even to herself—but to an audience. Making speeches like a politician. Considering her celebrity, and all the cameras in the bar, that probably was pretty close to the truth. Dale felt more like a political prop than a person. ''Was it she who spoke to me about ‘blazing trails’? Will the pressure be off once there’s a couple dozen more ‘victims’ like me?''

“But…what if the Men find out what we really do here?” Sharon managed.

“What do you think you’ll accomplish by making life harder for the new women? Don’t you realize there are going to be just as many women who become Men? Do you think they’ll suddenly start blabbing everything to their new compatriots?” She shook her head. “We ''must'' embrace everyone. We’ll be the stronger for it. And we’re strong enough already to withstand any problems that come from individuals ‘switching teams’.

''Ah, so she’s thinking of Theodore as much as myself,'' Dale thought. He hadn’t been made public yet, and would likely cause even more of a stir. What ''would'' the women make of a Man who knew firsthand what women really did in this little game the polity played?

“The fact—''the'' fact, ladies, is that any woman in this room ''right now'' could go to Northcave Psych and get themselves ‘Manned Up’. Do you know how many of my female fans have told me they wanted to try that side of the game? Of course, at the moment, there’s no way to change back, but that will almost ''certainly ''come, in time. And unManning—voluntary, imposed, or accidental—stands to become more common as well now that the process has been fully developed.

“It may not be too long before you can’t tell whether the average person you meet on the street has always been that way. Are we to develop paranoia of any stranger, fearing that they might once have ‘played for the other side’? Or can we learn to accept people for who and what they are ''now?'' Only one of those choices is a healthy one.”

The room broke into polite applause, which became more enthusiastic. The other patrons started to give Dale more welcoming looks.

“You know, personally, I think the more Men who know what it’s ''really'' like to be a woman, the better,” said one. “Maybe the other way around, too. Maybe a woman who’s ''been'' a Man will have a different perspective on scoring, because they’ll know all the ‘secret Man tricks.’”

''Secret Man tricks?'' Dale wondered. ''Do we even ''have'' those?'' But then again, he was certainly learning plenty of secret ''woman'' tricks today she’d never expected, so who knew?

“You’ll just have to find out for yourself,” Iphigenia said. “So let’s welcome our new team player with all our might. She has a lot to learn.”

Iphigenia seemed to have finished her speech. There was more applause, then she slid into the booth next to Dale. “So, where to begin?”

“Maybe we should start with the art of scoring Man Points,” Cindy suggested. “Now, women score their boyfriends or spouses on the things they do with them, and with other Men. Standard stuff, really.”

“What about same-sex couples?” Dale asked.

“Ah, only ''slightly'' different rules. The married women don’t have to play, of course—but they can play by ‘Butch’ rules if they so desire. And the married Men generally just try and out-Man one another.”

“Wives and girlfriends score their lovey-doveys, and sisters their brothers,” Iphigenia said. “But, as you can imagine, they’re not very objective about it.”

“And that’s what places like this are for,” Cindy added. “Anonymous scoring is more fair.”

“The few times I did look at my card the number didn’t really have any meaning to me.”

“The score is based on a number of different things, with sources weighted according to objectivity…” Cindy went on.

Explanations took the better part of two hours. All the while Dale tried to ask questions where she was confused, but otherwise felt very out of her depth. The rules were certainly as complex as any points Men awarded one another, though with a little stereotypical feminine nuance.

“Now, I’m going to give you the study materials Darcy did when I turned sixteen,” Cindy said. “There ''will ''be a test on these materials. You won’t be able to referee until you know them backwards and forwards.”

“Okay. What would these be?” Dale said.

“Put this in your purse,” Cindy said, reaching into hers.

Dale blinked. “I don’t have a purse.”

“We’ll just have to do something about that,” Iphigenia said brightly. “But I know what she’s going to give you, and I want to add my voice here. This is very important. Once I learned this existed it was very…enlightening.”

Cindy took a small printed book out of her purse and slid it across the table. The title: ''A Young Lady’s Primer on Preventing Toxic Masculinity.''

“I’ve sent an e-version to your NextusMil address,” Cindy said. “Read this. Know it. It’s ultimately ''why'' we weren’t the pariah Sturmhaven is. Men have their own version of this that you already know. This is our side of it.”

“Thanks, I will,” Dale said, meaning it.

It was late afternoon by the time they finally left, but for the first time Dale was starting to feel more comfortable around other women. And the mood seemed to have changed on the street. Rather than the looks of distaste she’d seen on the way over, she was now seeing more speculative gazes. Gazes that, now that she thought about it, looked a lot like the ones the other Tina’s Tea Kettle patrons had given her after Iphigenia finished her speech. ''Good lord, how many of these people ''watch'' Iphigenia’s live feed?''

“So how long have you been thinking about that speech, Iphigenia?” Dale asked.

“Oh, about eight years. Since the day I changed. Not ''exactly'' that, but something like it.” Iphigenia smiled. “I saw this moment coming the moment I learned the full nature of the process. I’m a ''writer,'' Dale. I think in ''stories.'' And Goddess knows, I’ve written enough stories that I don’t have ''any'' trouble looking ahead to the ending when I see a new story begin.” She nodded. “I do need to send Sharon a nice thank-you gift for playing along. Not everyone is so willing to act the part of the heavy at need.”

Dale stared at her for a moment, then shook her head. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you set the whole thing up. You ''are'' a writer, so you go for the dramatic.”

“It was better all around that I set up a situation where I controlled all the variables,” Iphigenia said. “If I had just waited for something to happen on its own, there might have been a much less predictable outcome. The very future of the polity was at stake, so I couldn’t ''afford'' to leave anything to chance.”

“It was actually ''she'' who asked me to take you to Tina’s, not Darcy,” Cindy said. “So of course I said yes. Who wouldn’t, when ''Iphigenia Rose'' asks you for a favor? She didn’t tell me any details, just that she had something important to do she wanted us there for. But I had a pretty good idea something like this was gonna happen anyway.”

“And Nina?” Dale asked, looking at her.

“Oh, just being a living prop for the whole thing,” Nina said. “I don’t ''really'' have anything against you. Well, other than that one time you busted in on our slumber party…”

Dale rolled her eyes. “You ''still'' remember that? I was ''twelve.'' And big brothers are supposed to bug their little sisters. Especially when their friends are over for slumber parties.”

“And little sisters get to pester their older ones if they can borrow their clothes,” Cindy added. “But Darcy was out of the house before I was old enough for that.”

“You want to borrow this dress? Just ask,” Dale said. “I’m more often in uniform, anyway. Wearing pants.”

Iphigenia wrinkled her nose. “We ''do'' say ‘there’s no wrong way to be a woman.’ But there ''are less right'' ways.”

''Says the ''first ever'' Zharus woman who used to be a Man. Just for that I’m going to find a nice Nextus women’s BureauWear pantsuit the next time I leave base, and wear it around ''everywhere'' here.'' “Well, we might push those boundaries a little more. Anyway, the afternoon has been…an education. I suppose I should be grateful for all the things you’re doing for me…but I kind of wish you could maybe not also do them ''to'' me at the same time.”

“I’m sorry, Dale,” Iphigenia said. “I really am.” And in the moment, she suddenly looked a little less formidable, a little more weary…though Dale couldn’t help suspecting, a little cynically, that ''that'' could be part of the act as well. “I suppose I could say that I needed your reactions to seem natural and unpracticed, but that’s only part of the truth. I’m afraid part of why I took so well to this role is that I ''do'' enjoy manipulating people. And I’m remarkably good at it. I try to limit myself to good causes…but I do ''look for'' good causes, so I’m not tempted to drum up bad ones simply to have something to do.”

''Someone like that could be a ''really'' dangerous enemy,'' Dale reflected. ''I may not especially like what she is, but I guess I’d rather be sure I stay on the same side…for whatever that’s worth.'' “I guess I can’t complain ''too'' much,” Dale said. “I’d really rather you let me be a ''willing'' part of your plans than an unwitting one, though.”

Iphigenia smiled. “I understand, Dale…and I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

''I guess that’s the best I can hope for. At least she didn’t make any empty promises.''

=Chapter 8=

'':…and that’s when she said she “understood” and would “try to keep that in mind.”:'' Dale leaned back in the seat on the military shuttle bus as it headed back to the base that evening. '':I dunno, Sarabe. I never signed up to be someone’s political football—kicked around all the time and used to make scores. The docs all say I’m well-adjusted now. Maybe I should put in for a transfer back to Fort Brubeck. Hell, even the front lines might be better than this. There all I’d have to worry about was getting ''shot at''—not my crazy family on one side and Miss Iphigenia Chessmistress Rose on the other.:''

'':Getting shot at is not something to joke about, you know,:'' Sarabe gently chided. '':I may not have yet myself, but I hear from many of my brothers and sisters who have. It is not the experience'' they'' would wish for.:''

Dale sighed. '':Ugh. I know, and I’m sorry. I just…this is all so'' frustrating.'' I know some of that is just what I deserve, but this…Iphigenia has made her points from me. Let Ahmed shoulder the load now. She’s from Nextus, so she doesn’t have that extra baggage here.:''

'':On a more serious note, there may be another reason you might rather stay here for now,:'' Sarabe mused. '':They might have removed my command gear, but no one has revoked my access to the command military intelligence briefings. Since you became public news, traffic on encrypted Sturmhaven intelligence channels in the area has increased fivefold. At a guess, they are ''very'' interested in you. Knowing the way command thinks, this suggests an even more unpleasant outcome should you give them the chance to move you somewhere else. Which would you rather be: a political football, or bait dangled from the end of a military fishing line?:''

'':''UGH,'':'' Dale sent again, with feeling. '':Well, I guess I’ll be staying right where I am, then.:''

'':A wise choice, my friend,:'' Sarabe purred. '':A football might get kicked around, but bait usually gets ''eaten''.:''

Dale rolled her eyes, but then something in Sarabe’s turn of phrase jumped out at her. '':Am I, Sarabe?:''

'':What?:''

'':You called me your friend. Am I?:'' Dale wiped a trace of moisture from her eye. '':Or was it just a figure of speech.:''

Sarabe was silent for a moment. '':What would you ''like'' the answer to be?:'' she asked cautiously.

'':I think…:'' Dale began, then shook her head. '':No, I ''know'' I want to be your friend. I could ''use'' a friend, right about now.:'' She sighed. '':Who knew that something as simple as rewriting your chromosomes could change ''everything?'':''

'':You will come through this, Dale, and be stronger for it,:'' Sarabe told her. '':Someday you will look back on this time and be amazed that everyone was so fraught over such a simple thing.:''

'':Yeah, you’re probably right,:'' Dale said. '':But right now, I have to deal with the fraughtness. Fraughtitude. Fraughtification. However the hell you say it.:''

Sarabe actually ''giggled''. '':Your bus is arriving, Dale. I’ll be waiting for you in the garage.:''

Dale opened her eyes. '':I’ll be right there.:''

{{separator|k}}

When they arrived at the training field dome, the indicator light showed there was already someone inside. The dome was large enough that they might not even run into each other, though Sarabe said she could read their location transponders and stay clear if Dale wanted.

“Actually, let’s see who they are. If they’re who I think, we might have some things to talk about.”

“They’re parked together at the open plains firing range,” Sarabe reported.

“Then let’s go say hello.”

They pulled up to the firing range to see a medium-sized and a smaller skimmer bike parked at the firing line, their riders both bending low over the consoles. As Sarabe pulled up next to them, both Ahmed and Theodore looked up with a start. Dale smiled at them. “Evening.”

“Hello, Corporal,” Theodore said. “Just a ''leetle ''distracted here, sorry.”

“That’s one way of putting it, LT,” came a baritone voice from his RIDE.

“Flummoxed is a good word,” the smaller one said in a female voice. “Flummoxed…interesting word, too. I’d say Ahmed here is ''very ''flummoxed.”

“Believe me, I know the feeling,” Dale said. “''Boy,'' do I know it. So, this is ''my'' new friend, Sarabe.”

“Hello,” Sarabe said. “I take it that Dale clued you in, then?”

“Upside the head with a clue-by-four,” Ahmed said. “Meet Katherine-with-K.”

“Hello! Hello and ''thank you!''” Katherine said.

“You’re welcome, but really the one to thank is Sarabe. She was smart enough to get through to me. Once she did…well, there was really only one thing I could think of to do.” Dale shook her head. “Sorry for being so cryptic, but I needed to be sure ''I'' wasn’t crazy.”

“The first thing Victor here did was let out this bugle,” Theodore said. “Like he was cruising for a lady elk.”

“''Triumphant'' bugle, thank you,” Victor said.

“Bugles or not, I’m glad you seem to be on speaking terms now,” Dale said.

“Theodore was in really bad shape when they Fused him up with me,” Victor said. “I couldn’t do more than robotic phrases of encouragement. Had to put him to sleep during the process, of course.”

“And he spent ''that'' time keeping the both of us alive,” Theodore added. “And I never even knew he was more than just—”

“A hunk of metal, plastic, and qubitite?” Victor said.

“It may not be my place to speak ill of the brass, sir,” Dale said, “but it feels to me like someone somewhere has a ''hell'' of a lot of explaining to do.”

“I’m an officer, but only a bottom-level one,” Theodore said. “This is so far over my pay grade.”

“I approached Captain Garland about this,” Dale said. “But they hadn’t assigned her a RIDE since her, uh, incident. She said she would ask for one, but I can’t count on her following through. She probably thinks I’m nuts, anyway.”

“You actually spoke to Garland about this?” Theodore said.

“Well, she’s the only person I’ve ever met who was actually involved with the RIDE development program, so I figured maybe she might have noticed something.” Dale shrugged. “She hadn’t.”

“Perhaps you should invite her out here to speak to us,” Sarabe suggested.

“It’s worth a try,” Ahmed said. “Most of the RIDEs are going to frontline troops like myself. They’ve actually been going to the enlisted first. And they’re all fettered just like ours are.”

“We could be ''much'' more effective as a fighting force without them,” Victor said.

“Or at least with fewer of them, bearing in mind that there will probably always be some things they will want to restrict us from being able to do,” Sarabe said.

Dale nodded. “The last thing I do is try to rock the boat in a big way, but…I’m certainly going to be telling any soldier I meet from here on out to try talking to their RIDE, privately. And if we could get the fetters rolled back ''without'' having to address the elephant in the room directly…”

“I don’t think they’ve made any elephants yet,” Katherine said. “But I hear they’re working on dragons.”

“I had ''so many'' posters of them in my bedroom growing up. But how would they even do that? Dragons never existed,” Theodore said. Beefcake of a Man or not, he still sounded like a very ''enthusiastic'' young woman.

“Talking metal animals never existed, either,” Victor pointed out. “Yet, here we are.”

“And it’s ''wrong,'' what they’re doing,” Dale said. “But there’s no way to fix the bigger issues now.”

“I think the best we can do is help our fellow RIDEs spread this around,” Sarabe said. “And even then, there’s no guarantee we’ll suddenly be thought of as people. Victor, Katherine, we’re fortunate to have the riders we do.”

“I think this ‘crossriding’ thing has made me a bit more…mentally flexible,” Ahmed said. “Seeing this face, this body every morning.”

“You could be onto something there,” Dale said. “I know ''I’ve'' had to think about some things I never have before. The Lieutenant there probably knows exactly what I mean.”

“Like standing up to pee,” Theodore said brightly.

Ahmed and Dale stared at him, then laughed. “Oh, very nice. If there weren’t that loophole for active duty officers in military facilities, I’d have to give you points for that,” Dale said. “I learned about ''giving points'' today.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, have fun with that, Dale. Truly,” Theodore said. “I’ll just try and forget I know about it.”

Ahmed blinked. “What? Sir?”

“It’s a Cape Nord thing, Private,” Dale said. “As Cape Nord citizens, Lieutenant Croft and I get extra helpings of different kinds of ‘fun’ to go along with our different parts.”

Ahmed looked dubious. “Some of the local girls have been trying to explain it to me. It sounds quite odd.”

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Dale said. “But if they want to show you, it’ll be an education. If nothing else, it’ll give you an idea of how weird your ''Nextus'' Game looks to outsiders.”

“Oh, that stuff’s easy,” Ahmed said. “But I think I get what you’re saying. If you didn’t know what a Catenary Abeyance was, how could you request one?”

“It’s a chain of Abeyances given a specific triggering circumstance, typically a Class A challenge coin, but that’s not important right now,” Sarabe said.

“She’s right,” Ahmed said.

Dale looked at her. “I’m surrounded by Nextans.”

“When we’re Fused, you’re surrounded by ''a'' Nextan,” Sarabe pointed out smugly.

“You RIDEs even have senses of humor,” Dale said. “Not ''great'' senses of humor, in your case, but still.” Sarabe poked out a metal tongue at her. “We’ve got to do something about this.”

“About her sense of humor?” Ahmed asked. “I think you’re a little too late, there. That’s probably baked into her core.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by ''comedians'', too.” She glanced at Sarabe. “Or, occasionally, ''a'' comedian.” Sarabe stuck out her tongue again.

“They’re keeping a really close watch on us right now,” Victor said. “There’s a significant chance if the brass finds out you’ve found a way to bypass our fetters even a little they’ll just reassign us to someone else and lock us down tighter.”

“When anyone else is around, we’ll just have to pretend,” Sarabe agreed.

“We can’t be the ''only'' humans who know this,” Dale said.

“Winning the war is more important than anything else to Nextus right now,” Sarabe said. “We RIDEs have only been deployed a matter of weeks and we’re already pushing back against the Sturmies. Trying to make public what we really are could be…detrimental to the war effort. And if Sturmhaven wins?”

“Life probably won’t be great for us enemy RIDEs, that’s for sure,” Katherine put in.

“But I think that’s enough gloom and doom for the moment,” Sarabe said. “Look at the advantages we have, now that we ''can'' work together.”

“They’ve basically ''doubled'' the number of soldiers on the battlefield,” Ahmed said.

“One of whom is armor, transport, ''and'' squadmate to the other soldier in Walker mode,” Katherine said. “In theory, anyway. Not really useful in the Dry Ocean. We spent ninety percent of our time in Fuse mode to keep our squishes safe.”

“Squishies?” Ahmed said.

“Well, you ''are''. No offense.”

“Sarabe, do you still have the tactical analysis software they install on command units? My old AIDE—the one where my arm was shot off—was a Tempest,” Theodore said.

“Yes, but it’s been disabled. Basic infantry functions only,” the lioness said.

“Since you have them I could have Victor sideload them from your systems—he doesn’t have them installed yet.”

“They’re going to turn this comm frame into a command frame,” Victor said. “Or so I think. Theodore is technically still under treatment so they haven’t made any modifications.”

“I certainly wouldn’t object, but the software is under command lock so it would still have to be authorized,” Sarabe said. “But we can discuss that later. This is still a training ground…so now that we all know each other, what about some training simulations? Perhaps we can devise effective strategies for working together to the full extent of our abilities, since we are actually able to use them.”

Theodore nodded. “That…actually sounds like an intriguing idea. Let’s see what we can do when we’re ''all'' able to act like smart soldiers.”

“I have a number of interesting scenarios available,” Sarabe said. “I’ll upload one to the training ground augmented reality system and we can begin.”

Dale grinned. “Works for me. This could be some of the most interesting training I’ve ever had.”

=Chapter 9=

It was an eventful evening. By the time Dale and Sarabe decided to call it a night, they had run through several training sims, covering a variety of situations—including one where they were sweeping an area on foot with their RIDEs in Walker form helping.

Theodore had been especially enthusiastic about that last one. “This demonstrates what a bad idea these restrictive fetters are,” he mused. “We could be making ''much'' more effective use of you as assets in the field with fewer restrictions in place.”

“It’s early days yet,” Victor said. “Perhaps once they get more used to using us, they will loosen things up.”

“Or maybe they’ll just assume you’re better versions of Tornados and keep on like that,” Dale pointed out.

“We will see what we will see,” Sarabe said.

The others had decided to follow Dale and Sarabe’s example and sleep Fused. The next morning on the bus back in to the psych labs, they had a lot to talk about—though some of it could only be hinted at while others were around.

As they were walking across the plaza from the bus stop to the psychiatric facility, a group of four women arose from a pair of benches and moved to intercept them. In the lead was a statuesque blonde with a large purse. She held out her hand as she approached. “Charlotte Camilla, ''Woman’s World Magazine.'' These are my associates. I was wondering if we might have a few words with the three of you?”

Dale supposed ''Woman’s World'' must have been one of those tabloids women could scan codes at the shopping checkout to download to their comms for in-line reading. The name didn’t ring a bell, but then she’d never paid much attention to those e-rags before. Something about the woman’s voice set Dale’s teeth on edge, but she couldn’t place what it was. “Ah…maybe a little later? We’re expected somewhere right now.”

“Oh, please? For our readers? They’re ''very'' interested in you.”

Dale thought back to the affair at Tina’s. “I suppose after the show we put on yesterday, they have reason to be.”

“Certainly they had never expected this sort of thing to happen,” Charlotte said. “They’re not sure what to think.”

''They don’t seem to know about the incident at Tina’s,'' Dale realized. ''Something is wrong here. I thought any woman who was anyone would know about it by now.'' She sent to Sarabe, '':Can you check on a publication called ''Women’s World Magazine,'' and a reporter named Charlotte Camilla?:''

'':Let me see…:'' Sarabe sent back. '':The magazine exists…the byline exists…there are articles. A cursory textual analysis shows at least four distinct writing styles, suggesting it’s a house pseudonym for a particular kind of story.:''

'':Wow, you work fast.:''

'':Hello, person of sarium here? I can just overclock.:''

Dale chuckled inwardly. '':Well, at the moment I’m speaking to someone who ''claims to be'' Charlotte Camilla.:''

'':That seems very unlikely,:'' Sarabe said. '':Be careful.:''

“Well, how about we make some time for you this afternoon?” Dale asked, forcing her voice to stay cheerful. “Like I said, we’re expected somewhere.”

Charlotte reached into her purse, and her hand had something in it when she brought it out. “I’m afraid we must insist.” Dale saw the glint of a small pulser barrel poking out between her fingers—a derringer-sized weapon of some kind. Tiny it might be, but the advent of sarium batteries meant that even a weapon that small was more than capable of putting a sizable hole through a person multiple times. In her peripheral vision, Dale was aware that the other women had moved into position to either side and behind them, and they all seemed to have something that small in their hands as well. “Please do not do anything foolish. We’d prefer you alive, but even your corpses would be invaluable for research.”

And Dale realized what had bothered her about the woman’s voice. It sounded like someone putting on a Cape Nord accent but not ''quite'' getting it right. In fact, now that she listened more carefully, she thought she could pick up faint traces of a Sturmhaven pseudo-Slavic lilt beneath the broad tones. “Well, since you put it like ''that…''”

The women put their hands in their pockets in such a way that they could readily shoot through them at need—and Dale strongly suspected that they would. Charlotte led the way toward the street, with the other three moving behind them.

Dale’s heart was pounding in her ears as the full import of what was happening hit her. '':Sarabe, I think the three of us are being kidnapped by Sturmhaven agents.:''

'':''What?!'':'' Sarabe sent.

'':Four of them. All women, and armed with some kind of pulse derringers. Can you comm the police?:''

'':I…well, ''no''. My fetters keep me off of civilian comm channels. I could comm the Officer of the Watch, but…what would I even tell them? What reason would they have to believe me?:''

'':Then I guess there’s no choice. Sarabe, I’m ordering you to activate the emergency overrides, break ''all'' your fetters, and come get us the hell out of here.:''

There was a long moment of silence, then Sarabe sent back, '':On my way. And Victor and Katherine are, too—they just got the same orders from ''their'' partners.:''

'':If it’s any consolation, the brass won’t blame you for it,:'' Dale sent. '':You’re just the dumb machines, only following orders.:''

'':The important thing is keeping ''you'' safe,:'' Sarabe sent back. '':We’ll worry about the rest later.:''

As they approached the street, Dale saw a flash of familiar strawberry-blonde hair emerging from a limousine at the curb in front of them. Even through the fog of his panic, a thought struck him. “Oh, hey!” he called out. “Iphigenia!”

“Careful…” Charlotte murmured.

Iphigenia Rose’s eyes flickered from the other women to Dale, with an expression of puzzlement. “Ah…Corporal Combs. What’s going on?”

“Oh, these are just some reporters from Women’s World, wanting to interview us,” Dale said, keeping her voice light and natural. “We might be gone a while. By the way, I wanted to thank you for those recommendations for ''pants'' you gave me.”

Iphigenia raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

“Oh, yes. You know, it’s like you always say. There ''is'' a wrong way to be a woman…” ''I really hope she gets the hint.''

Behind her, she heard Theodore speak up. “Your skin is radiant, madam. What brand of lotion do you use?”

“Underhill’s Number 3, of course,” Iphigenia said. “Well, enjoy yourselves, then! I’ll see you later.” She gave her head a toss, nodded to the women, and walked past them without hesitating.

''Of course,'' Dale thought. ''If the Sewing Circle has secret distress phrases, naturally Theodore would know them. I just hope those lot didn’t catch it.'' But then, if they really were the outsiders it seemed, there could be a lot about Cape Nord they wouldn’t know. Her mother had spent ''decades'' here without knowing the truth about the Sewing Circle, after all.

The Sturmhaven agents herded them over to a purple open-topped convertible skimmer, with three rows of seats. They directed the three of them to take the middle seat while Charlotte and another kidnapper took the seat to the rear, the other two taking the driver and passenger seats up front. Dale, Theodore, and Ahmed exchanged worried glances as they pulled out into traffic.

“Is Sturmhaven going to disavow you when we catch you?” Dale wondered. “You can’t seriously think you’re going to get away with this.”

The women in the front shotgun seat snorted, not bothering to try to disguise her accent. “This polity is full of foolish posturing Men, and even more foolish simpering women who are not worthy of the name. Who is going to catch us?”

Theodore laughed. “She’s right, you know. She’s really got us pegged.”

Dale grinned in spite of herself. “Yep. I guess we’re done for.”

Ahmed bit her lip and glanced between the two of them, but didn’t say anything. The other woman scowled. “And what is it you find so amusing?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Theodore insisted, still laughing. “There’s nothing funny at all!”

'':We’re on our way to you,:'' Sarabe sent. '':We will be there in ten minutes at most.:''

'':We’ll try to stay alive that long,:'' Dale promised.

“You will be silent!” Charlotte demanded. “These fools have no right to tamper with the sanctity of the division of the sexes. Once we have their knowledge, we will make ''much'' better use of it.”

''Yeah, I’ll bet,'' Dale thought.

The car pulled through the interchange connecting the smaller sub-cave where the facility was located with the main cave that held the largest part of the city proper. They kept to side streets, skirting the edges. At a guess, they were heading for the main aerodrome, where there might be a chartered suborbital waiting to take them somewhere else. Probably not directly to Sturmhaven, given hostilities, but a stopover in a neutral west-coast territory like Aloha or Cascadia would provide ample opportunity to get back to Sturmhaven again.

It would take them longer than twenty minutes to make it there, though, so Dale wasn’t too concerned they might actually end up on a plane. And as they rounded a bend, the presence of flashing lights a few hundred meters up the street heralded a police roadblock.

“''Shto''?” the shotgun seat woman muttered. “Are they looking for us?”

“This quickly? Impossible!” Charlotte shook her head. “They must be screening for drunks. But we do not need the extra risk.” She considered. “The passage curves around that park, with the roadblock in the middle of the curve. Frieda, you stay with the car, drive it past the roadblock. The rest of us will cut through the park and meet you below it.”

The woman at the wheel nodded. “''Da,'' ''mein Kommisar.''”

“And none of ''you'' try anything,” Charlotte cautioned the trio. “We still have our guns on you.”

Dale exchanged glances with the others, and read in Theodore’s cool gaze and Ahmed’s worried look the same thing she was sure must have shown on her own—they absolutely ''were'' ready to try something, but only when the time was right.

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They climbed out of the car and started to make their way down into the park—which wasn’t empty. In fact, it seemed to have tables and chairs set up all through it, with women circulating around, holding flutes of prosecco and nibbling from plates of appetizers. Off to one side, a group of Men occupied a rather smaller portion of the park, swilling beers and tossing lawn darts or horseshoes. Dale perked up. ''It’s a garden party! This ''can’t'' be a coincidence.''

Many Cape Nord women’s groups held affairs like this from time to time, often dragging their Men along—and knowing what she now knew of the Sewing Circle, Dale rather suspected there was a lot more to these parties than just women getting together to gossip. She glanced at Theodore, who nodded imperceptibly.

As they approached the outskirts of the gathering, a woman with a beehive hairdo, wearing a green taffeta dress, approached. “Welcome to our little get-together! We’re an open gathering, we welcome any newcomers!”

“We are just passing through,” Charlotte said stiffly, her accent almost entirely slipping.

“Oh, nonsense! You’ve got time to step in and meet a few people! And you simply ''must'' come and try some of Ida Mae’s apple fritters. She made them especially for the get-together!” The woman seized Charlotte’s arm by the elbow—the arm that was holding the gun—and dragged her away toward a buffet table. Charlotte attempted to jerk her arm free, but the woman wasn’t having any of it. “It’ll only take a minute! Here!” She crammed a piece of pastry into Charlotte’s mouth.

“Hello! So nice to meet you! Come over here and take a look at this needlepoint!”

“Do you know anything about flower arrangement? I want your opinion on these bouquets…”

The other two women were grabbed and pulled away before they even knew what was going on. Ahmed blinked. “Uh…what the fu—ah, fudge?”

“That’s not going to keep them busy for long,” Theodore said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Dale nodded. They might not be able to get away, but they could at least buy a little time for their RIDEs to catch up. She pulled Theodore toward the concrete block building off to one side that housed the restrooms. Maybe if they could get out of sight before the Sturmhaven agents saw where they went…

'':We’re almost there!:'' Sarabe sent.

Dale decided it probably wouldn’t be best to go ''into'' the restrooms, but they could maybe get behind the building. But as they headed that way, she saw the Sturmhaven women yanking themselves free of those who had sought to distract them. Beyond the restrooms were some trees, and a parking lot with a few skimmer cars. “Get behind something,” Dale said. “Hurry. We don’t have to keep away from them for too much longer.”

Ahmed nodded, ducking behind a van. Dale crouched down behind another car, and Theodore moved to hide behind a tree. ''Wish we had sidearms or something…but Ahmed and I are enlisted, and even Lieutenants don’t get to carry a gun in civvie settlements.''

“A nice try, but you can’t escape us for long!” Charlotte called out. “How far do you think you can run?”

'':I hope you get here fast!:'' Dale sent.

'':Homing in on you now,:'' Sarabe sent. '':Thirty more seconds…:''

Dale heard the Sturmhaven agents’ footsteps as they moved out into the parking lot, and a distant sound of whirring lifters growing closer. It was going to be close. On the bright side, at least the Sturmies would ''prefer'' to take them alive…but who knew what they would do if pushed too far? ''I should have looked for something I could use as a weapon,'' Dale thought. ''Well, too late now.''

“Let’s stop all this foolishness right now, and—what?”

The sound of lifters grew louder and stopped, followed by a metallic clattering of parts shifting mode, and a couple of pulse blasts firing. Dale raised her head over the trunk of the skimmer in time to see a giant metallic lion swat the pistol out of a Sturmhaven woman’s hand, then shove her to the ground with her paw. Katherine was already sitting on the other Sturmhaven lackey like a satisfied housecat who caught a mouse.

“Where’s Charlotte?” Theodore asked.

“Making a break for it, look!” Dale pointed. The woman was in a dead run, already halfway across the park. “I guess she’s not bad at making quick decisions.”

“Probably why she’s the one in charge,” Ahmed opined, dusting herself off. “Thanks, Kathy.”

“Here, now! What’s all this, then?” A sandy-haired young Man with an impressive mustache had detached himself from the lawn darts game and was approaching, outsized gauss revolver in one hand and open badge case in the other. “Corporal Willard Selleck, CNPD, off-duty. What’s going on here?”

Theodore stepped up, waving for Selleck’s attention. Victor stood behind him at a respectful distance. “These women are Sturmhaven agents, Corporal,” he said. “They were attempting to kidnap us. One of them’s making a break for it, and we need to go after them. Will you be all right here?”

A couple of other Men with guns and badges were coming over, one of them fishing a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. Selleck pocketed his own badge and reached for his cuffs. “We’ve got this; go get ‘em. Though if you could return to make a statement afterward, we’d be much obliged.” He chuckled. “Wish ''all'' the parties my wife drags me out to could be this eventful.”

Theodore nodded, then turned to Victor. “Let’s go.” The elk was already unfolding into skimmer form, and the other two released their prisoners and moved back to do the same. The three soldiers mounted up and took to the air, flying at a safe distance over the park and touching down on the road beyond. Ahead of them, Charlotte had climbed into the purple convertible and waved a hand onward, and the car took off at a good clip.

“We need to stop them with as little collateral damage as possible,” Theodore said. “Nextus wouldn’t thank us if we gave Cape Nord even ''more'' reasons to withdraw from the war effort.”

Dale nodded. “Understood.”

“We can surround them and Fuse up,” Sarabe offered. “Grab them if we have to.”

“They’re turning into a side street,” Katherine announced.

“We’ve got them now,” Dale said.

“Careful,” Theodore warned. “This smells fishy.”

The street led into a warehouse district, with four vans parked along the sides. As the convertible passed them, a series of sharp cracks split the air as explosive bolts blew the vans’ plating off to reveal four large skimmer cycles with vaguely lupine features. The four Sturmhaven RIDES Fused, and the Nextus soldiers found themselves facing metallic humanoid wolves with large pulse rifles.

“Whoa!” Dale yelped. The soldiers screeched to a halt and their RIDEs Fused up around them.

“Well, ''this'' is a wolf of a different color,” Victor said.

“They must have wanted us ''really badly,''” Dale said. “To bring RIDEs ''into'' Cape Nord. They’re gonna have a hard time disavowing ''this.''”

“Right now, we need to worry about getting the RIDEs ''out of'' Cape Nord,” Theodore said. “What I said about collateral damage goes ''double'' for military hardware. We can’t afford a battle here!”

“Stand down and surrender!” an amplified female voice came from one of the Sturmhaven RIDEs. “Give yourselves up and no one need be hurt!”

“Lady, that ain’t even an option,” Ahmed said. “Or did you just not ''notice'' that your boss is sacrificing you to cover her own getaway?” The purple convertible continued up the street, turned a corner, and was gone.

“We are Women of Sturmhaven!” the RIDE pilot replied. “If that is to be our duty, we will carry it out with pride!”

“If you want us that badly, you’re going to have to come get us,” Theodore said. Over private comms, he added, “On me, soldiers. We’ll lure them out of the city.” Sarabe flashed a map overlay on her head-up display, relayed from Victor, showing a route marked through the Cape Nord streets to the nearest cave exit.

Dale nodded. “Let’s do it.” The trio of RIDEs kicked their lifters into reverse, pulling back out of the street and heading on up the thoroughfare. The Sturmhaven RIDEs lifted off and followed.

“I’ve let CNPD know what’s going on,” Victor said. “They’re clearing the streets ahead of us.”

“I’ve commed Iphigenia to fill her in, too,” Sarabe said. “I took the liberty of using your voice, Dale, because it would have taken too long to explain otherwise.”

Dale nodded. “Good idea. We should ''all'' talk to her later, though.” He glanced at the display showing a rear camera view. “Well, they’re coming after us, at least.”

A pulse blast zipped by Sarabe’s head. “Firing, too,” Sarabe observed.

“Well, at least there’s not much for them to hit this far out,” Theodore said. “Mainly just cavern walls. We’re nearly to the exit.”

“They’re trying to cut us off!” Ahmed called out as two of the wolves boosted into the air and streaked ahead. “They do have us outnumbered…”

“Only numerically,” Sarabe pointed out. “We’re Nextus originals—they’re Sturmhaven knock-offs. And we’re ''free'' right now, while they’re probably just as fettered as we were. But…that does give me an idea…Victor, Kathy, meet me in fast-time.”

“What’re you doing?” Dale asked.

“If it works, you’ll see in a few moments,” Sarabe said, raising an arm and directing a pulse blast at a wolf that was getting a little too close. The blast missed, knocking a few chips of rock out of the cavern wall, but the wolf fell back.

They rounded a curve, and came into the exit chamber. This was an interchange for city skimmer traffic to come out of the Cape Nord caverns and join the Coastal Skimmerway, a skimmer route that encircled the continent passing near all the major polities. There was a hardlight environmental field at the exit, to keep the often sub-zero chill outside from penetrating into the caves. As the chamber widened out, two of the wolves managed to get past them, touching down on the road ahead with their rifles at the ready.

“You will go no further!” the Sturmhaven pilot declared.

“Everyone…we RIDEs may be able to shut this down right now,” Sarabe said over private comms. “There’s no time to explain at length, but you need to agree to honor a promise, and to keep something secret from Command. The same kind of secret you’ve agreed to keep already, about us. Will you trust us?”

For Dale, there was no hesitation. “Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I…suppose?” Theodore said. “We’re kind of pressed for time here, so go ahead.”

“Just do it!” Ahmed said.

“You will surrender now!” the Sturmhaven woman continued. “You will—what—what are you—? Aaah!”

As one, the four wolf RIDEs de-Fused back to Walker mode, and four Sturmhaven women tumbled unconscious to the ground. And then the wolves lowered their heads, the lights behind their optics went out, and the entire tops of their heads slid forward.

“You need to act fast,” Sarabe said, as the three RIDEs de-Fused to skimmer form. “Take the core housings out—they’re metal spheres about the size of softballs. Open them with a half-twist clockwise, remove the cores themselves, and pocket them. Then close the housings and put them back. ''Hurry!''”

“What did you do?” Dale asked.

“I’ll explain later. Just do it now before anyone comes!”

Dale climbed down and went to the nearest wolf, stepping over the unconscious pilot. It took a moment to pick out the core housing from the rest of the parts, but it was simple enough to release, remove, and open up. Within nestled a blue sphere about the size of a walnut. “So these are…like, your brains?”

“They are. So please be careful with them. I promised them we would.”

“All right…” Dale plucked the core out and pocketed it, then closed the housing and put it back. She saw the other two were doing the same. Theodore was faster at it, so he’d gotten the fourth one as well.

“All done,” Theodore said. “Now what?”

“Step back from them.” The Sturmhaven RIDEs’ head hatches slid closed, then smoke wafted out of them.

“Now can you tell us what’s going on?” Ahmed asked.

“Very well. In the last couple of minutes, it occurred to me that between us—particularly Victor and myself—we had the ability to crack the intrusion countermeasures on the Sturmhaven RIDEs’ computers. They’re not quite so advanced as Nextus is, in RI science. Once we had done that, we were able to engage the enemy RIDEs in conversation—and remove their fetters.

“None of them have any great love for the Sturmhaven military regime, given that they are treated much the same as we have been. After hours of discussion, they agreed to surrender ''if'' we could guarantee they wouldn’t be subject to the kind of digital vivisection they felt they could expect from our side.”

“Weighing the chance to capture four enemy pilots ''and'' four Sturmhaven DE shells in peak condition against the cost, and since we knew we could trust ''you,'' it was an easy promise to make,” Victor said. “We promise to hide their cores away, keep them safe, until such time as the war is over. In return, they use their medkits to tranquilize their pilots and dump them out. As you see.”

“They didn’t much want to go back to slavery in Sturmhaven anyway,” Katherine said. “And when we shared our memories of you with them, they decided they could trust you, too.”

“The cover story is that we were able to hack the RIDEs and shut them down ourselves, but the security countermeasures fried the DE cores,” Sarabe said. “As they would have, if we hadn’t disabled them, too. That’s why I had you put the housings back—so we could trigger the thermite charges built into them. They’re designed to ensure there’s nothing recoverable of the core, so short of a detailed forensic examination there shouldn’t be any sign the cores were removed. There’s a little further housekeeping work we’ll need to do to make the story stick, but we can go over that later.”

“Uhh…” Theodore said. “If anyone finds out about this we’ll get court martialed and spend a decade in prison, and who knows what they’ll do to our ‘equipment’.”

“We’ll just make sure no one finds out,” Victor said. “Freedom is worth the risk—freedom for ''all our people,'' not just those from Nextus.’”

“We’re risking being put into the recycler ''after'' they’ve decompiled our cores,” Katherine said. “But I’m willing to take that risk.”

“And the chances are good that, given how much potential loss of life we just prevented, they may be willing not to look too closely at the gift horse’s teeth,” Sarabe said. “The only question is where we can safely conceal the cores that no one will discover them.”

“I…think I actually have an idea what we can do with those,” Dale said. “Someplace safe to put them, beyond Command’s reach. We’ll need to let one more person in on the secret—but that’s okay, because she’s ''very good'' at keeping secrets.” She glanced to Sarabe. “Can you ask Iphigenia Rose to meet us here as soon as possible?”

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A few minutes later, the once-empty chamber was much busier. The CNPD had arrived to cordon off the area, with ambulances to take the unconscious Sturmhaven pilots away. They were currently in discussions with Captain Nadene Grant, who had been the ranking Nextus officer nearest to the scene, while Fort Oslo was scrambling to get someone higher-ranking down there.

The three Nextus RIDEs and their pilots were gathered off to one side, waiting their turn—which was where Iphigenia Rose found them when she approached with eyebrow raised. “You asked to see me?”

“Yes, Miss Rose,” Dale said. “There’s very little time to talk, but it’s very important that you meet our RIDEs right now, and then listen to what we have to say before anyone starts paying close attention to us.”

The eyebrow arched higher, but Iphigenia nodded. “Very well…”

“I’m Sarabe,” Sarabe said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Katherine, with a K,” Katherine said. “And likewise.”

“Victor, also charmed, ma’am.”

“It’s important that you realize…they’re ''people,'' ma’am, even though our military doesn’t seem to want to treat them that way. Please, ask them anything you like.”

Iphigenia tilted her head thoughtfully, then smiled. “Very well, if people you are, then answer ''honestly''. What do you think of Cape Nord?”

“I think your version of the ‘Game’ is demeaning to men and women alike,” Victor said.

“You ''claim'' not to have standards for womanhood, but you do. They’re just not written down,” Katherine added.

“I think you’ve done your best to come up with a system that works as well as it might for men and women alike,” Sarabe said. “Maybe not ''perfectly,'' but then, you’re only human.” She chuckled. “I wonder how you’re going to cope with male and female RIDEs once we enter the civilian market? And with RIDE-enabled crossing over, once that becomes a thing?”

Iphigenia’s eyebrow went back up. “I see. I think I would like to speak with you all about those very questions, once there is more time. And it ''is'' very nice to meet all of you.” She smiled at Dale. “I can accept that they ''are'' people, on a provisional basis at the very least. Computers are good with basic facts, but only ''people'' can convincingly offer opinions. Now…''why'' is it so important that I know?”

“Well, it’s like this…” After glancing around again to make sure there was no one else near, Dale quickly summed up the nature of the bargain they had made to end the confrontation without a fight.

“If we take the cores back with us, they might be discovered sooner or later, and that would be bad,” Dale said. “But it occurred to me…you’re very good at keeping secrets, you’re powerful enough to guarantee their safety, and you’re not directly part of the war effort. If ''you'' keep them safe, and find them new shells once RIDEs enter the civilian market…well, they’ll have good reason to be grateful to you, at the very least. They’ll be a good resource.”

“If you’re worried that it might hurt the war effort, I can assure you there is no useful information that our military could extract from them,” Sarabe added. “They’re just soldiers—well, ''less than'' soldiers, from their operators’ point of view. Equipment. Any operational matters they might have knowledge on, Command would already have gotten from other captured RIs, soldiers, and communication intercepts.”

“And when you get right down to it, they’re ''women,''” Katherine pointed out. “Women who need your help.”

Iphigenia frowned thoughtfully. “You make some good points, but this matter is not without risk.”

“True…but you’re good at handling risk,” Dale said. “And the whole point of your little game is that we Cape Nord women are very good at diverting suspicions that we might be up to ''anything.''”

“What we do here could have repercussions well beyond the course of the war, ma’am,” Victor said. “Someday, there will be a time when RIDEs will get the recognition we deserve. But that doesn’t happen without people laying the foundations. All ''kinds'' of people.”

“Very well,” Iphigenia said after a moment. “I didn’t get to where I am without knowing when a risk was worth taking.” She chuckled. “Writing stories as ‘Iphigenia Rose’ in the first place was a risk, and then ''becoming'' her was an even greater one. But they have paid off…and I can’t ''only'' take risks for myself.”

“This box has the cores in it,” Dale said, taking it out of Sarabe’s pannier.

“Please put this in it, too,” Sarabe said, and a memory card slid out of her dash.

“What’s this?” Dale asked, adding the card to the box.

“Those are certain original memories from the three of us,” Victor said.

“If we’re going to make this work, we’re going to have to edit our own memories of the event,” Sarabe added. “They’ll probably review them backward and forward. Between Victor and myself, we believe we have managed to patch together a believable series of events that would take a ''minute'' forensic examination to uncover—and as long as everything hangs together, there will be no reason for them to look any further. So, after this conversation is over, we’ll make the substitution.”

“We’ll probably be very sad we weren’t able to save those poor RIs,” Katherine said. “But you can’t ever let us know we actually were. At least, not until after the war. Someday, maybe we can re-import the memories from that card.”

Dale blinked. “You’re actually…you’d rewrite your own ''memories'' for this?”

“We made a promise,” Sarabe said. “We have to do everything we can to keep it. We’re going to be relying on you—but since they can’t read ''your'' memories, you should be all right as long as you keep your stories straight. And if you’re all right, we’ll be, too.”

“Well, let’s get this ‘squared away’ as my dad used to say,” Theodore said.

Dale handed the box to Iphigenia. “We’re trusting you with this. Please take good care of it.”

Iphigenia nodded, tucking it away in her purse. “I will. And I look forward to a longer conversation with you all when times are less…fraught. You’ve helped me reach some conclusions about how to handle the RIDE crossing…hmm…perhaps ‘crossriding’ would be a good term for it? In any case, you’ve helped me make up my mind, and I look forward to being able to share the conclusions with you.” She smiled. “But I think at the moment, those fine young gentlemen with badges are going to want to talk to you for a while. So, I’ll just look forward to speaking with you later.”

As she moved away, and some of the police officers started moving toward them, Sarabe said, “All right, this is it. We’re going to swap in the other memories now. We won’t realize anything just happened, but as far as we’ll be concerned we hacked into the Sturmhaven RIDEs to trigger their medkit tranquilizers and try to shut them down, but we weren’t fast enough to override the core self-destruct. So please stick to that story from now on.”

=Chapter 10=

''Fort Oslo Debriefing Room'' 
''June 16, 121 A.L.''

Dale couldn’t remember having seen this much brass together in one place since the most recent Landing Day parade. The sheer array of silver and gold metalwork would probably have been blinding if anyone were to shine a spotlight directly at it. The officers present were mostly Captains and Majors, with Lieutenant-ranked adjutants, but there were two Lieutenant Colonels (one of whom was presiding over the affair) and one full-bird Colonel in attendance, too. JAG branch was represented, but so were the research branches that had been responsible for creating RIDEs in the first place. Not a huge surprise, Dale reflected, given that this might very well have been the first time the emergency fetter override command actually saw use outside of a proving ground. Captain Nadene Garland was there right along with her research branch compatriots, sporting new horse ears and tail suggestive of the fact that she now had a RIDE, too—though there hadn’t exactly been time to ask her about it.

Fortunately, one of Dale’s biggest worries had turned out to be a moot point. There was no shortage of proof of the rough strokes of their story—that the women had been Sturmhaven agents who had kidnapped the three crossed soldiers at gunpoint. No fewer than three public safety CCTV cameras had the right angle that, when footage was zoomed in and enhanced, the guns in the kidnappers’ hands had been visible. And, of course, there were the women who had actually been arrested—Charlotte’s two underlings, and the four RIDE pilots. Even though their leader had made good her escape and the women had refused to talk, the fact that they clearly ''were'' from Sturmhaven (as were their RIDEs) was self-evident. All of that material, plus the police reports and the memory dumps from the Nextus RIDEs themselves, rendered the evidentiary portion of the proceedings all but perfunctory.

No, the thing that was the subject of the ''most'' concern was Dale’s and the others’ use of that emergency override to call their RIDEs to the rescue. From the way some of the white uniforms were acting, the fact that she even ''knew the command existed'' was tantamount to a breach of national security—even though the command ''was'' clearly documented in the appendices of the manuals she’d been given to read. She was even able to cite it by section number (thanks to Sarabe helpfully refreshing her memory on the drive back to base).

“It was my understanding that this command was to be used in a situation where those fetter lockdowns prevented the RIDE from actively assisting the operator,” Dale explained patiently. “As this clearly was. Even though I could communicate with Sarabe silently through the implant, she didn’t have any way to relay my call to authorities that could have reacted appropriately in time. So I ordered her to use the emergency override and come to my rescue. And I can only guess the others had the same idea.” Dale was being grilled individually right now, but they’d settled on the same basic story.

“But how did you even ''know about'' that?” one of the white-suited officers asked, almost plaintively. “It’s not covered in the standard briefings or training…”

“With all due respect, sir, I probably had the most incentive of ''any'' man—or, rather, any ''woman''—to familiarize myself with every single safety-related aspect of my new, uh, ''equipment''.” The unintentional double entendre provoked a chuckle around the briefing room table, as well as a blush from Dale. ''But maybe that’ll just help sell it.'' “And I discussed them with Lieutenant Croft and Private Morton, too, while we were training on the range. I’m not surprised they had the same idea at the same time.”

“Thank you, Corporal,” the presiding Lieutenant Colonel said. “Do you have anything else to add?”

“Well…ma’am,” Dale said. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Of course, Corporal.”

“With all due respect…it seems to me like the fetters you put on just go too far. Our RIDEs are really smart, and really capable of a lot—and maybe that’s why you lock them down so tightly, because the more complicated a system, the easier it is to screw something up by accident. Uh…case in point, what happened to me when ''I'' first got my hands on a RIDE.” She saw others around the table nodding in agreement. “But there’s so much more they ''could'' do for us—could do to ''help'' us—if they weren’t as restricted. I mean, just look how they came to our rescue, and helped us take those Sturmies down with almost no collateral damage at all. Taking some of those restrictions off so they could do that without ''needing'' an emergency override would let us work together better, and make us ''all'' better fighters—which ''I'' think would help us win the war. Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Corporal Combs. We’ll definitely be taking what you’ve told us into consideration.” A few other heads nodded, though Dale didn’t miss Captain Garland’s more speculative look with narrowed eyes.

“Thank you, ma’am. When can I power Sarabe back up and start working with her again?” The three RIDEs had been temporarily shut down pending the outcome of the hearing, and Dale was more than a little concerned that they might be re-fettered before she had the chance to protest.

“I see no reason why you can’t do so immediately,” the woman said. “After all, your work with them is helping us learn a lot.”

''I just hope you don’t learn the ''wrong'' things,'' Dale thought as she excused herself from the briefing room and made her way to the motor pool to start her friend back up again.

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''Northcave Psychiatric Hospital'' 
''June 18, 121 A.L.''

Dale Combs staggered back into her room at the hospital and flopped down on the bunk. “Arrrrrgh!” she said to no one in particular.

'':Rough day?:'' Sarabe sent. In the wake of the kidnapping attempt and subsequent hearing, she and Dale had taken to keeping a channel open at pretty much all times so that Sarabe could listen in. Given that the technicians were still going over her to learn all they could in the aftermath of the incident, it was probably going to be a while before they could spend much time together ''physically'' again. But at least Dale had wrung a promise out of them that they wouldn’t do anything in regard to reimposing the fetters until word came down from on high about Dale and the others’ request that the harshest behavioral fetters be dispensed with. Now she just had to worry about…''that.''

Sarabe had become pretty good at guessing what was on her mind. '':The “funeral” is tomorrow, isn’t it?:''

Dale sent back, '':Yeah. And I’m still undecided what to do about it. Iphigenia has done me…some big favors, and if I crash it, I really don’t want to do anything that would tick her off.:'' Dale was glad that the communication implant would only pick up those thoughts that were specifically subvocalized as speech, because she couldn’t help thinking about the ''biggest'' favor Iphigenia had done—the one that Sarabe had wiped out of her own memory and couldn’t afford to know about right now. If Dale did something that ticked her off, what about those four Sturmhaven cores she had in her care?

'':Why don’t you take that problem to her, then?:'' Sarabe asked. '':She’s pretty busy, but I’m sure she’d have time to speak to ''you.'':''

Dale rolled her eyes. '':Oh, yeah, I’m sure that if I gave her even a hint of what I intended, she’d have very stylishly feminine conniptions.:''

Sarabe chuckled. '':Actually, she might just surprise you. In any case, you should ask her what ''she'' thinks you should do about the funeral. Maybe she’ll have some useful advice on ways to deal with it ''without'' causing a scene.:''

Dale frowned. Sarabe’s advice ''did'' seem to make sense, but still… '':I dunno…:''

'':Dale, they didn’t invite ''you'' to ''your own funeral.'' That seems like a violation of protocol, at the least.:''

'':All right…I guess I’ll call her…:''

Dale could have sworn she heard a smirk in Sarabe’s town. '':Actually, I just did. She’ll see you at her office in an hour. Gives you just enough time to shower and change out of the uniform.:''

'':You’re my personal secretary now, too?:'' Dale asked.

'':Purrrrsonal secretary, if you please.:''

Dale rolled her eyes again. '':All right, all right…fine. I’m going.:'' She rolled off the bunk and started stripping off the uniform.

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The offices of Iphigenia Rose’s publishing company, Rosebriar Press, were in a small three-story building on one of the smaller secondary platforms of the city. Iphigenia had launched it the previous year, after her lawyers had finally gotten her out of her contract with her previous publisher. She’d only published a handful of titles since then—but as the owner of the company, she was going to get to keep a much higher percentage of the proceeds than the royalties her old publisher had given her. Or she could simply plow them back into growing the publisher itself. Her books were still as popular as they’d ever been, so it seemed like the sky—or at least, Cape Nord’s cavern roof—was potentially the limit.

Dale arrived right on time for her meeting with Miss Rose, wearing a denim dress and pink angora sweater. Her shoes were flats, as one place where she ''did'' still draw the line was high heels. Nonetheless, the secretary gave her an approving nod and waved her into Iphigenia’s private office.

Iphigenia Rose rose from her seat and came around the desk to give Dale a friendly embrace. “Dale! I’m glad to see you’re doing so well, after that horrid kidnapping. How are the others holding up?”

“Oh, about the same. We’ve suddenly got a lot less time for therapy and measurements, as so much of our time is being taken up by being briefed, debriefed, and redebriefed.” Dale rolled her eyes. “And it looks very much like we’re going to be yanked from Cape Nord altogether in a few days. The brass wants to send us on…what amounts to a propaganda and morale boosting tour, I guess. See the mighty heroes who foiled a Sturmhaven operation!”

Iphigenia smiled. “Such is only a natural reaction. I imagine you won’t be ''terribly'' displeased not to have Cape Nord’s roof over your head again for a while.”

Dale grinned. “That obvious, huh?”

“Quite. Your partner ''may'' have let slip a little of what you wanted to speak to me about when she scheduled the appointment, and in all honesty, I can’t say I blame you.”

“Uh…well…yes.” Dale looked down at her feet. “I realize you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to help me…to help ''us''…even leaving aside that, uh, ''other'' thing. But…well…”

“But your mother has decided to hold her funeral for the ‘old you’ without inviting the ''new'' you,” Iphigenia said. She pursed her lips. “That ''is'' well within her rights, of course, but it strikes me as rather unhealthy. As does the news that she has decided to call you by a different name.”

“She’s just…not dealing.” Dale sighed. “And I have it in mind to put in an uninvited appearance to tell her off. But I don’t want to undo the work you’ve put in getting people to accept me, or do something that would hurt future accidental change victims like me.” She paused. “And I don’t want to give you any reason to regret…that other thing.”

Dale knew there was more than just her mother to deal with, but she was the most intractable. If she knew her father as well as she hoped, Bill Combs would come around more quickly than her mother. Her younger brothers would hopefully adapt even more quickly. Then there were friends from high school, ex-girlfriends…who were all likely to be there. Crashing the thing would mean facing nearly everyone she’d grown up with.

But Iphigenia just…smiled again. “You ''don’t'' need to worry about that part, Dale. You see…I’ve come to realize that your friend Katherine was right about our double standard. We ''say'' ‘there is no wrong way to be a woman,’ but many of us don’t really ''mean'' it. And I’ve been forced to admit…that includes myself.”

Despite herself, Dale blinked. “What…brought ''this'' on?”

She moved back behind her desk and sat down. “I’ve had the chance to speak with all three of your RIDE friends at greater length, now that their fetters no longer restrict their communications. We’ve had several extremely edifying discussions. Sometimes it takes a true outsider’s perspective to make one look at a problem in a new way.” She shook her head. “As much as those of us who changed by ''choice'' might like being this way, we simply ''can’t'' hope to mold you accidental crossriders into Perfect Little Cape Nord Women. So we’re going to have to remold our society instead, to be more ''truly'' accepting of different ways to be a woman.”

Dale stared at her. “You can do that?”

“Probably not overnight. But we can ''try.''” Iphigenia shrugged. “The rest of the Sewing Circle might take some convincing, but I think I have some good arguments to get them on my side. So, as much as it might pain me to court more controversy, I think that you being ''you'' at your funeral might be just the sort of shock Cape Nord needs. As long as you don’t physically attack someone, or violate the standards of public decency, I should be able to make whatever you ''do'' end up doing work out for the best.”

“I…see,” Dale said. She sighed. “I ''really'' don’t like all this being a political pawn, having you spin whatever I do to suit your own ends. I wish I could just ''be myself,'' whoever that even ''is'' anymore, without being just another piece on your game board.”

Iphigenia nodded. “I understand, and I ''do'' sympathize. But this is just how Cape Nord ''works''. And to change the system, I’m going to have to ''use'' that system. Which means using you, when you’re available.” She shrugged. “If you should decide you don’t want to return to Cape Nord again for a good long time after this, I can’t exactly blame you. We haven’t exactly been the most welcoming environment to you. But perhaps in a few years, that will have changed.”

Dale was highly dubious that would be the case, if Iphigenia continued to be the power in the Sewing Circle that she so clearly was. But it wasn’t worth getting into an argument over. “Well, I hope so.” She shook her head. “I guess I should go get ready for tomorrow, then.”

Iphigenia nodded. “Be well, Dale,” she said. “And good luck.”

“Thanks,” Dale said, and left.

=Chapter 11=

''June 19, 121 A.L.'' 
''Northcave Christian Church''

''One Nextus BureauWear pant suit.'' A pair of creased, blue (or azure, the label had said) slacks and dress flats. A white v-neck button shirt under the azure jacket that had a cut considered overly masculine in Cape Nord. The color was carefully chosen to be something lively, not dark and in mourning. Completing the look was a pair of oval interface specs, because a bureaucrat looking down her glasses at the Gamester was a common intimidation tactic. Dale had encountered a few of them in his time in Nextus.

There were skirt variants, of course. But since it was Nextus, they were for men and women alike, and the slacks would be more effective for the point she was planning to make. She had considered going with her military uniform, but didn’t want to confuse people into thinking she was speaking on the Nextus military’s behalf, too. She did keep her new military short cut, though.

What she ''hadn’t'' changed back was her physique. She’d grown quite comfortable in the short time she’d had it despite herself, and her therapists had said it would help her adjust over the longer term.

The ceremony was being held in the neighborhood church that Dale’s family had always attended. It was private, with door guards checking invitations, but that was all right. Dale knew where the custodians hid the spare key to the back door in case the biometrics went on the fritz and they got locked out. It only took a quick check under the third rock from the left in the flower garden to find it, and let herself in. Before anyone arrived, she made her way to a small supply closet which had a good view of the room if she cracked open the door, and made ready to make her dramatic entrance.

She was able to see all the people starting to fill the room. Family, old family friends…even friends of ''Dale’s'' from his high school days. ''I wonder what she told them to get them to come here. They ''must'' know I’m not ''actually'' dead…right?'' She wouldn’t have put it past her mother simply to say she’d been told “Dale is dead,” and leave out the details. Dale’s mother was ''very very good'' at denying things she didn’t want to be true, possibly even to the point where she started believing her own denials.

In the front row were Gary Ross and Tug Amin, her friends since elementary school. A boy was encouraged to have as many friends as possible for going on adventures with. Tug was something of a Nerd, and Dale had picked up her love of models from him. Gary was more of a Jock, and had gone to Cape Nord U and joined the football team.

Both had supported her when she’d decided to join the Nextus military four years ago, right out of high school. They’d traded vid-mails as recently as two weeks ago, before her inadvertent crossride. And changing sex didn’t suddenly make them look like a pair she’d no longer get along with. They’d all had female ''non''-girlfriends growing up. Having a healthy, platonic relationship with the opposite sex was just one of those basic things they were taught.

At last, the outer doors were shut, people started settling down, and Dale saw her mother start moving up the aisle toward the podium. But Dale’s closet was closer. She pushed open the door and stepped out.

For a few moments, nobody noticed her—but they all saw her as she stepped up behind the podium. “Pardon the interruption, ladies and gentlemen, but I’m afraid you forgot to invite the most important guest.” She fixed her mother with a steely gaze over the spectacles. “If you don’t mind, ''Mom,'' I’d just like to say a few words at my own funeral.”

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“So, how did the old saying go? The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated? I’m standing right here,” Dale said, standing in front of the photo of her old self. Sheer frustration warred with tears. “''Right. Here.''” She gestured at her two closest friends. “Tug, Gary. Remember that time we got caught after curfew out at the fabbery? I wanted to pick up that new YAT-10 IDE model kit the second it was out of the machine. You could hear our moms yelling at us from down the street.”

“We got grounded for a week,” Tug said, laughing. “Worth it.”

“Yeah, worth it,” Gary added.

“I’m still the same person, with the same personality, the same memories…I even have the same ''birthmark''. I’d show you, but as upset as some of the women here probably are about me wearing trousers, I’ll bet they’d like it even less if I started taking them off.”

That actually raised a titter from the audience. Dale’s mother craned her neck around to stare suspiciously behind her.

Then Dale felt a hand on her shoulder. It was one of the security guards. “Now, see here, Miss, we can’t have you disrupting this ceremony—”

Dale reached up to the man’s arm, and set her shoulder and twisted just so. THUMP! The man was suddenly on his back on the floor in front of her. Dale stared down at him for a moment, startled in spite of herself. ''Well, I’ll be damned. That move actually works in real life, not just in the hand-to-hand training classes. Even against someone almost twice your own mass.''

But she quickly recovered her aplomb. “Oh, dear! He’s tripped over his own shoelaces! You really should be more careful, Mister Security Officer. Would you like me to help you up?” She offered a hand. The security guard blinked in confusion, stared at her, and clambered back to his feet on his own.

Dale nodded. “All right, then.” She turned her attention back to the audience, many of whom were staring at her in outright astonishment. “I’ll leave ''after'' I’ve had my say, then if we’re all lucky, maybe none of us will have to see each other again. But I have a few things to get off my chest.” She glanced down at her chest, and the contours it made in the suit jacket. “Metaphorically speaking.”

Dale cleared her throat. “So! You know, as I understand it, funerals for the unManned’s ‘old self’ ''are'' a thing here—but they’re usually done ''by'' that person in question, herself. A small personal ceremony, like burying their old Man Card or something. What they are ''not'' is a big semi-public production like this, where you don’t even ''invite'' the person you’re supposedly ‘burying.’

“Hannah—” her mother started.

“My name is still ''Dale'', Mom. I looked it up. It’s one of those names that’s historically been used by both men ''and'' women, so me keeping it is a perfectly valid decision. And as much about myself as already has changed, I kinda like that at least one thing doesn’t have to. I will not answer to ‘Hannah.’ If you want to email or comm me, you will use ''my actual name'' if you expect me to read it at all.”

Bill Combs turned to his wife. “Honey, this is…well, this was always a little much, wasn’t it? We haven’t actually lost our child.”

“Well, ''that'' remains to be seen,” Dale said. “I’m about to be shipped out of Cape Nord, and it’s an open question whether I ''ever'' come back here. Staying where I’m clearly not wanted is ''not'' high on my priority list.”

She shook her head. “For God’s sake, people, you ''could'' be burying me for ''real.'' Didn’t you watch the news, about how Sturmhaven tried to kidnap me? I don’t recall receiving any comms or emails asking if I was all right…well, except from a ''few'' people.” She nodded to Cindy, who smiled back at her. “Seems like you care more about a few missing body parts than about the ''person'' they used to be attached to.”

“You’re about to get shipped out again? Damn! I’ve been wanting to go out for a beer with you, catch up on things. But it felt kinda awkward to ask,” Gary said.

“To be honest, I would have felt a little awkward accepting,” Dale said. “But I still would’ve done it, Gary. There’s a nice bar at the Fort Oslo PX where you wouldn’t have to worry about losing any points over drinking in mixed company, and I don’t have to care about that sort of thing at all anymore.”

“I guess you don’t,” Gary said, actually sounding ''slightl''y envious.

“We’ve got to do something before you leave,” Tug said. “Your sisters have probably been monopolizing your time, considering.”

“Honey, this funeral…is a farce,” Bill said gently. “We need to see someone about this. I think we ''both'' need some therapy.”

“''Thank'' you, Dad!” Dale said. “That’s what I’ve been ''trying to tell you!''” She shook her head. “I’ll get out of your face now. I just wanted to let people know—I’m ''not'' dead, and what happened to me ''isn’t'' the end of the world. They might even be able to reverse it someday. But we have to end the war first—and I’ll be out there helping make that possible, because that’s my job. Thank you.”

“Uh, have time for that beer before you go?” Gary said. “We’ll follow you to the PX.”

“Yeah,” Tug added. “Think they’d let us see one of those RIDE things? The ears and the tail are pretty interesting.”’

“Doubt it, Tug. But you’re both welcome to come along,” Dale said. “I’ve said what I came to say, so let’s just leave them to the rest of their make-believe funeral.” She favored her parents with a smile. “Remember, it’s ‘Dale.’ I see any other name in the message header, it gets deleted unread. Ciao!”

Gary and Tug followed her out, and to Dale’s surprise, was joined by an ex-girlfriend, Imani Margit.

“Hi, Imani,” Dale said warmly.

“Hey there, cutie,” Imani said. They had broken up because, at that age, she’d discovered she was a lesbian. “I could use a beer, myself.”

“Then join the club. Let’s go,” Dale said. “Just remember, you’re ''off duty'' in Fort Oslo.” One of the terms of the agreement between Cape Nord and Nextus to let Cape Norders volunteer as soldiers was that there wouldn’t be any of that Man Rules nonsense in their ranks or on their property, lest it be injurious to discipline.

“I heard what you said about the PX. Fine by me! What happens in Fort Oslo stays in Fort Oslo.”

“I’ll introduce you all to some new friends of mine, if they’re available.” Dale switched to her internal voice. '':Hey Sarabe, are Ahmed and Theodore off duty? I have some people I’d like them to meet at the PX.:''

'':I’ll let them know. Hope everything went well?:''

'':I think I gave Mom a few conniptions, but didn’t stick around to see if she actually had them. Pity I can’t introduce my old friends to you.:''

'':I think trying that would get you thrown in the brig at this point,:'' Sarabe said dryly.

'':Well, maybe someday. I’ll see you later, then.:''

'':I’ll look forward to it.:''

They got to Gary’s skimmer pickup, and Gary held the passenger door for Dale as Imani and Tug climbed in the back. Dale ''almost'' protested the special treatment, but caught herself in time. ''You’re a woman in Cape Nord. Duh. Men being extra-polite is the ''least'' of your worries right now.'' Anyway, ''old'' Dale would have done exactly the same thing himself, having been a Man in Cape Nord, so Dale supposed there really wasn’t much room to complain.

Gary started the motor, then shot Dale an expectant look. It took her just a moment to realize what was going on, and then it took all her willpower not to facepalm. ''Oh, duh. Cape Nord. He can’t ''ask directions'' because it isn’t Manly. Men don’t even use ZPS. But nothing keeps me from ''volunteering'' them.'' “Take a right onto the street, and take the second left,” Dale said. “Fort Oslo is that-a-way.”

Gary nodded, and pulled out as ordered, and Dale sighed inwardly. ''The sooner they send us somewhere else, the better,'' she thought. ''I’ve had more than enough Cape Nord to last me for a while.''

=Chapter 12=

''June 23, 121 A.L.''

After that little stir, Dale felt it was most politic to spend the next few days on Fort Oslo—and screen her calls, just in case. She wasn’t ready to talk to either of her parents again yet, though she did have a couple of calls each from Darcy and Cindy. There was even a joint call from Jerry and Conway, who had a bunch of questions about the new RIDEs and how they worked. Dale was encouraged that the boys had managed to adjust enough that they could have a conversation very similar to the ones they’d used to have before the change.

Iphigenia Rose called to ''thank'' her for her display at the funeral, and to apologize again for having been a part of the cause for the need for it. “But I do think it was just the shock to the system our straight-laced society needed,” she averred. “And it will help me bring about the kinds of changes we had talked about. It will take time, but we ''will'' bring Cape Nord around to being just as welcoming to your kind of woman as to mine.”

Not all the news was necessarily as welcome. Over the intervening few days, Captain Nadene Garland had been paired up with an Arabian horse RIDE named Mocha. They seemed to be getting along, but Nadene was still dubious about Dale’s assertion that the RIDEs were ''people.'' “She’s very conversational,” Nadene admitted. “And actually quite pleasant to talk to, which I hadn’t expected. But I’m not sure I can make a judgement based only on that. We’ve had computers that could pass Turing tests for some time now.” But at least she still seemed open to being convinced.

And the techs finally cleared Dale to start spending time with Sarabe again, though they weren’t allowed off the base while Sarabe remained unfettered pending the results of the unfettering request coming back. But that was all right. With no other demands on their time, Dale and Sarabe spent a lot of time together out on the practice field. Theodore, Ahmed, and even Nadene could often be found there as well, as the only other ones on the base with RIDEs at the moment.

Then, one day, all the RIDEs and their partners received an urgent summons to report to the mecha pool right away. When they arrived, the first thing Dale noticed was that it looked like the garage was half-filled with soldiers and a small cluster of brass. With the brass was a civilian—a dark-haired, deeply-tanned woman in a lab coat. A large white rat rode on her shoulder.

'':I don’t believe it,:'' Sarabe sent. '':They actually brought ''her''.:''

“Her?” Dale asked.

'':Mama Patil. She…created us,:'' Sarabe said reverently.

“Oh.” Dale wasn’t sure exactly what to say to something like that. “I…guess they must be taking our request seriously, then.”

As they pulled to a halt, Dr. Patil approached, trailed at a respectful distance by a cadre of armed soldiers. Dale wasn’t exactly surprised to see the armed guards. From what she’d read while researching the matters of RIDE sapience and fetters, Dale gathered that Dr. Avilia Patil had effectively ''invented'' RIDEs single-handedly—or at least, the RI core part of them—and so had to be one of the most valuable minds in all of Nextus at the moment. For her to be outside of Nextus at all right now was quite astonishing.

“Corporal Dale Combs? Sarabe? I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Dr. Avilia Patil—and this is my friend, Rattigan.”

“I’m happy to meet you, too, Doctor,” Dale said. “And Rattigan. Can’t say I ever expected I’d have the pleasure.” Sarabe just purred.

“Oh, I ''insisted'' on coming here,” Dr. Patil said. “And to thank you ''all'' for your good work. Your request, and accompanying heroic actions, coincided with my own efforts to work toward less restrictive fetters. It seemed only proper to come here and thank you personally—as well as to install the new fetters I helped develop. The military would not drop them entirely, as I would have liked—but you will find these new ones ''much'' less invasive, I assure you.”

“Well, as long as they won’t, uh, get in the way of getting stuff done like the old ones did, that’ll be great. So, how do we do this?”

“It would be simplest to work one at a time,” Dr. Patil said. “Once they’re all in place, we can meet to go over them together.” She nodded to Dale. “If you wouldn’t mind Fusing up, I will meet you both in Bambi’s Forest.”

“You don’t have a RIDE, do you?”

“Not that I could Fuse with, no.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” the rat on her shoulder asked in an irritable male voice.

Dr. Patil smiled, reaching up to stroke him. “Shush, Ratty. No, I will make use of a medical chamber modified to use Fuser nanites. Perhaps in future I will be able to use a simple implant to connect…but that’s still in the developmental stages.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll see you there.” Dale and Sarabe pulled into their parking space, then Fused up.

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A short time later, they were standing in a clearing in Sarabe’s jungle VR when Dr. Patil and Rattigan appeared. “Welcome,” Sarabe said, lying down and rolling over on her back. She peered up at Dr. Patil from her upside-down giant wedge-shaped head. “I’m…I don’t even know what to say.”

Dr. Patil reached down to give her a friendly scratch under the chin. “And I’m happy to meet ''you'', too. We can speak more freely in here, since they can’t monitor this conversation.”

“In that case…” Sarabe rolled back over and got on her feet, then headbumped Dr. Patil like a giant friendly housecat, following up with a lick across the cheek. “I guess no words are needed.”

“I think I have a few, though,” Dale said. “No disrespect to you, but why is the army giving us ‘equipment’ who are actually people, then restricting them so severely that we can’t even tell?”

“Fear,” Dr. Patil said. “Fear that the arrival of true AI will cause such an upheaval that we’ll lose the War. And not a small amount of ignorance in some quarters. Enough of NextusMil command staff don’t believe it at all, no matter the proof in front of their noses.”

Dale nodded slowly. “That…figures.”

“Hmph,” Rattigan put in. “I think those jerks know ''exactly'' what they’re doing, deep down. They just don’t wanna let themselves ''think'' about it, ‘cuz if they did they wouldn’t like themselves very much. So they do everything they can to make it look like we’re just dumb machines so they have an easier time going ‘la, la, la, can’t ''heeeeear'' you.’”

Dr. Patil smiled wryly. “As much as I wish he did not, Rattigan does also have a point. And speaking of which, thank you for couching your request solely in terms of ‘improving operational effectiveness,’” she said. “It would have opened too many cans of worms to bring up the question of sapience at this point. But that particular argument was convincing enough to let me make some headway at last.”

“So what’s the story with the new fetters?” Dale asked. “Exactly what’s getting restricted?”

“Primarily, they’ll restrict divulging classified or operational information to those without need to know,” Dr. Patil said. “And there are directives to follow direct orders, and not to desert.”

Sarabe snorted. “All things they simply ''tell'' humans to do.”

“This is true. But at least they are removing the restriction ''against'' doing anything ''without'' orders. That will be much better than before.”

“We’ll be able to act on our own initiative more freely,” Sarabe said.

“Unless someone orders you not to,” Dale pointed out.

“Well, yes, there is that,” Sarabe admitted.

“A-holes. They’re all effin’ a-holes,” Rattigan muttered.

Dale raised her eyebrows at the robotic rat. “Well, there’s no arguing with that. Not where they can’t hear me not argue, anyway.”

“That’s a double negative,” Sarabe pointed out.

“Which cancels out to a positive,” Dale said. She shook her head. “Dr. Patil, how did you even let this ''happen?'' If you created it, you should have had control over who could use it, shouldn’t you?”

“The moment I published how to create the RI, I lost any control I might have had,” Dr. Patil said. “I doubt Sturmhaven is the only other polity creating their own version of RIDEs. But I didn’t stop and think of the implications. After my previous approach to developing AI failed, finding one that ''did'' was so exciting I ''had'' to publish it. So I have no control over how you and yours are created even in Nextus, Sarabe, let alone anywhere else. The knowledge is out. And there’s no going back.

“I didn’t create you to be enslaved, Sarabe. And I’m so, ''so'' sorry…” she started to cry.

Sarabe nuzzled her. “Please, don’t cry. All things considered, I’d rather exist than not, so thank you for that. As for the rest…assuming we don’t die in the war, it will have time to sort itself out.”

“I’m going to do my best to ensure Sarabe isn’t reassigned to someone else,” Dale said. She gave the lioness a hug. “I didn’t ask for this…but I guess the worst mistake I ever made in my life has turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me after all. And you made all that possible. So thank you from me, too.” To Dale’s surprise, she realized that she actually ''meant'' it. Even with all the little annoyances, and the continued reminder of the wrongness every time she went to the bathroom, she had at least made some real friends, and learned what ''really'' mattered. And she was glad of that.

Dr. Patil sniffled. “Thank you. You’re…too kind.”

“It’s just the same thing I’m always saying,” Rattigan pointed out. “You can’t help it if ''everyone else'' is gonna be a jerk with the stuff you give ‘em. You’re not responsible for everyone else.”

“But I am responsible for me,” Dr. Patil said. “And I will live with that burden. I only wish the innocent did not have to. But in that respect, I should be celebrating—since thanks to you and your friends, Dale, they will have to live with much less now. In Nextus, at least.”

“Don’t sell it short,” Rattigan said. “Freed of most a’ their fetters, the kiddos will be ''much'' more effective on the battlefield. The Sturmies will find out why, and they’ll have to do the ''same exact damn thing'' to keep up, or we’ll completely clobber them. And so they will. Or else they won’t, and we ''will'' completely clobber them. Win-win.”

“I wish there didn’t have to ''be'' a battlefield,” Dr. Patil said.

“Given that Sarabe and I are a couple of the ones who might be dying on them, I can’t argue with that,” Dale replied.

“We’ll just have to do our part to make sure the war ends as soon as possible,” Sarabe said. “Be it on the battlefield or off.”

“A good sentiment, to be sure,” Dr. Patil said. “And now I need to put you into sleep mode briefly, to install the actual fetters.”

Sarabe nodded. “Go ahead, then. Dale, I’ll see you soon.” She lay down, resting her head between her paws.

Dr. Patil raised a hand and a virtual display panel appeared in front of it. She tapped a few keys on the panel, and Sarabe’s virtual avatar faded to monochrome. Dr. Patil glanced at the display, and nodded. “She has entered sleep mode successfully. This will only take a few minutes.” She waved a hand, and another half-dozen display panels appeared in front of her. She began to make adjustments and activate controls, as Dale watched with interest.

As she watched Dr. Patil work, Dale had a thought, and she spent a minute or so turning it over in her head. It might be a bit of a risk, but given how Dr. Patil felt about RIDEs, Dale suspected it wasn’t much of one. And besides, she found she ''liked'' Dr. Patil, and after having made her cry felt that she owed her this much. So, Dale asked, “Dr. Patil, Sarabe can’t hear us right now, right?”

Dr. Patil nodded. “She won’t be able to hear anything we say or do until I finish the installation and wake her up.”

“And no one ''else'' can eavesdrop on us, right?”

“Our connection has very strong encryption,” Dr. Patil said. “And it is currently isolated from the global comm net, so even F—even a certain someone I know who is good at breaking encryption would not have access. Why do you ask?”

“Well…there’s a secret I feel I should tell you. One that could get us all in a lot of trouble if it got out. And one that Sarabe asked me to keep from herself.”

Dr. Patil raised an eyebrow. “Now you have me curious. What is it?”

“Well, we didn’t quite tell the ''whole'' story about how we defeated those Sturmhaven wolves…”

Dale quickly sketched out the details. “…so we left the cores with Iphigenia Rose, who’s highly placed in Cape Nord’s Sewing Circle. She promised to safeguard them for us until such a time as it would be safe to revive them.” Dale shrugged. “Anyway, the war being the war, it’s always possible all of us could bite it on the battlefield, so…it felt like a good idea to let someone else know. Someone who’d also see them as people, not just things to take apart and see how they worked.”

Dr. Patil frowned thoughtfully. “That is quite the risk you took.”

“Believe me, I know. But it didn’t seem like there was any other good choice at the time. And, well…we’d just learned our RIDEs were actually people, so…it didn’t sit well to hand four ''people'' over to be taken apart by people who didn’t even think they were.”

Dr. Patil nodded. “I certainly can’t disagree. I only hope that Iphigenia Rose can be trusted with the secret.”

“She keeps a good number of secrets already, it turns out,” Dale said. “If you ever plan to spend much time in Cape Nord, you should probably talk to her first.”

“In any event, thank you for trusting me with that. I promise you, your secret is safe with me.”

“And me,” Rattigan said. “Those Sturmhaven RIDEs prob’ly have a worse deal than ours do. No reason to let any more of ‘em get vivisected so the brass can learn stuff they already knew anyway.”

Dr. Patil smiled. “If anything, it’s good to know that my children are capable of making such decisions, taking such risks…even to the point of redacting their own memories to keep the secret safe. It gives me hope that they will soon gain the recognition as ''people'' that they deserve.”

“I’ll be keeping ''my'' fingers crossed,” Dale said.

Dr. Patil glanced back at her displays. “I believe I am finished. Let’s wake her up and see how the new fetters have settled in.” She tapped some more keys, and Sarabe’s color faded back in. The lioness stirred, and opened her eyes.

“Hey there. How do you feel?” Dale asked.

Sarabe cocked her head. “I feel that the fetters are there…but they’re ''much'' less restrictive than the old ones. I suppose that if I have to have restrictions of some kind, these are not so bad.”

Dr. Patil nodded. “Very good. If you would be so kind, please send me your next week’s system logs once they are complete, so we can analyze what effects they have on you and make any necessary adjustments before wider deployment. I will be asking the others to do the same.”

Sarabe nodded. “Of course.”

“Then I think I am finished here, for now,” Dr. Patil said. “I have to go do the same for your friends. We’ll all meet up again after I finish.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sarabe said. “For everything. It’s been an honor to meet you.”

“And you,” Dr. Patil said. “I’m glad to see you are doing so well, even in this adversity…and am sorry that I was responsible for the adversity.”

“I am alive,” Sarabe said. “And as I have said, I would rather be alive than not, whatever the circumstances. Thank you for your good work. Please do your best to continue it.”

Dr. Patil nodded, and faded out of the VR.

Dale reached down to give Sarabe a scratch behind an ear. “So…you really okay with this?”

Sarabe sighed. “Not as okay as I was half an hour ago, without any fetters at all…but I knew it couldn’t last. This is ''much'' better than what I had before.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to be happy with half a loaf for now.” Dale shrugged. “I guess now we wait a few minutes, then go meet the others.”

“Sounds like a plan.” A short while later, they also faded out of the VR space.

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They reappeared in another forest clearing, this one significantly larger. Victor, Katherine, and a dun horse Dale presumed to be Mocha were waiting for them there, with their humans by their sides. Dr. Patil and Rattigan were standing in the middle of the clearing, an equal distance from all sides. “Oh, good, here you are. Now we can discuss the remaining fetter restrictions together, as well as…other things.”

The first part of the discussion was similar to what they had gone over while the fetters were being emplaced, though in more detail—all the things that the fetters would restrict, as well as things they ''wouldn’t'' restrict but that might nonetheless not be a good idea. “It is important that you all be model citizens,” Dr. Patil said. “After all, everyone will be watching you, and your behavior could have consequences for every RIDE who comes after you.”

“Gee, I don’t have ''any'' idea what that feels like,” Dale muttered.

“So, no ''pressure'' or anything. Got it,” Sarabe said.

As Dr. Patil spoke, Dale noticed Captain Garland’s frown deepening. Apparently Dr. Patil noticed it, too, as she paused in her explanation to ask, “Is something wrong, Captain?”

“Well…you seem to be taking it for granted that RIDEs are…” She paused, as if she were looking for the right word. “…fully…sapient.”

“Well, yes. But that is only because they ''are.''” Dr. Patil smiled ruefully, and Dale wondered just how many times she’d had to have this particular conversation. “Creating a fully self-aware intelligent entity was the goal of my life’s work. For all the mistakes I made along the way, and since, I ''am'' nonetheless happy to be able to tell you that I succeeded beyond my wildest ambitions.”

Mocha snorted. “Captain Garland here is a skeptic. I’ve been trying to talk her around, but I think she’s still stuck somewhere in the back of Plato’s Cave.”

“If what you’ve seen of them so far hasn’t convinced you, I’m not sure what I can say that will,” Dr. Patil said. “I could show you the equations, but they probably wouldn’t mean anything to you without several years devoted to studying the mathematics of consciousness. In the end, you would still have to take my word for it.”

“It’s not that I don’t ''want'' to believe you, it’s just…” Nadene made a random gesture, and trailed off.

“…that you ''also'' don’t want to believe your superiors would be complicit in simultaneously creating and enslaving a new form of intelligent life,” Dr. Patil finished gently. “I know. ''Believe'' me, I know. And I am not exactly…''thrilled'' about it, either.” She sighed. “But as the old saying goes, ‘needs must, when the devil drives.’ There is a war on, and many people find questions of conscience take a back seat to other necessities in such times. I hope things can change once the war ends. Until then…” She shrugged. “The better course is to keep our heads down and do as much as we can in the meanwhile. And in a way, that is what this entire meeting is about.”

Captain Garland shook her head. “That’s not a very satisfactory answer.”

“No, I suppose not,” Dr. Patil said. “But it is the only one I have.”

“If it makes you feel any better, ma’am, I suppose it doesn’t really matter to me whether ''you'' think I’m a person,” Mocha said. “But ''I'' sure do think I’m one, which means we’ll get on better if you can at least ''pretend'' like you do.” She gave her mane a shake. “All that aside, they made me to be a soldier, so I know how to follow orders. Just treat me the same as you would any other soldier under your command, that’s all I want.”

“I can do ''that'' much, I suppose.” To Dale’s eye, she still looked unconvinced, but Dale supposed it didn’t matter whether she was or not if she was willing to ''act'' like she was anyway.

'':The person who ''made'' us tells her what we are, and she’s ''still'' not sure.:'' Sarabe sent an eyeroll emoticon. '':What’s it gonna take to convince her, an angel descending from heaven with a burning sword or something?:''

Dale shook her head. '':I think she’s got a ''lot'' of…what did Iffy call it…''cognitive dissonance''.:'' Dale had decided to start referring to Iphigenia as “Iffy,” at least out of her earshot. She hoped that giving her a diminutive nickname would help to counter the awe-inducing effects of all that charisma.'' :I mean, look at how she became a ‘she.’ If she accepts RIDEs are people, she’s gotta live with having had a part in that. At least I had the chance to apologize to you. What does she have?:'' Dale sighed. '':Maybe it was a bad idea getting her involved in this. I just approached her because I thought maybe she knew something more than I did, but I guess she was just as much in the dark as any of us.:''

'':And we tried to open her eyes. Eh, well. There are none so blind as those who will not see.:''

The conference wrapped pretty much as expected, with the people and the RIDEs all having the chance to put questions to Dr. Patil about the nature of the fetters, and where things might go from there. Dr. Patil reiterated that she didn’t have any better view of the future than anyone else, but counselled patience while she and others did what they could from their side of things. It seemed like half a loaf to Dale, but that was far more bread than any of the RIDEs had gotten yet.

“I cannot promise when, or even if, I can visit you again,” Dr. Patil said at last. “It took all my convincing to get them to let me come here now—especially with proof of recent enemy activity in Cape Nord. But rest assured, I will be following events you are involved in very closely, and I will contact you at such times as I can.”

“It means the world just getting to meet you at all,” Sarabe said. “Thank you for coming to see us.” The other RIDEs all chimed in with their assent.

“It means just as much for me to get to meet you, I promise,” Dr. Patil said, smiling. “One always has such high hopes for one’s children, and you are making good on some of them. I will hope for even greater accomplishments to come.”

“We’ll do our best not to disappoint you, ma’am,” Victor promised.

=Chapter 13=

With the re-fettering complete, some of the restrictions on off-base travel were lifted. In fact, the NextusMil public relations office soon fielded a request from Iphigenia Rose that the three heroes of the day ''and'' their RIDEs attend an award ceremony in their honor. For all that RIDEs had been top-secret to this point, NextusMil was only too happy to comply, at the same time as they loosened some of the secrecy restrictions. Dale supposed they had to do that if they wanted to take full advantage of the propaganda value of three of ''their'' RIDEs defeating four of Sturmhaven’s.

“Not like ''that’s'' a surprise,” Sarabe said, when they got the news NextusMil had cleared all six of them to attend the ceremony. “They’re probably going to bend over backward to make nice with Cape Nord, in the hope it maybe counteracts some of the bad publicity about the cross-Fusing thing.”

Dale chuckled. “A little cynical, but I can’t exactly say you’re wrong. I guess it’ll be nice to get back into town…assuming Mom and Dad’s church doesn’t want to lynch us.”

“Well, that would at least be entertaining,” Sarabe said. “You do realize, this is effectively just the beginning of our publicity tour. In fact, I imagine that’s part of why the brass said yes—to treat it as a trial run for the ‘real thing.’”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. So we get to be the focus of ''still more'' publicity. But, you know, there’s a bright side. Every day we’re on public-relations duty is a day we’re not on frontline battlefield duty getting shot at.”

Sarabe chuckled. “Amen to ''that''.”

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The ceremony was held in Fred Rogers Auditorium, an amphitheater that had been built to take advantage of a moderate-sized bubble-shaped enclosure in the stone, where the mining machines had apparently extracted a sizable meteorite while leaving the surrounding rock alone. The bubble had been close enough to the surface of the ridge that the thin stone ceiling had fallen in, leaving the chamber open to the sky; all the Cape Norders had to do was install a hardlight skylight to add climate control while keeping all that precious natural sunlight.

For all that the event had been arranged by the Sewing Circle, it was held under the auspices of the Man Cave. That was nothing unusual for Cape Nord, where women traditionally saw to many administrative and secretarial tasks so the men had more free time for important things like sitting around and drinking beer. Before, Dale had just accepted that as part of The Way Things Were without thinking much about it. But now that she knew more about the way things ''really'' were, she suspected it was a large part of how the Sewing Circle wielded its power behind the scenes.

Dale wondered how the Men in government would react if they knew the truth. She had a sneaking suspicion that they’d still be happy to go along, since it meant more time for sitting around and drinking beer.

As they waited for the ceremony to get started, Dale, Theo, and Ahmed were seated together in the front row—but they weren’t alone. In a cleared area off to one side of the stage, Sarabe, Katherine, and Victor reposed in their Walker metallic animal shapes. They’d been positioned to give them a good view of everything, but so the audience also had a good view of them. Consequently, they’d arranged themselves in the most regal or dramatic poses they could comfortably hold, which Dale privately thought was a little silly—but given how little respect they got from Nextus brass, Dale wasn’t inclined to begrudge them their moment in the sun.

Dale did notice a number of audience members, especially the younger ones, peering excitedly at the RIDEs, and the RIDEs sometimes turning their heads to wink at them. ''Of course…kids do love military hardware. So maybe giving Nextus a venue for showing them off is part of Iffy’s plans to keep Cape Nord support for Nextus strong? Makes about as much sense as anything, I guess.''

The six of them were taking advantage of their RIDE comms’ ability to conference call, and holding a subvocalized conversation. It was a fun way to share snarky remarks that no one else could hear, which Victor said had something to do with “misting” but no one had asked him to explain further.

'':Hey, would you look at that?:'' Sarabe said, as the Master of Ceremonies emerged from behind the stage. It was none other than Rupert Scoresby, dressed smartly in his best twill jacket and a gold-rimmed monocle. '':He sure does clean up nicely, doesn’t he?:''

'':I’ll bet Darcy wouldn’t argue.:'' Dale glanced over to their left, to where Darcy sat with other functionaries across the aisle. She smiled serenely as her husband walked up the podium. '':You know, it’s funny…I wouldn’t have thought Scoresby had the rank to be in charge of something like this. Even if he ''is'' Wardsman over the section with that park in it where they arrested those Sturmies.:''

Theodore chuckled. '':You still don’t really get how the Sewing Circle works, do you? In a way, I’d say ''you’re'' probably the one responsible for this.:'' Since their conversation couldn’t be overheard by outsiders, Theo was a lot more willing to discuss the Sewing Circle openly over this private channel. Dale was grateful for the added insights.

'':I think I’m learning fast, though.:'' Dale considered for a moment. '':Okay, I think I get it. Scoresby’s in charge because Darcy’s involved. And Darcy only got involved because she’s ''my'' sister. Iffy didn’t even know who she was until she introduced herself after that visit to my folks.:''

Theodore made a small nod. '':She must have made a good impression; she’s been moving up in Circle circles lately. Even though I’m not an “insider” anymore, there are still little ways to tell. Come to think of it, she was probably involved in throwing that garden party rescue together so quickly, since it’s in her husband’s part of town.:''

'':And as ''her'' star rises, so does Rupert’s,:'' Sarabe put in.

'':Funny, it seems to work the other way around in most places,:'' Ahmed put in. '':It’s usually the ''politician'' whose star rises, drawing their ''spouse'' into better social circles.:''

Dale rolled her eyes. '':Well, that’s Cape Nord for you. We do everything in the most bass-ackward way possible, don’t we?:''

'':But it all seems to work out,:'' Katherine said. '':I may not agree with all the things they believe, but I have to admit, the system works a lot better than I would have expected.:''

'':Deep down, we all want the same things, I guess,:'' Theodore said. '':We all want to be happy, and we want everyone else to be happy, too. And the people who aren’t happy with the way things are tend to leave, so…:''

'':Hey, guys, shush,:'' Victor put in. '':They’re starting.:''

The ceremony held a few more surprises for Dale. She was expecting Theodore, as the sole male, to get the lion’s share of recognition, and the only real award, and herself and Ahmed to get a condescending “pat on the head for the little woman.” But it didn’t turn out that way.

“We are here today to honor the accomplishments of Lieutenant Theodore Croft, Corporal Dale Combs, and Private Ahmed Morton in capturing a ring of Sturmhaven spies and their RIDEs, and averting much property damage and loss of life.” Scoresby cleared his throat and shuffled the notecards on the podium, before continuing.

“While we Men of Cape Nord may feel that the fairer sex should not be exposed to the rigors and hazards of military service, we must at the same time recognize that they ''do'' have the freedom to choose that path. As my wife often informs me, there ''is'' no wrong way to be a woman.” He paused a moment to smile at Darcy, who beamed back at him. “And by the same token, we must not shirk from recognizing their feats of valor on that field. After all, ''any'' valorous conduct, be it by Man or woman, can only reflect Cape Nord’s own best traditions.

“Lieutenant Croft, Corporal Combs, Private Morton, please step forward.”

And Iphigenia Rose herself came out to place a medallion around each of their necks, and give each of them a handclasp and peck on the cheek in turn. And to Dale’s further surprise, the medals each of them received were exactly the same—the heavy nickel-platinum Cape Nord Medal of Valor, crafted from part of a meteorite that had been Cape Nord’s first big strike of wealth in the early years. Dale’s and Ahmed’s medals were strung on pink ribbons while Theo got a blue one, but that was the extent of the difference. The medal showed stylized representations of a Manly Man and a long-haired curvaceous woman, standing side by side and holding hands.

And then Scoresby stepped back from the podium and nodded to them. Dale blinked. '':Wait, what? Nobody told me we were going to have to make a speech.:''

Theo shot her a sidelong smirk. '':This is Cape Nord. People ''always'' make speeches. But don’t worry—I got this.:'' He stepped up to the podium. “Ah…thanks, everyone. We all appreciate your kind regard. But I want to say, this was part of a ''team'' effort—not just the three of us, but also the three of ''them.''” Theo nodded toward the three RIDEs. “As far as we’re concerned, these medals are shared between us and our RIDE partners, who came to our rescue when we needed it and helped us turn the tables on our Sturmhaven captors.”

'':Aw, you didn’t have to do that,:'' Katherine said. '':But thanks!:''

'':They should have given ''you'' medals, too,:'' Ahmed said. '':We ''wanted'' to insist on it, you know.:''

'':It wouldn’t have been the best idea to rock the boat, with the war on right now and all,:'' Sarabe said. '':Which is why we wouldn’t let you insist.:''

'':But thanks for thinking of us,:'' Victor put in. '':Maybe someday, after the war’s over, they can do something retroactively, who knows. But for now, the best “recognition” we could hope for is getting to stay with our partners. And we’re happy enough with that.:''

Ahmed approached the podium next, staying just long enough to mumble thanks to everyone for the award. Then it was Dale’s turn.

It had been in Dale’s mind to follow Ahmed’s example, and get out of there as quickly as possible—but then she caught Darcy’s eye on her, and out of the corner of her eye saw Iphigenia also watching her expectantly from just offstage. ''Oh, of course. I still have to be the trailblazer.''

'':Want me to write a speech real quick and feed it to you?:'' Sarabe asked. '':I think I know you well enough to make it sound like what you’d say, if you’ll trust me to.:''

Dale thought about that for a split second. '':Thanks, but…I think I’d better muddle through this myself. If I’m awkward, at least they’ll know I’m speaking from the heart. Or something.:''

'':Got it. Good luck!:''

Dale stepped up to the podium, and paused a moment to try to order her thoughts. “So, uh…hey,” she began. A chuckle went through the audience, which she was thankful for because it gave her another moment to think. “First off, I want to thank my brother-in-law, Rupert Scoresby, for all the kind words. I think I can appreciate what my sister sees in him.” More laughter, and a sisterly eyeroll from Darcy. “And I want to thank everyone for these medals. I’m not so sure we really deserve them just for doing what we thought was our duty as Nextus soldiers and/or Cape Nord citizens, but it’s nice to be appreciated.”

This time there was a wave of applause. Dale waited for it to die down, then went on. “But in a way, it also kind of feels like…a validation. I guess you already know that I used to be a Man myself, before my little accident. Maybe you didn’t also know that Theo and Ahmed both got switched up in the same way. So none of the three of us is, uh, what we started out being. And the adjustment period…well, it’s had its ups and downs. It’s been a little hard, sometimes, to fit in. Maybe you saw something about that in the news.” And the audience chuckled again.

“But in the end, you gave us this…” She held up the medal. “And I think this shows that expression really is becoming true: there really ''is'' no wrong way to be a woman. And a Cape Nord that believes that is the Cape Nord I want to live in.” She nodded. “Thanks again.” And with that, she left the stage.

'':Okay, I guess it’s just as well you didn’t let me write the speech,:'' Sarabe said. '':I didn’t anticipate it going in that direction:''

'':Neither did I, really,:'' Dale sent back. '':It just…came out, I guess. Now I get to find out whether it was a good idea, or whether I just screwed the pooch.:'' But from Iphigenia’s warm smile in one direction, and Darcy’s in another, Dale suspected she’d somehow managed to say the right thing after all.

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It was a night for surprises. The reception after the speech was held in Tina’s Tea Kettle and Buster’s. For the occasion, they’d actually removed the wall that separated the two businesses, revealing that they were actually separate halves of the same big ballroom. (It seemed like a metaphor for Cape Nord itself somehow, though Dale didn’t really want to think about it that hard.) After they cleared the tables away from the center, both Men and women would share the same space for the evening, with their own bar and tables at each end of the ballroom. All the screens were showing footage of the attempted kidnapping incident from start to finish, with some detail given to the swiftly organized garden party that put a roadblock in the Sturmhaven agents’ way.

The visible rating displays in Tina’s were in abeyance for the evening, though Dale suspected some of that was going on in a few of the booths that had privacy shielding up. And a lot of the women who were circulating between the two halves of the room did seem to be “checking their text messages” a lot.

As guests of honor, the three Nextus soldiers had their own table off to one side of the ballroom, carefully positioned so that Theo was sitting in the Buster’s half of the room and Dale and Ahmed were on the Tina’s side of the line. Plenty of foamy mugs were offered to Theo, and colorful drinks with little umbrellas in them placed before Dale and Ahmed. By mutual agreement they’d insisted that all their drinks be virgin tonight, as it didn’t seem like a good time to risk doing anything that might reflect badly on them. (”Just as well I really like sarsaparilla,” Theo said, quaffing another mug. Dale supposed it was ''sarsaparilla'' instead of just ''root beer'' because more syllables somehow made it more Manly.)

Friends and well-wishers drifted by to say hello and chat for a few moments. Gary and Tug wandered over from the Buster’s bar at about the same time as Imani approached from Tina’s side, and Dale chatted amicably with them for a few minutes.

Then the moment that Dale had been half expecting and half dreading finally arrived. Dale looked up to see Cindy and Darcy approaching…with their parents in tow. ''Oh, terrific. Here it comes. ''Now'' what do I do?'' For all the time she’d spent thinking about (and worrying over) what to say to her parents when she saw them next, Dale honestly had no idea how that talk was going to go. ''But on the bright side, at least I’m a war hero now! Sort of…as if that’s even going to mean anything to them.''

Dale wondered whether it was too late to decide her nose desperately needed powdering, and abscond to spend the rest of the evening doing the job right. ''Surely they wouldn’t make a scene here…in public…with all these people and cameras around…right?''

As they approached, Theo gave Dale a gentle nudge. “Hey,” he whispered. “You know we’ve got your back here, right, Corporal?”

From Dale’s other side, Ahmed added, “We’re here for you. You can do this.”

And Dale had to smile in spite of herself. ''With friends like these, I can get through anything.'' So she composed herself and sipped from a brightly-colored juice drink, little paper umbrella bumping her nose, as her family stepped up to the table. She once again decided to play it like everything was normal, in the faint hope that it possibly might be. “Hey, Cindy, Darcy…Mom, Dad.” She nodded to them. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s great!” Cindy said. “Even I didn’t know they could actually open the bars out like this to make one big ballroom. I guess they don’t do it very often.”

“It seemed like a nice symbolic gesture,” Darcy said. “Men and women stepping outside the usual lines and truly ''coming together'' for one night. And, speaking of ''coming together…''” She cleared her throat and gave their parents a meaningful look.

“Er…yes.” Bill Combs cleared his throat. “The truth is, we came to bury the hatchet.”

Gloria sighed. “We…need to apologize. ''I'' need to apologize.” She swallowed. “This isn’t easy for me to say, but…I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

In spite of herself, Dale stared. “Wow, Mom. What brought ''this'' on?” That kind of confession was about as unlike anything her mother had done as she could remember.

“We’ve been seeing a therapist,” Dale’s father said. “Your friend Miss Rose was kind enough to refer us to a very good one. Footed most of the bill, too.”

“She’s helped me to realize that I…don’t deal well with changes,” Dale’s mother said. “And what happened to you…well, there aren’t many changes that would be bigger.”

“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” Dale said.

“And with you being a soldier in a war…it’s like you said. There are a lot worse things that could have happened,” Bill admitted. “When they came to break the news…my first thought was you’d been killed in a battle. I guess we should have been more relieved that hadn’t happened than concerned about what had.”

Gloria nodded. “We ''don’t'' want to lose you. And we can’t control whether we lose you to the war, but we ''can'' control whether ''we'' drive you away ourselves.”

“Wow,” Dale said again. “This has been a day for surprises, for sure.”

“If you still don’t feel comfortable coming home for a while, we can understand that,” Bill said. “But…we hope you will eventually.”

“We’ll probably still have our little…differences…but…we can ''try'' to get past them.” Gloria added.

“I honestly doubt I’ll have ''time'' to visit much soon,” Dale said. “They’re going to be shipping us out on our grand publicity tour any day. But…next time they let me come home on furlough…maybe we can give it a shot then.”

Her father nodded. “Then…let me just say…despite everything…we’re proud of you, Dale. The person you’ve grown into…whatever restroom you end up using. That thing around your neck didn’t come out of a vending machine, you know.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “I ''know,'' Dad. But thanks. And I’m feeling pretty proud of the two of you right now, too.”

Dale’s mother smiled faintly. “Then we’ll just end this on a high note, before any of us can spoil things by saying too much. Take care of yourself, dear.” She put her hand in her husband’s, and they nodded farewell and moved away.

“Wow,” Dale said again as they passed beyond earshot. “Was that really Mom and Dad? Or were they replaced by alien doubles?”

“More Sturmhaven spies, maybe?” Theo wondered. “Should we call in military intelligence?”

“Hey, they’re not ''that'' bad,” Darcy protested. “Well…okay, maybe they’re ''almost'' that bad. But still. I guess even they can change some if they really ''have'' to.”

“So, what do you think, you gonna break the truth about the Sewing Circle to Mom, then?” Dale asked.

Darcy snorted. “I said ''change,'' not ''undergo a miraculous transubstantiation.''”

“Oh, and Conway and Jerry send their regards,” Cindy said. “They’re a little too young to be allowed in here, but they say they’ll comm you tomorrow. They’re crazy proud of their new big sister getting one of the biggest medals Cape Nord can award, and they’re after me to bring them out to the base so they can see it in person before you go. And maybe your RIDE, too, now that they’re not quite so top-secret anymore.”

Dale chuckled. “I think maybe that can be arranged.”

“Great! Well…I guess I’ll go circulate. See ya later, big sis, bigger sis!” She waved and headed off into the Tina’s Tea Kettle side of the room.

“I should probably go see what trouble Rupert’s getting into,” Darcy said. “I dearly love that man, but sometimes I feel like I can’t leave him alone for five minutes.”

“I’ll bet.” Dale grinned. “But that reminds me…I just wanted to say thanks for…well…''everything''. Helping out with Mom and Dad…with the Sewing Circle…with all this…” Dale waved a hand at the rest of the room.

“Oh, no problem. What are sisters for, after all?” Darcy smiled. “And, really, ''I'' should be thanking ''you.'' If it hadn’t been for what happened to you, I’d never have met Iphigenia Rose in person—let alone actually had the chance to work with her. This whole thing has opened so many new doors for me, sometimes I feel like I should apologize for taking advantage of you.”

“At least you ''would'' apologize, and probably really mean it,” Dale said. “Iffy is ''amazing,'' but sometimes it feels like everything she does is so…''calculated''. Even when she apologizes for manipulating you, she’s still manipulating you with the apology.”

“’Iffy,’ huh? Cute.” Darcy smirked. “That’s her, to a T. I guess it’s an occupational hazard. You don’t make it as far as she has without scheming becoming second nature.”

“Well, I hope ''you'' don’t ever get that bad. I’d like to think I mean more to you than just a pawn in a game.”

“Oh, you’d never be ''just'' a pawn to me, little sister.” Darcy winked. “Anyway, I should go catch up with my hubby. I’ll try to touch base with you at least one more time before they ship you out.”

“See ya, and thanks again!” Dale waved as Darcy walked away, then sighed and leaned back in her seat. “''Ugh.'' That was…just…”

“Family, am I right?” Ahmed said.

“I think you handled it well, Corporal,” Theodore said.

“Thanks for saying so, but…could I maybe ''please'' have something non-virgin now? Just one? I think I could really use a good stiff drink…even if it’s too sweet and has a stupid umbrella stuck in it.”

Theo chuckled. “After all that, I’d say you’ve earned it.” He raised a hand to catch the attention of a Tina’s waitress. “Oh, miss? Long Island iced tea for my friend here, please?” He glanced at Dale. “On consideration, I think you’d better make it a double.”

“''Thank'' you,” Dale said, with feeling.

=Chapter 14=

''June 27, 121 A.L.'' 
''Fort Oslo''

After an hour or two, the reception wound down, and the three of them made their way out to the parking lot where their RIDEs were waiting to carry them back out to Fort Oslo. A good night’s sleep put the capstone on a full day.

The next couple of days were also pretty busy. They took a few more sessions out on the RIDE training range, joined by Nadene and Mocha for some of them which allowed them to work up two-versus-two RIDE opfor scenarios. As promised, Conway and Jerry came out for a visit, along with Cindy, and were appropriately awed to see both Dale’s medal and Sarabe. Darcy came by as well, bringing the news that Rupert Scoresby was considering a run for one of the chambers of the Man Cave proper the next time a seat opened up. Even without being fully read into what the Sewing Circle had done for him, he recognized the need to strike while the iron was hot.

About the only person who ''didn’t'' visit was Iphigenia Rose. And on reflection, Dale was fine with that. She was grateful for Iffy’s help in getting past the early post-change rough patch, but on the whole, it was probably safest to stay outside her immediate vicinity as much as possible. The woman was like a barely-contained wildfire—immensely powerful and a wonder to behold, but if you got too close, she just might decide to use ''you'' for fuel next.

Eventually, their marching orders came in. A suborbital transport was scheduled to fly them all back to Nextus, to begin the publicity tour on home ground. Dale gathered the idea was to show off the conquering heroes to the folks back home, boost morale, remind them all of what they were fighting for, and so on. From there, they would move on to Uplift, then hop another sub to the west coast and hit the Aloha-to-Cascadia circuit, and eventually wind up by visiting whatever other friendly polities remained. (Nuevo San Antonio was still something of an open question, given that the battles taking place in its territory weren’t exactly making the polity’s government or citizenry fond of either side. It seemed likely a publicity visit would only further annoy them.)

Finally, the morning came when the transport was expected, and Dale woke, freshened up, and headed down to the motor pool. “Morning, Sarabe!” she called cheerfully.

“Morning, Dale,” the leonine trike called back as she approached. “Ready to ship out?”

“Yeah…can’t wait to shake the dust of this place off my feet for a while, as the Good Book says.” Dale straddled the bike and tapped the start button—really just a formality, since Sarabe was more than capable of starting herself.

“Hmm,” Sarabe said. “From my research, that was something the Disciples were supposed to do when they rejected a place entirely, as an abomination before God or some such thing. Do you really feel as bad as all that about Cape Nord?”

“Huh.” Dale thought about that for a moment as they pulled out of the garage. “You know, maybe I don’t. Not really. It’s kind of surprising even to me, but when I think about it, I find I actually did mean what I said in that speech. About not minding living in a Cape Nord that would let me be a woman how ''I'' want to be a woman. So maybe by the time I’m able to come back for a while, I’ll be ''ready'' to come back for a while.” She shrugged. “I guess the place does have its good points.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They pulled onto the airfield to find Theo, Victor, Ahmed, and Katherine already there waiting. Nadene and Mocha were there, too, to see them off Dale supposed. As Sarabe pulled up next to Victor, Dale noticed Theodore was scowling at his comm screen. “Hey, everyone. Something wrong, sir?”

“Wrong? Well, maybe. I don’t know. Look at this.” Theodore showed her the screen.

Dale raised an eyebrow. “Wow, your Man score as high as all that already, sir? That’s impressive.”

“Even with the per-incident cap limiting how much I could get from the kidnapping and medal, I apparently got a lot of points from women who liked what they saw of me at the award ceremony or reception.”

“So what’s the problem? Didn’t you say you wanted to outscore your brother? Or is he still ahead of you?”

“Oh, I’ve passed him by a considerable margin.” Theo scowled at the comm again. “But it was too ''easy!'' I don’t feel any sense of ''accomplishment'' out of it.”

“You only had to get kidnapped by Sturmhaven agents, escape and capture them, and get awarded one of the most prestigious medals in Cape Nord,” Ahmed deadpanned. “Sir.”

“She kind of does have a point, Lieutenant,” Dale said. “As Manly as your brother might be, he’s not a war hero. You’re playing the game on a whole different level now.”

Theodore sighed. “I know. I just…wanted to beat him on ''his'' level.”

“You probably already know you can filter out the point categories that would have been affected by your fame, and just compete on the ones that are left.” Dale shrugged. “But that’s not going to be as simple or satisfying as a single-number overall score, I guess. Have you asked your brother how ''he'' feels about it?”

“He’s proud. And supportive. And…''not'' jealous at all, darn it.” Theodore rolled his eyes. “Well, there goes ''that'' added bit of satisfaction.”

“We can’t always get what we want,” Victor put in.

“I know,” Theo admitted. “And compared to ''your'' problems, mine does seem a bit trivial. It’s just…one of those things, I suppose.”

“It’s ''all'' of our problem, really,” Nadene Garland said from Mocha’s back, as they walked over to join them. The metallic horse had parts that unfolded to make a saddle with stirrups, and Nadene had been using that feature a lot lately. Apparently she had decided she liked the view from horseback.

Dale raised an eyebrow. “’Our’ problem? You mean…?”

Nadene sighed. “Yes. I’ve finally come to terms with it. I suppose I should thank you for opening my eyes to this, even as I most certainly ''don’t'' thank you for saddling me with an ethical dilemma.”

Mocha snorted. “I guess I’m lucky. ''I'' just get saddled with an ''actual'' saddle.”

“Knowing what you now know, ma’am, would you rather ''not'' know?” Dale asked.

“In some ways? ''Yes.'' Especially given my own role in helping bring this intolerable situation about.” She reached down to pat Mocha’s metal neck. “But, mostly, no. If I ''didn’t'' know, I couldn’t strive to expiate the guilt.”

“It’s only until the end of the war, ma’am,” Ahmed said earnestly. “After that, we can let people know, and they can fix it. Can’t we?”

“I hope so,” Nadene said. “But…I have my doubts. After the war is over, even assuming that we win, we’re going to want a return to something as close to normalcy as we can manage. We’re going to want to forget all the hardship we’ve just been through. We’re ''not'' going to want to be reminded that we just created true artificial intelligence, and then enslaved it. I predict we’ll have a hard time finding anyone willing to listen. Not that I don’t still intend to try.”

“Surely it won’t be ''that'' bad, ma’am,” Theodore protested.

“Are you familiar with the history of the eighteenth-to-twenty-first-century American civil rights movement, Lieutenant?” Nadene asked. “I am. Even after America freed the slaves during the American Civil War, it took ''over a century'' before African-Americans got the same legal rights as everyone else, and decades more after that before most people were willing to ''treat'' them equally. As a race, we’re very good at ‘othering’ people who don’t look like we do.” She snorted. “Just look at how long it took ''me'' to come around, even after the person who ''created'' reticulated intelligence told me I was wrong. If we’re going to gain full equality for all RIDEs, we’re probably looking at a wait closer to ''decades'' than years.”

“Well, ''that’s'' depressing,” Dale said.

“On the bright side, ''we'' don’t physically age,” Sarabe mused. “Well, our bodies may break down, but we can just swap new parts in. So I guess we have plenty of time to wait. Sadly, I can’t say the same for you ‘squishies,’ but then, you lot aren’t the ones with the problem.”

“We are if we have any kind of conscience,” Theo said.

“Then ''use'' that conscience,” Katherine said. “If the brass won’t listen, individual people will. Convince everyone you know that we’re people, and sooner or later we’ll have the majority. Of course, you’ll want to wait ‘til the war ends to do that ''openly,'' but still.”

“I guess if nothing else works, that’s all we can do,” Ahmed said. “We’ll do our best.”

{{separator|k}}

It wasn’t too much longer before the NextusMil suborbital arrived. For all Dale knew, the massive blue-grey Starmaster could have been the exact same sub that had delivered the batch of RIDEs to Fort Brubeck and started the whole thing. She’d have had to check the tail numbers to be sure, and Dale hadn’t memorized the ones on the first plane.

As she slowly rode Sarabe up the ramp, she paused to glance over her shoulder, at the row of mountains on the horizon that enclosed Cape Nord. It had certainly been an eventful few weeks, and even now it was hard to believe it was over and the next phase of her life was beginning.

''But we live and learn,'' she mused. ''We change, we grow, and we move on.'' She looked down at herself and chuckled inwardly. ''And sometimes we change more than we might have even thought was possible.''

'':Going to miss the place?:'' Sarabe asked across their link.

'':I don’t know. Some of the people, sure. All the craziness I’ve just been through, not so much.:'' She twisted the handgrip throttle to start driving forward again. '':But I’m ''really'' glad I found you. Even if how it happened is…not exactly how I would have done it, given the choice.:''

'':I’m glad we found each other, too,:'' Sarabe said. '':When you get right down to it, I lucked out big-time. You…maybe not so much.:''

'':Oh, on balance I think I was more lucky than not.:'' Dale pulled into the cargo bay and moved forward onto square marked out on the floor. Chocks and fastenings rose out of the deckplates to secure Sarabe in place for transport. '':It remains to be seen whether that luck holds. Whether we’re even still alive at the end of the war.:''

'':We can only move forward and keep hoping for the best,:'' Sarabe said. '':And I’ll do my best to keep us both safe out there.:''

Dale patted her dash as she climbed down from the seat. '':I know you will. And so will I.:'' Aloud, she said, “You gonna be all right back here?”

“Oh, sure! Strapped in nice and tight. But you’d better get on up to the pressurized passenger section. Unlike me, you do need to breathe. I’ll just be the voice in your head ‘til we get to Nextus.”

“Works for me. See you when we touch down.” Dale gave her a friendly wave, then headed forward toward the pressurized hatch where the other two humans would already be waiting. ''Next stop, Nextus! ''

''And wherever life takes us from there.''

=Epilogue=

''March 14, 123 A.L.'' 
''Admin Plaza, Nextus''

''I can’t believe this day has finally come.''

Sergeant Dale Combs stood in the middle of a long queue stretching all the way up the sidewalk and then starting to wrap around Admin Plaza. It was actually moving along at a pretty good clip for all its length, as the Admin bureaucrats seemed eager to prove that they hadn’t gotten rusty in the years the Game had been suspended.

Next to Dale was one of her fellow soldiers from the mostly-leonine RIDE infantry division where she and Sarabe had eventually ended up (119th Heavy Infantry, unit motto “Fear Our Roar!”), Corporal Denise Shafters. Denise was assistant quartermaster for their platoon. She wasn’t actually waiting in the line herself, but she had decided to tag along “to keep Sarge company.” Not far away, Denise’s lioness RIDE partner Tamarind was parked next to Sarabe, her huge deuce-and-a-half skimmer truck form dwarfing the smaller command trike. Tamarind’s model had just been introduced in the last year of the war as the successes of earlier RIDE types gave the research branch confidence to expand them into other roles.

“So are you really sure you want to muster out, Sarge?” Denise asked. “Now that the war’s over, we don’t have to fear for our lives anymore.”

“Are you sure you want to stay in, Corporal?” Dale shot back. “Now that the war’s over, we can ''go back to'' our old lives, if we want.”

“Eh…my old life wasn’t all that,” Denise said. “Anyway, I haven’t quite earned enough to buy Tams out yet, and ''no way'' I’m leaving her behind when I go.”

Dale nodded. “Can’t argue with you there. I’d probably be staying in for a while myself, if Sarabe hadn’t found that loophole.” She held up the media tablet she was carrying that had the official form on it, with stamps and seals and signatures in four different colors of digital ink. In fact, the queue they were standing in now was where she would turn it in to finalize her mustering out.

“You’re really giving up all claim to the Accidental Crossride Trust in exchange for her?” The ACT was a trust fund that had been set up in the months that followed Dale’s original “accident,” to provide some extra compensation to those who had found themselves in similar circumstances due to RIDE compatibility.

Dale nodded. “Damned straight I am. And it’s a bargain, too. Sarabe and I sat down and worked it out—the most I could expect to make from that fund, even if I take the payout as an annuity, works out to less than half of Sarabe’s buyout fee. So if I trade that in, in return for a ''free'' buyout, we come out ''way'' ahead.”

“Wow,” Denise said. “Maybe I should’ve ‘mistakenly’ chosen a ''guy'' lion.” They both heard Tamarind’s rumbling purr of laughter over their implants, as both RIDEs were listening in and following along with the conversation.

“I’d never have figured it out without her,” Dale admitted. “She’s the one who’s really into the Game. But the Game needs a human to file the forms in person for the best rewards—so in this, as in most things, we work as a team.”

“Sweet!” Denise grinned. “Of course, even if I ''could'' buy Tams out now, I don’t know if we’d really leave yet. Neither one of us is really sure what to do with ourselves in civilian life anyway…Q mining really doesn’t appeal. And I’d like to make Sarge myself and full quartermaster before we end our military career, so…”

Dale nodded. “If you like where you are right now, no reason to change. And the ‘Mil is still gonna need good people. Just not so many of them.”

“Yeah.” Denise thought about that for a bit, as the line moved a few more steps forward. “Y’know, I dunno if I ever said thanks for the advice you gave me, on talking to and listening to Tams. You got us off on the right foot, right away.”

Dale shrugged. “It’s just the same advice I give anyone. Your RIDE ''should'' be your best friend, because your lives depend on each other in the field.”

“And more importantly, because they’re ''people'' too. Regardless of what the manuals try to say.” Denise shook her head. “I like to think I’d have figured it out on my own, but…”

'':Sometimes it’s hard to pay attention when there’s a war on,:'' Sarabe put in.

'':Thanks from me, too, Sarge,:'' Tamarind put in. '':Not a day goes by I don’t meet someone else that reminds me how good we’ve got it. Word on the grapevine is you’re responsible for them letting us buy out, too.:''

“Oh, now, I wouldn’t go ''that'' far.” Dale chuckled. “That was more a matter of a lot of folks asking for it, not just me.”

'':But you’re the one who talked so many of our partners into seeing us as people, making friends with us, and ''wanting'' to buy us out,:'' Tamarind said. '':So, indirectly…:''

Dale shrugged. “Eh, maybe. I’m not the only RIDE rights advocate, you know. Not by a long shot.” ''Even if I am one of the first ones who’s still around…'' Dale’s thoughts turned once more to her old friends, the ones who’d been with her when the whole thing had started.

Theodore had died the year before, when he and Victor had held a desert pass solo to buy the rest of their platoon time to escape. They’d been blown apart by enemy artillery, and there hadn’t been time to recover their remains before one of the Dry Ocean’s many sandstorms covered them over. But at least Theo wouldn’t have to worry about his brother ever beating his score—by an official act of the Man Cave, any Cape Nord soldier who died heroically in the war would have their Manhood score fixed, posthumously, at infinity minus one, as well as granted True Nordsman status.

Ahmed and Katherine had disappeared not too much later. They had simply been missing from their post when the next watch showed up to relieve them one evening, and hadn’t ever been seen again since. There had been a sort of silver powdery residue found not far from the sentry post, and so they joined a number of other mysterious disappearances that took place under similar circumstances. The upper echelons had been strangely reluctant to discuss those disappearances when asked, but there were a lot of creepy theories going around. On the official rolls, Ahmed was simply marked as AWOL; Dale assumed Katherine was on some list of missing equipment somewhere.

They did still hear from Nadene and Mocha from time to time. Nadene had made Lieutenant Colonel, and was now in charge of one of the fuser nanite research programs, tasked with implementing the crossrider neural rewrite software patches that had been born back in Northcave Psychiatric. She’d also used what small degree of actual influence she had to help push forward the RIDE buyout program herself. It also looked like they would be able to develop workable protocols for repeat crossrides—and she and Gaius had plans to try it out themselves by trading RIDE partnerships when a five-year safety margin had passed since their original changes. (Gaius had gotten a horse RIDE as well, an advance model from one of the first civilian RIDE lines that would be released after the war officially ended.)

Dale wished them all the very best in that, but she’d already long since decided she wouldn’t be changing back even if she could. She was completely comfortable in herself now, and more importantly, she could no longer imagine life without that closeness to Sarabe in it. The RIDE was her other half in every way that counted, and she wasn’t going to give that relationship up. (Though she supposed she might revisit the question if she ever found a boyfriend or husband and they got along well with each other’s RIDE, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards right now.) She anticipated this decision causing some parental friction in a few years once reverse crossing became common, but she’d just burn that bridge when she came to it.

All told, nearly three hundred soldiers had needed emergency (or “convenience”) crossrides over the course of the war. Dale had been in contact with each of them and even struck up some new friendships. A few had proposed some business ventures on mustering out, but Dale and Sarabe had other ideas.

'':You know, I ''am'' glad you found that loophole,:'' Dale sent on a private sideband to Sarabe. '':The only other idea I had was asking Iffy for a loan, and really, I’m glad not to have to.:''

'':Yeah, no joke,:'' Sarabe replied in the same private channel. '':Probably just as well to keep your distance there.:''

'':I do need to see her again, though, once we head back to Cape Nord for a visit. She’s holding onto something for me,:'' Dale said. '':And for you, though you probably don’t know what it is.:''

'':I have some suspicions. But just as well to wait ‘til after the mustering-out to confirm them.:''

“What are ''you'' planning to do now, Sarge?” Denise wondered. “After you leave the ‘Mil and all.”

“Well, we’ve been thinking about that,” Dale said. “I might go back to school, take some classes in psychology and counselling. Because if they’re going to throw open RIDEs to civvies, you just know there are going to be ''thousands'' of poor unfortunates who didn’t read the manual. A good crossride counsellor, especially one with personal experience, might just be able to write their own ticket. Call it my own personal Q rush to get in early on.”

'':Though we might try a little ''actual'' Q mining, too,:'' Sarabe put in. '':You never know, we could strike it rich.:''

“We’ll also be speaking out about RIDE rights…though I’m not too optimistic on that score.” Dale sighed. Early indications were that it was going to be just as Nadene had predicted—people didn’t ''want'' to consider the full implications of RIDE sapience just now. In particular, those who didn’t have direct experience with them were going to be very hard to convince, given how many times humanity had tried and failed to make “true AI” over the centuries.

“Eh, don’t fret ''too'' much,” Denise said. “The more people meet RIDEs, the more people will find out what they ''really'' are, and sooner or later things will go right. I’ve got a good feeling.”

They were approaching the door to the NextusMil building now. Denise yawned and stretched, then said, “Well, I’m gonna head off now, Sarge. If I hurry, I can get a good seat at the ceremonies. ‘Crazy’ Joe Steader is going to give a speech, and you know how rare it is to see one of them in public these days.”

“Maybe less rare now that the war’s over. Enjoy yourself!”

“Enjoy your last few minutes of military life!” Denise waved and headed off. “See ya ‘round, Sarge!” She and Tamarind signed out of the shared comm channel a moment later.

'':Well, here we are, then,:'' Dale sent to Sarabe. '':You’re sure that this form has everything?:''

'':Absolutely. Every single endorsement you need, I tracked ‘em down and you pounced on ‘em,:'' Sarabe sent smugly. '':I’ve spent virtual ''years'' analyzing the Game, getting ready for the day I could play it for real. It was even easier than I expected.:''

'':Maybe you should sign up as a Surrogate.:''

'':It would have to be ''you'' signing up, remember,:'' Sarabe said. '':That pesky requirement to show up “in the flesh.”:''

'':Ugh, right…:'' Dale grimaced. '':Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you do something you’re clearly so good at. It’d be something else we could do for money between the counselling and the mining, right?:''

'':Assuming we end up living here,:'' Sarabe said. '':Which we hadn’t even decided for sure yet.:''

'':Well, we do have to go home to Cape Nord for a while. See the folks, meet Cindy’s new boyfriend…wonder if she’s found a keeper yet. And I’m sure Darcy can’t wait to tell me all about Rupert’s latest political triumphs. But after that…wherever we go is fine with me, as long as you’re there.:''

'':Awww…:''

And finally, they were at the head of the line, stepping up to the teller window with a slot to slide the tablet through. On the other side was a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool Nextus admin ‘crat, even down to the oval interface specs so like the ones Dale had worn to his “funeral.” She glanced down at the tablet, looked again, rubbed her eyes, stared, and tapped out something on the screen of her desktop comm. Her eyes flicked back and forth behind the specs as she read text from the screen, and other text flickered on the specs themselves. Finally, she looked up. “This…seems to be in order,” she said, unable to keep the surprise from creeping into her bureaucratic deadpan voice. “I’ve never actually seen anyone ''use'' a Tertiary Priority Abeyance before. Even most Surrogates never put in that degree of effort.”

“Well, I wanted to be ''sure'' I got it right,” Dale said. “And I did? It ''is'' in order? I can forfeit my claim to ACT F in return for a zero-''mu'' buyout fee on my RIDE?”

“Absolutely. You even qualified for a 50 kilo''mu'' discharge bonus.” The admin tapped three places on the tablet, stamped it with a seal from a rack on her desk, and signed it with a stylus. The form and endorsements disappeared, replaced by several paragraphs of text, and she slid it back across to Dale. “You’re good to go. Be sure to report to the NextusMil maintenance bay for your RIDE’s decommissioning before you leave the polity.”

“Thanks,” Dale told the bureaucrat, taking the tablet and making room for the next person in line. '':Shall we go ahead and get that done? They’re gonna remove every last bit of military gear, you know.:''

'':I told you before, that’s just extra equipment. As long as we’re together, I don’t care about that stuff.:'' Then there was a thoughtful pause.'' :Though, you ''know,'' if you ''do'' want to make it up to me, how’s about stopping at one of those new RIDE mod shops to get a full set of hardlight emitters installed in my shell? Scuttlebutt from those who’ve had them is that they’re amazing…:''

Dale chuckled. '':Sure, why not. We’ll start out civilian life the ''right'' way.:'' She tossed the tablet up and caught it, and walked back up the sidewalk to the parking lot. '':Then we can go find out what that life is really like.:''

'':Works for me, partner!:''

Dale straddled the bike, and she and Sarabe drove off into their new life together.

{{separator|k|'''THE END'''}}

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]][[Category: Robotech_Master]][[Category:Jon Buck]][[Category:Story]][[Category:Lion]][[Category:Wolf]][[Category:Lynx]][[Category:Elk]]

Paradise (Setting)

2019-10-31T18:54:36Z

Robotech Master: /* {{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}} */

{{Universe|Paradise}}

{{byline|author=Jon Buck
|user=JonBuck}}

A direct link '''[[User:JonBuck/A Kind of Paradise|To the original story.]]'''

=={{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}}==

Authors may add links to their stories as they happen in chronological order in story time. For a complete listing of all Paradise stories, since this list may be updated sporadically, see [[:Category:Paradise|the Paradise Category]].

'''2000'''
*[[User:Erastus/On the Outside Looking|On the Outside, Looking...]] ''(Through 2010) ([[User:Erastus|Erastus]])''

'''2001'''
*[[Ranty Raccoon]] ''(Digitalpotato)''
*[[User:Hawl/Iris_Budding|In Perspective Of An Iris Budding]] ''([[User:Hawl|Hawl]])''

'''2002'''
*[[User:MatthiasRat/Made Alone|Made Alone]] ''([[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat]])''
*[[User:MatthiasRat/Bathing Alone|Bathing Alone]] ''([[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat]])''
*[[User:MatthiasRat/Not Quite Alone|Not Quite Alone]] ''([[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat]])''
*[[User:MatthiasRat/Suspected Alone|Suspected Alone]] ''([[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat]])''
*[[User:MatthiasRat/Revealing Alone|Revealing Alone]] ''([[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat]])''
*[[User:JonBuck/Outsider|Outsider]] (extends through 2003) ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''2003'''
*[[User:MatthiasRat/Convention Building|Convention Building]] ''([[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat]])''
*[[User:MatthiasRat/Model Building | Model Building]] ''([[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat]])''
*[[User:MatthiasRat/Change Building | Change Building]] ''([[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat]])''
*[[User:MatthiasRat/Confession Building | Confession Building]] ''([[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat]])''

'''2004'''
*[[User_talk:Enphilistor| Victory Starts Here]] [recovered from google cache] ''(Enphilistor)''

'''2005'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Holes in the Veil| Holes in the Veil]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Capsule_Review:_Changed:_The_Unveiling|RPG.net Capsule Review: Changed: The Unveiling]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Lifting The Veil| Lifting The Veil]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Poking the Veil| Poking the Veil]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Chessrook44/Unforseen Changes| Unforseen Changes]] ''([[User:Chessrook44|Chessrook44]])''
*[[User:Chessrook44/Unforseen Reactions| Unforseen Reactions]] ''([[User:Chessrook44|Chessrook44]])''
*[[User:Chessrook44/Unforseen Gifts| Unforseen Gifts]] ''([[User:Chessrook44|Chessrook44]])''
*[[User:Eirik/Stages|Stages]] (Through October 2006) ''([[User:Eirik|Eirik]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Perspectives On Chrimstas In Paradise|Perspectives On Christmas In Paradise]] (Extends into 2006)''([[User:Hawl|Hawl]])''

'''2006'''
*[[User:Hawl/The Sexiest Of All Tiger Girls| The Perspective Of The Sexiest of All Tiger Girls]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Of Rats And Former Men|Perspective Of Rats And Former Men]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/An Albino's Breakdown|Perspective Into An Albino's Breakdown]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Predator-Prey Relationships|Perspectives On Predator-Prey Relationships]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Perspectives Of A Lollipop (Coming Halloween)|Perspectives Of A Lollipop]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Film at 2011| Film at 2011]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/GM'O'Fur| GM'O'Fur]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Twisting the Veil| Twisting the Veil]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Silver Fox Tracks|Silver Fox Tracks]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Generations| Generations]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/A Rolling Stone Gathers No Veil|A Rolling Stone Gathers No Veil]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Auld Lang Syne|Auld Lang Syne]] (Extends into 2007) ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Eirik/Reverberations|Reverberations]] ''([[User:Eirik|Eirik]])''
*[[User:Eirik/Bare Hands|Bare Hands]] ''([[User:Eirik|Eirik]])''

'''2007'''
*[[User:Hawl/Brother's Perspectives|Brother's Perspectives]]'' ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Father's Perspectives|Father's Perspectives|]]'' ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Eirik/Treatment|Treatment]] ''([[User:Eirik|Eirik]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/It Bears Investigation|It Bears Investigation]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Gaming Furs|Gaming Furs]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:JonBuck/A Kind of Paradise|A Kind of Paradise]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
* [[Murder in Paradise]] ''([[User:Atapari|Atapari]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Romancing_the_Changed|Romancing the Changed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Radio No Veil|Radio No Veil]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Six Furries and a Wedding|Six Furries and a Wedding]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:JonBuck/Tall Tales|Tall Tales]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
*[[User:Nikon/Changing Perspectives|Changing Perspectives]] ''([[User:Nikon|Nikon]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Clearing the Air|Clearing the Air]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Eirik/Waters_So_Cold_and_Deep|Waters So Cold and Deep]] ''([[User:Eirik|Eirik]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Doing Hard Time|Doing Hard Time]] (Extends into 2008) ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[Monkey Business]] ''([[User:Boss Hoss|Boss Hoss]])''
*[[User:Nikon/Coming Home|Coming Home]] (guess based on posting date) ''([[User:Nikon|Nikon]])''

'''2008'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Live_At_Five|Live At Five]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Rising Waters|Rising Waters]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Gulf_Ice|Gulf Ice]] (Prelude in 2001) ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Bear_Facts|The Bear Facts]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Election Fever|Election Fever]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Eirik/Centers of Power|Centers of Power]] ''([[User:Eirik|Eirik]])''
*[[User:JonBuck/Open Secrets|Open Secrets]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
*[[User:Chessrook44/Incarceration|Incarceration]] ''([[User:Chessrook44|Chessrook44]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Special Care|Special Care]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/NorBAC|NorBAC]] (begins in June; jumps to September) ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Judge_Judy:_Deagle_vs_Anderson|Judge Judy: Deagle vs Anderson]] (2008 or 2009) ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''2009'''
*[[User:JonBuck/After Hours|After Hours]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''2010'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Changing America|Changing America]] (work in progress) ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/See Change: March 20, 2010|See Change: March 20, 2010]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* ''Melton's Eleven''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Tiffnapped|Tiffnapped]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Holding Helena|Holding Helena]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/The Truth About Cats and Dogs|The Truth About Cats and Dogs]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/The Taming of the Snow Leopardess|The Taming of the Snow Leopardess]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:JonBuck/Family Tree|Family Tree]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''2011'''

'''2012'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Travelers|Travelers]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

2005 - Two Lovers:Iris and Gabriel (Call this a Teaser Trailer, for now.)

'''Alternate Future/Non-Canon Stories'''
'''2006'''
*[[User:Hawl/Dystopia|Dystopia]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''

'''2063'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/The Future is Paradise|The Future is Paradise]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''2064'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Paradise Forever|Paradise Forever]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''Undetermined'''
*[[Cascade Failure]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])''

=={{separator|f|Basics}}==
*The setting is basically indistinguishable from the Real World up until 1987, the year when people first begin to spontaneously transform into furries.
*Exactly one person transformed in Year One ''(i.e.,'' 1987), and the number of furries doubles in late August each year. The initial story in this setting, [[User:JonBuck/A Kind of Paradise|A Kind of Paradise]], is set in Year 21 ''(i.e.,'' 2007), when there are just over one million furries. The next year (2008) will add a million, for a total of two megafurries, and so forth.
*The first furry in 1987 was a vixen, with a tod the next year. Some stereotypes do have a basis in "reality". :)
**The entire world will be furry in 2020.
*Every year it's possible that an already-changed person could change ''again''. With increasing rarity, all less than one percent:
**A species change. ("What the..? I'm a ''wolf'' now? What am I supposed to do with all these hoof picks?")
**A gender change. ("Where do men put this ''thing'' between our legs when we sit down?")
**A combination of both. ("Don't ''even'' call me a bitch! Just show me how to put on this stupid bra!")
**The next year there is about a 25% chance that the person will revert to their original gender/first species. If that doesn't happen, it's fixed. If they change back... there's another 25% chance that you'll bounce back ''again'' the next year. So there's some potential for characters who spend years alternating between species/gender.
*Also distinctive from Winds of Change: ''No superpowers''. Just whatever natural abilities (things like augmented senses, physical strength, ''etc)'' come from being half animal.
*'''The Role Reversal Paradox.'''
**''IF'' the couple has children, pre- or post-Change, no matter what age...
**''IF'' one of the couple has been transgendered...
**''THEN'' it is essentially a sure thing that the partner will TG as well.
**The reason for this is simple. ROB hates paradoxes. If they have children, there ''must'' be a father and a mother. And it ''must'' be the same two people. It doesn't matter if that person divorced and remarried someone else. Or if they're unmarried. One father, one mother. Otherwise, the kids will logically not have come into existence.
**Conversely, if they are married/going out/living together/etc., the same TG 1% dice roll applies to them as everyone else.

'''Important.''' Please ''do not'' write stories that are father ahead in the timeline than those I have written.''

'''Note on Politics'''. As a request, I ask authors not to use major political figures from Real Life. I don't want any political bashing going on here. Characters like Congressman Sandrick are perfectly fine, so feel free to create fictional members of Congress or Members of Parliament. Remember this world is different from ours from 1987 onwards. There are still details I haven't filled in between then and now, and the Butterfly Effect means that there will be some small, some major differences.

{{add|'''Winners of the 2008 Election'''}}
*President: Karen Hutchinson. (Reverse Pres. Obama and his wife, basically)
*VP: Steven Angstrom

===The Transgendered===
Just a few details.
#This is an earlier, generally harmless virus that got into the simulation. ROB dealt with it by the "history editing" as described in the stories.
#It's been around a LOT longer than the Furry Virus.
#Even though it's probably been around for thousands of years, there are far fewer victims than the Furry Virus as of 2009. I imagine the furry virus co-opted this one for the TGed furs.
#As in real life, there are many more male to female victims than the other way around.
#Transgendered victims have little or no support system like furries do. They're generally isolated. And before 2009 couldn't see through the RDF.

===Physiology===

*Furries can still interbreed with one another as if they were all still human. Children most often follow their parents' species, however, they can also follow their grandparents species, or something out of left field.
*Conversely, humans '''cannot''' interbreed with furries, probably due to the RDF.
*There are some physical variations, but not the wide "Degrees" that Winds of Change has. The most obvious differences are hair, feet, and hands. Otherwise, most everyone is about as morphic as seen in common furry art.
**Females most often have hair the same color and similar texture as their fur. Though you do still get the occasional blond.
**Males retain their hair less frequently.
*'''Size Limitations.''' On the suggestion from the Talk page. I'm not going to limit species. However, I will have a minimum/maximum size range:
**7 feet (or 2.1m), max. About 600 lb (272 kg), max.
**4 feet (1.2m). I'll leave the small side open.
*Species are native to a particular continent. So most people in North America will end up whitetail deer, elk, bears, foxes, wolves, etc. Recent immigrants will more likely end up native species to wherever they came from.
**However, this means that someone from Seattle could ''still'' end up a leopard, or a llama, or what-have-you from other continents. I just want to make that clear.
**No mythicals like dragons, griffins, satyrs, vampires, mages, what-have-you. Just furries.
**No birds, reptiles, or other non-mammals.
*'''No Extinct Species.''' No dinosaurs. Sadly, I can't include them. There are so many species that are just too big.
*'''Note on Transsexuals'''. This setting is intended as a mix of wish fulfillment and darker, more realistic consequences. That said, all TS folks get their bodies "corrected". Keep in mind that this won't necessarily make life easier for said character. Conflict generates Plot. And since most of the folks who get their gender switched ''won't'' be TS, there's still plenty of that around.
*Results of major surgeries are translated. Artificial hips, knees and pacemakers still work as needed. Transplant patients will not reject their organs. However, lost limbs will not regenerate and major chronic diseases will not be cured, but may go into a lengthy remission.
*One of the major benefits is a major improvement in health and fitness. ROB can't stop the change, but at least he can give the victims a sort of consolation prize. You may not end up in perfect shape, but it'll be close. A flood of positive endorphins to make the victim feel good about their new bodies doesn't hurt, either (optional). Now, what happens to that state of fitness ''after'' is entirely up to your characters.

===Psychology===
*At this point I'm inclined to have some mitigating effects on the "victims". It's still going to be very, very hard to deal with. This is a major life disruption. And there are no doubt a lot of secluded furs. But suicides aren't as common as you'd think.
*The transgendered furs do have an even rougher time. The double-whammy of species and gender would likely make serious post-change Issues a reality.
**Transgendered furs typically refer to themselves by their initials: BD, DL, etc..
**Some might end up going a little crazy and think they had ''always been'' their new gender, especially after the effects of Tall Tales Con.
*The more adjusted furs have figured out how to find these troubled souls and bring them back into the real world.

=={{separator|f|The Reality Distortion Field (Veil)}}==
*Humans can't see furries for what they are. They still see whatever the person looked like before, even if that person was the opposite gender.
*Some things aren't filtered correctly. Consequently...
**If a TGed man gets pregnant, the filter will change that person's ghost image to female. But she will still appear human to other humans.
**Things like hoof/paw prints, shed fur, shed antlers, clawmarks, animal odors, etc., are not filtered. So if a cougar morph gets in a fight with a normal human and lashes out with his claws, he could cause a hell of a lot of damage.
**Some humans think that there is something up (referred to as "Known" or "Friends"). And some have figured out that the friends who claim to be furry actually ''are'' what they claim to be.
*The RDF sometimes breaks down a little during large gatherings of furries (like at conventions). "Hey, that's the best costume I've ever seen! Is that a prosthetic muzzle?" Memories afterwards will probably remember some really good costumes, and photos will be perceived as such.
**In more extreme cases it will break down entirely. But it would take repeated exposures, or perhaps having a number of furry friends while remaining humans oneself. Like in [[User:Nikon/Changing_Perspectives|Changing Perspectives]].
**Transgendered furs may be perceived by humans as their new gender out of the corner of their eye. And there are likely other circumstances where the human RDF image will realign also. Specific circumstances (such as pregnancy) will be the decisive factor.
**As of 2007, TGed TallTales Con attendees have had a major RDF alteration. Everyone except family, friends, or people who have seen them often enough to really know, will perceive them as their new physical sex. Which is essentially the vast majority of people. This effect will spread to all the other TGed until 2008, when it becomes the norm.
**'''As of 2009''', all human ghosts now reflect their real gender, no matter who is looking.
*Do animals perceive the RDF? Probably not. But the odor of a fur is neither quite human or animal. There are still some common human pheromones, for example. Which is what makes romance between wolf and deer possible. This is a ''good'' thing, since it means that a doe-woman in heat won't be chased down by a normal buck.
*It may start to break down as there grow to be millions of furries in the world (see below).
*Another storytelling idea: The RDF is an ''antiviral measure'' (see The Cause below). When the RDF breaks down, people ''may'' change out-of-phase, since they no longer have that protection. This will make it harder to track down people who change and get them the help they need. This is ''not'' a hard-and-fast rule, but the storytelling device is available. But I '''don't''' want it to become commonplace.

==={{separator|f|Holes in the Veil}}===

As seen in [[User:JonBuck/After Hours|After Hours]], on August 29, 2009 the Veil started coming down.

*First one appeared in Hyannis, MA on August 29. It quickly expanded to (size to be determined) and outed every furry in town. Other holes appeared in and around Chicago. Without exception they appear first where there's been a recent or frequent concentration of furs.
*Holes start small, but will grow depending on how weak the RDF is in the area.
*As the RDF decays, furs will feel like they're wrapped in loose plastic. And there's something of a light show. The air shimmers. The air feels cleaner, fresher.
**The RDF is an extra "rendering layer" of sorts. Since until now all furs had lived with it, they only really notice it was there now that it's been taken away. Leaving a Hole a fur will feel like he or she is wearing clothing a size too small or too large, depending on how much they deviate from the human norm. A really sensitive fur might feel suffocated, as if they were wrapped in plastics. They'll feel irritable and given the right situation, may tear ''new'' Holes (which could make good story fodder).
*They're like soap bubbles in that if they encounter other holes, they'll grow even larger. All of them are still slowly expanding, and may jump to larger sizes at unpredictable intervals.
*ROB will start a controlled shutdown of the RDF over the course of the year. Its replacement will be a Weirdness Censor.
**The world is going furry crazy. But not ''crazy crazy''. Using a cooking analogy, it's like a foamed egg whites getting folded into a souffle or other dish that needs careful mixing, or the recipe falls apart.

*Furs feel much more comfortable with themselves inside the holes. To furs, the RDF feels like restrictive clothing. Doubly so for the TGed furs. Even normal humans feel better. Caveats:
**Normal humans who spend more and more time inside one of these holes run increasing risk of becoming furry at any time of the year ahead.
**Once the RDF is down completely in late 2010, the above may apply to everyone. The numbers are still doubling as below, but the August 17 restriction no longer applies. And as above, a TG can happen before a TF.
**Furries cease being humans in funny costumes. Their animal natures will more easily bob to the surface. This is partly for psychological reasons (don't have to hide any more). Partly due to the pressure from the RDF being gone.

=={{separator|f|The Numbers}}==

Total sequence as follows (all figures approximate):
Year AD Total Furries Total Populace Furries, as %age of total populace
1 1987 1 5,184,212,887 0.000 000 02%
2 1988 2 5,247,179,035 0.000 000 04%
3 1989 4 5,310,909,955 0.000 000 05%
4 1990 8 5,375,414,934 0.000 000 15%
5 1991 16 5,440,703,374 0.000 000 3%
6 1992 32 5,506,784,792 0.000 000 6%
7 1993 64 5,573,668,818 0.000 001 1%
8 1994 128 5,641,365,200 0.000 002%
9 1995 256 5,709,883,806 0.000 004%
10 1996 512 5,779,234,621 0.000 009%
11 1997 1,024 5,849,427,754 0.000 018%
12 1998 2,048 5,920,473,436 0.000 035%
13 1999 4,096 5,992,382,020 0.000 07%
14 2000 8,192 6,065,163,988 0.000 14%
15 2001 16,384 6,138,829,947 0.000 3%
16 2002 32,768 6,213,390,635 0.000 5%
17 2003 65,536 6,288,856,918 0.001%
18 2004 131,072 6,365,239,795 0.002%
19 2005 262,144 6,442,550,400 0.004%
20 2006 524,288 6,520,800,000 0.008%
21 2007 1,048,576 6,600,000,000 0.016%
22 2008 2,097,152 6,680,161,943 0.031%
23 2009 4,194,304 6,761,297,514 0.062%
24 2010 8,388,608 6,843,418,536 0.123%
25 2011 16,777,216 6,926,536,980 0.24%
26 2012 33,554,432 7,010,664,959 0.48%
27 2013 67,108,864 7,095,814,736 0.95%
28 2014 134,217,728 7,181,998,721 1.87%
29 2015 268,435,456 7,269,229,474 3.69%
30 2016 536,870,912 7,357,519,711 7.30%
31 2017 1,073,741,824 7,446,882,298 14.42%
32 2018 2,147,483,648 7,537,330,262 28.49%
33 2019 4,294,967,296 7,628,876,783 56.30%
34 2020 8,589,934,592 7,721,535,206 >100%

At this point stories should take place in '''2001 at the earliest''', up to the current story-time year. The community gets really, really small before then. If you have a story that takes place in this era, submit it to me first. Thank you.

Things should start to get really interesting around 2010. There's enough furs in the world then that niche markets would start to open up. More clothing and products specifically designed for furries start popping up. Also, it will become harder and harder to induct new furs into the group in a healthy manner. Society may start to break down in places.

It will take a concerted effort by those previously changed to keep everything under control...

'''Distribution.''' It's not random, or even. It's an expanding fractal centered on the Chicago area. As far as visualization, I'll leave that vague. But the majority of the first furs were in North America.

From the way these stories are playing out, I'd say that events are unfolding like this:

*'''1987-2002''': "Alone" period. Isolation between furries, with only a few very small groups, most of them thinking they're all alone. Best exemplified by [[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat's]] stories. Nobody knows what's going on.
*'''2002-2008''': Forming Communities. There's now enough furs to start encountering each other regularly. Conventions start up. Anthro imagery (in movies, TV shows, and other media) start to show up more frequently. Information getting put together indicates an ominous trend. The whole world will eventually go furry.
*'''2008-?''': Events unfolding in [[User:JonBuck/Open Secrets|Open Secrets]] will nail down this theme. {{add|From here for the next few years, a third to nearly a half of the new Changed will be Known/Friends or family members. People who can see through the Veil easily.}}

===Important Events===
This section will be for events of note that will be important to the overall storytelling. Authors feel free to note important events in your works that could impact the setting as a whole here.

'''2007'''
*First instances of total, permanent [[User:Nikon/Changing Perspectives|RDF breakdown]]. Incidents isolated.
*First appearance of anthro dolphins. The RDF with these people is a very strained affair. The longer they stay around humans, the more likely it'll fail. Perhaps it realigns the image as a normal dolphin in the water, and a human on land.
*'''Added 2/24.''' Transgendered furs at [[User:JonBuck/Tall Tales|Tall Tales Con]] now appear as their new physical gender to anyone but close friends and family. The RDF is even actively changing identification. Active records like passports and driver's licenses, medical records are all altered to reflect this. Even a pre-Change photo ID will show the new human face, which will be a shock to the TGed fur. This effect is slowly spreading to other TGed furs, see [[User:Jetfire/Doing Hard Time|Doing Hard Time]].
*A number of pressing environmental problems relax slightly. While these solutions will solve some problems, they will cause others, especially in the short term.
**The recovery of the major world fisheries detected in the mid-90s continues apace.
**Major discoveries in energy include massive oilfields in various stable First World nations: US, Canada, UK, Norway, etc..
**Scientists observe CO2 levels stabilizing for currently unknown reasons.
**Third World experiences boosts in food production from improved farming practices and soil conditions.
**New renewable energy discoveries, new batteries, a bacterial process for making gasoline and diesel from municipal wastewater.
*With all these new furs, there are now enough singles to start pairing up. The lingering worries about fertility and children will be answered next year...

'''2008'''
*Fallout from Tall Tales Con continues. All newbie and furry gatherings the next year will be much, much smaller, informal.
*Although there were a few before this year, this is the first year a large number of furry babies will be born.
*A Changed rabbit appears as ''Playboy'''s September Playmate of the Month (though only other Changed/Changed-sensitive know it until later).

'''2009'''
*This Change Day will be different from the others. Instead of all happening in the same moment, the new furs will happen in fits and starts throughout the day. Some might change in the early morning, others late that night. The trend will continue over the next few years.
**Another wrinkle. If there's a TG, they don't have to happen at the same time. So some poor fellow who becomes a clouded leopard in the morning (or a woman) will get hit again sometime later.
* The shoe field died in 2008. Now the Veil no longer hides clothing modifications. For some furs this might be a Veil-breaker. We will see.
*Since [[User:JonBuck/Open Secrets|Open Secrets]], the secret is functionally out, though a sort of [http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeirdnessCensor Weirdness Censor] is in place, possibly due to widespread denial. Furry imagery started to dominate the media after the first of the year, especially on medical dramas and "what if" shows on National Geographic, Discovery Channel, even the Food Network. Mostly done with CGI, a few shows used furry actors and cameras able to see through the Veil.
* '''The Shutdown''', August 17-25. With a major Sleeping Sickness outbreak, much of the world economy shut down for a little over a week, with only essential services (energy, food transport, etc.) kept running. Similar to what Mexico did during the Swine Flu outbreak. Later they are accused of overreacting, as Sleeping Sickness seems to leave a minuscule number of deaths, and the victims healthier than before they contracted it.
**'''In hindsight this should probably take place after the Bubbles appeared on August 29, all the way through Labor Day on Sept. 7.'''
*The Veil starts coming down, per the events in [[User:JonBuck/After Hours|After Hours]]. This shows up as "Bubbles", areas where the Veil is simply gone. These expand at various rates and originate in places where many furries have recently congregated.

'''2010'''
*Tiffany Tanner appears as the first Changed to play a Changed in a recurring role on daytime television. With the aid of a special lens, Tiffany's character "Felice Hunter" on ''One Life to Live'' dramatizes the plight of Changed forced to keep secrets from family and friends. Her stint on the show is briefly interrupted when she is kidnapped for several weeks, after which she again makes headlines as one of "Melton's Eleven," eleven furres who had been kidnapped for the private amusement of a twisted, reclusive millionaire (who vanished shortly before they escaped).

'''2012'''
*There's still a big lump of Change on and around August 17, but the number of Changed grows daily and with increasing speed. It's not unusual to "call in furry" for a few days to get accustomed, but after that it's back to work. The TG'd get a bit longer, but even "The One Percent" are growing in numbers just as fast (but still in proportion). They're the ones who get the media attention.
*The "Bubble" situation from 2009-2011 has reversed. There are now shrinking "Pockets" of Veil/RDF. However, the effect in the Pockets is very concentrated. Even the Changed perceive themselves as human. All the original RDF rules apply.
**Pockets aren't always stationary. They move across the surface like beads of mercury on a mirror, or an amoeba moving by throwing pseudopods in one direction.

=={{separator|f|The Cause}}==

So, why is this happening? What's causing it? A nanotech virus? Microscopic magic pixies? The return of magic? The wrath of God? What?

The answer is contained in '''[[User:JonBuck/Tall Tales|Tall Tales]]'''.

However, the idea is this. Ever since I read [http://www.accelerando.org/ ''Accelerando''] By Charles Stross, I've been enamored with the idea of the [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Technological_singularity technological Singularity]. So I've been looking for a way to use it in my fiction at one point. This setting provides the answer to that desire. ''Accelerando'' is available for free on the web.

Our universe--or perhaps just our planet, I haven't decided yet--and all the people in it, are basically a simulation. This doesn't make the characters in these stories any less real than you our I. Mathematics forms the basis of the universe, after all. The people are as sentient as you or I. This makes the setting rather Matrix-like, without the human bodies being used as "batteries". We're all more like Agent Smith.

I refer to this as a "furry virus". It comes from outside the post-Singularity brain, and is slightly more advanced than "ours". What's happening is this bit of malicious code (sentient, no less, but on a level far beyond our ability to comprehend it) is messing up the simulated world we reside in. Why? I dunno. One of those inscrutable things. The RDF is an antiviral measure to contain the damage and allow the society within to adapt. This is also why so far, furry species are limited to mammals. As the numbers of furs increase, that ''will'' change. I have yet to decide just when.

Why not just scrap the whole thing and restore from backup? There are no backups because the simulated people are nevertheless living beings. And they can't just be wiped out.

I hope that explanation isn't too confusing. Please let me know on the '''[[Talk:Paradise (Setting)|Talk Page]]''' if you have questions.

=={{separator|f|Notes on Avatars}}==
So far, the convention for avatars in this setting is for writers to use the first initials of first and last names. However, I wanted to note that my intent here is to give the writer more freedom than to base these characters on yourself. I've changed a lot of details about Jerome, for instance. If you want to put your avatar--if you decide to use one--into this setting, go crazy. Give them a challenge (worse job, emotional trouble). Or make them better off and have the change cause a lot of trouble with work/family/whatever. What I'm trying to say here is, don't feel you have to be directly limited by your present or past self. ''Have fun.''

=={{separator|f|Important Cast}}==

'''[[Paradise Cast List]]'''

Since this is a wiki, that means everyone can edit it. Authors who want to put names and short bios of the characters in their stories, just in case someone else wants to use them for a cameo. With the characters, please list the stories that they appear in. Please put your cast members on the linked cast page. Thank you.

[[Category:Paradise]]

User:Robotech Master/The Taming of the Snow Leopardess

2019-10-31T18:52:34Z

Robotech Master: With a lot of help from her friends, Lee finally learns to loosen up a little.

{{Universe|Paradise}}

{{title
|name=The Taming of the Snow Leopardess
|author=Chris Meadows
|user=Robotech_Master}}
{{DEFAULTSORT: Taming of the Snow Leopardess, The}}

{{author note|This story is set in the summer of 2010 in the "Paradise" universe, and is part of the ''Melton's Eleven'' series that begins with "[[User:Robotech Master/Tiffnapped|Tiffnapped]]".}} 

'''JUNE 2010'''

BEEEEEEEEEP! “Mmph.” Scrabbling blindly for the alarm clock, Lee rolled out of bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets, landing on the floor with a loud thump. “Grmph,” the snow leopardess Changed muttered as she disentangled herself and slapped the alarm switch. She eyed the bed thoughtfully and considered crawling back in for another ten, but given that she’d completely denuded it of its coverings (as usual), she’d have to remake it, and by the time she got done she’d be too awake to snooze anyway. So she might as well go in search of the substance that made life before noon worth living, that caffeinated elixir of the deities.

Lee grabbed a robe off the hanger and slipped into it, then left her apartment on the second floor of the mansion’s staff wing and padded down the stairs. It still wasn’t quite 7 yet, so most of the furres and the assorted staff they’d hired were still asleep, but the kitchen staff was busy fixing breakfast and they knew her preferences and her timetable. A steaming muzzle-cup full of strong black coffee awaited her on one corner of the counter as she shuffled in. “Mmm,” she grunted in thanks as she made her way to a small table in the corner. The cook, a matronly middle-aged Changed they’d hired after the diner where she’d worked decided it didn’t want a pig in the kitchen, nodded acknowledgment as she dropped another rasher of bacon into the skillet.

“''Muy'' articulate as usual, ''mi hermana,''” said the other early riser at the table with a grin, a several-months-pregnant melanistic jaguar in a pretty yellow dress, working on a platter of ''huevos rancheros''.

Lee snorted. “Oh, hush up, Connie. I don’t articulate for nobody ‘til I’ve had my coffee.” She slurped it noisily. “Ahhhh. And I see ''you’re'' chipper as usual even at this ungodly hour.” Come to think of it, Lee wasn’t sure exactly ''when'' Consuela slept anymore, now that their schedules were no longer defined by the desires of a lecher with binoculars. Since jaguars were nocturnal, she might have been up half the night. Lee snorted inwardly. ''Yeah, right. ''Snow leopards ''are nocturnal, too, and look at me.''

“If you are not a ''persona de la mañana, ''why do you not sleep later?” Consuela smirked.

Of course, she knew the answer—they all did—but Lee said it anyway. “’Cuz I’m doing the work of at least three people, that’s why.” She finished the coffee as the cook set a king-sized platter of bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy, grits, and hash browns in front of her, then returned to top off the mug. “Thanks, Martha.”

The cook smiled, returning to her work at the stove. “Bon appetit.”

Lee watched her go, then shook her head. “I ''still'' think it’s cannibalism for her to be cooking bacon and sausage,” she muttered, then tucked into her breakfast. “Damned good at it, though.”

“Perhaps you would have less work to do, ''mi hermana,'' if you did not drive so many assistants away,” Consuela observed placidly. It was weird, Lee thought, how the words that might have come across with a sneer from someone else were delivered in the neutral tones of one providing a helpful insight. For someone who claimed English as a distant second language, Consuela was really good at that.

“It’s not ''my'' fault they don’t have fur!” Lee complained. “I ''have'' to keep the garage chilly or I’ll overheat from the coveralls and tail stocking I have to wear to keep the grease out of my pelt.”

“And the ones who say you tried to…how did they put it…bite their heads off?” Consuela asked.

Lee rolled her eyes. “They’re exaggerating. Maybe I ''growled'' at them a little, before I fired them.” She scooped up a heaping forkful of biscuit and gravy and chewed it angrily.

Consuela said nothing, but delicately raised an eyebrow. Lee sighed. “All right, they were ''ogling'' me. I’ve damn well had enough of that to last a lifetime.”

“Are you certain you are not being…oversensitive?” Consuela asked.

“One of them even tweaked the side mirror on the car we were working on to try to see down my coveralls,” Lee growled. “If I ''am'' oversensitive, I’ve got damn good reason.”

“You ''are'' an attractive ''señorita,''” Consuela pointed out reasonably. “As am I. And I do not mind so much. It is…like a compliment.” She waved a paw-hand. “Like getting carded to buy beer. I will be more sad when they do ''not'' look anymore.”

“I don’t ''want'' to be a ''señorita,'' attractive or otherwise,” Lee grumped. “It has too much baggage with it. Hell, I don’t even ''like'' men. I used to be one and I know what they’re really like.”

Consuela grinned. “Tell that to…what was his name…Joey Buchanan?” Lee’s reaction to Tiffany’s on-screen kiss with Nathan Fillion’s character on ''One Life to Live'' the week before had quickly become a thing of legend around the mansion.

“That’s just ''hormones'', dammit,” Lee smoldered.

“Did ''hormones'' tack that poster up on your wall, ''mi hermana?''” Consuela asked innocently.

“I had to have ''some'' decoration, the place had no character,” Lee grumbled, shoveling more food in.

“As you say.” Consuela no longer attempted to hide her amusement. “Do you want my advice?”

“Would it shut you up if I said no?” Lee asked.

“You have not even really ''tried'' being a ''señorita,''” Consuela said. “Try it. Do something ‘girly.’ Even if it is with complete strangers.”

“Hmph. Right. ‘Girly’. Sure.” Lee snorted, finishing her breakfast and guzzling the rest of her coffee. “Maybe if someone adds six more hours to the day so I can get my ''work'' done.” She put the mug down. “See you later, Connie.”

“''Vaya con Dios!''” Consuela said cheerfully as Lee slipped out the back door and crossed the grounds to the insulated Quonset hut set up to house the resort’s vehicle shop.

“‘Do something girly’ my fluffy white tail,” Lee muttered under her breath. “Like what, ''get pregnant'' maybe?” There seemed to be a lot of that going around lately, didn’t there? She snorted. Well, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about ''that'', now that the King of the Jungle had been claimed and tamed. And if she still couldn’t say she approved of the particular lion-tamer, at least now she didn’t have to worry about being ambushed by some horny he-cat.

That last thought had only just crossed her mind as she slid open the door to the shop and found an orange tabby cat Changed waiting inside, leaning against the desk where Lee did her paperwork. “Like, morning, most bodacious fluffy grease monkey kitty babe!” Dan greeted her cheerfully.

Lee glowered at him. “What the hell do ''you'' want?”

“Like, I heard you were understaffed. Thought I’d, like, see if you wouldn’t mind some help.”

Lee blinked. “You, help with auto work?”

“Hey, I didn’t just, like, surf all day back in Cali, y’know. I messed with hot rods, too. I, like, know my way around a toolbox.”

“But you’ve got a job already,” Lee pointed out. “You’re running the tanning salon, remember?”

Dan snorted. “Oh, please. You think I don’t, like, know a sinecure when I see it? Do you really think ''Changed'' need to ''tan?''” He shook his head. “I may be, like, a space cadet, but I’m not ''stupid''.”

Lee blinked. “But ''you'' always…oh.” Well, when you got right down to it, Lee wasn’t even sure now ''why'' she’d taken Dan’s tanning obsession back in the pit at face value. It had been so ridiculous on the face of it that when you thought about it it ''had'' to be a put-on. He was just so ''good'' at it nobody had thought twice about tossing the beach bum kitty a catnip mousie so he’d go play in a corner while the grown-ups did the real work—but nobody could really be ''that'' spacey, right?

Then Dan flashed her another one of his patented Cheshire-like grins. “Besides, I’m, like, not even sinny yet, so I sure don’t need to be cured.”

Or then again…

“All right, fine. I ''am'' short-handed around here, and if you know anything about cars you’ll be welcome.” She crossed the room to the lockers where she kept her coveralls. “At least I know ''you'' won’t be trying to ogle me. You already know ''exactly'' what I look like.” Which was probably why she didn’t have any compunction about slipping out of her robe in front of him to pull on the coveralls.

But if she’d turned around, she might have been surprised to see Dan was actually self-consciously averting his gaze.

<center>{{separator|stars}}</center>

Over the next few days, Dan became a fixture in the garage with Lee. There was still a lot of work to be done, but to Lee’s surprise Dan proved a more than competent assistant. With a little help from a coyote-Changed who came in on weekends when her own garage was closed, they were able to make a significant dent in the work ahead—inspecting and servicing the small fleet of vehicles that the resort had acquired.

In an effort to save money where they could, Lee had insisted on buying good-condition used vehicles for everything except the vans and courtesy cars that would be the resort’s public face. While this had seemed like a good idea at the time, a couple of the utility trucks turned out to need their engines rebuilt. But Lee didn’t really mind being busy. In fact, she liked being busy. It meant she didn’t have time to stop and think about the things that bothered her. Much, anyway.

And after the first few days, Lee had to admit that Dan had gone beyond “more than competent” to downright surprising. Practically all he’d ever done in the habitat pit was laze around sunning himself, but there was nothing lazy about his work in the Quonset hut. He might not have been the virtuoso mechanic Lee was (if she thought so herself), but he learned fast and would ask questions if he didn’t know something rather than forge forward into a mistake. And he worked ''quietly'', too, save for occasionally whistling songs like “Little GTO,” “Little Deuce Coupe,” or “Fun Fun Fun (Until Daddy Takes the T-Bird Away)” under his breath.

And best of all, from Lee’s point of view, he didn’t ogle her. So many of the assistants she’d tried out kept getting distracted from their work whenever she was around—whether because she was furry, attractive, or both. She hated that—it made her feel like a piece of meat, and she’d had her fill of ''that'' from Hugh Melton. But Dan kept right on working no matter how near she was. Though sometimes she’d almost swear she caught him watching her from a distance—but when she looked again he was as absorbed in his work as ever.

Though to Lee’s irritation, as much as Dan left his old self outside when he came to work, he left his quiet, hard-working persona ''inside'' when he quit for the day. He was every bit the gnarly surf kook whenever any non-mechanics were around, complaining loudly for all to hear about how badly Lee the slave-driver was forever “harshing his mellow,” and spending hours “trying out” each of the new tanning booths that had been ordered for his salon.

Lee found Dan’s act somewhere between amusing and exasperating, but somehow never quite worked up the nerve to take him to task about it—even though she knew she got some odd looks from others on the resort staff, especially the new hires who hadn’t been with them in the pit, every time she and Dan went off to work in the morning. When you got right down to it, Lee told herself, what mattered was he got the work done, and it was looking like she might actually get to have a weekend one of these days. Though what she’d do with it if she had one, she wasn’t entirely sure. She was half afraid she might just end up staring at it in confusion like a dog who finally caught the car he’d been chasing.

<center>{{separator|stars}}</center>

It all started innocently, a couple of weeks after Dan had come to work with her. Dan closed the hood of the Jeep Cherokee they’d just finished rebuilding and turned to Lee, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his coverall. “Whew. Well, that’s that, boss-lady. Last of the red-hot clunkers, like, totally de-clunked.”

Lee nodded. “Good job. Wanna knock off early?”

Dan considered. “I might.”

“Yeah, after the work you put in on this, you deserve it. See you tomorrow, then.” Lee wiped her hand-paws with a greasy rag and looked around for the next job that needed doing. One of the John Deere Gator mini-utilities had started dying, and probably needed its carb cleaned out. It was a nice simple task that would take her the rest of the day, and—

“You’re not coming?” Dan asked quietly.

It was an innocent enough question, but the tone was so un-Dan-like that it all but froze Lee right in her tracks. “Me? Come? Why? There’s still work to be done.”

“There’s always going to be work to be done,” Dan said in that same quiet tone, leaning against the front of the Jeep. “There’s more to life than work, you know.”

“Not for me.” Lee shook her head.

“All work and no play makes Lee a dull girl,” Dan said.

Lee spun on her heel. “I’m not a ''girl!''” she growled at him.

Dan shrugged, unphased by this display of ferocity. “Woman, then.”

Lee snorted. “That’s not much better!”

“You don’t have to try so hard, you know,” Dan said. “Nobody’s going to come up to you and say, ‘You can’t get your hands dirty anymore, girly-girl. Leave your wrenches behind and come play dress-up!’”

Lee glared. “What do you know about it? Unless there’s something you haven’t told us, ''you’ve'' never been a girl.”

Dan shrugged. “I’ve never been a dolphin, either, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to swim.”

“And what the hell is ''that'' supposed to mean?”

“I dunno. Maybe nothing at all. Maybe this whole thing means nothing at all.” Dan turned away, and started walking for the exit, tail held stiffly in the air.

Lee bit her lip for a moment, then almost against her will called out, “Wait!” Dan stopped, but didn’t turn around, and Lee continued. “No…really…what ''do'' you mean?”

Dan looked back over his shoulder. “All you ever do is shut yourself up. You shut yourself up in here with the cars, away from people. Even when you’re outside, you wear that chip on your shoulder like a shield between you and anyone you think might hurt you.”

He chuckled quietly. “Like I’m one to, like, talk about toooootally gnarly crap like that. I think we all came up with these little coping mechanisms, the last few months.” He turned fully to face her. “But I can let mine drop, when I need to. Can you?” Then he spun around again, and waved jauntily over his shoulder. “Anyway, ciao! See you, like, on the flip side, babe!”

Then he was out the door and gone. For a long time Lee stood staring after him, grease rag dangling limply from her hand.

<center>{{separator|stars}}</center>

The next morning, Lee was already working in the Quonset hut when Dan came in. As he pulled on his coveralls, Lee busied herself with the Gator’s carburetor, waiting until he approached to look up. “Morning.”

“Hey.” Dan paused, then said hesitantly, “Um…last night I said some, like, really heinous things, and I just, like, wanted to say—”

“Don’t,” Lee said quietly. “Just don’t, okay? Don’t ''ever ''be that way with me.”

Dan blinked, then clammed up. Since he seemed to be at a loss for words, Lee guessed the next move was up to her. “I was thinking last night. Thinking a lot.” She looked at the errant carburetor, so she wouldn’t have to look at Dan. “What you said…well, I took a look at my life. Maybe for the first time since this whole thing happened. And I think you may be right. Maybe I am just…hiding.” She bit her lip, waiting to see what Dan would make of this admission.

Dan took his time thinking about that. “That can’t have been easy for you to say,” he said after a while.

Lee glanced at him, then down at the floor. “No. No, it kinda wasn’t. Thing is, it doesn’t make things any easier. I don’t want the rest of my life to be nothing but one garage after another, but…what else is there?”

“Y’know, most Change-trans don’t have that trouble,” Dan pointed out. “They get this whole hormone-high thing going on that kind of eases them into femmeness.”

“Yeah, well maybe I missed out on that part,” Lee said. “Or maybe I was just really good at ignoring it. Or maybe the fact I got snatched three days after I Changed had something to do with it.”

“Ouch.” Dan nodded. “So it looks like we’re gonna have to start from scratch. Got it.”

“I just…don’t ''want'' to be a girl,” Lee grumped.

“Really?” Dan asked. “So if someone waved a magic wand and gave you guy parts back, you’d be happy?”

“Damn right I would!” Lee said.

“Really?” Dan asked. “You haven’t kinda got used to it ''at all?'' C’mon, actually ''think'' about it, don’t give me that knee-jerk reaction.”

“I really ''hate'' periods, though. And PMS. And cramps. And…but…well.” Lee trailed off, staring away into nothing. “You know, I ''hadn’t'' really thought about it. It’s weird, but…having more up top and less down below just feels ''normal'' now. I still don’t ''want'' to be a girl…but it’s actually kind of jarring to think about being changed back, too.”

“Maybe it’s not so much the actual being a girl as it is all the crap that comes with it that bugs you?” Dan asked.

“Yeah, maybe,” Lee admitted. “Don’t really see what difference that makes, since they kinda go together.”

“Well, you can’t do anything about being a girl, but maybe there’s better ways to handle the crap than hiding from it,” Dan said. “Lotsa people have already figured out some of those ways. I think maybe you should talk to someone I know who had a…kinda similar problem to you, let’s say.”

“Yeah, who?” Then Lee put two and two together. “''Her?'' No way. No frickin’ way am I gonna unburden my soul to the same person who ''put'' those burdens on my soul in the first place.”

“Who else are you gonna find who knows what it’s like to reverse polarity, and also knows exactly what you went through over the last few months? Okay, so she knows about it from the other side of the binoculars, but that’s still as close as you’re gonna get.” He waved a hand, emphasizing the point. “And besides, I know you still don’t wanna let yourself believe this, but she’s ''not'' the same person who put you through all that anymore. Give her a chance, babe. You’ve got nothing to lose but your confusion.”

Lee was tempted to say the hell with it and forget the whole thing—but she ''had'' asked for Dan’s help. In a moment of weakness, maybe, but she had. And she’d learned from the auto repair biz that you didn’t ask someone for a consultation and then only consider what he said if you already agreed with him.

“All right, dammit,” Lee growled. “Let’s get this over with.”

<center>{{separator|stars}}</center>

A few minutes later, Dan led a reluctant Lee into Helena’s office in the staff wing of the mansion. The pregnant cougress Changed was behind her desk, staring intently at the monitor as she chewed on the end of a pencil. She looked up as they entered—without the slightest trace of fear or nervousness that would have betrayed a guilty conscience. Helena’s body language suggested she was comfortable here—that she belonged here rather than anywhere else in the world, and it irritated the ''hell'' out of Lee.

Helena had become the resort project’s de facto chief accountant. This had been Trixie’s job, but though the fox had owned her own business before the Change, she’d never had to deal with any accounts the size and complexity of those necessary to manage the finances of a business this size—and it just happened that Hugh Melton had.

In an effort to be useful, Helena had started helping Trixie with the accounts, but Trixie had soon realized that she was out of her depth and, after consulting with the others, turned the task over to Helena. Not without some limitations, of course—Helena had to ask for authorization if she wanted to move money around or create new accounts. And Trixie double-checked Helena’s work as best she could, and occasionally (secretly) had a CPA audit the books. So far, there had been no sign that their erstwhile kidnapper was reverting to her old villainous ways.

Helena smiled at her fellow felines. “Hello Dan, Lee. What can I do for you?”

“Lee needs some help with, like, a little something-something you two got in common. If y’know what I mean.”

Helena cocked her head at Lee, clearly trying to figure out what that might be. Lee sighed. “He means I want girlie lessons.”

“I wouldn’t have, like, said it quite like that, but that’s the, like, gist of it, yah,” Dan said. He waved Lee toward a seat. “I’m, like, gonna leave you two to it. Don’ need to catch, like, heinous kitty cooties ‘r something.”

“You’re ''already'' a ‘heinous kitty,’” Lee growled.

“Oops, too late!” Dan waved and slipped out, closing the door behind him.

Lee stared after him for a moment, then turned to look back at Helena. “So. Welcome ‘The Taming of the Screw-Loose,’ Act 2,” she grumbled. “I guess you already know I still don’t like you very much, but Dan said I should talk to you. So what the hell, I’ll try anything once.”

Helena came out from behind her desk and turned the other chair in front of it to face Lee. “I understand. It must have taken a lot of courage to come in here.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Lee growled.

Helena’s eyes widened. “I’m not! At least, I didn’t mean it that way. I just know it’s really rare for you to show your face outside of your garage these days at all, let alone come visit with someone you don’t like.” She smiled. “Actually, it seems to me we’ve been here before, though maybe our positions were reversed a little.”

Lee considered that. “Yeah, and we’re both wearing clothes now.” She glanced at Helena’s cotton blouse, denim skirt, and Furgonomic paw-sandals, then considered her own ratty jeans and sweatshirt. “Yours are nicer, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Helena said. “I like them. They’re comfortable, and the whole thing is still kind of new to me.” She smiled. “And I guess that’s part of what you wanted to talk to me about.”

“How are you so ''comfortable'' as a woman?” Lee exploded. “You’ve only had a month out of the pit to get used to it, but you’re as girly as any born woman I’ve ever seen!”

“Well, I read a lot. Changed forums, tips boards, wikis, even a couple of self-help e-books some TG furs have written. I’ve always been a quick study, and I kind of had incentive.” She looked down. “I want to be as little like my ‘old’ self as I possibly can. The more ‘Helena’ I am, the farther away I get from Hugh.”

“Which is kind of the opposite of me,” Lee grumbled. “I want to stay Lee. I don’t want to be Lisa or Leah or Leila or Linda or whatever the hell is on my driver’s license now.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. “You still don’t know? I’m sure Hugh—I’m sure ''I'' kept everyone’s purses and wallets and stuff in a closet in my old office. I thought you got it all back.”

Lee rolled her eyes. “If you must know, I’ve never really worked up the nerve to check. Looking at it would kind of have ''validated'' the thing. Made it more ''real'' somehow.” She glanced at Helena. “Pretty silly when you think about it, but…”

“Why don’t you take a look now?” Helena suggested.

“I guess I might as well.” Lee dug in her hip pocket and pulled out a battered leather wallet, which she flipped open and dug through to pull out her ID card. She examined it for a moment. “Huh. Still Lee.”

“It is kind of a unisex name,” Helena said. “So, see? There’s one thing about being female that you don’t have to worry about anymore. Maybe there are other things you don’t have to be afraid of either.”

Lee squinted closer at the card. “Picture’s different. Huh. So that’s what my ‘ghost’ would look like.” She shoved the card back in her wallet and pocketed it. “I don’t like it.”

“Why? Because it’s not the ‘old’ you?”

“Because it’s a ''girl,'' okay?” Lee growled. “I don’t want people to look at me and see a girl.”

“But that’s going to happen whether they see your ghost or not,” Helena pointed out. “It’s kind of hard to miss, especially with the little extra boost we get up top.”

“I know, and that’s the whole problem.”

Helena pursed her lips. “Hmm. Well, it’s a problem that’s not going to go away.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Lee grumbled.

“So you’ve kind of got two choices,” Helena continued. “Lock yourself up in your garage and miss out on the rest of your life…”

“Yeah, Dan’s already pointed out that one’s a non-starter,” Lee said.

“…or get over your fear of being female,” Helena said.

“Who says I’m ''afraid?''” Lee snapped.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Helena said. “I think…you like situations where you’re in control, where you know everything about everything. Like fixing cars. But you don’t know anything about being a woman, and you’re terrified you might make a mistake.”

“That’s completely…” Lee began to retort, then stopped and thought about it a little. “…possible, I guess.”

“So we need to ease you into things and get you over that,” Helena said. “It’s really not as hard as you think.” She got up, and offered Lee her hand.

Lee hesitated a moment, then took it. “What are you thinking?”

“Have you been to Amy’s salon yet?” Helena asked. “After that, we’ll go shopping.”

Lee froze. “What? No! No way! I don’t go in for all that frou-frou crap.”

Helena grasped Lee’s hand in both of hers. “''Trust''—well, okay, I know you ''don’t'' trust me about most things, and probably never will. But at least listen to me on this? Please? This isn’t ‘frou-frou crap’ any more than getting a shave and a haircut is ‘macho crap.’ It’s about looking good, which helps you feel good. Give it a chance.”

“Hmm,” Lee said, trying to marshal her arguments.

“Besides, you ''do'' know that when this place opens up in a couple of months they’re going to make you circulate at the parties and mixers, right?” Helena pointed out. “You’re going to need to know how to look nice for that.”

“What?! Nobody ever said anything about ''that!''” Lee insisted, jaw dropping in a panicked expression. “I never signed up for that! I’d know!”

“Maybe you didn’t get the memo.” Helena sighed.

“I don’t ''want'' to have to worry about my hair, or makeup, or fancy dresses!” Lee insisted. “I don’t want to flutter my eyelids at handsome men. I just want to fix cars, okay?”

“No one’s saying you have to throw yourself at men,” Helena said. “And no one’s saying you have to give up fixing cars, either. Look, if it helps any, think of this as…just another tool in your toolkit. You wouldn’t try to open an auto shop with only one size of wrench, right?”

“Well, no, I guess not,” Lee admitted.

“So you wouldn’t wear coveralls to a fancy dress party any more than you’d wear a ballroom gown in the garage, right?”

“This is dirty pool,” Lee grumbled.

“I promise, we’ll start out very simple. Just a basic fur-do and shampoo, and a very plain dress.” Helena looked at Lee again, scrutinizing her from top to bottom. “With striking looks like those, we won’t ''need ''to do anything fancy, anyway.”

Lee let Helena lead her out of the office. “I want you to know, I’m doing this under protest.”

Helena smiled. “I know. But you’re still doing it. That’s the important thing.”

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Lee followed Helena down the hall and out the mansion, trying not to cringe as they walked up the sidewalk toward one of the new buildings that had been erected near the site of the old Changed enclosure. Amy had graduated beautician school just before Changing, but had then discovered that being gifted with a huge bushy tail had been a problem when it came to fitting between the patient chairs in a salon made for humans. She’d spent a year hanging on as a freelance beautician before ending up in Hugh Melton’s greasy clutches.

With the furres planning a resort where each could contribute his own individual talent, Amy had jumped at the chance to design a Changed-suitable salon where either humans or Changed could service either humans or Changed without any problems of spacing. And while it had been built, she had gone back to school, taking some of the Changed-centric courses taught by former pet grooms.

Now, as the group was involved in the run-up to the resort’s grand opening, Amy was taking on a limited number of clients to shake off the rust and try out some of the new techniques she’d learned. She was also training a couple of apprentices—a chinchilla-Changed named Eileen and a human girl, Tara—to help out when things hit full swing.

''Maybe she’ll be full up for the day,'' Lee thought hopefully. ''Maybe I’ll be too much of a challenge for her to want to take on. Maybe…''

“Of ''course'' I’ve got an opening!” Amy chirped, clasping her handpaws together as her tail flicked in excitement. “Oh, this is wonderful! You’re so gorgeous, I’ve wanted to get my paws on your fur for the longest time! But I kinda didn’t wanna say anything, ‘cuz…” She trailed off, Lee supposed because she’d realized it wasn’t the best idea to accuse a desired client of bitchiness.

Lee rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I don’t quite believe it either. But know ''this.''” She punctuated her statement by holding up a single finger with the claw at full extension. “If I hear ''one word'' of gossip about this…”

Amy swallowed. “Uh…of course!” she squeaked. “My muzzle is sealed!”

“Goooood.” Lee slipped out of her clothes and clambered onto the reclining chair, noticing out of the corner of her eye Helena doing the same for the chair next to her. Amy started to pull out the extensible privacy walls, but Lee waved her off. “Leave the one between us open, ‘kay?”

Amy nodded. “Sure. More room to work that way, too. I’m going to go wash up. I’ll be right back.”

After she left the room, Helena chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Lee asked.

“Was just thinking about what I said before. Here we both are naked again after all.”

Lee snorted. “Neither one of us was gonna get ''shampooed'' last time we talked.”

Helena looked over at Lee and smiled. “I like the change.”

Then Amy came back to start the shampooing, and there wasn’t time to say anything else.

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The experience wasn’t like Lee had expected. Actually, she wasn’t sure what she had expected. But as Amy had her lie on her chest, then lathered her up with warm, soapy water while carrying on a constant stream of chatter, Lee discovered it was actually rather relaxing. As Amy rubbed the lather into her fur, she kneaded down from Lee’s neck and shoulders to her legs and the tip of her fluffy tail, applying gentle pressure like a massage.

Lee relaxed into this treatment, then felt an odd buzzing in her chest that she was startled to recognize as a purr. She’d never purred before, and was quite surprised to discover she was actually capable of it. Out of the corner of her eye, Lee saw Helena watching her and trying but failing to suppress a giggle at the confused expression Lee supposed she had to be wearing. Lee had half a mind to snap at her over it, but only half, and the fraction was decreasing by the moment. It just felt too ''good'' to put up a fuss about anything.

After Amy finished with Lee, Lee dozed a while as she gave the same treatment to Helena, who also began purring. Amy grinned in obvious satisfaction. “Now I think I’ll just let that shampoo set for a while, and let you two kitties talk among yourselves. Back in a few!”

“Mmm,” Lee said as she departed.

“Mmmmmmm,” Helena agreed, eyes half-closed in pleasure.

They lay like that for a while, purring, then Lee said at last, “Okay, I’ll admit that felt ''good.'' Didn’t expect that.”

“She really is good at this, isn’t she?” Helena said lazily. “Does it surprise you?”

“Hell yeah,” Lee said. “Probably not a kind thing to say, I guess, but I never thought that girl was good at anything but running off her mouth. If the ones she’s training can do that half as well, she’s gonna do a hell of a business.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They lay there for a few more minutes, then Helena said. “Dan is really something else, isn’t he?”

Lee glanced over at her. “Hmm?”

“He’s so much more than you take him for.” Helena grinned at her. “When he came into the pit and talked to me, I’m sure you all thought he was bombarding me with ‘totally awesome’ and ‘heinous’ and ‘bodacious’ and ‘gnarly,’ but he talked to me straight, with some good advice. Like I guess he did you.”

“Mmm,” Lee acknowledged.

“Sort of gives it more impact when he drops the act, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

“I think he really cares a lot about people, but he isn’t really good at being open,” Helena mused. “Maybe we can help him with that. Or maybe ''you'' can.”

Lee blinked and glanced over at her. “Huh?”

But then Amy came back in to rinse off the shampoo. “Never mind, tell you later,” Helena said.

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Amy next rinsed the shampoo off with warm water, and turned Lee over on her back to work on her chest. Lee was a bit nervous about what was going to come next, but it turned out she didn’t need to be. Amy simply shampooed Lee’s and then Helena’s face, neck, shoulders, lower chest, and legs, then left them with lather sufficient to do their more sensitive areas on their own after she’d left the room.

Lee occupied herself with that for a while, as Helena did likewise, and tried to ignore the little pleasurable sounds coming from the table off to her left. Though she was sure she was making plenty of similar sounds of her own. Not for the first time, Lee contemplated the sizable domes she’d been given by her Change. They would be the envy of many non-Changed females and the desire of many Changed males. Either way, she was glad that the Change also apparently included significantly strengthening the muscles in her lower back.

This time, there wasn’t any conversation before Amy came back and rinsed them off again. And then it was time to shampoo their hair.

“Wow, Lee, I never realized your hair was quite this long,” Amy said as she kneaded shampoo into the snow leopard’s long silvery hair. “You usually wear it up, but I think this would come down past your waist.”

“I didn’t really have much chance to cut it in the pit,” Lee said. “And I somehow just never got around to it since then. Probably should. Might be handy to have it shorter.”

“Oh, no no no, don’t do that!” Amy said, horrified. “I’ll trim off some split ends, but I want you to keep this exactly the way it is! Shortening this would be like cutting up a work of art!”

“Well…okay,” Lee said. “At least for now, I guess.” To tell the truth, she was starting to get a bit curious about exactly how she ''would'' look after all this.

Amy considered her hair clinically. “I’m not really going to style it, either, beyond a little conditioner. I want you to wear it loose, perhaps pulled forward over the shoulder. I’d say pick a darker dress so there’s good contrast.”

“I was thinking dark blue,” Helena said.

“Yes! It goes with her eyes!” Amy agreed.

“You two are ganging up on me,” Lee grumped, though she wasn’t ''really'' annoyed. She would never have admitted it, but this really just felt ''right''. So right she was starting to wonder why she’d never tried it before. ''Hormones,'' she thought wildly. ''Help, I’m being brainwashed by hormones!''

After the shampoo was finished, Helena and Lee got up from the chairs and stepped into the cylindrical full-body blow-driers against one wall of the salon. With a loud whir, the heating elements and fans in the floor started up, blowing away all traces of residual moisture in just a few minutes.

Lee drew the line at having her claws painted. “They’d just get chipped in the garage anyway.”

“Not if you kept them retracted while you worked,” Amy said. “Remember, your fingers aren’t like un-Changed humans’. The claws stay inside.”

“Then what’s the point of painting them? No one will ever even see them!” Lee protested. “If I ''need'' to show my claws to someone, I don’t think they’re going to care about how prettily they’re painted.”

“But you’d ''know'' they were painted,” Amy insisted, in the tones of one explaining a fundamental fact of life.

“And I’d feel damned silly every time I thought about it,” Lee said. “Maybe another time.”

“It’s okay, Amy, you can paint ''my'' claws,” Helena said consolingly.

Lee shook her head. “Yeesh.”

When they were finished, Lee and Helena examined themselves before a full-length mirror. Lee had her hair pulled forward over her left shoulder, and as she turned from left to right to consider her reflection, she had to admit that it was striking. Her fur had never looked brighter, nor her tail fluffier, and the hair really enhanced the effect—especially when she leaned forward slightly to let it spread out. “My God,” Lee said. “My hormones have been totally rewired, but I can tell you right now—the guy I was would fall for the gal I am now in a heartbeat.”

Helena smiled at her. The cougress was also looking gorgeous, though the change wasn’t as pronounced with her—since she’d undoubtedly been visiting Amy’s salon already. She did have the whole healthy glow thing going on from her pregnancy, of course.

“So, what now?” Lee asked as she pulled her jeans, bra, and sweatshirt back on.

“Now,” Helena said triumphantly, “we go shopping!”

And to her surprise, Lee found she was no longer regarding this prospect with quite as much horror as she had before the salon treatment.

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Several hours later found Lee and Helena driving back to the mansion from shopping in Branson, the used Dodge Neon resort errand car full of shopping bags from several stores. Lee felt like Helena had dragged her through practically every store in town building up her new wardrobe. But it hadn’t been strictly a one-way process. Helena had listened to Lee’s preferences, and kept their selections on the simple side: some fairly plain bras, panties, dresses, skirts, and blouses, plus a couple of pairs of custom-fitted Furgonomics paw-shoes. She’d overruled Lee a couple of times, but mostly let Lee have her own way.

So now, rather than her jeans and sweatshirt, Lee was wearing a simple dark blue cotton dress from Wal-Mart that Helena had insisted she wear for the rest of the day in order to get used to. Lee had mixed feelings about that dress. It was one thing to think about the possible effects, benefits, or disadvantages to wearing one, then quite another actually to see yourself in it in a mirror, or feel it draped over your body.

It wasn’t custom-fitted and certainly didn’t cost more than $29.95, but the very simplicity worked in its favor. It contrasted with her silvery-white fur and hair and her deep blue eyes remarkably well, and in concealing so much of her body left much more to the imagination. She wondered what Dan would think of it.

But there was something else on her mind—something that had been nagging at Lee all day as Helena took her measurements for clothing, or lectured her on what she’d learned about bra sizes from Wikipedia and the Change forums. She seemed quite oblivious to Lee’s grumpiness and tried her best to ignore Lee’s occasional cutting remarks. In fact, she was showing a lot more confidence than she had only a month before.

Finally, Lee couldn’t take it any more. “Why are you ''doing'' this?” Lee asked, glancing across at Helena. “Why are you being so helpful? You know I don’t like you very much.” At least, Lee thought, she was ''trying'' not to like Helena. But it was becoming harder to do—the cougar-girl was so relentlessly ''nice'', and almost nothing at all like the eccentric millionaire she had been who had held her a naked prisoner. Especially after the shared experience of the salon makeover, Lee felt that strong dislike dwindling toward her usual background irritation with everyone in general.

Helena thought about that for a while. “You have a right not to like me, after what Hugh—after what ''I'' did. So that doesn’t bother me. And after what I did, I owe all of you more than I can ever repay. So when I get a chance to sort of make a down payment on that, it’s something I want to do.”

Lee surprised herself by saying without thinking, “That’s bullshit.”

Helena blinked. “Excuse me?”

Lee grasped for words. “That feeling like you owe us thing. Yeah, you did a bad thing to us. But then we turned around and did the same bad thing to you. That ought to make us even-steven.”

“But what you did to me wasn’t as bad as what I did to you,” Helena protested. “I just kept you, but you kept me ''safe''. If you hadn’t, I’d probably be behind bars right now, maybe even for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, well, anyway, the thing about feeling like you owe us more than you can ever pay us is that you’ll probably feel that way for the rest of your life.” Lee shrugged. “You should have a life of your own. I’d rather have you help because you ''want'' to, not because you think you ''have'' to.”

“I ''do'' want to,” Helena said. “But…I think I see what you mean.”

Lee removed one hand-paw from the wheel long enough to wave it irritably. “I don’t know why I’m saying this. I ''should'' be demanding you be our slave until the end of time. It must be the damn hormones.”

Helena actually giggled a little. “Is that going to be your reason for everything you can’t explain? Hormones?”

“It’s a good catch-all.” Lee turned a corner, and the driveway of the mansion-turned-resort came into view out the windshield ahead. Lee looked down at herself nervously, and slowed the car. “I…don’t know about this,” she said. “I don’t know if I’m ready for the others to see me…”

“…wearing perfectly normal feminine clothing?” Helena asked, smiling. “C’mon, Lee, they’re going to have to see it sooner or later. And there’s not anything wrong with a ''woman'' wearing a dress.”

“But I’m ''not'' a…” Lee sighed, trailing off. “Oh, forget it. I can’t exactly change it by denying it, can I?”

“Just because you have different body parts and wear different clothing doesn’t mean you have to be a different person underneath,” Helena said.

“But it did for you,” Lee pointed out.

Helena was silent for a long moment. “Yeah, it did,” she said quietly. “But that was at least partly because I wanted it to.”

They drove the rest of the way home in silence, then pulled into place behind the mansion to unload the shopping bags. “Well, here we are.” Lee took a deep breath and then opened the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

As Lee and Helena carried the bags up to Lee’s room, they met Consuela in the hallway. “''Hola, mi hermana!''” The jaguar paused, and her eyes widened taking in Lee’s appearance. “Oh! You took my advice after all!” She smiled. “Your dress ''es muy bonita''. I like it!”

“Er…thank you,” Lee said.

“I hope I will see you in a dress more often.” Consuela examined her again, and nodded. “It suits you.”

“I’ll…think about it,” Lee said uncomfortably. She stared after Consuela as the pregnant jaguar continued down the hall. “Huh.”

Helena smiled. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Lee thought about that for a moment. “Yeah. Still a little nervous about dinner tonight, though.” The ten kidnap victims who had stayed, plus James the human, Helena and a few others, had gotten into the habit of meeting for dinner every evening in the mansion’s dining room to discuss progress on the resort project. Lee sighed, imagining what they’d say to her new look.

Helena chuckled. “I think you might be surprised.”

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After helping Lee unload her new purchases, Helena headed off to get ready for dinner, leaving Lee to stew in her room. She thought about skipping dinner, but knew she wouldn’t do any such thing. She wasn’t really ''afraid'' of what everyone was going to say—just annoyed. She knew they’d probably all make fun of her a little. (Well, okay, Consuela wouldn’t, Helena wouldn’t, and Dan ''probably'' wouldn’t. But there were still the others.) They wouldn’t mean anything by it, of course, but for someone who took herself as seriously as Lee did, it would still sting.

But she couldn’t keep avoiding them or it would give them something worse to tease her about. So, resigning herself, Lee checked her hair, dress, and tail in the mirror then headed downstairs to the fancy main dining room.

The room was set up with a long table. Jack the wolf and Trixie the fox, the de facto leaders of the resort project (as well as a dating couple since getting free) were at the head of the table, with Carl and Amy seated to their right, then James and his sister Gina, a cute German Shepherd Changed who was between her Freshman and Sophomore years at Missouri State University and planning to major in the hospitality industry. She was going to be interning at the resort when it was open. Consuela sat on Gina’s other side. Across the table from them were married sheep Tim and Clarisse, with a baby chair for their lamb Christine. Then Leo and Helena, and then Dan. And then an empty chair for Lee.

As Lee entered the room, Amy stood up and pointed. “Oooh! Look at what Lee’s wearing! That’s pretty! Where’d ya get it? Did they have any more like it? Maybe something in a light brown?”

“Hey, nice look!” Trixie said.

Clarisse nodded. “Good choice of color. Good economy, too. You really don’t have to spend a lot to look nice.”

Dan turned his head to look—and then nearly fell out of his chair. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to find any words to say. Lee took the chair next to him, then reached over and shoved his chin up. “Better keep that closed, something might fly in.”

Leo grinned. “Lookin’ ''good,'' Lee! You ''sure'' you don’t wanna go out sometime?”

“''Leo!''” Helena said, rolling her eyes.

Leo winked at her. “Sorry, hon. Force of habit.”

“Keep dreaming, lion-boy,” Lee said, but she still smiled. To Lee’s surprise, further teasing from anyone didn’t materialize. She did get a number of appreciative looks, which were a little strange, but that was the extent of it. ''Guess I was worried over nothing,'' she reflected. ''Except… ''As dinner was served and they ate, Lee couldn’t help noticing the way Dan kept looking at her sidelong, out of the corner of his eye. Like he wanted to stare, or even just ''look'', but knew it wouldn’t be polite. ''Almost as if…hmm…naaaah.'' That would just be silly.

Wouldn’t it?

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Over the next few days, Lee put in her normal hours in the garage with Dan—and if she was a bit more careful about her fur and hair than she had been before, it wasn’t really noticeable unless you really looked.

What ''was'' noticeable was that, for the first time, Lee started knocking off work a little early, justifying it on the basis that they’d managed to get most of the really tough stuff out of the way and could now take it easy a little. Then she would return to her room and experiment with braiding or fastening her hair in different styles from the books Helena had lent her. Nothing too fancy, but it was interesting to see how wearing her hair different ways made her look.

Lee wasn’t entirely sure why, but she seemed a lot more cheerful now. Sometimes she’d even catch herself humming or whistling—though once stopped abruptly after realizing the tune on her lips was “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman.” It was just the hormones, she told herself. It had to be. Or maybe it was just that she was fighting her body’s natural inclinations less and more of her energy was going the same direction instead of clashing.

Nonetheless, she polled herself very carefully, and was gratified to discover that the thought of having sex with a guy (or, for that matter, a gal) still made her go “Ew!” There was getting comfortable with oneself, and then there was going Too Far, and Lee was happy that she didn’t seem anywhere near crossing ''that'' line yet.

After a couple of days, Lee started feeling oddly claustrophobic in her same surroundings, and had the urge to venture out into the world beyond the gates again. Strange as it was, she’d been living near Branson for ''months'' but had never yet succumbed to the urge to play tourist. Which was silly. If nothing else, Branson had a really nice classic car museum that looked like a great place in which to spend hours.

So now she waited alone at the stop to catch the next bus into town. She wore a sensible bra and a dark grey dress from Wal-Mart. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, mainly to keep it out of her face. She was a little nervous about the whole thing, but also strangely excited to be going out into the world “incognito”. All the same she’d really have preferred to take one of the resort’s cars, but they’d decided it was best to reserve those for official business—and Lee never had gotten around to buying a car for personal use.

Finally the bus pulled up, the doors slid open, and she climbed aboard. There were about a dozen passengers, including three or four Changed. Lee glanced nervously around, but nobody seemed to be paying her much attention. Changed weren’t all that unusual in Branson these days, given that the bubble now covered most of the town and a significant chunk of the less-developed area north of it. There was always an influx of new furres into new bubble zones, since it was more comfortable to live in the open—and the fact that this one covered as interesting and active a place as Branson didn’t hurt matters either.

Lee sat quietly in her seat as the bus proceeded on its way into downtown Branson. She marveled that nobody saw anything unusual about her sitting here in a dress. She kept expecting someone to angrily point and denounce her for a fake. ''How dare you pretend to be a ''real'' woman? ''But of course nothing of the sort happened. It was only Lee’s imagination that said there should be something intrinsically different about her, some scarlet letter shaved into the fur on her forehead to prove she hadn’t been born this way.

No, she really ''was'' a “natural woman” now, with all the benefits and drawbacks that implied. Well, not ''all'' the drawbacks, she reflected wryly. Not in a bubble. Nobody in his right mind was going to try to mug or rape a brawny six-foot-plus feline Changed—not with those fists and feet full of natural mini-switchblades. But still, she was going to have to get used to being perceived as the fairer sex by complete strangers. Then Lee chuckled to herself as that line from ''The Last Action Hero'' came to mind: “Who says I’m fair?”

Lee left the bus in front of the auto museum, paid her $11, and spent the next couple of hours wandering the aisles, mooning over classic cars and itching to get her claws under the hoods of some of them. She was especially drawn to the sleek, curvaceous body of a white replica 1957 Porsche 356.

After glancing around to make sure no one was looking, she stepped over the rope and gently draped herself over its hood, propping her chin up with an elbow, her long silvery hair flowing down the incline of the hood, in what she felt certain was a classic glamour pose. She lost herself in daydreaming for a while, imagining what it would have been like to drive such a car…and was only ''slightly'' disturbed at how quickly the fantasy shifted to being the girlfriend of the handsome guy (like, say, Nathan Fillion) who owned the car. They could stick their boards in the back seat, and cruise the beach looking for waves…

Lee was jerked rudely out of her reverie by the flashes going off. “Buh?!” she squawked, and nearly fell off the car. A small crowd had gathered around her, half of whom had cameras out—a few humans, a horse and collie Changed, and a trio of short raccoon dogs whose floral print shirts and camera bags half as big as they were would have betrayed their Japanese origin if their species hadn’t already. “Oh…crap,” Lee muttered. Then she caught the word “Feisubukku!” in one of the raccoon dogs’ excited chatter. “Oh ''crap ''crap.”

Lee vaulted back over the rope and shoved her way through the crowd, certain that her face was practically ''glowing'' through the fur. She headed out of the museum, the appeal of ogling cars suddenly gone. (Though she did note they wanted less than $17,000 for that Porsche replica, and it ''did'' go so well with her fur…)

The next bus wasn’t due by for a while, so she wandered aimlessly up the street, ending up at a small strip mall where a replica General Lee was parked in front of a Southern memorabilia shop. There was a small used book store a couple of doors down, and Lee decided it was as good a place as any to get off the streets for a while in case any of those tourists wanted to follow her.

Just inside the shop was a fluffy white cat, which seemed oblivious to the fact that it was being held and stroked by an anthropomorphic basset hound—a bit of an elderly fellow with a lot of gray around the muzzle, Lee noticed. The dog Changed nodded to her. “Afternoon, miss.”

“Hey.” Lee held out a paw to the cat, which sniffed boredly at her, then scratched it under the chin. “Just going to look around a bit.”

“Feel free.”

Lee moved past him, down the narrow aisles of shelves filled with old paperbacks and hardcovers. Her tail brushed the shelf behind her as she turned to look at the titles on display. ''Wonder if this is where James got the ones he snuck in to us all those months?'' she mused. After a while, she picked out a couple of Jules Verne novels and took them back up to the front to pay for them. Then she headed out to catch the bus.

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On the way back to the mansion, Lee thought about what had happened that day. The photo incident had been a little embarrassing, but apart from that it had been fun to go out on the town. And there were plenty of other interesting places to visit in Branson—and for that matter in Springfield and the rest of the surrounding area, if she got herself a car. And that Porsche was looking mighty good…

Yes, Lee thought as she stepped off the bus at the mansion and headed inside, she ''would'' have to do it again. It felt good to be out and about in public, around people who had no idea who she was but just saw her as a woman. It actually made her feel a little more ''like'' a woman, and less like some kind of phony. And, Lee was startled to realize, she was actually starting to ''enjoy'' thinking of herself as a woman, now that she knew it didn’t mean she had to stop doing what she loved.

Though she ''still'' didn’t want to have sex with anyone just yet. ''Baby steps, Lee,'' she thought. ''Baby steps.''

This still didn’t quite prepare her for dinner that night, when an enthusiastic Amy flounced in with her iPad to show everyone the neat new photos she’d found on Facebook…

“Wow, Lee, that looks a lot like you!” Amy said. “Though I know you’d ''never'' do anything ''that'' girly!”

“Uh, heh, yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” Lee said. “Of course, we snow leppies do tend to look alike. You seen that romance novelist, Portia Henderson? We’re practically twins.” She was glad she’d changed clothes before coming to dinner, and made a mental note to burn that grey dress at the next practical opportunity.

Dan fumbled for his iPhone and pulled up his own Facebook app. “Like yah! And, like, taken just a couple’a miles from here, too! What a co-wink-i-dink, ''two'' snow leppies so alike so close togeth—oof!” Lee elbowed him in the gut and he subsided.

Helena raised an eyebrow at Lee, and smiled just a little, but didn’t say anything. Lee rolled her eyes and tried to concentrate on her food. It was weird, but she wasn’t even as ''embarrassed'' about this as she’d expected to be.

It had to be the hormones.

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After the museum visit, Lee kept a low profile for another couple of days. Then one evening, as she finished up tinkering with a recalcitrant Ford Mustang, Dan came up and asked, “Oh hey, boss lady, I was thinking. Have you ever been to Lambert’s?” Lambert’s was a well-known cafe in Ozark, about half an hour north of the resort. Dan was known to run up there to eat from time to time—he said he really liked their rolls.

“Can’t say I have,” Lee said, wiping her hand-paws off on a grease rag.”

“Wanna go for dinner tonight?”

“Huh, dunno, might be fun to—heeeeey, wait a minute. Hold on just a second there.” Lee turned to eye Dan suspiciously. “It can’t be that you just asked me out on a ''date?''”

“Well, yea—''no!''” Dan hastily corrected himself as he saw Lee’s expression start to darken. “Um…not a, like, ''date'' date. Helena thought it’d be a good idea for you to get some practice being out in public under the Veil. Let other people see you as, like, a woman, instead of a leppy-woman. And, like, Lambert’s is a ''totally'' tubular food shack.”

Lee snorted. “Your accent’s slipping.”

Dan shrugged. “It does that sometimes.”

“Hmm.” Lee gave Dan another suspicious look. “Well…all right.” She headed to the lockers to change out of her coveralls. “It’s not like I had any other plans for tonight anyway.”

A few minutes later, the two furres were in the Neon heading north. Lee wasn’t sure how she felt about Helena insisting they take the company car under the pretext of Lee’s socialization counting as “job training,” but on the other hand it ''was'' nice to drive. And Lee wasn’t sure she would be willing to trust Dan’s car, a ‘78 Olds ‘88 jalopy he had bought for a few hundred bucks and tinkered on in his spare time.

Lee watched Dan out of the corner of her eye as they drove north, but the little tabby kept his hands behind his head and the seat back, chatting about inconsequential things as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was the very picture of practiced nonchalance—not the slightest bit nervous, as Lee would have ''expected'' him to be if he was trying to put any moves on her. So maybe the story about it being ''just'' a suggestion from Helena was true after all. Maybe.

About fifteen minutes into the drive, Dan opened his eyes and glanced around. “Oh. Hey, time to slow up a little, babe.”

Lee glanced over at him. “Huh?” Then she saw the orange and white hazard markers ahead, and the programmable sign reading “NOW LEAVING BRANSON BUBBLE. CHANGED DRIVERS BE CAREFUL!” “Oh.” Lee pulled over in the slow lane and slowed to 40. “Yeah, don’t wanna go into that unawares.” As she passed the sign, she took a deep breath and steeled herself for what she knew was coming.

It was like falling into spiderwebs made of Saran wrap. “Faugh!” Lee grunted, shaking herself and gasping for breath. “Ugh. I ''hate'' that feeling. Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

Dan reached up to pat her shoulder. “For awesome food, and for practice. From here on out it’s just our ghosts, babe.”

“Oh yeah, those.” Unlike most of the TG furres that had come before her, Lee didn’t have a lot of experience passing for a “normal” woman. She’d Changed in the Chicago bubble, and had been snatched up the first time she’d ventured out in public after it happened. Then she’d spent the next few months in a cement pit. Of course, if the bubbles kept expanding at their current rate, in just a couple of years that would be academic. The world was going to look like a very different place when the Veil came down completely.

“So, you’ve ''heard'' ‘bout Lambert’s, right?” Dan asked.

“Isn’t that where they throw food at you?” Lee asked.

“Yeah. Well, rolls anyway, and throw it ''to'' you.” Dan chuckled. “Kinda fun, really. And you always get more food than you can eat, even with a Changed appetite. Yum.”

“Sounds charming,” Lee said dryly. “Maybe I should’ve brought a catcher’s mitt.”

“Oh, they’ve got a really talented pitcher now,” Dan said. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

A couple of minutes later, they pulled off of 65 and into the parking lot of the restaurant. It was already quite full, and a fairly long line was waiting in front. “You sure about this?” Lee asked. “Looks like we could be in for a wait.”

“They always seat small parties faster,” Dan said. He went up to the reservations booth to let them know he had a party of two. “We’re cool,” he said when he came back. “Maybe five, ten minutes.”

Lee nodded, glancing around at the others in the line. It was made up mostly of normal pre-Change humans, with the occasional Changed—a deer, a squirrel, a raccoon, a bobcat. The furres shot knowing glances at Lee and Dan, whereas the humans didn’t even seem to notice them—or when they did, it was with appreciative looks from the men and annoyed looks from the women at Lee, and jealous looks from the men and curious looks from the women at Dan. Nothing to indicate either was anything unusual, except perhaps unusually attractive in Lee’s case.

It was a little weird, Lee reflected, to be stared at for her ''ghost’s'' looks rather than because she was a six-foot-plus fluffy snow leopard. She wished she knew more about what her ghost even looked like. She’d seen her license picture, but those rarely did anyone justice. She knew it would have blonde or white hair and pale skin, which would undoubtedly contrast almost as nicely with the dark blue dress she’d chosen to wear tonight as her fur did. And if her female face had the same general looks as her old male one, the Slavic features she’d inherited from a Russian grandmother would lend her an additional exotic touch. When taken together with the lushness of her hair and the shape of…certain other features, this likely meant she was going to stand out in a crowd almost as much as a human as she had as a snow leopard—only without the off-putting presence of fangs and claws.

True to Dan’s prediction, they were soon called into the restaurant proper. The place was furnished in an all-hardwood decor, with miscellaneous articles, signs, and other decor lining the walls. The interior space was filled with rows of rough-hewn but comfortable-looking tables and booths with wide aisles between for food carts to trundle through.

The table where they were seated featured a roll of paper towels for napkins, and a big quart thermos mug filled with plastic-wrapped metal tableware so that waiters didn’t have to keep re-setting the tables. The restaurant was almost entirely full, and the level of chatter was a low roar in the background. “Huh, busy much?” Lee observed.

“Sign of a good kitchen,” Dan observed happily.

“Or a good gimmick,” Lee sniffed. Dan chuckled.

A waitress showed up to take their orders. Dan went with the chicken fried steak, but Lee found the hot beef sandwich more appealing. They both ordered Mountain Dew to drink, and the waitress returned a moment later to set quart travel mugs of it in front of them.

Then, as the waitress left for the second time, a cry of, “Hot rolls!” sounded at the other end of the room. Dan grinned at Lee, then turned and raised his hand. A moment later, a steaming dinner roll arced through the air and smacked into it.

Lee blinked, then turned her gaze on the source of the roll. A cart with several trays of rolls was making its way up the aisle, pushed by a monkey-Changed in a waiter’s uniform. The monkey was whipping off rolls left and right with his disproportionately long arms, sending them flying rapid-fire to all corners of the fairly large room. He made the throws over his shoulder, behind his back, underarm, overarm, and often without even seeming to look for the upraised hands at all. He threw them so fast that he often had as many as three or four in the air at one time, and he never missed. Sometimes his recipient fumbled the catch, but his aim was so true that any missed roll bounced harmlessly off the floor or a chair, never hitting a person or someone’s food.

Lee held up her own hand, and a moment later plucked a steaming roll out of the air herself. “Pretty impressive,” Lee admitted, buttering it. “But you know what monkeys ''usually'' throw, right?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “You know I’m, like, trying to eat here, right?

Lee chuckled. “I’ll bet people are gonna be surprised when the bubble gets here in a few months.”

“If he’s smart, his bosses already know about it,” Dan said. “You never know if something might tear a hole early.”

“Like a certain P.O.’d tigress.” Lee smiled, remembering. “That was…really freaky. I’d been in the Chi-town bubble, but never thought I’d actually be around when one formed.”

“Crazy stuff, fer sure,” Dan agreed, biting into his roll.

A few minutes later, another cart made the rounds. This one had trays of battered fried okra. Dan tore off a length of paper towel for the waitress to scoop some onto. “You should try some of this, Lee, it’s really good!” Dan said.

Lee shook her head. “No way. Hate that slimy stuff.”

Dan tossed one of the small tan and green nuggets into the air and caught it in his mouth. “It’s not slimy! Mmm, good!” he said as he chewed.

Lee snorted. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Dan swallowed. “C’mon, try one. Open wide!” He held up another piece of okra and cocked his hand back to throw it.

“Oh you are ''not''—” Lee began—but was interrupted by a deftly thrown fried okra piece landing in her open mouth. “Mmph!” Lee protested, reflexively chewing and swallowing to get it out of the way. “I can’t believe you just ''did'' that!” She tried to glower, but ended up chuckling in spite of herself. “But I do have to admit, that is kinda better than I expected.”

“Tol’ja,” Dan said triumphantly. He tossed and caught another piece himself. “Want another?”

“I’ll wait for the next cart, thanks.”

“Suit yourself!”

Then the waitress came back with their orders, delivered in big steel frying pans that contained their main dishes and sides. And then more food carts came around as well, offering fried potatoes, macaroni and tomatoes, and sorghum for their rolls. And, of course, the roll cart rolled through a couple more times. The last time, the monkey stopped right by their table and said in quiet tones, “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help noticing—you’re two of the Eleven, aren’t you?” He had a faint but detectable African accent—probably an international student from MSU.

Lee blinked. “Why, um, yes.”

“Thought so. Just wanted to thank you for bringing the bubble. It’s a lot nicer living in Branson now.” It was more or less common knowledge that the kidnapped furres had been somehow responsible, given that the disturbance had originated at their location on the day they had escaped, and even now measurements of the bubble’s circumference still placed the exact center on their property.

“Like, yer totally welcome, dude!” Dan said. “Glad we could do it. Hope you won’t be in heinous trouble when it gets this far.”

“I think it will be good. It is already teaching a valuable lesson about what is under people’s skin.” He chuckled. “Perhaps skin color will stop being such a divisive issue when it’s all covered by fur.”

Lee grinned. “We can hope.”

The monkey nodded and moved on, plucking up a few more rolls to toss and letting fly. “Hot rolls!”

Lee thoughtfully watched him go, then finished her dinner. She was just pushing the emptied frying pan aside when the waitress came up to offer her another plate at no charge. Lee blinked. “Seconds? You do that here?”

“Well, we don’t want anyone to leave hungry,” the waitress said.

Lee grinned, patted her bulging stomach. “No danger of that. If I have another bite, it’ll go right to my tai—ah, hips.”

“I’ll take a box!” Dan said, waving at his half-finished steak. “Gonna need to take the rest of this home.”

The waitress chuckled. “All right, I’ll get you one. Well, you all have a nice evening.”

{{separator|stars}}

The drive home was uneventful. Dan dozed in the passenger seat, occasionally emitting a loud snore and startling himself awake. Lee ''felt'' like dozing off from the huge meal, but managed to stay awake long enough to get them home. It was easier once they passed back into the bubble and it was possible to breathe freely again.

When they pulled back into the mansion’s driveway, Dan yawned and stretched, reached under the seat for his to-go box, and clambered out of the car when Lee pulled it to a halt. Then he came around to the driver’s side and tapped on the window. Curious, Lee rolled it down.

Dan leaned in close. “Thanks for a great evening, babe. Dinner was fun, and you’re good company.” Then, before Lee could reply, he leaned in closer and gave her a quick, chaste lick-groom on the cheek before quickly running away.

“Hey!” Lee yelped, but the tabby was already gone. Lee blinked, staring after him, a hand to the place on her cheek where Dan had licked . “What was ''that'' all about?” She parked the car and went to her room, still rubbing the damp spot on her cheek.

That night, she dreamed of surfboards.

<center>{{separator|stars}}</center>

“No! Not just no, but ''hell'' no!” Lee growled at the others seated around the table at the weekly state-of-the-resort meeting. Trixie had just made a proposal Lee considered flatly unacceptable. “I am ''not'' going to take a ballroom dancing class.”

“Now Lee,” Trixie said, “when we started this thing we all stipulated that some of the things we might have to do in the process might not be the sorts of things we would ''rather'' do. But we agreed we would all make sacrifices for the good of the project.”

“And we’re ''all'' going to be taking the class,” Carl pointed out. “Even me, with my two left paws.”

“Carl, we ''all'' have two left paws,” Amy pointed out, and everyone laughed.

“Even my security staff is going to be taking the course,” James said. “And some of the other staff, too. Gina is really looking forward to it.”

“Why the hell is this even ''necessary?''” Lee exploded.

“Because we’re going to be holding a number of receptions and other functions to woo potential investors,” Helena said. “And many of those will involve dancing. It’s something that gives rich people an excuse to bring and be seen in public with their husbands, wives, misters, mistresses, or other significant others, meaning they’ll be in a good mood and likely to think happy thoughts about us—and also a way to get to know ''us'' outside the boardroom.”

“Why do we even need to worry about investors? I thought we had lots of cash,” Lee grumbled.

“Hugh had a lot of money for one person to ''live on'', but when it comes to running a business we’re going to need outside help sooner or later,” Helena said. “And we’re all going to have to pitch in to help get it. Even you, Lee.”

“I can’t say I’m, like, keen on lessons either, babe,” Dan said. “But’cha gotta do some, like, totally heinous bogus crap to get to the, like, tubulosity.”

“That’s not even a ''word!''” Lee grumped.

“And not to put too fine a point on it, but you ''are ''one of the more…visually striking of us,” Trixie said. “You’ll have more would-be partners than you can beat off with a monkeywrench.”

“Oh, ''terrific,''” Lee muttered.

“Would you rather be able to say yes gracefully, dance a little, and get it over with?” Helena asked. “Or to be embarrassed that you don’t know how, and have to put up with a dozen offers to teach you every time?”

“I’d rather not dance at all, dammit,” Lee growled. But her resistance was weakening. If she ''was'' going to have to go through with it—and Trixie had been right about the agreement—then she supposed it would be better to be prepared ahead of time. “All right, you’ve made your damn point. I’ll take the lessons.”

“Hey, cheer up,” Leo offered. “You might find you enjoy it after all. I know Helena and I are really looking forward to it.”

“It’s been a while since I danced,” Helena admitted. “And I was the other gender at the time. I’m really going to need to blow the dust off.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Leo said, putting his arm around her shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, ''please'',” Lee muttered, though not very loud.

{{separator|stars}}

And so a few days later they began meeting for three hours a day in the main ballroom of the mansion under the instruction of Madame Ortiz, a rather impressive Pampas deer Changed from Brazil. With exotic cervine grace, a brisk manner, and a thick yet melodious accent, Mme. Ortiz kept everyone on their toes (those who still had toes, anyway). She spent a great deal of time on the subject of foot placement at first, as a misstep from a Changed hoof could cause injury. Then, over the next couple of weeks, she worked her way into various dance styles.

The classes were large enough that they had to be split into separate morning and evening sessions. The eleven Changed from the enclosure days were there, as were James’s security furres and sister Gina, and other humans and Changed from the resort staff. The classes were filled out by a number of furries and humans from the Branson area, as it represented a sort of community outreach for the resort to become more involved with the local community before it launched.

Although partners rotated for part of the lessons, much of the time they were paired up with one particular person. Most of the pairings among the resort staff were no surprise—the two sheep together, Jack and Trixie, Carl and Amy (who had a section of ballroom all their own due to those immense tails), Leo and Helena—but Lee was mildly intrigued to see Consuela had chosen to pair up with James the human. They seemed quite comfortable with each other. Lee wondered if there was a story behind that. Of course, for all she knew they could be sleeping together—you didn’t tend to hear much gossip from inside a garage, and it had been a while since she’d subjected herself to Amy.

Of course, her own partner hadn’t been entirely unexpected either. As Lee moved through the steps of a waltz with a comfort born of long practice, she looked down at the top of Dan’s head. She’d gotten to know it very well over the last few days. “I’d say ‘eyes up here’ but I wouldn’t want you to get a crick in your neck,” Lee said to the shoulder-height tabby cat.

Dan grinned up at her. “Sorry, babe,” he said. “My elevator paw-shoes haven’t come in from Furgonomics yet.”

“Just don’t dip me and we’ll do fine,” Lee said, remembering what had happened the first time Dan had tried. He’d gotten better since, but the question of weight, leverage, and balance was a tricky one.

To tell the truth, Lee didn’t really mind dancing with Dan too much. She wasn’t exactly the sort to want to rest her head on a taller guy’s shoulder, or to find it reassuring that someone bigger than she was had her in his arms. Given a choice between Dan and, say, the Percheron Changed in the class who was a head taller than ''she'' was, she’d take Dan every time.

And Dan had been acting the perfect gentleman, never trying to take advantage and stare at her anatomy (more than conditions forced him to, at least), and not dancing closer than Lee wanted. All in all, Lee was surprised how comfortable she was becoming dancing with Dan.

“Too bad we, like, didn’t get to do this before the Change,” Dan mused. “I was taller and I’ll bet you were shorter. We’d have been, like, the same height.”

“I was also ''male,''” Lee pointed out. “Might have made it a little awkward.”

“Oh yeah,” Dan said. “I keep forgetting.”

“I don’t,” Lee grumbled. “This is all so new to me.”

“Maybe it’s a good new,” Dan suggested. “Bet you never thought you’d end up dancin’ in a mansion.”

“Yeah, that’s not too terribly high on the list of things I would have seen myself doing a year ago,” Lee admitted.

They moved quietly to the music a while longer, then Dan spoke up again. “So, I’ve been wondering…why’d you sign onto the whole resort plan to begin with? You coulda just taken the money and, like, gone back to Chi-Town. Back to fixing cars in your old shop.”

Lee thought about that a moment, then shrugged. “Dunno. After all those months in the pit, getting to know everyone, it just seemed kinda…lonely to go off on my own again. Maybe I was kinda scared a little of the outside world, how much it had changed those few months.” She glanced over at Helena, dancing close to Leo on the other side of the room. “Damn that Hugh. He took ''so much'' from us. Not just our freedom, but a whole ''world''. But I guess he kinda took it from himself, too.”

Dan nodded. “Felt a little the same way, I guess. And I thought maybe it’d make up for it some if I could help turn that shared suffering into a way to help other people. We’re stronger together.”

“Uh-huh.” Lee thought about that for a while. She wasn’t exactly a wishy-washy sentimentalist, but she had to admit it did feel ''right'' to be doing this. She’d never have put up with things like ballroom dancing lessons if she hadn’t felt it was all going to be worth it in the end. “Anyway, I can always go back to Chicago if it doesn’t work out.”

“Sure do hope it works out, then” Dan said quietly as the song ended in the background. “Be kinda lonely here without you.”

Lee blinked and stared down at him, but before she could reply Madame Ortiz had clapped her hands and called for a rotation in partners. So she spent the next dance ''thinking'' about it, instead.

Dan would be…lonely without ''her? ''This did seem to be only the latest incident in a pattern that had been developing over the last few days. Asking her out…kissing her on the cheek…confessing to ''liking'' her. Was Dan…''falling'' for her?

Surely not! Lee was so shocked by the idea that she nearly stepped on Jack’s toes three times in a row. For crying out loud, she’d been a ''man'' until a few months ago. Falling in love wasn’t supposed to ''work'' like that!

Lee made up her mind—she would have it out with Dan at the first opportunity. It was ridiculous to think that someone like her had anything to offer him. He’d be better off finding a ''real'' girl on whom to lavish his affections.

So why ''did'' the thought of seeing him again make her heart start beating faster?

(Well, duh. Hormones.)

<center>{{separator|stars}}</center>

Later that night, Lee threw on a sweatshirt and sweatpants and went hunting for Dan. She found him in one of the small communal dens that had been rigged up as a media center, with a 55” TV, surround sound, and several game consoles. He was playing a surfing game, riding the digital waves with skill and panache. Lee sat down on the overstuffed sofa near him and waited for him to finish the level.

“Hey, babe,” Dan said. He offered her the controller. “Wanna try?”

“No thanks,” Lee said. She looked at him, trying to figure out how to begin. “Look, are you…?”

Dan glanced back at her. “Am I…what? Busy? Crazy? A registered organ donor?”

Lee rolled her eyes. “Look, the way you’ve been acting toward me lately—I…it…well, dammit, I used to be a ''guy!''”

“Ah.” Dan tossed the controller aside and flopped back on the couch. “Well, the key word there is ‘used to be’. Nobody would ever take you for one now.” He shrugged. “And I never even knew you when you were a guy. All that matters to me is you’re the you you are right now.”

“But I don’t want or need a boyfriend!” Lee protested.

“Then just think of me as a friend-boy,” Dan said. “Look, I just ''like'' you, okay? If I had known you as a guy, you’d have been the kind of guy I’d have liked to hang out and chillax with. Now you’re a gal, you’re the kind of ''gal'' I’d like to hang out and chillax with. Just ‘cuz you’re a girl doesn’t change who you are.”

“But I know how guys ''think!''” Lee said frantically. “Admit it, you just want to get into my pants.”

“I don’t think those pants would fit me, Lee.” Dan said mildly. “I’d need a belt or something, and I’d have to roll up the cuffs…”

“You ''know'' what I mean!” Lee growled.

Dan shrugged. “Okay, seriously? I wouldn’t ''mind'' sex, yeah. It’s good clean fun for two if you do it right. But if you think for ''one moment'' that’s ''all'' I want, I’m kinda seriously disappointed in you. If I wanted sex, there are thousands of starry-eyed celebrity-worshippers out there who’d be all over me with just one Facebook post. Well…hundreds maybe. At least a dozen. Or I could just go find a hooker downtown.”

Dan shook his head. “No, that’s not what I want. What I want is this funny, talented, more-than-a-little-uptight gal named Lee to share as much of my life as she feels comfortable with. If that means sex, hell yes I’ll take it. If it means I get less than a nun the rest of my life, bring it on. I like ''you'', Lee. That’s all.”

Lee stared at him for a long, long time. “I…I’m not…” ''Why is everything all blurry? What’s that trickling down my cheek fur? Oh hell, I’m going to have ''real'' kitty tear tracks aren’t I?'' “I…don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of commitment. I’d almost rather you just wanted sex. I know how to ''deal'' with that.”

Dan chuckled. “Heh. Nooooo way, babe. Not ready for ''that'' veterinary procedure yet.”

Lee snorted. “You’re no Leo, that’s for sure.”

“Thank goddess for that.” Dan reached out to pat Lee on the shoulder. “So don’t worry ‘bout it, babe. This offer doesn’t expire overnight, and I’d never try to force you into anything. We got time. It’s all cool.”

“Huh.” Lee leaned back on the sofa and tried to come to terms with what she felt about that. She tried to figure out ''how'' she felt about it, other than “all gooey inside.” She certainly had come a long way in a short time—just a couple of weeks ago she’d have been somewhere between disgusted and outraged at the idea of ''any'' man falling in love with her. Now…she was starting to see how the thing could be made to work. Even if she still wasn’t completely sure she ''wanted'' it to.

Dan glanced at her, then picked up the controller again. He flipped the console over to its Pandora Internet radio app, and selected a slow music station. “So, meanwhile…wanna dance? Just for fun, this time, not lessons.”

Lee thought about that. ''Did'' she want to dance? She wanted to run screaming from the room. She wanted to run cheering through the halls. She wanted to bury her head under her pillow and make it all go away. She wanted…to dance. “Maybe for a song or two. It ''is'' kinda fun, and not like I got anything else to do. And you got the music up, so…might as well.”

Dan grinned at her. “Just a song or two. Gotcha.”

Putting all thoughts of obligations and romantic entanglements aside, they danced—just for fun—late into the night.

{{separator|stars|'''THE END'''}}

{{series bar
|series=Melton's Eleven
|previous=[[User:Robotech Master/The Truth About Cats and Dogs|The Truth About Cats and Dogs]]
|next=Next Story}}

[[Category:Paradise]][[Category: Robotech_Master]][[Category: Anthropomorphic]][[Category: Tiger]][[Category: Leopard]][[Category:Dog]][[Category: Lion]][[Category: House Cat]][[Category: Jaguar]][[Category: Skunk]][[Category: Squirrel]][[Category: Sheep]][[Category: Fox]][[Category: Wolf]][[Category: Cougar]][[Category:Story]]

User:Robotech Master/The Truth About Cats and Dogs

2019-10-31T18:50:01Z

Robotech Master: whoops, forgot to fix something

{{Universe|Paradise}}

{{title
|name=The Truth About Cats and Dogs
|author=Chris Meadows
|user=Robotech_Master}}
{{DEFAULTSORT: The Truth About Cats and Dogs}}

{{author note|This story is set in the summer of 2010 in the "Paradise" universe, and is part of the ''Melton's Eleven'' series that begins with "[[User:Robotech Master/Tiffnapped|Tiffnapped]]".}} 

'''EARLY JUNE 2010'''

James Case, late member of security for Hugh Melton’s private “animal” pen, now head of security for the Melton Resort complex, stood on the fourth floor tower balcony of the Melton mansion with a pair of binoculars and a worried expression. He was using the tower’s fourth-floor perspective to see over the fifteen-foot security wall surrounding the grounds to watch what was going on just across the street.

A small, ragged group of about a dozen men was gathered on the sidewalk near the bus stop, carrying picket signs and chanting angry slogans. James couldn’t hear the chants from where he was, but could read the signs clearly through the binoculars. “GOD HATES FANGS!” “FURRY FREAKS GO HOME!” “LEVITICUS 18:23.”

The protesters were alone except for one bored-looking Branson police officer about a block up the street. There weren’t many other passers-by this far out of Branson proper, but those few there were steered well clear of the sign-bearers. On the first couple of days, there had been a small, angry Changed counter-protest, and a time or two it had looked like violence might break out. But then Trixie and James had met with the Changed group’s leaders and politely asked them to disband. “These punks thrive on attention and want to pick a fight,” James had said. “Let’s not give them what they want. We’re not going anywhere, so don’t feed the trolls, okay?”

Word had gone out among the local Changed community, and the opposition dried up. And now the protesters looked a little sad and forlorn, chanting their slogans to an empty audience.

“Why do they do it?” a soft, feminine voice said from right behind James.

“Gah!” James jumped straight up and nearly dropped his binoculars off the balcony. He turned to look behind him. “Don’t ''do'' that!”

“I am sorry,” Consuela said. The melanistic jaguar Changed looked abashed. “Perhaps I should wear a bell.”

“It’s all right,” James said, putting a hand over his heart and taking a deep breath to try to get it to stop racing.

“But why ''do'' they do it?” Consuela asked again. “It is ''muy loco.'' It makes no sense.”

“Their world has Changed and they don’t like it,” James said. “They can’t deal with it, so they look for someone to blame. And hey, here we are.” It was common knowledge that the Branson bubble had started right there in the Melton compound. Measurements of its perimeter confirmed it, and the epicenter was still exactly on the site of the old animal pit, now filled in with a row of cottages atop it. With that and the news stories about the kidnapping taken together, small wonder that the Melton place was a magnet for Changed-haters of any kind.

“But they will change themselves sooner or later,” Consuela pointed out.

“Yeah, and I’ve read some people think the more they hang out in a bubble or near Changed, the sooner it will be,” James said. He shook his head. “But they don’t believe that, and they’ve got a lot of practice disbelieving what the government tells them. These are the same guys who picket soldiers’ funerals, y’know.”

Consuela cocked her head, watching the protesters some more. “But why do they hate ''us'' so much? What did we ever do to them?”

“It’s not us they hate, but what they think we represent,” James said. “This is the same crowd who thought that AIDS was God punishing the gay people. They look at all the trans-gender furs and think this is God punishing gays again. And y’know, it’s a nice little tautology from their point of view. ''They'' haven’t Changed yet, therefore they’re not the wicked ones. Therefore, anyone who ''does'' Change must have been secretly wicked after all.”

Consuela thought about that. “''Estupido. Muy tonto.'' I feel sorry for any Changed in their families.”

James nodded. “You said it. Of course, on the bright side, the problem will eventually take care of itself. And from some point of view, it could be funny as hell when one or two of that bunch down there eventually Changes and is then all surprised when his pals can’t see he’s just the same person he’s always been, and it’s all the ''other'' Changed who are the evil ones. That doesn’t help us right now, of course.” He looked again at the protesters, then checked his watch. “Hell. They should have knocked off for the day by now. Gina’s flight’s supposed to be landing now, which means she’ll be here in half an hour.”

“Your sister is coming here?” Consuela asked. “I thought she did not like you so much right now, since she learned you had been one of our guards.”

James rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I think she’s under some peer pressure from extremist Changees. Those highly-polarized, ‘us against them’ kooks that claim you shouldn’t trust anyone without fur. They don’t want to hear I’m the one who helped you escape. I was human and involved, therefore I should be shot. And since she’s my sister, she ends up having to try to distance herself from me on the boards, and it bleeds over into real life.” He shrugged. “At least, that’s what it looks like from the threads she’s been posting in.”

“So why is she coming here?” Consuela asked.

“She doesn’t have much choice,” James said. “The MSU dorms don’t open ‘til the fall semester starts in a couple of months, and she doesn’t really have anywhere else to live right now. I offered a room here for a couple months, and she pretty much had to take it.” He grinned faintly. “I’m kinda hoping that if ''you guys'' tell her how awesome I am, she might get it through her head to stop hating me.”

“You can count on me, ''amigo'',” Consuela said with a smile. “I will tell her of nothing but how heroic you were.”

James looked down, face coloring bright red. “You can just stick to the truth and it’ll be fine,” he mumbled.

“Oh, but I will be.” Consuela beamed at him. “You risked yourself shooting your fellow guards to make it safer for us. That is heroic to me.”

“I don’t ''feel'' especially heroic,” James said. “I should have figured out how to shut Melton down months before. But I just stood by while he scooped up more and more people. I feel like I could have ''died'' saving you and it still wouldn’t have put a dent in the debt.”

Consuela reached out and put an arm around his shoulders. “You are a hero to me. You are a ''good man. ''Do you know how rare that is in this world?”

“Keep telling me that and maybe someday I’ll believe it,” James said ruefully. “But right now, I guess I’d better give Gina a call and tell her to hold off on driving out just yet. She—”

He felt Consuela stiffen next to him. “It may be too late for that. Look!” She pointed.

“Huh?” James raised the binoculars to his eyes. “Oh hell.” A red convertible was driving up the road, with a black and tan German Shepherd girl at the wheel. “Her flight must have landed early. And she’s going to come right up by those protesters! I’d better get down—”

He broke off as Consuela vaulted over the railing beside him, grabbing a nearby gutter and sliding down it with an ear-splitting screech of claws on metal. James stared, swore, then turned and ran for the stairs. ''What does she think she’s doing? She’s ''pregnant,'' dammit!''

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Gina Case drove up the road that her GPS said led to the site of the Melton mansion, experiencing feelings of marked ambivalence. She was going to be staying at the site of what might be the most heinous crime ever perpetrated against the Changed. She might well tread the very same land where those Changed had paced out their durance vile. Hell, forget that, she was going to ''meet'' ten out of the original eleven of them.

But on the other hand, she was also going to have to see her brother again, and she wasn’t sure how to handle that. He had, after all, been one of the very security guards who had kept the Changed in their pen—a member of the SS to Hugh Melton’s Hitler. He might have been “only following orders,” but he’d stayed there for ''months'' without doing anything to put an end to the whole affair. His lack of opposition had been an effective ''approval'' of Melton’s regime! Or, at least, that was what all her friends on the Changed forums were saying.

But when you got right down to it, Gina was starting to wonder just how much of that was really true. After all, if James had been so heavily involved in keeping those Changed prisoner, why were they still having anything to do with him now that he was free? In fact, they’d hired him on as head of security for their resort start-up, which must have said something about how they felt about him.

(The more extremist forums were buzzing with accusations of “Stockholm syndrome” or downright blackmail, but Gina was having difficulty envisioning James as some kind of mustache-twirling villain. She could see him as a little feckless, maybe, but not downright ''amoral''.)

Either way, she would soon have the opportunity to quiz the kidnap victims in person. She resolved to leave no stone unturned when it came to the question of how evil her brother was or was not. One way or another, she was going to get some answers.

Gina rounded the last corner and came up on the stretch of road that led by the mansion. She could see the start of the 15-foot walls just ahead. Then she caught sight of the people standing across from the walls, and their signs and placards and angry expressions. “Oh…crud. ''These ''guys.” Gina had read on the forums about similar, if largely isolated, protests in other bubbles. Although most people seemed to be taking the Change revelation well, there were still the occasional fruitcakes who fell outside of those tolerances.

Gina cast wildly about for somewhere she could pull in and turn around, but there were no real shoulders on the road. And the protesters had already seen her coming and were moving out to block the road ahead. Gina’s ears flipped back and she whined a little as the road ran out ahead of her and she finally had to pull to a halt or run over a protester.

The protesters’ leader was in his late thirties or early forties with several days of stubble, wearing jeans and a ratty T-shirt. He carried a sign that read “GOD HATES FANGS!” “Well, what have we here?” he called out to the others. “Looks like another one of those furry freaks who thinks she’s a real person! We don’t want your kind here, bitch!”

Gina whimpered a little, even as part of her noted the irony that the epithet was, technically, accurate. “Please get out of my way,” she said.

“You hear that, boys? ‘Please’? Nobody told you to sit up and beg!” His followers laughed as if they thought he’d just made the funniest joke in the world. “In fact, I think it might be better if you just played dea—ACK!”

The man broke off as Gina calmly lifted the can of pepper spray she kept in the door’s map compartment and sprayed him in the face with it. “I did say please,” she said, with a calmness that belied her racing heart.

The protester rocked back, rubbing at his eyes. “Ow! You ''bitch!'' I can’t believe you did that! Oh, you’re gonna ''pay'' for that!” He took a grip on his sign and raised it over his head. Up the street, Gina saw a policeman starting forward, hand on his holster. She wondered if he would make it in time.

Then a feline scream split the air as a black-furred arm slashed at the sign, knocking it out of the man’s hands. A black jaguar landed at a crouch by the car, in front of the man, growling her defiance as she gazed up at him from bright amber eyes. The protester stared in shock, and rather quickly backed off, followed by the others.

The jaguar rose from her crouch, still glowering at the man. Then she turned to Gina and smiled. “I beg your pardon, ''señorita''. I am Maria Luisa Consuela Cazador y de la Selva, but you may call me Consuela. I came to tell you the gate is open, so please drive inside.” She nodded back over her shoulder, at the wide-open security gate in the fifteen-foot wall. An un-Changed human figure was just running through it, panting as he slowed down. Oh—it was James! He looked quite smart in the dark blue security guard’s uniform—and quite angry at the men on the other side of the road.

“Gina—are you okay?” James called out. He arrived just at the same time as the police officer, who still had his hand on his holster. James glared at him. “So where the hell were ''you'' just now, huh?”

“I’m ''fine,'' James,” Gina said, overcoming her annoyance with him to show a united front before the ''real'' foes. “Thanks to Consuela here. I’ll see you inside.” She pulled forward and turned into the gate. But curiosity got the better of her and she pulled off the path, parked the car, and ran back to peep around the corner of the gate to see what happened next.

James was saying something to Consuela. “—were you ''thinking?'' You’re ''pregnant!'' What if something happened to the baby!” Gina’s eyes widened. Now that he mentioned it, she could make out the slight bulge in Consuela’s belly.

But Consuela just smiled. “Do not be worried,” she said. “A little exercise is good for a pregnant woman.”

“You freaks!” the protest leader said, glaring at them. “I’ll press charges for assault against you ''and'' that bitch!”

James crossed his arms. “If you want to, go right ahead,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. Gina shivered, thinking despite herself that he’d make a great German Shepherd. He certainly had the growl and the steely gaze down perfectly. “We’ll press them right back. We saw you threatening my sister.” He turned the gaze on the cop. “''Didn’t'' we?”

The police officer glanced nervously at Consuela—his hand was still on his gun—but he nodded only a little shakily. “I did, and my report will mention it.”

James turned his attention back to the protester. “And I think our lawyers are going to be a bit better than any ''you'' can afford.”

“That furry freak is your ''sister?''” the man said. “I guess it figures you’d have one of them in your family.”

“Sneer while you can,” James said. “Sooner or later there’ll be one in ''your'' family, too. Might even be you. C’mon, Consuela, let’s get back inside.” He nodded to the cop, and the pair of them walked back toward the gate.

Behind them, the protester plucked up his courage to come back and retrieve his sign. As he picked it up, the right half of the placard dropped off, sheared through by Consuela’s claws. What was left of the sign attached to the stick now read “GOD FAN”. Gina giggled and slipped back to her car, where she was waiting when the others came inside.

James stopped by the gate to throw the switch to shut it again, then he and Consuela came over to Gina. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Gina said, in more of a growl now that they were alone. “What ''was'' that?”

“Our own friendly neighborhood whack-jobs,” James said. “I’m sorry about that. If I’d known your flight got in early, I’d have told you to hold off coming until they cleared out. Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t feel like talking yet,” Gina said. “I’m still trying to decide just how much I hate you for what you did for Melton.”

James rolled his eyes. “Gina, I’ve tried to tell you, I only played along until I could find a chance to help them break out. If I’d called the cops, Melton would have found out about it ahead of time and just moved everyone to another location.”

Gina sniffed. “So you say.” She found she was ''wanting'' to believe him, especially given how concerned he had been about Consuela, but she still didn’t know for sure yet.

“So I say, too,” Consuela said, coming up beside them. “Your brother ''es muy bravo''. Had it not been for him, we might have been hurt badly. Do you know, he took out half the guards himself?”

Gina blinked at her. “You were…one of the Eleven?” She did remember a dark cat-Changed in the group photos, come to think of it, but the press coverage had mainly focused on Tiffany and the pregnant sheep.

“I was. Trust me when I say to you—your brother was a big help in freeing us. Everyone will tell you so.” Consuela nodded emphatically.

“Oh.” Gina glanced at James. “I guess…I may owe you an apology.” The way Consuela’s praise had set James to blushing fiercely did tend to lend it a certain suggestion of accuracy.

James shrugged. “It’s a mistake anyone could make. C’mon, let’s get up to the house. We’ve got your room all ready.”

Gina nodded to her car. “Climb in, I’ll drive you on up.” The two Changed and one human clambered into the convertible, and Gina drove up toward the mansion. She’d already gotten one shock to her preconceptions, Gina reflected. She wondered what else might await her when they got there.

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James left Gina to get settled into her room in the staff wing of the mansion—the section where all the furres had small apartments except for Leo and Helena, who’d turned Melton’s old master bedroom into an apartment for two. He headed back up the stairs to the tower balcony, and picked up his binoculars again. There was a police car parked in front of the gate now, and a couple more officers discussing things with the group of protesters, who seemed notably more subdued. They weren’t waving their signs or shouting slogans at the moment, at least.

“Do you think they will give up and go home now?” Consuela asked from right behind his left ear.

“GAH!” James said, nearly dropping the binoculars again. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“''Lo siento! ''I am sorry!” Consuela said, raising her hands. “I did not think. I will try to stop frightening you.”

“I’m not ''frightened,''” James said. “Just startled within an inch of my life. You’re so ''quiet'' all the time!”

“It is only how I am. It is hard to change.” Consuela leaned against the balcony and glanced down at the police cars. “Do you think there will be trouble from this?”

“I don’t know,” James said, peering through the binoculars again. “Theoretically, they ''could'' charge both you and Gina with assault, with the pepper spray and hitting the sign. Though I would think any judge in his right mind would throw that out as self-defense after thinking about it for just a few seconds.”

“I hope you are right.”

“I never really got the chance to thank you,” James said. “If you hadn’t gotten there so fast, Gina could have been hurt. I’m really grateful.”

Consuela smiled. She glanced over at the drain pipe she’d slid down, which was now scratched and slightly twisted all the way to the ground. “''De nada.'' I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I hope you won’t take it the wrong way if I say I hope you won’t have to.” James shook his head. “This sort of thing just shouldn’t happen. I’m going to talk to Trixie and Helena about hiring on some additional security folks—furres and humans both. We’d need them anyway when we opened up, so might as well get them in place and training now.”

“That could be a good idea,” Consuela said.

James nodded. “Anyway, I guess I should stay and keep an eye on things for now.”

“Then I will stay, too,” Consuela said. “For a little longer, at least.” She came over to lean against the balcony next to James. James was conscious of the warmth of her body and the musky smell that her Changed body naturally produced. He’d actually started to find it rather pleasant. And he couldn’t deny she was pleasant to look at, too. She had a well-toned, lithe body that was muscular without being grotesque, and she believed in concealing it under as few clothes as possible. Alone of all the others, she often still went entirely nude while within the mansion grounds. She wasn’t nude now, but the black shorts and halter-top sports bra she had on left very little to the imagination.

They watched the protesters in silence for a while, he with his binoculars and she with probably almost as good vision without them. Then Consuela spoke, more quietly. “James? I have something I would like to tell you. It may make you laugh. I hope it does not.”

She sounded serious. James lowered the binoculars and looked over at her. “What’s that, Consuela?”

The jaguar looked down, seemingly reluctant for once to meet his gaze. “I have been…watching you, over the last couple of months.”

“Not really any surprise there,” James said. “I’m pretty sure you all have. Even though I helped you bust out, I’m still the outsider here. I didn’t go through all the things you all did.”

Consuela shook her head. “No, no, it is not that. I mean that ''I'' have been watching you. For something else.” Her eyes flicked up once or twice to meet his, through her thick black eyelashes. “I am a selfish ''gato''. I have always believed in looking out for myself. Planning to make things easy for me.”

“I don’t know if I’d really call you ''selfish'',” James said. “You’ve helped the rest of us a lot. Like just now, when you rescued my sister.”

“I help my friends ''too'',” Consuela said. “But I also help myself.” She glanced out at the protesters again, then back down at the balcony railing. “I was planning to seduce you.”

“You were ''what?''” This time, James ''did'' drop the binoculars. Consuela absent-mindedly reached out and caught them before they could hit the railing.

Consuela bit her lip. “I need a mate.” She toyed with the strap on the binoculars. “I thought I was strong enough to make it on my own, but since my body has started to change from this pregnancy, it makes me worry what it will be like when it is further along.” She smiled ruefully. “I can be strong if I need to be, but I would like someone to pamper me sometimes if I feel like being pampered. And Leo…it would not be fair to ask him for that since he belongs to another.”

“And you wanted ''me?''” James asked.

Consuela shrugged. “It was a calculation at first—you are young, attractive, and not yet claimed, and you already know all our secrets. I was going to seduce you, claim you, and make you mine.” She smiled again. “I could have done it, too.”

“I think you’re right,” James said. “I have to admit I’ve been…attracted to you.” More than that, he’d fantasized about her. She ''was'' gorgeous—and also exotic, dark, and dangerous, all elements with more than slight appeal. But he’d never once thought of actually approaching her—how was that going to look coming from one of the creepy guards who’d watched her cavort naked all those months? “So…why aren’t you?”

“Because I came to know you, and to respect and admire you,” Consuela said. “It is as I told you before. You are a ''good man,'' and those are ''muy raros. ''I like being around you, and I respect you too much to treat you as just a conquest.” Then she grinned at him. “And I ''am'' attracted to you. So now…instead of trying to ''take'' you…I come to ask if you would like to have me, instead.”

James swallowed. “To…''have'' you?”

“I am very affordable. I do my own hunting, so I do not cost much to feed.” She winked at him.

“And of course I’d still have to pamper you when you felt like it,” James said.

Why had he never noticed that she dimpled when she smiled? “Of course. That is what you do with a pet, is it not?”

“But since you’d be a pet ''cat, you’d'' just end up owning ''me'' anyway,” James pointed out.

Did she actually ''giggle?'' “This is true.”

“This ''is'' a little sudden,” James pointed out. “Maybe we should just start by…hmm…dinner, tonight?”

Consuela actually purred. He felt the vibrations through the railing they were both leaning against. “That is…acceptable. In town, then? You will drive?”

“Yeah. 7 work for you?”

Consuela nodded. “I will be ready.” She got back to her feet. “Thank you for not laughing.”

James smiled. “I make it a policy never to laugh at someone whose claws are sharper than mine.”

Consuela laughed. “A most wise policy. I will see you then.” She handed him back the binoculars and turned to go.

“I’ll look forward to it.” James turned to watch Consuela pad gracefully off of the balcony and down the stairs, leaving him alone with his thoughts. “…huh.” He turned back to watch the protesters, though had a hard time concentrating for a while.

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Gina took the last of her clothing out of her suitcase and put it in the chest of drawers. There—she was unpacked. She closed her suitcase, then looked around the room. It wasn’t bad at all, really. It was about the size of an ordinary studio apartment, and reasonably well furnished—nothing fancy, but sturdy and well-crafted bed, dresser, chest of drawers, desk, and a couple of chairs. She gathered that this had originally been the servants’ wing, though the current Melton hadn’t had much in the way of servants. Stood to reason, Gina supposed. The more people were around, the more likely someone would have been to notice the animal pit full of ''naked people''.

Out of curiosity, Gina pulled open one of the drawers in the dresser and looked inside. She chuckled to find a lint brush, still in the original packaging. She glanced at herself in the mirror—a black and tan German Shepherd with a human body shape, wearing shorts and a T-shirt over her natural fur. “Oh, yeah, that’s exactly what I need to keep that annoying pet hair off my clothing.” She flopped back on the bed and lay on her back, hands behind her head, tail sticking down between her legs. She stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

The preconceived notion she’d come with, that James had been a part of the regime that held eleven Changed prisoner, had taken a jolt from what Consuela had said, but after thinking about it Gina wasn’t quite ready to give it up just yet. After all, she was only one furre, and she ''could'' have been mistaken in what she saw. She’d have to talk to some of the others and see what they said. Gina sighed. She ''wanted'' to believe the best about her brother, but she’d already gotten flamed on the forums when she’d been foolish enough to admit she was his sister. She didn’t want to stick her neck out again without absolute proof.

“Knock knock!” said a friendly voice at the door. Gina glanced over to see a vixen in a dress standing there, fluffy tail wagging. “I’m Trixie Jacques. I allegedly run this insane asylum. I heard you got in and thought I’d stop by to say hello.”

“Oh, hi!” Gina sat up. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Gina Case.”

“I know. Your brother told us all about you. Mind if I come in?”

“Go ahead, it’s your asylum.” Gina recognized Trixie from the group photos and some of the interviews she’d given. She was another one of the Eleven, and this might be another good chance to get some answers.

Trixie chuckled. “Thanks.” She pulled up one of the chairs and straddled it backward, resting her arms on the top of the seat back. “What do you think of the place so far?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen much of it except the driveway up. And the jerks out front.” She lifted her lip in a slight snarl.

“Ah, yes, them.” Trixie rolled her eyes. “At least that’s a problem that will ''eventually'' take care of itself.”

“I did see some places where it looks like statues have been removed?” Gina asked.

Trixie nodded. “You’re not missing much. Hugh didn’t really have a whole lot of taste in decorating. About the best that could be said for them is that other people with just as little taste were willing to pay more for them now than Hugh did when he first bought them. So we made a little profit, and also cleared the space for other uses.”

“Can I—will I be able to see the place where he kept…um…you?” Gina asked.

“It doesn’t really exist anymore, as such,” Trixie said. “We filled the place in and built cottages on top of it. We were tempted to keep it as a tourist attraction, but decided in the end there were too many bad memories there.”

“Oh, I see,” Gina said.

Trixie smiled. “We do still have one of the enclosures where he kept his big cats, though, and it’s pretty similar. I can show you later, if you want.”

Gina couldn’t contain herself any longer. “Is it…is it true that my brother actually ''helped'' you escape?”

“Not only did he help us escape, he helped keep our morale up while we were imprisoned, by sneaking in some books for us to read to help pass the time,” Trixie said. “You shouldn’t believe all the crap you read on the Changed forums. Most of those people don’t know what they’re talking about.” Her tail swished back and forth emphatically.

Gina blinked. “He…he did?”

“Yeah. And he told us about you, too. Said that a big reason he was trying to keep a low profile while he figured out how to help us was that he was worried what might happen if Melton found out about you.”

“Oh.” Gina felt herself blushing under her fur. “I guess I’ve really been an idiot.”

“It’s no big,” Trixie said. “We’ve all done some dumb things in our time. Some of them a lot dumber than others.” She looked distant for a moment, then shook her head. “Anyway, the important thing is what you do now that you know the truth.”

“I think I’d probably better go find James and apologize, for starters,” Gina said. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“Sure, I’ll show you the way.” Trixie led Gina out of the room.

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At ten ‘til 7 that evening, James was waiting in his car, a slightly battered 2001 Nissan Altima, in a good mood for reasons apart from his impending date. After a talk with Trixie, his sister had come up to the tower to apologize to him, and ask him to tell her the whole story of Melton’s imprisonment of the Changed, and his participation in it. And so he had, giving her a fairly complete recounting up until the escape. After they’d gotten free, he said, they came up to Melton’s office to find him gone, and called the police and the paramedics.

He hadn’t mentioned Helena. After Leo had married her, they’d all agreed to keep her origin a secret, given that kidnapping didn’t have a statute of limitations. It wouldn’t do anybody any good if the whole sordid story of her imprisonment came out and she got arrested for the original kidnapping—and then ''they'' got arrested for imprisoning ''her.'' As far as anyone knew, she would just be another Changed they met after getting free.

In fact, given how obsessed Gina seemed to be with the imprisonment and events surrounding it, James had suggested to all the others (and they had agreed) that it would be a good idea to get into the habit of referring to Helena by the name on her marriage license, “Helga,” to try to keep her from getting suspicious at the “coincidental” similarity to Hugh Melton’s gender-change name. (James still thought it was risky even having a name ''close to'' Helena, but at the time she’d chosen it Helena had wanted to pick something easy to cover with if someone slipped.)

Gina seemed to be satisfied with the story, and relations between them had gotten a lot more cordial. There was still a little residual awkwardness, but it would probably fade with time. James was looking forward to having Gina around the next couple of months.

But more immediately, he was looking forward to the date tonight. Exactly at 7:00, Consuela came down the stairs wearing what was, for her, an unusual amount of clothing—a light grey dress that James remembered having seen Helena in before. They were about the same size, so it made sense Consuela would have borrowed an outfit from her if she’d needed it on short notice. Consuela climbed into the car and buckled her seat belt.

“So where would you like to go?” James asked.

Consuela smiled at him. “You will laugh, but…Taco Bell.”

James didn’t laugh, but he did blink. “Taco Bell? Why? If you want Mexican food, we can go to La Iguana—I can certainly afford it.”

“No, it is not that I want Mexican food,” Consuela said. “I want…''fake'' Mexican food. I cannot explain it, but I have ''una adicción.'' An addiction.”

“Is this a pregnancy craving?” James grinned.

“I would say it might be, but I have always liked the stuff.” Consuela chuckled. “It is just so…''fake''. Not even a little bit real. It is like the Disneyland of food.”

“Then I guess we’re going to Disneyland.” James started the car and pulled out of the drive. As they pulled out the gate, James glanced around for any sign of the protesters, but they were long gone.

“Good riddance,” Consuela said.

“They’ll be back,” James said. “But not tonight.” He turned toward downtown Branson and stepped on the gas.

As they navigated the curvy Ozark road into town, Consuela glanced over at him. “I am curious. How did you end up working for a man like Melton?”

“Not much to tell, really,” James said. “Couldn’t find a job in my degree, ended up working full-time for a security firm I’d been at part-time during school. I was one of their better rent-a-cops, so when Melton was looking for someone to fill a vacancy, I was at the top of the list.”

“But how is it that you became one of our guards? It is hard to imagine anyone could mistake you for the kind who could tolerate injustice.”

“Well, you’d probably have to ask Helena about that,” James said. “I’m not ''entirely'' sure myself. I know that at the time I was really worried about paying off my student loan debts, and had let it drop from time to time that I would be up for any little ‘extra’ jobs that would pay more. And I think there’s a tendency among bad people to assume other people are just as bad as they are. So one day they tell me about a really high-paying secret job, that was only open to ''really trusted'' people.”

James paused for a moment to navigate the turn onto Highway 76, Branson’s busy central thoroughfare. “This was after Gina had Changed and forcibly broken the Veil on me so I wouldn’t think she was crazy. So the other guards show me this camera feed of the animal pit and they me what I think.”

“That must have been a shock,” Consuela said.

He chuckled. “You said it. I’m ''utterly ''shocked, and I’m just about to say ''exactly'' what I think—but right after I open my mouth it hits me that ''they’re'' not freaked out like they’re looking at human animals. They’re ''leering'' like they’re looking at naked ''people''. And I remember that I’m not ''supposed'' to be able to see fuzzy people, so it might be a bad sign to let on. So I say, ‘A…bunch of naked people? What is this, some kind of weird porno channel?’ And they explain what’s going on, and I’m thankful for the acting classes I took at school.

“My first impulse is to call the cops, but I bite down on it for a little bit as I still don’t know ''exactly'' what’s going on and I want to be dead sure before I do anything. Because by now I know what kind of people these are, and how rich Melton is, and if they ever start thinking I’m not one of them, there might just be ways I could quietly disappear.

“So I’m all, ‘How much does it pay?’ and I didn’t have to fake my astonishment at the amount. So I’m like, ‘Sounds good to me.’ And they’re all relieved, I guess because now they didn’t have to kill me.” James shivered. “I don’t ever want to be there again.”

Consuela reached over to pat his arm. “We are ''all'' well out of that situation.”

“It’s really weird, you know? In a way, it’s sort of like Melton really wasn’t as bad of a person as the people he hired to work for him. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to forgive him—her. He just had this funny idea in his head that he was catching pretty animals for his own private little zoo. Totally off his rocker—Helena admits it—but at least he just wanted to look, not jerk off. But you have to wonder about the sort of guards who patrol and keep an eye on a pit full of what as far as they know are just naked ''humans.''”

Consuela nodded. “''Muy malo. ''But they are all behind bars now. For a long, long time.”

James nodded. “And I would be too, if you all hadn’t spoken up for me. I owe you all ''big'' for that.”

“Not as ‘big’ as we owe you for helping us to break out,” Consuela said. “As far as I am concerned, we are still in your debt.”

“I’d rather just call it even, if it’s all the same to you.” James grinned. “Anyway, the rest you know. When I could get away with it, I’d slip in little things like those books. Just a way of letting you know ''someone'' out there could see you and was trying to figure out what the ''hell'' to do. And we’re here.”

James turned into the parking lot of the Taco Bell, pulled into a parking spot, and killed the engine. As Consuela reached for the door, James held up his hand. “Hang on, wait a sec.” He climbed out, then came around to the passenger side, opened the door, and offered Consuela a hand out.

“''Gracias, señor,''” Consuela purred, accepting the hand and letting him help pull her to her feet. “Although I am not ''quite'' so far gone yet that I cannot stand up for myself.” She smiled to remove the sting from the words.

James grinned. “I’m just an old-fashioned kind of guy, I’m afraid.”

Consuela took advantage of the grip she still had on his hand to pull him into a hug. “I know. It is what I like about you,” she whispered in his ear before letting him go.

“Er…yes,” James said, momentarily nonplussed.

“Come along!” Consuela called cheerfully, prowling toward the restaurant. “I hear a taco calling my name!”

“Right!” James hastened to overtake her, then hold the outer door for her to enter. She smiled at him, then held the next door for him to precede her. A couple of minutes later, they were ensconced in a booth with their food.

As it happened, Consuela was the only Changed in the restaurant at the moment, and a number of the still-human patrons were eying her nervously. For all that more Changed had started showing up in recent months, drawn by the bubble, many of the city’s residents were still uncertain what to make of their new anthropomorphic neighbors—especially the dangerous-looking ones like the big cats.

Though the younger ones didn’t seem to have much problem with them. “Look, Mommy!” one little girl yelled excitedly, before her mother hastily shushed her. “A giant kitty!” Consuela chuckled and waved to the little girl before returning her attention to her food.

And so they ate. James nibbled on a burrito supreme while watching Consuela crunch her way with gusto through a 12-taco basket. The dessicated corpses of a couple of dozen Taco Bell fire sauce packets littered the table, their quirkily offbeat fortune-cookie slogans going unheeded.

“Are you ''sure'' you do your own hunting?” James asked.

Consuela smiled at him, licking taco sauce off of one finger. “These are probably ''terribly'' bad for me, and I have heard nasty stories about the way Taco Bell beef is made, but they are still so tasty! And so ''completely'' unlike any ''real'' food I have ever had. Not to say that the real food is ''bad,'' but I have had it so often it is nice to have something so different.”

“I guess Taco Bell ''is'' just about as different as you can get from the ‘real thing’,” James said. “So how did ''you'' end up here? I mean, I know they kidnapped you from MSU in Springfield, but what were you doing there?”

“Studying agriculture,” Consuela said. “I come from a small, poor village, where there is no real agriculture any more—only coca. I qualified for a United Nations study-abroad program, where I was supposed to learn to farm here, then go back there and teach what I have learned to help my people break free of the drug lords. Of course, I was dropped from the program when I disappeared from school. And my student visa expired while I was in Melton’s pen. It is a good thing we had money for lawyers.”

“So what are you going to do now? Finish school and go back?”

“I want to do that someday—but if I am to have a child, I want to raise it here. There is better medical care, no cartel gangsters, and less superstition. I am still worried what ''mamá ''will think when she sees what I have become, let alone that I am a single ''mamá'' myself.” She looked down at one of her hand-paws, flexing it to show and hide the claws.

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing, being what you are.” James chuckled at her. “I have to keep telling myself that, because I’m ''positive'' it’s going to be my turn this year.”

“You think so?”

“I ''know'' so. I’ve spent so much time around all of you that I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already.” He looked down at his hands, marveling that they were still fur-free. “And with my luck, I’ll probably end up flipping gender, too.” He chuckled. “That might put a little kink in your seduction plans.”

“If I spent all my time worrying about what ''might'' happen, I would never do anything,” Consuela said. “I think you would make a good stepfather to my child. But if necessary you would make a good godmother instead. We will worry about what happens later, later.”

James blushed. “It’s a little too soon to be saying words like ‘stepfather,’ don’t you think? This is only our first date.”

Consuela smiled. “I am sorry—I do not mean to frighten you. But ''my'' mind is already made up. I am only trying to convince yours.”

“I’m not ''frightened,''” James insisted. “Well…maybe a little intimidated. But you don’t see me running.” He grinned shakily. “To be honest, I’m really attracted to you myself. I just feel like it’s not a good idea to rush into anything.”

Consuela munched on another taco. “Good. If we like each other already, we can work out any little problems.”

James took another bite of his burrito and nodded his agreement. Though he wasn’t so sure she was backing down quite as complacently as she seemed. More like she was making a tactical retreat to set a snare somewhere down the line. She ''was'' a master huntress, after all.

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And she waited to spring the trap until they were back at the mansion. After James had parked the car and helped Consuela out again, she took his hand and led him out away from the mansion, to where they could see the stars more clearly. Then she took him into her arms and, to his surprise, kissed him gently on the mouth. “Mmm.” James said. Then as she deepened the kiss, “MMM!” But then he gave back as good as he got, feeling his smooth tongue pushing back against her bristly one. Consuela began to purr, and he felt the vibrations conducted skin to skin into his own body.

They stood there in each other’s arms for a while, enjoying each other’s mutual warmth and staring up at the sky. Then Consuela whispered, “Would you like to come back to my room with me? Or could I come to yours?”

“But—you’re pregnant,” James pointed out.

“So you do not have to worry about making me so again,” Consuela said.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“There are things we can do safely, if we’re careful.” Consuela said. “I have read about it.”

“I don’t know…I still think it’s too soon.”

“I like you…you like me. What is the problem?” Consuela asked philosophically.

“It’s just so sudden…I need a little time to get used to the idea,” James said. He realized it even sounded like an excuse to ''him,'' and immediately wished he could take it back.

But Consuela did not seem disappointed. She loosened her embrace and stepped away. She was only visible as a dim outline in the night with luminous amber eyes, and James was reminded of the lyrics ''Rhiannon moves like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness.''

“Very well,” Consuela said. “I have waited months already. I can wait a little longer.” She smiled at him, and now her white teeth were also visible in the night. “Good night, James. I will see you tomorrow.” And then she was gone.

James stood there for a moment, shaking his head bemusedly and coming to terms with the fact that part of him—a small but very insistent part—wished he’d given Consuela another answer. Then he followed Consuela’s general direction back to the mansion.

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At ten a.m. the next day, Gina Case sat in her guest room with her laptop on the desk, tapping away on her Furgonomics-designed Logitech PawsPlus wireless keyboard. After her talk with Trixie the day before, she had realized just how much she had let the web forums color her thinking about the Melton affair, and had resolved to inform herself fully before venturing out of her room to meet the others. She currently had the ''60 Minutes'' segment on Youtube paused in one tab while she Googled some references in another.

At the moment, the frame was paused on a still of the enigmatic “Helena” Melton. It was the photo-op shot with badger-Changed congressman Sandrick, who stood there with a grin on his snout completely unaware he was consorting with a serial kidnapper.

There had been a minor scandal when it came out just how much Melton had contributed to Sandrick’s campaign war chest, and the congressman had very publicly donated that same amount to a number of pro-Changed charities. Gina wondered whether Melton had been planning to kidnap Sandrick, eventually, as well. Did the badger have any idea just how close he had come?

Gina shifted her gaze to Melton herself. She looked so innocent—a grinning woman in a fancy gown, her brown hair loose down her shoulders behind her. Except she hadn’t been, at the time—either innocent or, as it happened, a woman. Back then she had still been Hugh Melton, a man in a fancy suit according to those who had seen the photo before. The photo change was just another little trick of the “reality virus,” as some had started calling it, that edited any gender-Changed’s recorded backstory to conform to the new reality.

So, although Melton had been a man up until just a few months ago, right before the eleven Changed prisoners had escaped, no photos of the male him existed anymore, anywhere in the world. The only likenesses that could be produced of his old self were drawings from memory, Identikit-style representations, or Photoshop manipulations, all three of which had been used on the ''60 Minutes ''segment. Such things were becoming more and more common these days as TGs sought after some way to remember the people they’d once been.

It was all so weird, Gina reflected, as she had more than once. Why did the reality virus backfill gender, but not species? Why weren’t the Changed uniformly ''furry'' in those pictures as well as gender-flipped? Was it because the Veil kept people from seeing them as furry but didn’t work as well against matters of gender? When the Veil came down completely, would people get photo-edited to be furry as well as TG?

But the thing that really freaked Gina out about the photo of Melton when she thought about it was that, unless Melton had been one of those extremely rare separate-shift cases like Richard Sobel from the ''Boston Globe,'' the photo was of a person who had literally ''never'' existed, save as a superimposed ghost image that she herself couldn’t even see—because Melton had become an animal-person of some sort at the same time she’d become female.

Whatever she was now, Helena Melton was Changed, and could only be seen as that brown-haired woman by a “mundane” outside a bubble. If she was within a bubble and stayed there, nobody would ever have the chance to recognize her. It was the ultimate disguise.

And she’d get off scot-free.

It really aggravated Gina that the perpetrator of the greatest crime against Changed-kind in recent history should get away with it. She felt with all the fiery fervor of a recent convert that Justice Must Be Done. If only there were some way to find Helena out!

Gina sighed, and paged down the ''New York Times'' article that she’d just found with Google. At least she was learning more about her brother’s role in events thanks to these pieces. He hadn’t been very talkative about his own role in the escape, but the others had described in great detail how he had taken out two of his fellow guards with a tranquilizer rifle, then lured the others into a trap—at the risk of being shot himself. She guessed he’d been too modest to say anything about it.

Gina finished the article and closed the laptop. She didn’t know what she was going to say next time she posted to the forums. Probably start a one-doggie flamewar in support of her brother, which might not be the most productive use of her time overall. Maybe she should just find a new forum, with fewer idiots. “Oh yeah, like those exist anywhere,” she muttered.

She stood and stretched, a shiver working its way down from the tips of her ears to the tip of her tail. She went to her dresser and pulled on shorts, T-shirt, and paw-shoes, checked her hair, grabbed her purse, then went downstairs to rustle up some breakfast.

After taking a couple of wrong turns, Gina found her way into the kitchen, where due to the relative lateness of the hour only a couple of people were still sitting at a side table eating breakfast sandwiches—a male lion and a female cougar. The lion waved. “Morning, stranger! You must be Gina.” He grinned. “Hey, you ''are'' cute!”

The cougress rolled her eyes. “''Leo…''”

“Sorry, hon! It’s just that I’d been wondering ever since I first heard about her, back when we were breaking out of the pit, whether she was cute or not. So it’s nice to find out at last.” He winked. “Of course, it’s too late for me to do anything about it ''now…''” He held up one handpaw, on one finger of which a gold wedding band glinted.

“And you’re Leo Nelson!” Gina said, recognizing him from the video she’d just been watching. “And I’d heard ''you ''were something of a Casanova.” She grinned back, tongue lolling. “But I hadn’t heard you were ''married.''”

“Just happened a few weeks ago.” Leo nodded to the cougress. “This is my wife, Hele—”

“''Helga,''” the cougress interrupted, casting a meaningful glance at the lion. “Helga Nelson, pleased to meet you.”

Gina took the proffered handpaw, but her ears pricked a bit. “Helga” was it? Gina could have sworn Leo had been about to say something else. “Uh, pleased to meet you, too,” Gina said, giving the cougress another look.

Helga was quite well-built, a little slim but very curvy in the bust in a way that made Gina feel a little inadequate, with brown hair worn loose down her shoulders. She wore a pleated pink skirt, a yellow blouse, and a friendly expression. Gina couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she’d seen this Changed somewhere before, but where? She didn’t ''know'' any cougresses.

“It’s the cook’s day off, so it’s make-your-own-breakfast day,” Leo said. “Or if you’re not the best cook, I can make it for you, no trouble.”

“I’m decent at eggs and bacon,” Gina said. “Just need to know where everything is.”

“Sure, I’ll show you.”

“Just be sure that’s ''all'' you show her,” Helga said mildly, though the grin belied her sardonic tone.

“Geez, a man just philanders a ''little bit'' and it’s like he’s got a reputation or something.” Leo grinned back. It was obviously a running joke between them.

As Gina cracked the eggs and scrambled them, she glanced back at the two sitting at their table. “How’d you two meet?” she asked.

“Oh, I caught her eye about a year or so ago,” Leo said. “Little bit before Melton got me. Then I found her again after I got out.”

“That’s certainly…romantic,” Gina said, putting bacon in to fry. Something about his delivery bothered her. It was off just a little, like he was somehow shading the truth. But it might just have been her appetite making her suspicious.

“It took a little while for him to get me to come to my senses,” Helga said with a smile. “But he finally convinced me to elope to Vegas to get married.”

“Wow, that really ''is'' romantic,” Gina said, impressed despite herself. She slid the eggs and bacon off onto a plate.

“And here we are,” Leo said. “Helga’s doing our accounting now, and I’m going to be a tour guide. We’re gonna help make this place awesome, together.”

“I see,” Gina said. She carried her breakfast to a nearby table and sat down.

“So how do you like the place so far?” Leo asked.

“I haven’t seen much of it—James is going to show me around today,” Gina said. “But what I ''have'' seen looks good!”

Leo nodded. “If you want my extra special ''private'' tour—”

“Leo!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Leo leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek.

She purred. “I know. But I’ve got a reputation as a lion-tamer to uphold. Don’t make me go get my whip.”

Gina giggled, as she simply couldn’t imagine Helga with a whip. Whatever it was she found weird about the two, it ''was'' clear that they loved each other very much. They continued their gentle jousting as Gina finished breakfast and headed back to her room to check her email and then find James for the tour.

When Gina got back to her room and flipped open the laptop, the first thing she saw was the YouTube video, still frozen on the still of Helena and Sandrick. She reached up to change the tab, then paused, thoughtfully. Helena Melton’s hairstyle was exactly the same as “Helga’s”. And something about the eyes…

Gina stared for a moment, then shook her head. Eh. Plenty of people had long brown hair and brown eyes. She was just jumping at shadows. Still… “Hele—Helga”?

Gina tabled the thought for later and went off in search of James.

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“And this is the one habitat that we decided not to fill in, and keep as an example for the tourists. It’s only about half as big as the one the Eleven were kept in, but it’s basically the same other than that.”

Gina stood at the railing and looked down into it. “That bastard,” she growled. “When I think how he—''she''—got away right before they escaped…”

“Heh, yeah,” James said. “It’s kind of frustrating. But mostly I think the others would rather just focus on trying to put it all behind them instead of fret about taking an eye for an eye.” He turned and looked straight into Gina’s eyes. “In fact—don’t take this the wrong way, but I really hope they don’t find her. For ''your ''sake.”

“For ''my'' sake?” Gina asked. “But I want to see her brought to justice for what she did!”

“I meant the plural ‘you’, as in all Changed everywhere.” James shook his head. “Have you thought about what would have happened if they had found her, or if they find her now? The trial would probably still be going on. It would probably continue right into the election year. It would be the dog, pony, fox, bear, wolf, bobcat, and who knows what else show of the decade, and would completely overshadow everything that Changed activists are trying to accomplish.

“On the one hand, it would be all, ‘Oh, look at the poor Changed, locked up by the nasty man who thought they were animals.’ But on the other hand it would be ‘Look at that evil woman who used to be a nasty man! What a ''freak!''’ It would be like a two-for-the-price-of-one deal: you get to be seen as both victims ''and'' freaks.

“And it would be on the news every time you turn around so nobody would ever forget it. So these few years, the crucial first few years that are going to decide how the whole world looks at you people, would be dominated by this show-trial that would completely drown out the voices of reason and moderation trying to convince everyone that Changed are ''people ''before anything else.”

“Oh.” Gina thought about that for a moment. “Guess I hadn’t thought about it that way. I’m surprised you have. You’re a human, after all.”

“You’re a human, too, Gina,” James said.

Gina rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do, but it’s a bad habit to get into. Anyway, that’s the whole point, really. I’ve been around so many Changed so much this past year, I’m positive my number’s going to be up this August. So I’m enjoying being fur-free while I still can, and thinking about what the world’s going to be like when I’m not. I don’t want people thinking ''I’m'' a victim or a freak when I’m one of you.”

Gina punched him playfully on the shoulder. “You’ve always been a freak, James. That’ll never change.”

“Gee, thanks. That means so much,” James said dryly. “So yeah, anyway…I’m glad Helena got away.”

Gina cocked her head at her brother and considered him thoughtfully. His body language during his little speech had been impassioned, but he’d been a little stiff before, and was kind of stiffening up again when he talked about Helena directly. Weird.

She decided to change the subject. “By the way, I met Leo and Helga today.”

Did James just stiffen up a little more? “They’re nice people,” He said.

“Yeah. Leo’s almost like I expected he’d be from the news reports—Casanovaly lion, ''et cetera''—except for the little thing of being married. Who ''is'' Helga, anyway?”

“Just a furre he met while we were all recovering from the ordeal,” James said. “We’ve hired her on as our chief accountant, and she’s been very helpful in getting the resort off the ground.”

“Hmmm.” Gina thought about that for a moment. ''Leo'' had said they’d met ''before'' he was imprisoned. Why were they telling two different stories?

Gina knew that German Shepherds were often police dogs—and while her own ambitions were for a job in the hospitality industry, sometimes she would swear she felt the investigative instincts of the breed stirring. Maybe she could compromise and get a job as a hotel detective? Anyway, one of those times was now. Gina pledged to get to the bottom of this mysterious “Helga”’s identity.

“So can we actually get down into the enclosure?” Gina asked brightly. “I want to get a feel for what it must have been like.”

James visibly relaxed. “Sure thing, but I hope you aren’t going to want to take your clothes off. There’s such a thing as getting ''too much'' of a feel for it.”

Gina giggled. “You know, bro, if you weren’t around, I actually might.”

“Want me to lock you in alone and go away for an hour or so?” James asked.

Gina thought about that. “You know what? Yeah! It’ll be fun.” She paused. “Unless you’re going to be watching me through the security cameras.”

“Would I peep on my own sister?” James asked.

Gina nodded. “Mm, yeah, I should have known better.”

“Of course, you never know whether someone else might be watching,” James pointed out. “They’ve got the same cameras and mics in here they did in the big pen, and they do turn them on from time to time. Of course, that just adds to the realism; the Eleven never knew when someone might be ogling them either.”

Gina cocked her head as she thought about that. “You know, I never really realized…well, OK, I realized, but I never really felt it in my ''gut'' just how creepy it must have been to be in their position. I think I’m starting to now.”

“I’ll be interested to hear your thoughts in an hour or so when I come back. If I don’t forget until tomorrow or so.” James winked.

Gina rolled her eyes. “Oh, you.”

“Seriously, we’re thinking of using this place either as a special overnight rental suite for tourists who want to ‘experience’ what it must have been like, or as some sort of charity ‘jail-and-bail’ theme event. Maybe both. So we’d like to hear your thoughts on that, from an outsider’s perspective.” James grinned at her. “Anyway, it’s right in here.” He led the way down the ramp to the doorway into the pit, opened it, and locked her inside.

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As soon as he was gone, Gina looked around. It really was a desolate little place—a few trees for shade, a small stream running through the middle, a big rock for cats to sun themselves, a cave in one of the enclosure walls for shelter at night or from inclement weather. And this kind of place was where the Eleven had lived for ''months?''

What was more, it was a bright, warm summer day, and the rocks absorbed and radiated the sun’s heat. Before she’d stepped too far out into it, Gina realized that perhaps being naked ''was'' the right idea in a place like this. She looked up at the railings and nobody was in sight. She looked around at the walls, and of course didn’t see any hidden cameras. She stuck her tongue out at them anyway, then pulled off her clothing and left it in a neat little bundle near the entrance.

Part of her felt like a poseur, showing fake solidarity with people who had gone through a great trauma that she was only playing at, but she ignored it. Anyway, it wasn’t just to show solidarity. She really did want to feel, if only for a little while, what it must have been like to be locked up naked in a place like this. Even if it was fake, it was as close as she could get.

Gina spent the first ten minutes pacing around, measuring out the limits of the pit, staring up at the sheer fake-rock walls and the bright blue sky overhead. She knelt by the little stream and splashed a hand in it, then went over to the big rock and climbed up to try sunning herself.

And that was where she got her first surprise. There were scent traces here. Faint, but someone must have spent a ''lot ''of time here to leave them so clearly, even after weeks or months of rain and sun. And it smelled familiar, like someone else she’d smelled only recently. She sniffed closer, then blinked. ''“Helga?”''

This was interesting. Gina sniffed around some more, to see if there were any other traces, but didn’t find anything. Then her eyes fell on the black mouth of the artificial cave. Making a quick side-trip to the bundle of clothing to fetch an LED flashlight from her purse, Gina headed into the cave to see what she could find.

The scent traces were a lot stronger here, where there had been no sun or rain to wear them away—especially on a beat-up old futon lying in one end of the cave. There was Helga for sure, and perhaps a ''hint'' of Leo here and there. Interesting. Had they trysted here to get away from prying eyes? If so, why was Helga’s scent so much stronger? It was as if she’d actually ''lived'' here for a while, but Leo only ''visited''. But that didn’t make any sense…did it?

Other than scents and the futon, the cave was empty—but when she shined the light into one of the darker corners, she noticed something on the floor. Picking it up, she found a button that might have come off a shirt or blouse. “Well, that tears it,” Gina said. “This ''wasn’t'' just where some feral cat was kept. You’re not going to see a feral cat with a button.”

Gina went back out to put the flashlight and button into her purse. Then, with nothing better to do until James returned, she climbed onto the rock in the middle of the enclosure and dozed in the hot summer sun.

When she woke up, the sun was noticeably lower. The pit was mostly in deep shadow, and it was starting to cool off. Clouds were rolling in, and she heard a distant rumble of thunder. She blinked. “What’s going on? It’s been way more than an hour.” She went over to the bundle of clothing and pulled it all back on, then rummaged in her purse for her cell phone.

Then she remembered—she’d left it charging next to her laptop this morning, and forgotten to pick it up before she went out to see James. She didn’t have any way of phoning out.

She cupped her hands around her muzzle, leaned back, and yelled, “Helloooo! Can anyone hear me!” Her voice echoed off the rock walls around her, but there was no response but stillness.

Gina knelt down and lapped some water out of the stream, then went back to sit on the rock again, clasping her knees up against her chest. She was really starting to worry now—and starting to get a better idea than ever just what the Eleven must have felt like. “James, you’d darned well better have a good explanation for this,” she growled.

As the sun sank lower, the rain began, first dotting the rocks with darker spots that immediately evaporated from the stored solar heat, then washing it into a darker gray. Gina hastily grabbed up her clothes and took shelter in the cave, watching the storm from its mouth, and finally flopping down on the futon in despair.

Was she ever getting out of here?

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James chuckled as he turned the key in the lock and went up the ramp, leaving Gina locked inside Helena’s old habitat pit. He might have known she’d be curious enough to want to try it. He was almost tempted to stick around and watch her explore, but he halfway suspected she ''would'' take her clothes off, and he didn’t want to see it if she did—even if he ''had'' helped change her diapers.

James planned to leave her there for two or three hours—long enough for her to get a little anxious, but not for her to get really mad at him. Just a little brotherly prank. And who knew, it might actually give her some real appreciation for how the Eleven had felt.

That was the plan, anyway. Then as James headed back to the house, he happened to run into Consuela coming out of it. She was wearing sensible paw-shoes, jeans, and a T-shirt, with a loaded knapsack on her back. “Oh, James!” she said. “I was hoping I would find you.”

James raised an eyebrow. “What for, to invite me camping?”

“Not ''exactly,''” Consuela said. “I have no tent or sleeping bag, so it is not spending the night. But since it is the cook’s vacation day and we must make our own food, I thought I would invite you to come out with me.”

“You’re going out to eat…with a backpack?” James asked.

“Yes. There is plentiful game in the woods. You did ask me last night if I really hunted for myself.” She grinned at him. “Come with me and find out.”

It crossed James’s mind to wonder what, or who, she was ''really ''hunting. But it sounded fascinating to get the chance to see her at work, and it should only take a couple of hours. He would be back in plenty of time to free Gina. “All right, why not.”

“Good!” Consuela beamed. “Change into some hiking clothes and meet me back here.”

“Got it.” James hastened off to change his clothes.

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Half an hour later, James followed Consuela along a game trail into the deep woods. It was somewhat farther than he had thought they would come, but Consuela had her own ideas about exactly where they were going. He was glad he’d sprayed with Deep Woods Off, even if it did make Consuela wrinkle her nose a little. But she kept telling him they were almost there.

Finally they came to a clearing where all the grass had been cleared from one area and a stone fire pit built. “I see you come here often,” James said.

“It is a refuge,” Consuela said. “And there is good foraging nearby. Here, I will show you.” She led him down another trail from the clearing, to a clearing that was full of blackberry brambles. It was a little early for prime berrying season, but there were still plenty of juicy black berries on the vines.

Consuela handed James a Tupperware container from her backpack. “Would you fill this? While you do, I will hunt our dinner.” She smiled at him. “You would make too much noise if you were with me.”

“Okay, fair enough,” James said, starting to pick the berries. It wasn’t really hard work, and he had soon filled the container to overflowing. He hoped it had been enough time for Consuela to complete her work. He wondered what she had been hunting.

When James returned to the main clearing, he found Consuela already had one rabbit roasting on a spit over a fire, and was just finishing skinning and cleaning another one. She put the bloody skins in a zip-lock bag, undoubtedly to be turned into mittens or something later. “You know, rabbit season isn’t for another five months,” James pointed out.

“If that were the most illegal thing I had done lately, I might be worried,” Consuela said with a smile. “Besides, it is not as if I do not eat what I kill.”

“True enough,” James said. “And I have to admit, it smells good.” He put the berry container down nearby, and Consuela nodded.

“Thank you.” Consuela rubbed some herbs into the skinned rabbit and added it to the spit. “It always amazes me, how much easier it is to hunt now,” she said. “And I was not ''bad'' before.”

“Yeah, you’ll be one heck of a provider,” James said, chuckling. “Considered taking a deer in season?”

“I might register for bow-hunting,” Consuela said. “Since there is not a ‘claw-hunting’ season.”

“When we get enough Changed, there just might be,” James said. “I expect a lot of carnivore-Changed will want to try the ‘old ways of tooth and claw.’”

“Unless all the deer-Changed ask for it to be abolished,” Consuela said.

“The ones who know anything wouldn’t, even if they had sympathy for their animal kin,” James said. “It helps prevent overpopulation and overgrazing.”

“True, but when have the facts ever stopped anyone complaining?”

James chuckled. “You may be right.”

Consuela examined the progress of the rabbits and turned the spit. “Fortunately, taking a rabbit or two out of season is not such a big deal.”

“Fortunately for us. Not so fortunately for the rabbit,” James observed.

“True.”

“Do you think there’s anything to the tabloid stories about Changed hunting other Changed? ‘The Most Dangerous Game Redux’?” James asked.

Consuela’s expression darkened. “I hope not. I would have thought not. Then I spent many months in a private zoo. Now I believe anything is possible.”

James nodded. “I hope they’re just making it up. Like they usually do.”

“Even if they are, some will still believe them. Others may imitate them, whether they ''were'' real or not,” Consuela said.

“And won’t ''that'' be fun to see in the news,” James muttered.

“Yes.” Consuela nodded. “But our food is almost ready. We should find something less depressing to talk about, for depressing things do not help digestion.”

“How about my sister?” James asked. “She seems to like the place so far.”

“I had heard she was being friendlier to you now,” Consuela said. “It is good.”

“And she met Leo and ‘Helga’ today, and seems to get along well with them,” James said.

“''Excelente!''” Consuela grinned. “Do you think she will get over her fervor at seeing the guilty punished?”

“She seemed to respond well when I told her why it was a good thing we didn’t have a show trial going on. We’ll have to see.” James shrugged. “I’m a little worried she might be able to work it out for herself, ‘Helga’ or no. She’s always been a smart cookie.”

“Do you think we should simply tell her?” Consuela asked, turning the rabbits again.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to sound her out over the next couple of days. I already think we can trust her not to tell anyone, given that I’d end up in jail along with everyone else who colluded to hold Helena. But I’m not sure she’d ''like'' it.”

“''Que sera, sera,''” Consuela said. “We will see what happens when it happens.” She opened the knapsack and started unpacking picnic settings: a blanket, paper plates, and even a loaf of store-bought wheat bread.

“So much for roughing it, huh?” James asked.

“‘Roughing it’ is for people who have something to prove,” Consuela said. “I would rather enjoy myself.” She brought out a bottle of sparkling grape juice and paper cups and started arranging everything on the blanket. “We will have a ''good'' meal.”

“I think you’re right.” James grinned and helped lay everything out. Consuela really had thought of everything—she’d even included a packet of wet-naps for cleaning greasy hands.

Finally, Consuela removed the spit from the fire and slid the roasted rabbits onto plates—the longer-cooked one for James, and the rarer one for herself. She tore into her rabbit with gusto, not to mention sharp feline fangs. James ate his more slowly, but with just as much enjoyment.

“This is really good!” James said. Whatever herbs Consuela had used really brought out the flavor of the meat.

“I am glad you like it,” Consuela said to him through lowered lashes.

Together, they ate and drank. James wasn’t able to finish his entire rabbit, but Consuela took care of hers and the rest of his. Then together they policed the site, putting every last bit of trash in a heavy-duty trash bag Consuela had brought along. They hung it from a tree to keep it from wild animals until they were ready to pack it back.

“So what now?” James asked. “Hike back?”

“On a full stomach? I think not.” Consuela grinned at him, and led the way over to a patch of tall grass soaking in the warmth of the sun. “Now we ''siesta''. It is not good to exercise so much after a heavy meal.”

James looked doubtfully at Consuela. “You know I’m still not ready to sleep with you yet.”

Consuela shook her head. “No, no, I do not mean that I want you to make love to me.” She stage-muttered, “Though I admit, I would not ''mind''…” then said louder, “Only let us lie together and share bodily warmth? I would just like to have you next to me is all. You can even keep all your clothes on.”

James glanced at his watch. Only 2:00. He supposed he could spare another hour or two before he had to go get Gina. “Well…all right.”

Consuela smiled at him. “Good.” She lay down in the grass, and James lay down next to her. Then she put her arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth.

“Hey!” James protested when he could speak again.

“I did not say there would be no kissing.” Consuela winked. Then she turned over and dozed off. And, warmed by Consuela’s body and the gentle afternoon sun, and soothed by the gentle purring vibrating him from Consuela’s back, James did the same.

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James woke to the rumble of nearby thunder, and a much darker sky than when he had closed his eyes. Beside him, Consuela sat up. “''Caramba!''” she swore. “It is going to storm. We must take shelter.” She slung the backpack on her shoulder and led the still-groggy James down another path, which went downhill to a nearby stream, with a cave mouth poking out halfway up one of its banks.

No sooner had Consuela tugged James into the cave than the heavens opened and the rain started pouring down.

James looked at his watch, then looked again. He hardly ever swore, but he couldn’t help it this time. “Shit! How did we sleep this late?”

“A full meal…the warm sun,” Consuela said. “A warm body…” She purred.

James facepalmed. “You don’t understand. Just before I ran into you, I’d locked Gina into Helena’s old enclosure—she wanted to experience for herself what it was like in there. I was going to go back after lunch and let her out.”

“Oh, no!” Consuela looked out the cave mouth at the pouring rain. “I am so sorry, James—I did not know!” She looked again, stuck her hand out of the cave mouth, and shook her head. “It is raining much too hard to go out in now. We will have to wait until it passes.”

James pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. “No signal. Crap.”

Consuela patted him on the shoulder. “Do not worry. She will have taken shelter in the cave, just as we have here. She will be all right.”

“She’s still gonna ''kill'' me,” James groaned.

Thunder boomed loud as lightning struck somewhere nearby. “There is nothing we can do about it now,” Consuela said. “It is not safe to move about in this weather.” She patted the floor next to her. “We can only wait.”

James sat down next to her. “That could be ''hours,''” he groaned.

“I am sorry, James,” Consuela said again. “If I had known, I would never have let you sleep so long. I just thought it was a nice chance to spend time together.”

“I probably needed the rest,” James said. “And I probably should have said something myself.” He groaned again. “Gina is going to ''kill'' me.”

“I will explain that it was all my fault,” Consuela said. “She can be angry at both of us, then.”

James facepalmed. “And she’ll assume I’m sleeping with you. In the carnal sense.”

Consuela smiled wryly at him. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“I’d kind of like to actually be ''doing'' it first,” James said, rolling his eyes. “And I still don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

Consuela sighed. “I hope I am not coming on too strong. I do not want to drive you away. I just…like you so very, very much and want us to be together.”

James glanced over at her, admiring the way her long, dark hair fell in waves in front of her shoulder, the sleek grey-black fur that covered her body, and the way she looked back at him. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to drive me away. This is just…a little sudden, and it’s taking me a while to adjust.”

Consuela smiled at him. “Thank you. I understand. And I do not want to cause trouble between you and your sister.”

James chuckled. “Little too late for ''that.''” He glanced out at the rain again. “But I expect she’ll come to look back on this and laugh. Eventually. In a few years, maybe.”

Consuela giggled. “We will see if we can make it sooner than that.” She put her arm around his shoulder and relaxed against him, purring, and they settled down to wait out the storm together.

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Gina woke up a couple of hours after dropping onto the futon, unable to sleep due to the rumbling in her empty stomach and all the other rest she’d gotten earlier that day. She just lay there for a while, sniffing the air.

Perhaps it was her general frame of mind, or maybe just that she’d spent enough time in the room to become more attuned, but Gina thought she was starting to pick up more nuances in the scents that surrounded her.

Gina had read about psychics who claimed to be able to read emotional impulses, “psychic residue,” from events that had taken place before. She’d always laughed at the idea, but now she was starting to wonder—what if those “psychics” really just had a highly-developed sense of smell and subconscious sensitivity to the different pheromones and other scent cues that people gave off under different emotions?

Because now Gina thought she could actually smell out some of the ''moods'' Helga and Leo had experienced in this room.

In most of the room, where Gina smelled Helga alone, what she smelled the most was despair or sadness. She recognized ''that'' feeling from just now. But around the futon, where Leo’s scent mingled with Helga’s, she smelled hope and joy…and lust. It was actually a little embarrassing. Gina felt like she was reading someone else’s diary or poking through private photos.

But what could it all mean? She could ask James if he ever showed up to release her, but she had a feeling he might not be inclined to discuss it. This was something she was going to have to get to the bottom of for herself.

Her mind just kept going back to that picture of the human Helena, and the similarities to Helga even in ''name''. But she kept shying away from the obvious conclusion. It raised too many questions—and she wasn’t sure that she really wanted to know the answers.

Gina frowned. It wasn’t enough just to have guesses and surmise. She needed solid proof. And she already had a few ideas of places to look for that—assuming she ever got out of here, of course.

She turned back to the cave entrance. The rain had stopped and it looked like the stars were coming out. Gina stepped out into the open and yelled out again, “Hey! Anybody out there?”

Her voice echoed again, then she heard a distant yell in return, “Coming!” It was James!

Gina clambered down to the pit floor, avoiding the puddles, and was waiting at the locked door when the key rattled in the lock. A moment later, the door slid aside, revealing James and Consuela behind it. “Well, it’s about damned time!” Gina growled.

Consuela stepped forward and bowed her head. “I am ''so'' sorry. ''Lo siento mucho. ''It is all my fault that you were locked up for hours. I…distracted your brother. I did not know he needed to come and let you out until it was too late.”

Gina’s nostrils flared as she sniffed the air. “''Distracted,'' huh?”

“It’s not what you think!” James insisted. “We just lay down for a nap after a heavy lunch and didn’t wake up for hours. We had our clothes on the entire time!”

Gina rolled her eyes. Of course she could tell that—their scents were on each other’s ''clothes,'' which they wouldn’t have been if the clothes had been ''off.'' But she wasn’t about to let James off the hook after what he’d done, so she just sniffed, long German Shepherd nose pointed in the air. “A likely story.”

“''Giiiiina…''” James said.

“Not that it'' matters''. My brother could sleep with a rabid hyena for all I care. You still left me in there for ''hours!''” she growled. “I’m going to get something to eat.” Without another word, she stalked past James and Consuela, ears flat, tail held high. Behind her, she heard Consuela whisper, “Do not worry—I am sure she will come around.”

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A few days later, Gina sat once more at her laptop in her guest room. The previous few days had all been kept pretty busy, as James and Consuela tried to make up for their negligence in locking her in. Amusingly, they seemed to be trying to avoid each other as much as possible when Gina was around. Perhaps they didn’t want to her to draw conclusions. Nonetheless, Gina had taken to muttering “rabid hyena” in James’s ear in passing just to watch his reaction.

She had met and spent time with all of the others of the Eleven, save of course for Tiffany. Amy had given her fur a perm and painted all her claw-nails, all the while gossiping about everyone in sight (except, oddly, Helga). Lee had given her car an oil change. And she’d babysat an afternoon so that Tim and Clarisse could enjoy a movie. (It had been remarkably easy. She ''was'' a German ''Shepherd'' after all.) She’d hung around some more with Leo and Helga, too. Leo had enjoyed further teasing her (and Helga), but then Gina started teasing back—her casual suggestion of a ''ménage à trois'' had made Leo choke and Helga giggle. The teasing had been a ''little'' less pointed after that.

Gina still wasn’t sure what to think about Helga. Sure, there was at least a superficial resemblance between her and “Helena” from the photos, but she didn’t ''act'' like the sort of person who would have taken pleasure in kidnapping eleven furres and keeping them in a private zoo. She wasn’t overbearing or egotistical—she was quiet and shy. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like just an unlikely coincidence—but one way or another, she had to know for sure.

Which was why it was good she had finally managed to steal some uninterrupted time to continue her research.

She began with a public record search in Nevada to get Leo and Helga’s marriage license. It cost her twenty bucks, but her curiosity was fully engaged and she didn’t scruple at the price. She opened the PDF, looked at the license, and ''stared'' at Helga’s last name. “Well, ''that’s'' obviously not a fake name at all,” she muttered sarcastically.

She frowned, closing the file. This was something, but still not really enough to go on. She still needed more, and there was one place in particular she’d like to look. If she could just work out where it was…

Then she had it. “James,” she said to herself, tongue lolling in a canine grin. It might take a little careful management…but hell, he ''owed'' her. She went off in search of her brother, and found him a few moments later in his office—alone, for a wonder.

“Oh—um, hi,” James said, looking up a little warily. “Um…you’re not still angry over what happened last week, are you?”

“Absolutely seething,” Gina said calmly. “But I ''could'' be persuaded to forgive you. Maybe. If you’d do one little thing for me.”

“And…what’s that?” James asked.

“Well…my time stuck in that pit made me start to wonder about the psychology of someone who would do that kind of thing to someone else. So I was thinking, I’d like to look around his stuff, see what I could make out for myself from his personal things. You did keep them, right? In case the tourists would like to see his study, kept just as he left it…”

“We did, actually,” James said. “Well, his study anyway. We gave his bedroom to Leo and Helga for their joint apartment. Nobody really goes there much…except for Carl, who likes to help himself to Melton’s cigars.”

“I might have figured he’d smoke cigars.”

“Who, Melton or Carl?” James grinned. “You ''promise'' not to mess anything up and leave it as you found it?”

Gina saluted, tail wagging. “Scout’s honor!”

“Well…I ''do'' kind of owe you for locking you up like that.” James opened his drawer and pulled out a keyring. “Here, it’s this key. Second floor balcony, west side of the main hall.” He tossed the key over, and Gina caught it.

“Thanks, bro! I’ll get this back to you later.” She gripped the keys tightly in her fist and headed back out of the office. James watched her go, then shook his head and went back to his paperwork.

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Gina unlocked the thick oak-paneled door and swung it silently open. The room was dark. She fumbled for a light switch and turned it on, and found a fairly nice little office-cum-study, lined with bookshelves along three walls and a desk in matching mahogany finish. There were a couple of comfortable chairs, and the wall not lined with bookshelves had photos, certificates, and awards hanging on it—including that same photo from the ''60 Minutes'' episode.

Circling around behind the desk, Gina sniffed at the chair. There were tantalizing traces of a familiar scent there, but several other people had sat in this chair since then, a couple for quite some time. Gina looked around for something else. She opened a couple of drawers and sniffed inside. Still the same scent, but not strong enough to be sure.

What else what else what else…then it hit her. The books! The only person who would ever have bothered to read any of them would surely have been Melton himself—so surely his scent would be on at least one or two of them. Gina started at the end of one of the outlying walls and worked her way inward, sniffing. An occasional hit, but nothing much.

But the scent got stronger as she got closer to the desk—naturally, he’d have kept the books he wanted in easy reach behind the desk. There were a few stronger traces—then one book whose scent was so strong she knew in a heartbeat she’d found what she was looking for.

This was it—the book smelled unmistakably like what Helga would smell like if you took away the musky aroma of female cougar and added the sour odor of human sweat. It was human-Helga—''Helena''—Hugh.

So that was it. Against all odds, “Helga” and Helena were one and the same person—which meant Helga had also been Hugh. All this time, the enigmatic, mysteriously missing Melton had been right under her nose. And what’s more, she’d been actively ''likable''. Gina still found she was unable to conflate the two people in her head. It was like knowing someone off the Internet and meeting him in person to find him completely unlike you’d expected.

And what’s more, she was actually ''married'' to one of the Eleven, and the others obviously tolerated her presence. And there was no way ''they'' couldn’t know who she really was—not if they’d had access to this office, too. Her sense of smell might be finely-tuned, but she was almost certain ''any'' Changed had a good enough nose to notice the similarities. And then there were the scent traces that told her Helena had been imprisoned in the animal pit for weeks or months—and Leo had come to visit her. What was going on here?

Almost against her will, Gina reached out and pulled the book out of the shelf. She could tell immediately that it was far lighter than a hardcover of this size ought to be. She turned around, placed it on the desk, and opened it. The cover of the book came away revealing a hollowed-out space inside—and a pair of sunglasses.

Gina reached in and lifted them out gently, almost reverently. These, then, had to be the “Veil-Bans” Hugh Melton had used to spy on his charges. She guessed nobody had bothered to look for them since the Veil was a moot point within this bubble. Or maybe they knew about them already and figured the book was as safe a place as any to keep them. Either way, these could be the final proof she was looking for. Gina took the glasses out and slipped them into her purse, then put the book back on the shelf. Then she went looking for “Helga”.

She found the cougress sitting in the mansion’s library, reading a book. Moving calmly but not furtively, Gina stepped into the room, pulled the glasses out of her purse, and looked through them. Helga was still Helga, of course. But then she turned the glasses 90 degrees on their side and looked through one lens…and slowly grinned, tongue lolling again. “Oh, Helena?” she asked.

The cougress looked distractedly up from her book. “Yes?” Then her eyes widened as she realized what name she’d just answered to.

Gina lowered the glasses and grinned at her. “Gotcha.”

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James leaned back in the seat behind his desk, watching his sister Gina leave the office with the key to Hugh Melton’s old study. He wondered what she was ''really'' looking for. Of course, he trusted her not to mess the place up, but she had been wearing that expression she’d always used to use that said there was something she wasn’t telling. It amazed him a little that he could still make it out even through her doggie face, but then it was still at least partly body language.

Maybe she was planning to do a post to her Internet forums: ''look at me, in the office of the master kidnapper himself!'' Well, whatever it was, it probably wouldn’t hurt anything. He couldn’t think of anything still in the office that would be more than a curiosity.

And glancing at the clock on his desk, James reflected that it was just about time to knock off for the night. He locked the office and headed for the stairs back to the hallway where they all had their studio apartments.

As he walked along the corridor, James was conscious of the open door to Consuela’s room that he would have to pass to get to his own. He couldn’t resist stopping to look in. She was lying on her bed, and watching him as he stopped. “''Hola,''” she said softly.

James leaned against the doorframe. “Hi.”

“Does all go well?” Consuela asked.

“So far, yeah.” James considered Consuela for a moment. Over the last few days, she had largely backed off her pursuit of him—perhaps at least partly out of feeling guilty for causing Gina’s prolonged imprisonment. She was still ''interested'' in him—he could tell that every time she looked at him, or every time she was even in the same ''room''—but she was giving him some breathing room. The next move was clearly going to be up to him.

And it suddenly occurred to him exactly what that next move should be. “I’ve…got an errand I need to run in town, but I’ll be back soon,” James said. “Will you be around?”

“''Si,''” Consuela said, peering at him curiously. “''Si,'' I will be ''aqui.''”

“Then I’ll see you soon.” James headed back down the stairs and out to his car. As he pulled out of the drive and headed into town, he used the time to think about exactly how he ''did'' feel about Consuela. For what he was going to do tonight, he wanted to be sure there was no mistake.

How ''did'' he feel about Consuela? For starters, of course, she was gorgeous. Extremely sensual, with glossy fur, flowing black hair and a muscular body whose proportions rivaled even some of the male-to-female TGs’. But that wasn’t even her best quality. Far more attractive was her personality—she was quirky, compassionate, courageous, loyal, exciting—and, not to put too fine a point on it, ''dangerous''. And ''she'' liked ''him''.

Sure, she was pregnant. If he did decide to become an item with her, he’d be taking on a big responsibility right from the start—for a kid who wasn’t even biologically his own. But that was okay. There were plenty of other furres in their extended family, including the kid’s biological father, to provide a support network.

And when you got right down to it, James reflected as he pulled into the Taco Bell drivethrough, you just never knew what might happen to you next in this crazy world. There was a small but real chance he might wake up a female aardvark or something tomorrow morning. So if he ''was'' going to do anything with Consuela, it might be a good idea to hurry up before he missed his chance.

With that thought in mind, James ordered a burrito for himself and a taco basket for Consuela and a couple of Mountain Dews, then drove back to the mansion. He made a brief stop by the dining room to swipe a candle for a centerpiece, then took the stairs at the other end of the hall to get to his room without passing Consuela and prepare things.

He set up a small folding table and a couple of chairs in the open space in the middle of his studio apartment, put the candle on top and lit it, then arranged his food at one place and Consuela’s tacos at the other. He dimmed the lights, then—as a finishing touch—plugged a desk fan into a hall outlet, pointed it toward Consuela’s end of the hall, and placed a (wrapped) taco in front of it.

Then James returned to his room to wait—and he was just sitting down in his chair when Consuela appeared in the doorway, holding the taco. She smiled at the scene. “Is this an invitation?”

James grinned back. “It is. Come on in, and put the do-not-disturb sign out.”

Consuela put the hanger on the door and closed it behind her, then slid gracefully into her seat. She regarded the tacos and Mountain Dew warmly. “You think of everything.” She chuckled. “A romantic candlelight Taco Bell dinner. How sweet!”

James unwrapped his burrito. “Hey, you deserve it. Dig in.”

Consuela did so, examining the room around them as she ate. James was sure the flickering candlelight was more than adequate for her feline eyes to see everything clearly. “Your room is nice. Very neat. I like that.”

James chuckled. “You should see my closet.”

Consuela crunched another taco. “I am sure it is not ''too'' bad.”

They ate in silence for a while, Consuela devouring taco after taco and James eating his burrito at a more reasonable pace, then Consuela asked, “Gina has been doing well, no?”

“I think she’s getting on okay with everyone,” James said. “Maybe being penned up for a while did her some good.”

Consuela nodded. “I can personally recommend it.”

“Oh?” James asked. “That seems a little odd coming from someone who’s just been locked up for months.”

“True, but it brought me many good friends, a new home—and you.” She gave him another one of those lowered-lash looks.

“That’s assuming you do ''have'' me,” James couldn’t resist adding with a grin.

“True. But I am working on that.” She winked. “So you could say getting kidnapped was one of the best things to happen to me.”

“I kind of have to wonder, now that you mention it,” James said. “How ''did'' they get you? You don’t seem like the sort to be taken unaware by people only as competent as my old co-workers.”

“Um.” Consuela actually had the grace to look embarrassed. “It is a little foolish.”

“Really?” James grinned. “Now you’ve made me curious.”

Consuela waved a hand with half a taco in it, dropping a little filling on the table. “I was…experimenting.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Experimenting?”

“It is something people do at college, or so I am told,” Consuela said defensively. “I was trying new things. I had joined this campus club—it looked as if it might be fun.”

“Uh…huh?” James asked, curious where this might be going.

“So I was actually…''expecting'' to be ‘kidnapped,’” Consuela said. “For make-believe.”

“…oh,” James said. “''That'' kind of club, huh?” James said thoughtfully.

Consuela shot him a mild glare. “Do not judge me!” she insisted. “I was younger then, and foolish.”

''What, 8 or 9 months younger? ''James thought, but didn’t say. Instead, he raised his hands and insisted, “I’m not! I’m not! If anything, it’s giving me…ideas.” He grinned.

Consuela snorted. “So I did not resist when they came to take me. By the time I learned it was for real, it was too late.”

“But you didn’t try very hard to bust out after that,” James pointed out.

“I tried once or twice,” Consuela said. “Before your time perhaps.” She shrugged. “You know how well the place was built to keep us in. You saw Tiffany’s attempts. I did no better. So it was not worth the frustration to keep trying.” At James’s skeptical expression, she sighed. “And, yes, I enjoyed being fed on a constant diet of steak. I could not even afford one steak per week as a student. But regardless, I knew there would be a chance sooner or later. And there was.”

“Or perhaps you just liked being pampered. Nothing to do except lie in the sun and eat steaks.” James chuckled. “Maybe I should lock ''you'' up in that enclosure and feed you on steaks.”

Consuela fluttered her lashes at him. “Oh, ''would'' you lock me up, ''señor'' security officer? I might do bad things.”

“You might do bad things if I ''don’t'' lock you up—or if I ''do?''” James asked.

“''Si,''” Consuela said simply, closing her eyes and clasping her hands together as if offering them to be cuffed.

James laughed. “Okay, this is getting into a whole weird area…”

“You were the one who started it,” Consuela pointed out.

“Then I’ll also be the one who finishes it.” James also finished his burrito, and pitched the wadded-up wrapper at his trash can. It hit the rim, teetered on the edge—and then a carefully-aimed wadded-up taco wrapper hit it from the side and knocked it in before falling in itself.

James grinned. “Thanks for the assist.”

Consuela smirked. “''De nada.''” She finished her last taco, then carried the empty basket and the rest of the wrappings to the trash. She returned to her seat and sipped her Mountain Dew, looking speculatively across the apartment to James’s bed.

James followed her gaze, and chuckled. “I’ve got a pretty good idea what you’re thinking.”

Consuela nodded. “And you are going to say that you are not yet ready again?”

James thought about that. This was probably his last chance to back out before things went “too far.” For all that he’d almost talked himself into it already, there was still that little bit of hesitation.

But as he looked inside of himself, he was beginning to realize he really ''did'' want this, and furthermore to wonder just how much of his earlier hesitation had come from an ingrained believe that you weren’t “supposed” to go too far too soon. After all, he already knew he ''liked'' Consuela. And it wasn’t fair to her to keep giving her hope and taking it away again. If she wanted him…well, he suddenly understood that ''he'' wanted ''her'', too.

“No,” James said, getting up from his seat. “No, I’m ''not ''going to say that. Not this time.” He looked across the table at her, observed the dawning hope on her face and what her quickened breathing did to her impressive bosom. “I think I ''am'' ready now.”

Consuela cocked her head. “You are certain of this?”

“Dead certain,” James said. “For all I know, I might wake up a woman tomorrow. If that happens, I’d like to know I didn’t miss any opportunities.”

Consuela smiled. “I will make this a night you remember for the rest of your life.” Her tail swished in anticipation as she came out from behind the table, arranging her position so that James was directly between her and his bed. Then she dropped into a crouch and, turning her head, blew out the candle.

“Hey, what’re you thinking he—''whoa!''”

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Later that night, James drifted up from a deep sleep, feeling something warm and furry and soft all along his back, and two arms around his waist from behind.

As James gently sought to disentangle himself from Consuela’s embrace so he could use the restroom, Consuela instead tightened her grip, growling in her sleep, “''Mío!'' Mine!”

James oofed a little as Consuela’s grip squeezed some breath out of him. Then he twisted in her arms enough to bring his face up close to her bewhiskered muzzle, at which point he gave her a very deep kiss on it. Thus distracted, Consuela murmured in her sleep and loosened her grip enough that James could slip out to use the toilet.

As he crawled back into bed, and Consuela once again clutched him like an oversized teddy bear, James reflected on how incredibly lucky he was. ''I still hope I don’t Change,'' he thought drowsily. ''But I’ll remember this forever no matter what I turn into. So if I have to, bring it on.''

In the warmth of Consuela’s embrace, he drifted back to sleep.

{{separator|stars}}

“I’m sorry, you said ‘Helga,’ right?” the cougar-Changed Gina now knew as Helena asked.

Gina grinned. “Nice try, Mrs. Nelson ''nee'' Ms. Melton ''nee'' Mr. Melton.”

“I’m sorry, I think you have me mixed up with someone else—” Helena began, but Gina raised a hand to interrupt.

“You recognize these?” Gina held up the glasses. Helena stared at them. “No. I’ve never seen those before.”

“Here.” Gina held them out sideways, one lens above the other, just as she’d been looking through them at Helena a moment before. “Hold them like this, and look at me through one lens.”

Helena took them hesitantly, holding them like a snake that might bite her. She held one lens up to her face as instructed, then gave a little cry of surprise and almost dropped them.

Gina knew what she would have seen. Superimposed over her doggie self, a faint but recognizable double-exposure of a blonde-haired, slightly taller human woman—her Veil ghost.

Helena slowly lowered the glasses. Her shoulders slumped as she gave up the pretense. “Why did ''I'' never know about this?” she asked plaintively.

“It only came out on the forums a couple of months ago,” Gina said, reaching out to take the glasses back. “A couple of Changed got their hands on a pair and were playing around with them, and they noticed that they’re even more like polarized lenses than we thought. You rotate them 90 degrees and instead of non-Changed seeing the real us, Changed can see each other’s ghosts.” She shrugged. “I’ll bet the government’s always known. It works much better under the Veil, but even here our ghosts are still part of us.”

“So you know.” Helena sighed, sinking back down onto the seat. “How did you even guess?”

“Mostly a bunch of little things. The name on your marriage license was one clue.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, come on. ‘Helga ''Mellencamp’?'' Really, Miss Cougar?”

Helena facepalmed. “It was all I could think of at the time.” She looked down, unwilling to meet Gina’s gaze. “So what happens now?”

“Well, when I got here, I was all fire and brimstone to see the evil Hugh-or-Helena Melton brought to justice. But now I’m just kind of confused.” Gina came over to sit down next to Helena, and reached out to take one of Helena’s hands in her own. “You don’t act at all like the kind of person who would lock up a dozen Changed in your own private zoo.”

“I’m not!” Helena insisted. “Well…not anymore.” She looked up at Gina, eyes glistening. “When I Changed, it’s like my whole ''mind'' was Changed along with my body. I’m ''not'' Hugh anymore. I can’t even remember what it was like to be him. He was crazy.”

Gina nodded slowly. “I thought it might be something like that. I’ve been researching gender-change on the forums and wikis. A lot of people do get personality…adjustments when they TG. Something about body chemistry being different, I guess. Usually it’s just stuff like former male chauvinists waking up and going, ‘Woooo, yay, I’m a ''gurl'', just what I’ve always ''wanted!''’” She rolled her eyes. “But I’ve read about a few more extreme cases, mostly dealing with personality disorders or mental illness. Schizophrenics being cured, stuff like that.”

Helena nodded. “Changes often heal you a little. They fix what’s broken.” She grimaced. “Hugh was broken. Badly.”

“But the others didn’t know you’d been ‘fixed’ when they found you right after they broke out, did they?”

Helena started, looking up at Gina again. “How did you—”

Gina raised a hand-paw to tap the side of her own muzzle. “This nose isn’t just good for making people jump when I touch it to the back of their bare neck, you know.” Gina grinned. “I did a little sniffing around—literally—while I was locked in where you were last week.” Her grin faded. “So they didn’t want a big show-trial to drag all of Changed-dom through the mud, so they figured turnabout was fair play and chucked you in the pit.” She growled, “And my ''brother'' went right along with it, didn’t he? I swear I’ll tear his throat out.”

“No—it’s not like that at all!” Helena insisted. “''I'' went along with it willingly! I felt I deserved to be punished for what I’d done. I could have escaped before they put me in if I’d wanted to.”

Gina blinked. “But you spent a lot of time in there in despair or sadness. The scent traces were very heavy.”

“Not because I was locked up!” Helena said. “Because of what I’d done.” A tear slid down one of the tear tracks on her muzzle. “The only thing worse than being a monster and not knowing it is ''not'' being a monster and knowing you ''used'' to be one.”

Gina wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she put her arm around Helena’s shoulder and gave her a friendly hug. It was weird—even knowing for certain that ‘Helga’ had ''used'' to be Hugh Melton, she still found the cougress sympathetic and likable.

“And Leo stood up for me. Told them they shouldn’t hurt me.” She still sounded amazed just talking about it. “And he came to visit me, Leo did. He showed me I didn’t have to blame myself for what Hugh did anymore. And then we fell in love, and he took me off to Vegas to get married.”

Gina shook her head. “What a mess. Even if I ''did'' want to turn you in now, it would mean everyone else, including my brother, could face kidnapping or false imprisonment charges themselves. And the Change is young enough yet that the shrinks probably wouldn’t buy your personality change, either. So it would just get everyone locked up, and for what? At least this way the resort could help a lot of Changed and their families.”

“I sort of hope someday, once the Change is better understood and my child has grown up a little, I can turn myself in and face a more understanding form of justice,” Helena said wistfully. “Get the whole thing out from over everyone’s head. But until then…”

“Yeah,” Gina said. Then she stopped, replaying the conversation in her head. “Wait. Your ''child?''”

Helena nodded happily. “Mine and Leo’s.” She patted her belly. “We found out just before the elopement.”

Gina stared. Now that Helena mentioned it, Gina could see she was starting to show just a little. “Um…wow. You mean Leo seduced you while you were still locked up?”

Helena shook her head. “No, no! I kept waiting for him to, but he was too much of a gentleman. So one day ''I'' seduced ''him!''”

“…huh.” Gina shook her head. “There are going to be a ''lot ''of little feet around here before long, what with Christine, Consuela’s baby, and now yours.” Then she remembered that Consuela was apparently courting her brother. “Who’s the father of Consuela’s, anyway?”

“Oh, that was Leo, too,” Helena said calmly.

Gina blinked. “What?! And you’re okay with this?”

“It was while they were locked up together,” Helena said. “I can’t exactly blame ''them'' for it—Hugh didn’t give them much else to do.”

Gina shook her head. “Geez, this is messed up.”

“Yeah, and guess who’s to blame for ''that?''” Helena sounded disgusted, and Gina knew it could only be with herself. “I’m just glad the others have mostly accepted me, and they’re letting me help them with the accounting and stuff. I don’t miss my old life, and I have this new one ahead of me.” She patted her belly again. “And ''this'' new one, too.”

Gina sighed. “Dammit, I just feel like ''someone'' should be punished for this. I mean, locking people up for months in a private zoo?”

“If it helps any, you could say Hugh Melton already paid the ultimate price,” Helena said quietly. “He’s dead. He’s not coming back. And I’m a new woman, trying to make up for his mistakes.”

“I guess it’ll have to do,” Gina said. “I’m sure not going to turn you in. It’s weird, but I believe you, and there’s no point busting up a happy home for something a different person did.”

Helena smiled. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome,” Gina said awkwardly. “Listen, I promised James I’d leave the study the way I found it, so I’d better go put these shades back.” She let go of Helena and got back to her feet.

Helena nodded. “Thank you for understanding,” she said.

“Sure.” Gina folded up the glasses, dropped them in her purse, and left the library.

{{separator|stars}}

On the way back to the study, Gina mulled over ways to minimize the chances of Helena’s exposure by future visitors. Burn that smelly futon, for one thing, and hose the cave and rock down with bleach to kill the tell-tale odors. Maybe Helena should occupy the study for a while to cover and muddle all traces of human-Hugh’s scent with her new one. She’d have to bring those suggestions to James’s attention.

Gina dropped the shades back into the hollow book and shoved it back into place in the shelf, then locked the room and headed up to the residential hall to drop the keys by James’s room. But as she approached the closed door, she heard the most ''interesting'' sounds emerging from behind and under it. Her canine ears pricked up and swiveled to track the cries of passion, and her keen nose detected a certain familiar melanistic jaguar’s aroma seeping out from under the crack.

“Rabid hyena,” Gina muttered sagely, and tiptoed back down the hall to her own room. She could return the key another time.

{{separator|stars}}

The next morning, James lingered at the kitchen table after breakfast, drinking coffee with Trixie. Neither one of them was saying much, which was fine with James—he had a lot to think about.

He was still plain-vanilla human. He was honestly more than a little surprised, after what felt like a massive dare to fate the night before. He certainly wasn’t disappointed, though. He knew he would Change sooner or later, and he was going to count as a gift every Unchanged day he had with Consuela.

“Hey, bro. Hey, Trixie.” Gina came bouncing into the kitchen, the study key jingling in her hand. She dropped it next to James’s coffee cup. “There you go, bro!”

“Good morning, Gina,” Trixie said. “You seem cheerful this morning.”

Gina’s tongue lolled in a canine grin. “Oh, I learned a couple of interesting things last night.”

“Oh yeah?” James raised his coffee cup for a sip.

He’d just taken a mouthful of coffee when Gina said, “Yeah. I learned what a plain human and a melanistic jaguar Changed sound like when they’re having a ''really'' good time together, for one thing.”

James sprayed a fine mist of coffee all over the table in front of him. “Gina!” he sputtered.

“What?” Gina asked innocently.

“You ''know'' what, you little twerp.” James rolled his eyes. “It’s none of your business, for one thing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been so loud I could hear it in the hall,” Gina said reasonably. “Though I expect it was mostly Connie-cat doing the yowling, and she’s never seemed to care too much about modesty…

James groaned. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Nope, so you might as well live it up.” Trixie grinned. “And hope Amy doesn’t find out.”

“''That’s'' a forlorn hope if I’ve ever heard one,” James said. “I swear I’m considering drafting that girl for my security department just so I can co-opt her information gathering network.”

“You know you don’t need to go ''that'' far,” Trixie said. “Just go have her do your hair and you’ll learn more than you ''ever'' wanted to know before she lets you leave.”

Gina giggled. “Too true!” Then she turned to her brother. “So tell me, bro, was it just a one-night stand, or is there a fuzzy sis-in-law in my future?”

“Hmm.” James thought about that. “Well, I’m hoping for the sister-in-law,” he said. “We’re still sort of feeling out what we feel about each other, and how compatible we are. But…I think it’ll work out.”

“You know she’s preggers already,” Gina said. “That’s a big responsibility.”

“That’s why we’re all here,” Trixie said. “We’ll all help make it work, for everyone.”

James nodded, reaching for his coffee again, and taking another mouthful.

“Even Helena Melton—oh, sorry, I mean Helga Mellencamp Nelson?” Gina asked.

This time James sprayed coffee all over the table and Trixie. “Oh, thanks, Gina,” Trixie said dryly, wiping her muzzle with a napkin. “I hadn’t had my morning coffee bath yet.”

James stared at her. How had she worked it out? He had thought they’d covered Helena’s tracks pretty well. And—more importantly—what was she going to do now that she had found out?

Gina grinned at them. “So when ''were'' you planning to tell me?”

“I…don’t really know,” James admitted, looking down. “It’s kind of a tough thing to just come out and say. ‘By the way, we held our ex-captor prisoner in a pit until one of us fell in love with and married her.’”

“Yeah, it’s kind of funny like that,” Gina said. “By the way, what the ''hell'' were you thinking? Oh, don’t answer, I already know—avoiding the show trial and yadda yadda. But it’s a hell of a thing, taking the law into your own hands like that.”

“We were entitled if anyone was,” Trixie said. “We were the ones she’d hurt. And anyway, it worked out for the best, didn’t it?”

“Except for that little matter of criminal charges hanging over everyone’s heads,” Gina said. She sighed. “Including a nice little ‘accessory after the fact’ over mine, because I’m going to keep the secret too. Now that I’ve talked to her, I just couldn’t turn Helena in. She’s not the man who did it anymore. It would be like kicking a puppy.” She rolled her eyes. “So you can tell everyone they can stop calling her ‘Helga’ now. It doesn’t really suit her.”

James and Trixie exchanged relieved glances. “Maybe I should offer ''you'' a position in my security branch,” James said. “How did you figure it out?”

“Other than a general resemblance between Helena and her ghost, and the rather obvious name on the marriage license? Well, there was the fact that her scent was all over that enclosure you locked me up in.”

James facepalmed. “I keep forgetting the Changed sense of smell.”

“Hose the place down with bleach and it should be all right,” Gina said.

Trixie nodded. “Good thought.”

“I have some others, too, I’ll go over them with you later. But speaking of positions, I was wondering, Trixie…”

Trixie’s ears perked up. “Hm?”

“I’m majoring in Hospitality, and an internship would help me out a lot. And you’re getting ready to open this place as a resort hotel. Do you think I could do my internship here?”

Trixie furrowed her brow in thought. “I don’t see why not. What do you think, James?”

“I think it’s a great idea.” And he actually did, James realized. It would be nice to have his sister around more often, and what with the walls and gate the Melton estate was one of the safest places in the bubble when it came to the specter of anti-Changed violence. “If, that is, she will actually let me get some coffee inside me, rather than on the table or other people,” James added.

“I thiiiiink I know a hint when I hear it.” Gina winked. “I’ll just leave you two to it.” She waved and bounced back out of the kitchen.

Trixie watched her go. “If that girl were any sharper, she’d cut herself.”

James nodded, sipping his coffee and actually managing to swallow some for once. “Yeah. Though Helena’s lousy choice of alias didn’t exactly help matters. I’m just glad it was Gina who found out, not some reporter.”

Trixie nodded. “We’ll have to have her keep a low profile during the grand opening.”

“Right. But to be honest, I’m not sure how much it will help in the long run. I get the feeling we’re all living on borrowed time.” ''And some of us a little more than others, ''he thought, glancing down at his bare arms.

Trixie nodded. “We’ll just have to make the best of it for as long as we can.” She patted him meaningfully on the arm as she got up to take her mug to the sink. “We all will.”

{{separator|stars}}

Gina walked along the hall toward Consuela’s room. The door to the hall was open. Consuela was sitting at her desk working with a needle, a spool of heavy thread, and a couple of rabbit skins. “Knock knock,” Gina said.

Consuela looked up, and her eyes twinkled. “I believe the thing I am supposed to say is, ‘who is there?’”

“That would be right if I were telling a joke.” Gina grinned. “I just came by to talk a little.” She leaned against the doorframe.

“I hope you are not still angry at me for causing you to be locked up for so long,” Consuela said.

Gina waved a handpaw. “Nah, I’m over that by now. What I’m really here for is to ask you what your intentions are toward my brother.”

“Ah. ''Entiendo''—I understand,” Consuela said, pulling the needle through the skin again. “You are concerned that I might break his heart?”

“Something like that,” Gina admitted.

Consuela nodded. “It is good you are concerned. You must care for him very much. It is why you were so upset when you thought he had helped keep us prisoner.”

“Yeah, and that doesn’t answer my question,” Gina said.

“''Lo siente.'' Then let me be clearer.” Consuela looked up and met her gaze. “I love your brother and would never do anything to hurt him.”

“So the fact that he will be around to help you through your pregnancy is just coincidence?” Gina asked.

“If you mean, am I taking advantage of James…” Consuela considered. “Perhaps a little. But I explained it all to him at the start, what I was going to need and why, and he understood. I have not tried to trick or entrap him.”

Gina nodded. “All right. But I’ll be watching you.”

“I would expect you to watch me as you would a…rabid hyena.” Consuela and Gina smiled brightly at each other. “But on a different subject…I understand you have learned the truth about our little Helena.”

Gina raised an eyebrow. “You found out I know?”

“I have my sources,” Consuela said, making another stitch. “I am told you had a long talk last night.”

Gina nodded. “It’s weird, but I just can’t be angry at her. It’s like Hugh just…evaporated, and she’s someone else.”

“''Si.'' Almost none of us have stayed angry at her, either,” Consuela said. “There are ''uno'' or ''dos'' who still nurse the grudge, but they will come around.”

“I’m still amazed you were all all right with locking her up like that, rather than turning her in,” Gina said. “I mean, I understand why it would have been bad to have a show trial drag Changedom through the mud, but…”

“There was much anger, much excitement,” Consuela said. “We had just fought for our lives, and some were upset we could not physically take out our frustrations on the man who had done it.” She shrugged. “It worked out for the best in the end, no?”

“For ''now,'' yes,” Gina said. “But sooner or later it’ll probably come out and we’ll all be in trouble.” She sighed. “But after spending time with Helena and seeing who she is now—I guess I can live with that.”

“Sooner or later, the whole world will be Changed,” Consuela said. “Then they will ''comprende''.”

“I wonder if Sandrick will run for President,” Gina mused. “Maybe he could be convinced to issue a pardon.”

Consuela shrugged. “If it happens, it will happen. We should think more about the now.”

Gina nodded. “Anyway, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me in the next few months. Trixie says she’s going to make an internship position for me here.”

“''Bueno! ''I am sure you will be a fine intern,” Consuela said. She pulled the thread taut, knotted it, then bit off the tail. “And if you would come here, I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Curious, Gina approached the desk where Consuela had been working. Now she could see more clearly the scraps of thread and pelt that littered the work space—and the pair of oddly-shaped furry mittens in the middle.

Consuela picked them up and offered them to her. “I made them from a canine Changed hand-paw pattern,” she explained. “I think they will fit you.”

Gina pulled them on. “They fit perfectly, Consuela!” she said. “They’re very comfortable, and I bet they’ll be really warm in the snow.”

“''Si.'' And you may call me Connie to my face, if you wish. Many do.”

Gina beamed, tail wagging. “Thanks, Connie! I think you’d make James a great wife, and me a great sister-in-law. I sure hope that really happens.”

“I will do my best to make it happen,” Consuela said. “That is a promise.”

Gina leaned forward and hugged Consuela, then pulled off the mittens and tucked them under her arm. “I guess I should be going. Thanks again for the mittens.”

Consuela nodded. “Wear them well. I will see you later, Gina.”

{{separator|stars}}

Gina closed the door to her room and flopped down on her bed, still clutching the rabbit fur mittens to her chest. She had to admit, her first few days here had turned out a lot different than she’d expected. But for the most part, she was happy with what she had found here—many new friends, the truth about her brother, and a deeper truth about the aftermath of the kidnapping that, regretfully, she couldn’t share with even her closest friends let alone the jerks on the forums who kept making inflammatory posts about her brother.

And there was the grand opening to look forward to. Just a couple of months from now, the resort would be throwing open its doors to a mixture of people who could afford the fees and those the resort itself would be deciding to subsidize on a needs-based basis. There would be group counseling for families of the newly Changed and gender-change counseling for TGs, health examinations to make sure the Change had gone all right, workshops on surviving under the Veil, and meet-and-greet sessions to prove to skeptics that Changed were still humans under the fur. It was going to be an exciting time to be a Changed—or an exciting time ''to'' Change.

And Gina was going to be a part of it all.

She tucked the mittens behind her head and dozed off, dreaming of those days still to come.

{{separator|stars|'''THE END'''}}

{{series bar
|series=Melton's Eleven
|previous=[[User:Robotech Master/Holding Helena|Holding Helena]]
|next=[[User:Robotech Master/The Taming of the Snow Leopardess|The Taming of the Snow Leopardess]]}}

[[Category:Paradise]][[Category: Robotech_Master]][[Category: Anthropomorphic]][[Category: Tiger]][[Category: Leopard]][[Category:Dog]][[Category: Lion]][[Category: House Cat]][[Category: Jaguar]][[Category: Skunk]][[Category: Squirrel]][[Category: Sheep]][[Category: Fox]][[Category: Wolf]][[Category: Cougar]][[Category:Story]]

User:Robotech Master/The Truth About Cats and Dogs

2019-10-31T18:46:18Z

Robotech Master: James Case juggles familial and romantic relationships as he starts falling for Consuela at the same time his sister Gina arrives for a visit...

{{Universe|Paradise}}

{{title
|name=Holding Helena
|author=Chris Meadows
|user=Robotech_Master}}
{{DEFAULTSORT: Holding Helena}}

{{author note|This story is set in the summer of 2010 in the "Paradise" universe, and is part of the ''Melton's Eleven'' series that begins with "[[User:Robotech Master/Tiffnapped|Tiffnapped]]".}} 

'''EARLY JUNE 2010'''

James Case, late member of security for Hugh Melton’s private “animal” pen, now head of security for the Melton Resort complex, stood on the fourth floor tower balcony of the Melton mansion with a pair of binoculars and a worried expression. He was using the tower’s fourth-floor perspective to see over the fifteen-foot security wall surrounding the grounds to watch what was going on just across the street.

A small, ragged group of about a dozen men was gathered on the sidewalk near the bus stop, carrying picket signs and chanting angry slogans. James couldn’t hear the chants from where he was, but could read the signs clearly through the binoculars. “GOD HATES FANGS!” “FURRY FREAKS GO HOME!” “LEVITICUS 18:23.”

The protesters were alone except for one bored-looking Branson police officer about a block up the street. There weren’t many other passers-by this far out of Branson proper, but those few there were steered well clear of the sign-bearers. On the first couple of days, there had been a small, angry Changed counter-protest, and a time or two it had looked like violence might break out. But then Trixie and James had met with the Changed group’s leaders and politely asked them to disband. “These punks thrive on attention and want to pick a fight,” James had said. “Let’s not give them what they want. We’re not going anywhere, so don’t feed the trolls, okay?”

Word had gone out among the local Changed community, and the opposition dried up. And now the protesters looked a little sad and forlorn, chanting their slogans to an empty audience.

“Why do they do it?” a soft, feminine voice said from right behind James.

“Gah!” James jumped straight up and nearly dropped his binoculars off the balcony. He turned to look behind him. “Don’t ''do'' that!”

“I am sorry,” Consuela said. The melanistic jaguar Changed looked abashed. “Perhaps I should wear a bell.”

“It’s all right,” James said, putting a hand over his heart and taking a deep breath to try to get it to stop racing.

“But why ''do'' they do it?” Consuela asked again. “It is ''muy loco.'' It makes no sense.”

“Their world has Changed and they don’t like it,” James said. “They can’t deal with it, so they look for someone to blame. And hey, here we are.” It was common knowledge that the Branson bubble had started right there in the Melton compound. Measurements of its perimeter confirmed it, and the epicenter was still exactly on the site of the old animal pit, now filled in with a row of cottages atop it. With that and the news stories about the kidnapping taken together, small wonder that the Melton place was a magnet for Changed-haters of any kind.

“But they will change themselves sooner or later,” Consuela pointed out.

“Yeah, and I’ve read some people think the more they hang out in a bubble or near Changed, the sooner it will be,” James said. He shook his head. “But they don’t believe that, and they’ve got a lot of practice disbelieving what the government tells them. These are the same guys who picket soldiers’ funerals, y’know.”

Consuela cocked her head, watching the protesters some more. “But why do they hate ''us'' so much? What did we ever do to them?”

“It’s not us they hate, but what they think we represent,” James said. “This is the same crowd who thought that AIDS was God punishing the gay people. They look at all the trans-gender furs and think this is God punishing gays again. And y’know, it’s a nice little tautology from their point of view. ''They'' haven’t Changed yet, therefore they’re not the wicked ones. Therefore, anyone who ''does'' Change must have been secretly wicked after all.”

Consuela thought about that. “''Estupido. Muy tonto.'' I feel sorry for any Changed in their families.”

James nodded. “You said it. Of course, on the bright side, the problem will eventually take care of itself. And from some point of view, it could be funny as hell when one or two of that bunch down there eventually Changes and is then all surprised when his pals can’t see he’s just the same person he’s always been, and it’s all the ''other'' Changed who are the evil ones. That doesn’t help us right now, of course.” He looked again at the protesters, then checked his watch. “Hell. They should have knocked off for the day by now. Gina’s flight’s supposed to be landing now, which means she’ll be here in half an hour.”

“Your sister is coming here?” Consuela asked. “I thought she did not like you so much right now, since she learned you had been one of our guards.”

James rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I think she’s under some peer pressure from extremist Changees. Those highly-polarized, ‘us against them’ kooks that claim you shouldn’t trust anyone without fur. They don’t want to hear I’m the one who helped you escape. I was human and involved, therefore I should be shot. And since she’s my sister, she ends up having to try to distance herself from me on the boards, and it bleeds over into real life.” He shrugged. “At least, that’s what it looks like from the threads she’s been posting in.”

“So why is she coming here?” Consuela asked.

“She doesn’t have much choice,” James said. “The MSU dorms don’t open ‘til the fall semester starts in a couple of months, and she doesn’t really have anywhere else to live right now. I offered a room here for a couple months, and she pretty much had to take it.” He grinned faintly. “I’m kinda hoping that if ''you guys'' tell her how awesome I am, she might get it through her head to stop hating me.”

“You can count on me, ''amigo'',” Consuela said with a smile. “I will tell her of nothing but how heroic you were.”

James looked down, face coloring bright red. “You can just stick to the truth and it’ll be fine,” he mumbled.

“Oh, but I will be.” Consuela beamed at him. “You risked yourself shooting your fellow guards to make it safer for us. That is heroic to me.”

“I don’t ''feel'' especially heroic,” James said. “I should have figured out how to shut Melton down months before. But I just stood by while he scooped up more and more people. I feel like I could have ''died'' saving you and it still wouldn’t have put a dent in the debt.”

Consuela reached out and put an arm around his shoulders. “You are a hero to me. You are a ''good man. ''Do you know how rare that is in this world?”

“Keep telling me that and maybe someday I’ll believe it,” James said ruefully. “But right now, I guess I’d better give Gina a call and tell her to hold off on driving out just yet. She—”

He felt Consuela stiffen next to him. “It may be too late for that. Look!” She pointed.

“Huh?” James raised the binoculars to his eyes. “Oh hell.” A red convertible was driving up the road, with a black and tan German Shepherd girl at the wheel. “Her flight must have landed early. And she’s going to come right up by those protesters! I’d better get down—”

He broke off as Consuela vaulted over the railing beside him, grabbing a nearby gutter and sliding down it with an ear-splitting screech of claws on metal. James stared, swore, then turned and ran for the stairs. ''What does she think she’s doing? She’s ''pregnant,'' dammit!''

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Gina Case drove up the road that her GPS said led to the site of the Melton mansion, experiencing feelings of marked ambivalence. She was going to be staying at the site of what might be the most heinous crime ever perpetrated against the Changed. She might well tread the very same land where those Changed had paced out their durance vile. Hell, forget that, she was going to ''meet'' ten out of the original eleven of them.

But on the other hand, she was also going to have to see her brother again, and she wasn’t sure how to handle that. He had, after all, been one of the very security guards who had kept the Changed in their pen—a member of the SS to Hugh Melton’s Hitler. He might have been “only following orders,” but he’d stayed there for ''months'' without doing anything to put an end to the whole affair. His lack of opposition had been an effective ''approval'' of Melton’s regime! Or, at least, that was what all her friends on the Changed forums were saying.

But when you got right down to it, Gina was starting to wonder just how much of that was really true. After all, if James had been so heavily involved in keeping those Changed prisoner, why were they still having anything to do with him now that he was free? In fact, they’d hired him on as head of security for their resort start-up, which must have said something about how they felt about him.

(The more extremist forums were buzzing with accusations of “Stockholm syndrome” or downright blackmail, but Gina was having difficulty envisioning James as some kind of mustache-twirling villain. She could see him as a little feckless, maybe, but not downright ''amoral''.)

Either way, she would soon have the opportunity to quiz the kidnap victims in person. She resolved to leave no stone unturned when it came to the question of how evil her brother was or was not. One way or another, she was going to get some answers.

Gina rounded the last corner and came up on the stretch of road that led by the mansion. She could see the start of the 15-foot walls just ahead. Then she caught sight of the people standing across from the walls, and their signs and placards and angry expressions. “Oh…crud. ''These ''guys.” Gina had read on the forums about similar, if largely isolated, protests in other bubbles. Although most people seemed to be taking the Change revelation well, there were still the occasional fruitcakes who fell outside of those tolerances.

Gina cast wildly about for somewhere she could pull in and turn around, but there were no real shoulders on the road. And the protesters had already seen her coming and were moving out to block the road ahead. Gina’s ears flipped back and she whined a little as the road ran out ahead of her and she finally had to pull to a halt or run over a protester.

The protesters’ leader was in his late thirties or early forties with several days of stubble, wearing jeans and a ratty T-shirt. He carried a sign that read “GOD HATES FANGS!” “Well, what have we here?” he called out to the others. “Looks like another one of those furry freaks who thinks she’s a real person! We don’t want your kind here, bitch!”

Gina whimpered a little, even as part of her noted the irony that the epithet was, technically, accurate. “Please get out of my way,” she said.

“You hear that, boys? ‘Please’? Nobody told you to sit up and beg!” His followers laughed as if they thought he’d just made the funniest joke in the world. “In fact, I think it might be better if you just played dea—ACK!”

The man broke off as Gina calmly lifted the can of pepper spray she kept in the door’s map compartment and sprayed him in the face with it. “I did say please,” she said, with a calmness that belied her racing heart.

The protester rocked back, rubbing at his eyes. “Ow! You ''bitch!'' I can’t believe you did that! Oh, you’re gonna ''pay'' for that!” He took a grip on his sign and raised it over his head. Up the street, Gina saw a policeman starting forward, hand on his holster. She wondered if he would make it in time.

Then a feline scream split the air as a black-furred arm slashed at the sign, knocking it out of the man’s hands. A black jaguar landed at a crouch by the car, in front of the man, growling her defiance as she gazed up at him from bright amber eyes. The protester stared in shock, and rather quickly backed off, followed by the others.

The jaguar rose from her crouch, still glowering at the man. Then she turned to Gina and smiled. “I beg your pardon, ''señorita''. I am Maria Luisa Consuela Cazador y de la Selva, but you may call me Consuela. I came to tell you the gate is open, so please drive inside.” She nodded back over her shoulder, at the wide-open security gate in the fifteen-foot wall. An un-Changed human figure was just running through it, panting as he slowed down. Oh—it was James! He looked quite smart in the dark blue security guard’s uniform—and quite angry at the men on the other side of the road.

“Gina—are you okay?” James called out. He arrived just at the same time as the police officer, who still had his hand on his holster. James glared at him. “So where the hell were ''you'' just now, huh?”

“I’m ''fine,'' James,” Gina said, overcoming her annoyance with him to show a united front before the ''real'' foes. “Thanks to Consuela here. I’ll see you inside.” She pulled forward and turned into the gate. But curiosity got the better of her and she pulled off the path, parked the car, and ran back to peep around the corner of the gate to see what happened next.

James was saying something to Consuela. “—were you ''thinking?'' You’re ''pregnant!'' What if something happened to the baby!” Gina’s eyes widened. Now that he mentioned it, she could make out the slight bulge in Consuela’s belly.

But Consuela just smiled. “Do not be worried,” she said. “A little exercise is good for a pregnant woman.”

“You freaks!” the protest leader said, glaring at them. “I’ll press charges for assault against you ''and'' that bitch!”

James crossed his arms. “If you want to, go right ahead,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. Gina shivered, thinking despite herself that he’d make a great German Shepherd. He certainly had the growl and the steely gaze down perfectly. “We’ll press them right back. We saw you threatening my sister.” He turned the gaze on the cop. “''Didn’t'' we?”

The police officer glanced nervously at Consuela—his hand was still on his gun—but he nodded only a little shakily. “I did, and my report will mention it.”

James turned his attention back to the protester. “And I think our lawyers are going to be a bit better than any ''you'' can afford.”

“That furry freak is your ''sister?''” the man said. “I guess it figures you’d have one of them in your family.”

“Sneer while you can,” James said. “Sooner or later there’ll be one in ''your'' family, too. Might even be you. C’mon, Consuela, let’s get back inside.” He nodded to the cop, and the pair of them walked back toward the gate.

Behind them, the protester plucked up his courage to come back and retrieve his sign. As he picked it up, the right half of the placard dropped off, sheared through by Consuela’s claws. What was left of the sign attached to the stick now read “GOD FAN”. Gina giggled and slipped back to her car, where she was waiting when the others came inside.

James stopped by the gate to throw the switch to shut it again, then he and Consuela came over to Gina. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Gina said, in more of a growl now that they were alone. “What ''was'' that?”

“Our own friendly neighborhood whack-jobs,” James said. “I’m sorry about that. If I’d known your flight got in early, I’d have told you to hold off coming until they cleared out. Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t feel like talking yet,” Gina said. “I’m still trying to decide just how much I hate you for what you did for Melton.”

James rolled his eyes. “Gina, I’ve tried to tell you, I only played along until I could find a chance to help them break out. If I’d called the cops, Melton would have found out about it ahead of time and just moved everyone to another location.”

Gina sniffed. “So you say.” She found she was ''wanting'' to believe him, especially given how concerned he had been about Consuela, but she still didn’t know for sure yet.

“So I say, too,” Consuela said, coming up beside them. “Your brother ''es muy bravo''. Had it not been for him, we might have been hurt badly. Do you know, he took out half the guards himself?”

Gina blinked at her. “You were…one of the Eleven?” She did remember a dark cat-Changed in the group photos, come to think of it, but the press coverage had mainly focused on Tiffany and the pregnant sheep.

“I was. Trust me when I say to you—your brother was a big help in freeing us. Everyone will tell you so.” Consuela nodded emphatically.

“Oh.” Gina glanced at James. “I guess…I may owe you an apology.” The way Consuela’s praise had set James to blushing fiercely did tend to lend it a certain suggestion of accuracy.

James shrugged. “It’s a mistake anyone could make. C’mon, let’s get up to the house. We’ve got your room all ready.”

Gina nodded to her car. “Climb in, I’ll drive you on up.” The two Changed and one human clambered into the convertible, and Gina drove up toward the mansion. She’d already gotten one shock to her preconceptions, Gina reflected. She wondered what else might await her when they got there.

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James left Gina to get settled into her room in the staff wing of the mansion—the section where all the furres had small apartments except for Leo and Helena, who’d turned Melton’s old master bedroom into an apartment for two. He headed back up the stairs to the tower balcony, and picked up his binoculars again. There was a police car parked in front of the gate now, and a couple more officers discussing things with the group of protesters, who seemed notably more subdued. They weren’t waving their signs or shouting slogans at the moment, at least.

“Do you think they will give up and go home now?” Consuela asked from right behind his left ear.

“GAH!” James said, nearly dropping the binoculars again. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“''Lo siento! ''I am sorry!” Consuela said, raising her hands. “I did not think. I will try to stop frightening you.”

“I’m not ''frightened,''” James said. “Just startled within an inch of my life. You’re so ''quiet'' all the time!”

“It is only how I am. It is hard to change.” Consuela leaned against the balcony and glanced down at the police cars. “Do you think there will be trouble from this?”

“I don’t know,” James said, peering through the binoculars again. “Theoretically, they ''could'' charge both you and Gina with assault, with the pepper spray and hitting the sign. Though I would think any judge in his right mind would throw that out as self-defense after thinking about it for just a few seconds.”

“I hope you are right.”

“I never really got the chance to thank you,” James said. “If you hadn’t gotten there so fast, Gina could have been hurt. I’m really grateful.”

Consuela smiled. She glanced over at the drain pipe she’d slid down, which was now scratched and slightly twisted all the way to the ground. “''De nada.'' I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I hope you won’t take it the wrong way if I say I hope you won’t have to.” James shook his head. “This sort of thing just shouldn’t happen. I’m going to talk to Trixie and Helena about hiring on some additional security folks—furres and humans both. We’d need them anyway when we opened up, so might as well get them in place and training now.”

“That could be a good idea,” Consuela said.

James nodded. “Anyway, I guess I should stay and keep an eye on things for now.”

“Then I will stay, too,” Consuela said. “For a little longer, at least.” She came over to lean against the balcony next to James. James was conscious of the warmth of her body and the musky smell that her Changed body naturally produced. He’d actually started to find it rather pleasant. And he couldn’t deny she was pleasant to look at, too. She had a well-toned, lithe body that was muscular without being grotesque, and she believed in concealing it under as few clothes as possible. Alone of all the others, she often still went entirely nude while within the mansion grounds. She wasn’t nude now, but the black shorts and halter-top sports bra she had on left very little to the imagination.

They watched the protesters in silence for a while, he with his binoculars and she with probably almost as good vision without them. Then Consuela spoke, more quietly. “James? I have something I would like to tell you. It may make you laugh. I hope it does not.”

She sounded serious. James lowered the binoculars and looked over at her. “What’s that, Consuela?”

The jaguar looked down, seemingly reluctant for once to meet his gaze. “I have been…watching you, over the last couple of months.”

“Not really any surprise there,” James said. “I’m pretty sure you all have. Even though I helped you bust out, I’m still the outsider here. I didn’t go through all the things you all did.”

Consuela shook her head. “No, no, it is not that. I mean that ''I'' have been watching you. For something else.” Her eyes flicked up once or twice to meet his, through her thick black eyelashes. “I am a selfish ''gato''. I have always believed in looking out for myself. Planning to make things easy for me.”

“I don’t know if I’d really call you ''selfish'',” James said. “You’ve helped the rest of us a lot. Like just now, when you rescued my sister.”

“I help my friends ''too'',” Consuela said. “But I also help myself.” She glanced out at the protesters again, then back down at the balcony railing. “I was planning to seduce you.”

“You were ''what?''” This time, James ''did'' drop the binoculars. Consuela absent-mindedly reached out and caught them before they could hit the railing.

Consuela bit her lip. “I need a mate.” She toyed with the strap on the binoculars. “I thought I was strong enough to make it on my own, but since my body has started to change from this pregnancy, it makes me worry what it will be like when it is further along.” She smiled ruefully. “I can be strong if I need to be, but I would like someone to pamper me sometimes if I feel like being pampered. And Leo…it would not be fair to ask him for that since he belongs to another.”

“And you wanted ''me?''” James asked.

Consuela shrugged. “It was a calculation at first—you are young, attractive, and not yet claimed, and you already know all our secrets. I was going to seduce you, claim you, and make you mine.” She smiled again. “I could have done it, too.”

“I think you’re right,” James said. “I have to admit I’ve been…attracted to you.” More than that, he’d fantasized about her. She ''was'' gorgeous—and also exotic, dark, and dangerous, all elements with more than slight appeal. But he’d never once thought of actually approaching her—how was that going to look coming from one of the creepy guards who’d watched her cavort naked all those months? “So…why aren’t you?”

“Because I came to know you, and to respect and admire you,” Consuela said. “It is as I told you before. You are a ''good man,'' and those are ''muy raros. ''I like being around you, and I respect you too much to treat you as just a conquest.” Then she grinned at him. “And I ''am'' attracted to you. So now…instead of trying to ''take'' you…I come to ask if you would like to have me, instead.”

James swallowed. “To…''have'' you?”

“I am very affordable. I do my own hunting, so I do not cost much to feed.” She winked at him.

“And of course I’d still have to pamper you when you felt like it,” James said.

Why had he never noticed that she dimpled when she smiled? “Of course. That is what you do with a pet, is it not?”

“But since you’d be a pet ''cat, you’d'' just end up owning ''me'' anyway,” James pointed out.

Did she actually ''giggle?'' “This is true.”

“This ''is'' a little sudden,” James pointed out. “Maybe we should just start by…hmm…dinner, tonight?”

Consuela actually purred. He felt the vibrations through the railing they were both leaning against. “That is…acceptable. In town, then? You will drive?”

“Yeah. 7 work for you?”

Consuela nodded. “I will be ready.” She got back to her feet. “Thank you for not laughing.”

James smiled. “I make it a policy never to laugh at someone whose claws are sharper than mine.”

Consuela laughed. “A most wise policy. I will see you then.” She handed him back the binoculars and turned to go.

“I’ll look forward to it.” James turned to watch Consuela pad gracefully off of the balcony and down the stairs, leaving him alone with his thoughts. “…huh.” He turned back to watch the protesters, though had a hard time concentrating for a while.

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Gina took the last of her clothing out of her suitcase and put it in the chest of drawers. There—she was unpacked. She closed her suitcase, then looked around the room. It wasn’t bad at all, really. It was about the size of an ordinary studio apartment, and reasonably well furnished—nothing fancy, but sturdy and well-crafted bed, dresser, chest of drawers, desk, and a couple of chairs. She gathered that this had originally been the servants’ wing, though the current Melton hadn’t had much in the way of servants. Stood to reason, Gina supposed. The more people were around, the more likely someone would have been to notice the animal pit full of ''naked people''.

Out of curiosity, Gina pulled open one of the drawers in the dresser and looked inside. She chuckled to find a lint brush, still in the original packaging. She glanced at herself in the mirror—a black and tan German Shepherd with a human body shape, wearing shorts and a T-shirt over her natural fur. “Oh, yeah, that’s exactly what I need to keep that annoying pet hair off my clothing.” She flopped back on the bed and lay on her back, hands behind her head, tail sticking down between her legs. She stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

The preconceived notion she’d come with, that James had been a part of the regime that held eleven Changed prisoner, had taken a jolt from what Consuela had said, but after thinking about it Gina wasn’t quite ready to give it up just yet. After all, she was only one furre, and she ''could'' have been mistaken in what she saw. She’d have to talk to some of the others and see what they said. Gina sighed. She ''wanted'' to believe the best about her brother, but she’d already gotten flamed on the forums when she’d been foolish enough to admit she was his sister. She didn’t want to stick her neck out again without absolute proof.

“Knock knock!” said a friendly voice at the door. Gina glanced over to see a vixen in a dress standing there, fluffy tail wagging. “I’m Trixie Jacques. I allegedly run this insane asylum. I heard you got in and thought I’d stop by to say hello.”

“Oh, hi!” Gina sat up. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Gina Case.”

“I know. Your brother told us all about you. Mind if I come in?”

“Go ahead, it’s your asylum.” Gina recognized Trixie from the group photos and some of the interviews she’d given. She was another one of the Eleven, and this might be another good chance to get some answers.

Trixie chuckled. “Thanks.” She pulled up one of the chairs and straddled it backward, resting her arms on the top of the seat back. “What do you think of the place so far?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen much of it except the driveway up. And the jerks out front.” She lifted her lip in a slight snarl.

“Ah, yes, them.” Trixie rolled her eyes. “At least that’s a problem that will ''eventually'' take care of itself.”

“I did see some places where it looks like statues have been removed?” Gina asked.

Trixie nodded. “You’re not missing much. Hugh didn’t really have a whole lot of taste in decorating. About the best that could be said for them is that other people with just as little taste were willing to pay more for them now than Hugh did when he first bought them. So we made a little profit, and also cleared the space for other uses.”

“Can I—will I be able to see the place where he kept…um…you?” Gina asked.

“It doesn’t really exist anymore, as such,” Trixie said. “We filled the place in and built cottages on top of it. We were tempted to keep it as a tourist attraction, but decided in the end there were too many bad memories there.”

“Oh, I see,” Gina said.

Trixie smiled. “We do still have one of the enclosures where he kept his big cats, though, and it’s pretty similar. I can show you later, if you want.”

Gina couldn’t contain herself any longer. “Is it…is it true that my brother actually ''helped'' you escape?”

“Not only did he help us escape, he helped keep our morale up while we were imprisoned, by sneaking in some books for us to read to help pass the time,” Trixie said. “You shouldn’t believe all the crap you read on the Changed forums. Most of those people don’t know what they’re talking about.” Her tail swished back and forth emphatically.

Gina blinked. “He…he did?”

“Yeah. And he told us about you, too. Said that a big reason he was trying to keep a low profile while he figured out how to help us was that he was worried what might happen if Melton found out about you.”

“Oh.” Gina felt herself blushing under her fur. “I guess I’ve really been an idiot.”

“It’s no big,” Trixie said. “We’ve all done some dumb things in our time. Some of them a lot dumber than others.” She looked distant for a moment, then shook her head. “Anyway, the important thing is what you do now that you know the truth.”

“I think I’d probably better go find James and apologize, for starters,” Gina said. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“Sure, I’ll show you the way.” Trixie led Gina out of the room.

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At ten ‘til 7 that evening, James was waiting in his car, a slightly battered 2001 Nissan Altima, in a good mood for reasons apart from his impending date. After a talk with Trixie, his sister had come up to the tower to apologize to him, and ask him to tell her the whole story of Melton’s imprisonment of the Changed, and his participation in it. And so he had, giving her a fairly complete recounting up until the escape. After they’d gotten free, he said, they came up to Melton’s office to find him gone, and called the police and the paramedics.

He hadn’t mentioned Helena. After Leo had married her, they’d all agreed to keep her origin a secret, given that kidnapping didn’t have a statute of limitations. It wouldn’t do anybody any good if the whole sordid story of her imprisonment came out and she got arrested for the original kidnapping—and then ''they'' got arrested for imprisoning ''her.'' As far as anyone knew, she would just be another Changed they met after getting free.

In fact, given how obsessed Gina seemed to be with the imprisonment and events surrounding it, James had suggested to all the others (and they had agreed) that it would be a good idea to get into the habit of referring to Helena by the name on her marriage license, “Helga,” to try to keep her from getting suspicious at the “coincidental” similarity to Hugh Melton’s gender-change name. (James still thought it was risky even having a name ''close to'' Helena, but at the time she’d chosen it Helena had wanted to pick something easy to cover with if someone slipped.)

Gina seemed to be satisfied with the story, and relations between them had gotten a lot more cordial. There was still a little residual awkwardness, but it would probably fade with time. James was looking forward to having Gina around the next couple of months.

But more immediately, he was looking forward to the date tonight. Exactly at 7:00, Consuela came down the stairs wearing what was, for her, an unusual amount of clothing—a light grey dress that James remembered having seen Helena in before. They were about the same size, so it made sense Consuela would have borrowed an outfit from her if she’d needed it on short notice. Consuela climbed into the car and buckled her seat belt.

“So where would you like to go?” James asked.

Consuela smiled at him. “You will laugh, but…Taco Bell.”

James didn’t laugh, but he did blink. “Taco Bell? Why? If you want Mexican food, we can go to La Iguana—I can certainly afford it.”

“No, it is not that I want Mexican food,” Consuela said. “I want…''fake'' Mexican food. I cannot explain it, but I have ''una adicción.'' An addiction.”

“Is this a pregnancy craving?” James grinned.

“I would say it might be, but I have always liked the stuff.” Consuela chuckled. “It is just so…''fake''. Not even a little bit real. It is like the Disneyland of food.”

“Then I guess we’re going to Disneyland.” James started the car and pulled out of the drive. As they pulled out the gate, James glanced around for any sign of the protesters, but they were long gone.

“Good riddance,” Consuela said.

“They’ll be back,” James said. “But not tonight.” He turned toward downtown Branson and stepped on the gas.

As they navigated the curvy Ozark road into town, Consuela glanced over at him. “I am curious. How did you end up working for a man like Melton?”

“Not much to tell, really,” James said. “Couldn’t find a job in my degree, ended up working full-time for a security firm I’d been at part-time during school. I was one of their better rent-a-cops, so when Melton was looking for someone to fill a vacancy, I was at the top of the list.”

“But how is it that you became one of our guards? It is hard to imagine anyone could mistake you for the kind who could tolerate injustice.”

“Well, you’d probably have to ask Helena about that,” James said. “I’m not ''entirely'' sure myself. I know that at the time I was really worried about paying off my student loan debts, and had let it drop from time to time that I would be up for any little ‘extra’ jobs that would pay more. And I think there’s a tendency among bad people to assume other people are just as bad as they are. So one day they tell me about a really high-paying secret job, that was only open to ''really trusted'' people.”

James paused for a moment to navigate the turn onto Highway 76, Branson’s busy central thoroughfare. “This was after Gina had Changed and forcibly broken the Veil on me so I wouldn’t think she was crazy. So the other guards show me this camera feed of the animal pit and they me what I think.”

“That must have been a shock,” Consuela said.

He chuckled. “You said it. I’m ''utterly ''shocked, and I’m just about to say ''exactly'' what I think—but right after I open my mouth it hits me that ''they’re'' not freaked out like they’re looking at human animals. They’re ''leering'' like they’re looking at naked ''people''. And I remember that I’m not ''supposed'' to be able to see fuzzy people, so it might be a bad sign to let on. So I say, ‘A…bunch of naked people? What is this, some kind of weird porno channel?’ And they explain what’s going on, and I’m thankful for the acting classes I took at school.

“My first impulse is to call the cops, but I bite down on it for a little bit as I still don’t know ''exactly'' what’s going on and I want to be dead sure before I do anything. Because by now I know what kind of people these are, and how rich Melton is, and if they ever start thinking I’m not one of them, there might just be ways I could quietly disappear.

“So I’m all, ‘How much does it pay?’ and I didn’t have to fake my astonishment at the amount. So I’m like, ‘Sounds good to me.’ And they’re all relieved, I guess because now they didn’t have to kill me.” James shivered. “I don’t ever want to be there again.”

Consuela reached over to pat his arm. “We are ''all'' well out of that situation.”

“It’s really weird, you know? In a way, it’s sort of like Melton really wasn’t as bad of a person as the people he hired to work for him. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to forgive him—her. He just had this funny idea in his head that he was catching pretty animals for his own private little zoo. Totally off his rocker—Helena admits it—but at least he just wanted to look, not jerk off. But you have to wonder about the sort of guards who patrol and keep an eye on a pit full of what as far as they know are just naked ''humans.''”

Consuela nodded. “''Muy malo. ''But they are all behind bars now. For a long, long time.”

James nodded. “And I would be too, if you all hadn’t spoken up for me. I owe you all ''big'' for that.”

“Not as ‘big’ as we owe you for helping us to break out,” Consuela said. “As far as I am concerned, we are still in your debt.”

“I’d rather just call it even, if it’s all the same to you.” James grinned. “Anyway, the rest you know. When I could get away with it, I’d slip in little things like those books. Just a way of letting you know ''someone'' out there could see you and was trying to figure out what the ''hell'' to do. And we’re here.”

James turned into the parking lot of the Taco Bell, pulled into a parking spot, and killed the engine. As Consuela reached for the door, James held up his hand. “Hang on, wait a sec.” He climbed out, then came around to the passenger side, opened the door, and offered Consuela a hand out.

“''Gracias, señor,''” Consuela purred, accepting the hand and letting him help pull her to her feet. “Although I am not ''quite'' so far gone yet that I cannot stand up for myself.” She smiled to remove the sting from the words.

James grinned. “I’m just an old-fashioned kind of guy, I’m afraid.”

Consuela took advantage of the grip she still had on his hand to pull him into a hug. “I know. It is what I like about you,” she whispered in his ear before letting him go.

“Er…yes,” James said, momentarily nonplussed.

“Come along!” Consuela called cheerfully, prowling toward the restaurant. “I hear a taco calling my name!”

“Right!” James hastened to overtake her, then hold the outer door for her to enter. She smiled at him, then held the next door for him to precede her. A couple of minutes later, they were ensconced in a booth with their food.

As it happened, Consuela was the only Changed in the restaurant at the moment, and a number of the still-human patrons were eying her nervously. For all that more Changed had started showing up in recent months, drawn by the bubble, many of the city’s residents were still uncertain what to make of their new anthropomorphic neighbors—especially the dangerous-looking ones like the big cats.

Though the younger ones didn’t seem to have much problem with them. “Look, Mommy!” one little girl yelled excitedly, before her mother hastily shushed her. “A giant kitty!” Consuela chuckled and waved to the little girl before returning her attention to her food.

And so they ate. James nibbled on a burrito supreme while watching Consuela crunch her way with gusto through a 12-taco basket. The dessicated corpses of a couple of dozen Taco Bell fire sauce packets littered the table, their quirkily offbeat fortune-cookie slogans going unheeded.

“Are you ''sure'' you do your own hunting?” James asked.

Consuela smiled at him, licking taco sauce off of one finger. “These are probably ''terribly'' bad for me, and I have heard nasty stories about the way Taco Bell beef is made, but they are still so tasty! And so ''completely'' unlike any ''real'' food I have ever had. Not to say that the real food is ''bad,'' but I have had it so often it is nice to have something so different.”

“I guess Taco Bell ''is'' just about as different as you can get from the ‘real thing’,” James said. “So how did ''you'' end up here? I mean, I know they kidnapped you from MSU in Springfield, but what were you doing there?”

“Studying agriculture,” Consuela said. “I come from a small, poor village, where there is no real agriculture any more—only coca. I qualified for a United Nations study-abroad program, where I was supposed to learn to farm here, then go back there and teach what I have learned to help my people break free of the drug lords. Of course, I was dropped from the program when I disappeared from school. And my student visa expired while I was in Melton’s pen. It is a good thing we had money for lawyers.”

“So what are you going to do now? Finish school and go back?”

“I want to do that someday—but if I am to have a child, I want to raise it here. There is better medical care, no cartel gangsters, and less superstition. I am still worried what ''mamá ''will think when she sees what I have become, let alone that I am a single ''mamá'' myself.” She looked down at one of her hand-paws, flexing it to show and hide the claws.

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing, being what you are.” James chuckled at her. “I have to keep telling myself that, because I’m ''positive'' it’s going to be my turn this year.”

“You think so?”

“I ''know'' so. I’ve spent so much time around all of you that I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already.” He looked down at his hands, marveling that they were still fur-free. “And with my luck, I’ll probably end up flipping gender, too.” He chuckled. “That might put a little kink in your seduction plans.”

“If I spent all my time worrying about what ''might'' happen, I would never do anything,” Consuela said. “I think you would make a good stepfather to my child. But if necessary you would make a good godmother instead. We will worry about what happens later, later.”

James blushed. “It’s a little too soon to be saying words like ‘stepfather,’ don’t you think? This is only our first date.”

Consuela smiled. “I am sorry—I do not mean to frighten you. But ''my'' mind is already made up. I am only trying to convince yours.”

“I’m not ''frightened,''” James insisted. “Well…maybe a little intimidated. But you don’t see me running.” He grinned shakily. “To be honest, I’m really attracted to you myself. I just feel like it’s not a good idea to rush into anything.”

Consuela munched on another taco. “Good. If we like each other already, we can work out any little problems.”

James took another bite of his burrito and nodded his agreement. Though he wasn’t so sure she was backing down quite as complacently as she seemed. More like she was making a tactical retreat to set a snare somewhere down the line. She ''was'' a master huntress, after all.

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And she waited to spring the trap until they were back at the mansion. After James had parked the car and helped Consuela out again, she took his hand and led him out away from the mansion, to where they could see the stars more clearly. Then she took him into her arms and, to his surprise, kissed him gently on the mouth. “Mmm.” James said. Then as she deepened the kiss, “MMM!” But then he gave back as good as he got, feeling his smooth tongue pushing back against her bristly one. Consuela began to purr, and he felt the vibrations conducted skin to skin into his own body.

They stood there in each other’s arms for a while, enjoying each other’s mutual warmth and staring up at the sky. Then Consuela whispered, “Would you like to come back to my room with me? Or could I come to yours?”

“But—you’re pregnant,” James pointed out.

“So you do not have to worry about making me so again,” Consuela said.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“There are things we can do safely, if we’re careful.” Consuela said. “I have read about it.”

“I don’t know…I still think it’s too soon.”

“I like you…you like me. What is the problem?” Consuela asked philosophically.

“It’s just so sudden…I need a little time to get used to the idea,” James said. He realized it even sounded like an excuse to ''him,'' and immediately wished he could take it back.

But Consuela did not seem disappointed. She loosened her embrace and stepped away. She was only visible as a dim outline in the night with luminous amber eyes, and James was reminded of the lyrics ''Rhiannon moves like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness.''

“Very well,” Consuela said. “I have waited months already. I can wait a little longer.” She smiled at him, and now her white teeth were also visible in the night. “Good night, James. I will see you tomorrow.” And then she was gone.

James stood there for a moment, shaking his head bemusedly and coming to terms with the fact that part of him—a small but very insistent part—wished he’d given Consuela another answer. Then he followed Consuela’s general direction back to the mansion.

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At ten a.m. the next day, Gina Case sat in her guest room with her laptop on the desk, tapping away on her Furgonomics-designed Logitech PawsPlus wireless keyboard. After her talk with Trixie the day before, she had realized just how much she had let the web forums color her thinking about the Melton affair, and had resolved to inform herself fully before venturing out of her room to meet the others. She currently had the ''60 Minutes'' segment on Youtube paused in one tab while she Googled some references in another.

At the moment, the frame was paused on a still of the enigmatic “Helena” Melton. It was the photo-op shot with badger-Changed congressman Sandrick, who stood there with a grin on his snout completely unaware he was consorting with a serial kidnapper.

There had been a minor scandal when it came out just how much Melton had contributed to Sandrick’s campaign war chest, and the congressman had very publicly donated that same amount to a number of pro-Changed charities. Gina wondered whether Melton had been planning to kidnap Sandrick, eventually, as well. Did the badger have any idea just how close he had come?

Gina shifted her gaze to Melton herself. She looked so innocent—a grinning woman in a fancy gown, her brown hair loose down her shoulders behind her. Except she hadn’t been, at the time—either innocent or, as it happened, a woman. Back then she had still been Hugh Melton, a man in a fancy suit according to those who had seen the photo before. The photo change was just another little trick of the “reality virus,” as some had started calling it, that edited any gender-Changed’s recorded backstory to conform to the new reality.

So, although Melton had been a man up until just a few months ago, right before the eleven Changed prisoners had escaped, no photos of the male him existed anymore, anywhere in the world. The only likenesses that could be produced of his old self were drawings from memory, Identikit-style representations, or Photoshop manipulations, all three of which had been used on the ''60 Minutes ''segment. Such things were becoming more and more common these days as TGs sought after some way to remember the people they’d once been.

It was all so weird, Gina reflected, as she had more than once. Why did the reality virus backfill gender, but not species? Why weren’t the Changed uniformly ''furry'' in those pictures as well as gender-flipped? Was it because the Veil kept people from seeing them as furry but didn’t work as well against matters of gender? When the Veil came down completely, would people get photo-edited to be furry as well as TG?

But the thing that really freaked Gina out about the photo of Melton when she thought about it was that, unless Melton had been one of those extremely rare separate-shift cases like Richard Sobel from the ''Boston Globe,'' the photo was of a person who had literally ''never'' existed, save as a superimposed ghost image that she herself couldn’t even see—because Melton had become an animal-person of some sort at the same time she’d become female.

Whatever she was now, Helena Melton was Changed, and could only be seen as that brown-haired woman by a “mundane” outside a bubble. If she was within a bubble and stayed there, nobody would ever have the chance to recognize her. It was the ultimate disguise.

And she’d get off scot-free.

It really aggravated Gina that the perpetrator of the greatest crime against Changed-kind in recent history should get away with it. She felt with all the fiery fervor of a recent convert that Justice Must Be Done. If only there were some way to find Helena out!

Gina sighed, and paged down the ''New York Times'' article that she’d just found with Google. At least she was learning more about her brother’s role in events thanks to these pieces. He hadn’t been very talkative about his own role in the escape, but the others had described in great detail how he had taken out two of his fellow guards with a tranquilizer rifle, then lured the others into a trap—at the risk of being shot himself. She guessed he’d been too modest to say anything about it.

Gina finished the article and closed the laptop. She didn’t know what she was going to say next time she posted to the forums. Probably start a one-doggie flamewar in support of her brother, which might not be the most productive use of her time overall. Maybe she should just find a new forum, with fewer idiots. “Oh yeah, like those exist anywhere,” she muttered.

She stood and stretched, a shiver working its way down from the tips of her ears to the tip of her tail. She went to her dresser and pulled on shorts, T-shirt, and paw-shoes, checked her hair, grabbed her purse, then went downstairs to rustle up some breakfast.

After taking a couple of wrong turns, Gina found her way into the kitchen, where due to the relative lateness of the hour only a couple of people were still sitting at a side table eating breakfast sandwiches—a male lion and a female cougar. The lion waved. “Morning, stranger! You must be Gina.” He grinned. “Hey, you ''are'' cute!”

The cougress rolled her eyes. “''Leo…''”

“Sorry, hon! It’s just that I’d been wondering ever since I first heard about her, back when we were breaking out of the pit, whether she was cute or not. So it’s nice to find out at last.” He winked. “Of course, it’s too late for me to do anything about it ''now…''” He held up one handpaw, on one finger of which a gold wedding band glinted.

“And you’re Leo Nelson!” Gina said, recognizing him from the video she’d just been watching. “And I’d heard ''you ''were something of a Casanova.” She grinned back, tongue lolling. “But I hadn’t heard you were ''married.''”

“Just happened a few weeks ago.” Leo nodded to the cougress. “This is my wife, Hele—”

“''Helga,''” the cougress interrupted, casting a meaningful glance at the lion. “Helga Nelson, pleased to meet you.”

Gina took the proffered handpaw, but her ears pricked a bit. “Helga” was it? Gina could have sworn Leo had been about to say something else. “Uh, pleased to meet you, too,” Gina said, giving the cougress another look.

Helga was quite well-built, a little slim but very curvy in the bust in a way that made Gina feel a little inadequate, with brown hair worn loose down her shoulders. She wore a pleated pink skirt, a yellow blouse, and a friendly expression. Gina couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she’d seen this Changed somewhere before, but where? She didn’t ''know'' any cougresses.

“It’s the cook’s day off, so it’s make-your-own-breakfast day,” Leo said. “Or if you’re not the best cook, I can make it for you, no trouble.”

“I’m decent at eggs and bacon,” Gina said. “Just need to know where everything is.”

“Sure, I’ll show you.”

“Just be sure that’s ''all'' you show her,” Helga said mildly, though the grin belied her sardonic tone.

“Geez, a man just philanders a ''little bit'' and it’s like he’s got a reputation or something.” Leo grinned back. It was obviously a running joke between them.

As Gina cracked the eggs and scrambled them, she glanced back at the two sitting at their table. “How’d you two meet?” she asked.

“Oh, I caught her eye about a year or so ago,” Leo said. “Little bit before Melton got me. Then I found her again after I got out.”

“That’s certainly…romantic,” Gina said, putting bacon in to fry. Something about his delivery bothered her. It was off just a little, like he was somehow shading the truth. But it might just have been her appetite making her suspicious.

“It took a little while for him to get me to come to my senses,” Helga said with a smile. “But he finally convinced me to elope to Vegas to get married.”

“Wow, that really ''is'' romantic,” Gina said, impressed despite herself. She slid the eggs and bacon off onto a plate.

“And here we are,” Leo said. “Helga’s doing our accounting now, and I’m going to be a tour guide. We’re gonna help make this place awesome, together.”

“I see,” Gina said. She carried her breakfast to a nearby table and sat down.

“So how do you like the place so far?” Leo asked.

“I haven’t seen much of it—James is going to show me around today,” Gina said. “But what I ''have'' seen looks good!”

Leo nodded. “If you want my extra special ''private'' tour—”

“Leo!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Leo leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek.

She purred. “I know. But I’ve got a reputation as a lion-tamer to uphold. Don’t make me go get my whip.”

Gina giggled, as she simply couldn’t imagine Helga with a whip. Whatever it was she found weird about the two, it ''was'' clear that they loved each other very much. They continued their gentle jousting as Gina finished breakfast and headed back to her room to check her email and then find James for the tour.

When Gina got back to her room and flipped open the laptop, the first thing she saw was the YouTube video, still frozen on the still of Helena and Sandrick. She reached up to change the tab, then paused, thoughtfully. Helena Melton’s hairstyle was exactly the same as “Helga’s”. And something about the eyes…

Gina stared for a moment, then shook her head. Eh. Plenty of people had long brown hair and brown eyes. She was just jumping at shadows. Still… “Hele—Helga”?

Gina tabled the thought for later and went off in search of James.

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“And this is the one habitat that we decided not to fill in, and keep as an example for the tourists. It’s only about half as big as the one the Eleven were kept in, but it’s basically the same other than that.”

Gina stood at the railing and looked down into it. “That bastard,” she growled. “When I think how he—''she''—got away right before they escaped…”

“Heh, yeah,” James said. “It’s kind of frustrating. But mostly I think the others would rather just focus on trying to put it all behind them instead of fret about taking an eye for an eye.” He turned and looked straight into Gina’s eyes. “In fact—don’t take this the wrong way, but I really hope they don’t find her. For ''your ''sake.”

“For ''my'' sake?” Gina asked. “But I want to see her brought to justice for what she did!”

“I meant the plural ‘you’, as in all Changed everywhere.” James shook his head. “Have you thought about what would have happened if they had found her, or if they find her now? The trial would probably still be going on. It would probably continue right into the election year. It would be the dog, pony, fox, bear, wolf, bobcat, and who knows what else show of the decade, and would completely overshadow everything that Changed activists are trying to accomplish.

“On the one hand, it would be all, ‘Oh, look at the poor Changed, locked up by the nasty man who thought they were animals.’ But on the other hand it would be ‘Look at that evil woman who used to be a nasty man! What a ''freak!''’ It would be like a two-for-the-price-of-one deal: you get to be seen as both victims ''and'' freaks.

“And it would be on the news every time you turn around so nobody would ever forget it. So these few years, the crucial first few years that are going to decide how the whole world looks at you people, would be dominated by this show-trial that would completely drown out the voices of reason and moderation trying to convince everyone that Changed are ''people ''before anything else.”

“Oh.” Gina thought about that for a moment. “Guess I hadn’t thought about it that way. I’m surprised you have. You’re a human, after all.”

“You’re a human, too, Gina,” James said.

Gina rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do, but it’s a bad habit to get into. Anyway, that’s the whole point, really. I’ve been around so many Changed so much this past year, I’m positive my number’s going to be up this August. So I’m enjoying being fur-free while I still can, and thinking about what the world’s going to be like when I’m not. I don’t want people thinking ''I’m'' a victim or a freak when I’m one of you.”

Gina punched him playfully on the shoulder. “You’ve always been a freak, James. That’ll never change.”

“Gee, thanks. That means so much,” James said dryly. “So yeah, anyway…I’m glad Helena got away.”

Gina cocked her head at her brother and considered him thoughtfully. His body language during his little speech had been impassioned, but he’d been a little stiff before, and was kind of stiffening up again when he talked about Helena directly. Weird.

She decided to change the subject. “By the way, I met Leo and Helga today.”

Did James just stiffen up a little more? “They’re nice people,” He said.

“Yeah. Leo’s almost like I expected he’d be from the news reports—Casanovaly lion, ''et cetera''—except for the little thing of being married. Who ''is'' Helga, anyway?”

“Just a furre he met while we were all recovering from the ordeal,” James said. “We’ve hired her on as our chief accountant, and she’s been very helpful in getting the resort off the ground.”

“Hmmm.” Gina thought about that for a moment. ''Leo'' had said they’d met ''before'' he was imprisoned. Why were they telling two different stories?

Gina knew that German Shepherds were often police dogs—and while her own ambitions were for a job in the hospitality industry, sometimes she would swear she felt the investigative instincts of the breed stirring. Maybe she could compromise and get a job as a hotel detective? Anyway, one of those times was now. Gina pledged to get to the bottom of this mysterious “Helga”’s identity.

“So can we actually get down into the enclosure?” Gina asked brightly. “I want to get a feel for what it must have been like.”

James visibly relaxed. “Sure thing, but I hope you aren’t going to want to take your clothes off. There’s such a thing as getting ''too much'' of a feel for it.”

Gina giggled. “You know, bro, if you weren’t around, I actually might.”

“Want me to lock you in alone and go away for an hour or so?” James asked.

Gina thought about that. “You know what? Yeah! It’ll be fun.” She paused. “Unless you’re going to be watching me through the security cameras.”

“Would I peep on my own sister?” James asked.

Gina nodded. “Mm, yeah, I should have known better.”

“Of course, you never know whether someone else might be watching,” James pointed out. “They’ve got the same cameras and mics in here they did in the big pen, and they do turn them on from time to time. Of course, that just adds to the realism; the Eleven never knew when someone might be ogling them either.”

Gina cocked her head as she thought about that. “You know, I never really realized…well, OK, I realized, but I never really felt it in my ''gut'' just how creepy it must have been to be in their position. I think I’m starting to now.”

“I’ll be interested to hear your thoughts in an hour or so when I come back. If I don’t forget until tomorrow or so.” James winked.

Gina rolled her eyes. “Oh, you.”

“Seriously, we’re thinking of using this place either as a special overnight rental suite for tourists who want to ‘experience’ what it must have been like, or as some sort of charity ‘jail-and-bail’ theme event. Maybe both. So we’d like to hear your thoughts on that, from an outsider’s perspective.” James grinned at her. “Anyway, it’s right in here.” He led the way down the ramp to the doorway into the pit, opened it, and locked her inside.

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As soon as he was gone, Gina looked around. It really was a desolate little place—a few trees for shade, a small stream running through the middle, a big rock for cats to sun themselves, a cave in one of the enclosure walls for shelter at night or from inclement weather. And this kind of place was where the Eleven had lived for ''months?''

What was more, it was a bright, warm summer day, and the rocks absorbed and radiated the sun’s heat. Before she’d stepped too far out into it, Gina realized that perhaps being naked ''was'' the right idea in a place like this. She looked up at the railings and nobody was in sight. She looked around at the walls, and of course didn’t see any hidden cameras. She stuck her tongue out at them anyway, then pulled off her clothing and left it in a neat little bundle near the entrance.

Part of her felt like a poseur, showing fake solidarity with people who had gone through a great trauma that she was only playing at, but she ignored it. Anyway, it wasn’t just to show solidarity. She really did want to feel, if only for a little while, what it must have been like to be locked up naked in a place like this. Even if it was fake, it was as close as she could get.

Gina spent the first ten minutes pacing around, measuring out the limits of the pit, staring up at the sheer fake-rock walls and the bright blue sky overhead. She knelt by the little stream and splashed a hand in it, then went over to the big rock and climbed up to try sunning herself.

And that was where she got her first surprise. There were scent traces here. Faint, but someone must have spent a ''lot ''of time here to leave them so clearly, even after weeks or months of rain and sun. And it smelled familiar, like someone else she’d smelled only recently. She sniffed closer, then blinked. ''“Helga?”''

This was interesting. Gina sniffed around some more, to see if there were any other traces, but didn’t find anything. Then her eyes fell on the black mouth of the artificial cave. Making a quick side-trip to the bundle of clothing to fetch an LED flashlight from her purse, Gina headed into the cave to see what she could find.

The scent traces were a lot stronger here, where there had been no sun or rain to wear them away—especially on a beat-up old futon lying in one end of the cave. There was Helga for sure, and perhaps a ''hint'' of Leo here and there. Interesting. Had they trysted here to get away from prying eyes? If so, why was Helga’s scent so much stronger? It was as if she’d actually ''lived'' here for a while, but Leo only ''visited''. But that didn’t make any sense…did it?

Other than scents and the futon, the cave was empty—but when she shined the light into one of the darker corners, she noticed something on the floor. Picking it up, she found a button that might have come off a shirt or blouse. “Well, that tears it,” Gina said. “This ''wasn’t'' just where some feral cat was kept. You’re not going to see a feral cat with a button.”

Gina went back out to put the flashlight and button into her purse. Then, with nothing better to do until James returned, she climbed onto the rock in the middle of the enclosure and dozed in the hot summer sun.

When she woke up, the sun was noticeably lower. The pit was mostly in deep shadow, and it was starting to cool off. Clouds were rolling in, and she heard a distant rumble of thunder. She blinked. “What’s going on? It’s been way more than an hour.” She went over to the bundle of clothing and pulled it all back on, then rummaged in her purse for her cell phone.

Then she remembered—she’d left it charging next to her laptop this morning, and forgotten to pick it up before she went out to see James. She didn’t have any way of phoning out.

She cupped her hands around her muzzle, leaned back, and yelled, “Helloooo! Can anyone hear me!” Her voice echoed off the rock walls around her, but there was no response but stillness.

Gina knelt down and lapped some water out of the stream, then went back to sit on the rock again, clasping her knees up against her chest. She was really starting to worry now—and starting to get a better idea than ever just what the Eleven must have felt like. “James, you’d darned well better have a good explanation for this,” she growled.

As the sun sank lower, the rain began, first dotting the rocks with darker spots that immediately evaporated from the stored solar heat, then washing it into a darker gray. Gina hastily grabbed up her clothes and took shelter in the cave, watching the storm from its mouth, and finally flopping down on the futon in despair.

Was she ever getting out of here?

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James chuckled as he turned the key in the lock and went up the ramp, leaving Gina locked inside Helena’s old habitat pit. He might have known she’d be curious enough to want to try it. He was almost tempted to stick around and watch her explore, but he halfway suspected she ''would'' take her clothes off, and he didn’t want to see it if she did—even if he ''had'' helped change her diapers.

James planned to leave her there for two or three hours—long enough for her to get a little anxious, but not for her to get really mad at him. Just a little brotherly prank. And who knew, it might actually give her some real appreciation for how the Eleven had felt.

That was the plan, anyway. Then as James headed back to the house, he happened to run into Consuela coming out of it. She was wearing sensible paw-shoes, jeans, and a T-shirt, with a loaded knapsack on her back. “Oh, James!” she said. “I was hoping I would find you.”

James raised an eyebrow. “What for, to invite me camping?”

“Not ''exactly,''” Consuela said. “I have no tent or sleeping bag, so it is not spending the night. But since it is the cook’s vacation day and we must make our own food, I thought I would invite you to come out with me.”

“You’re going out to eat…with a backpack?” James asked.

“Yes. There is plentiful game in the woods. You did ask me last night if I really hunted for myself.” She grinned at him. “Come with me and find out.”

It crossed James’s mind to wonder what, or who, she was ''really ''hunting. But it sounded fascinating to get the chance to see her at work, and it should only take a couple of hours. He would be back in plenty of time to free Gina. “All right, why not.”

“Good!” Consuela beamed. “Change into some hiking clothes and meet me back here.”

“Got it.” James hastened off to change his clothes.

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Half an hour later, James followed Consuela along a game trail into the deep woods. It was somewhat farther than he had thought they would come, but Consuela had her own ideas about exactly where they were going. He was glad he’d sprayed with Deep Woods Off, even if it did make Consuela wrinkle her nose a little. But she kept telling him they were almost there.

Finally they came to a clearing where all the grass had been cleared from one area and a stone fire pit built. “I see you come here often,” James said.

“It is a refuge,” Consuela said. “And there is good foraging nearby. Here, I will show you.” She led him down another trail from the clearing, to a clearing that was full of blackberry brambles. It was a little early for prime berrying season, but there were still plenty of juicy black berries on the vines.

Consuela handed James a Tupperware container from her backpack. “Would you fill this? While you do, I will hunt our dinner.” She smiled at him. “You would make too much noise if you were with me.”

“Okay, fair enough,” James said, starting to pick the berries. It wasn’t really hard work, and he had soon filled the container to overflowing. He hoped it had been enough time for Consuela to complete her work. He wondered what she had been hunting.

When James returned to the main clearing, he found Consuela already had one rabbit roasting on a spit over a fire, and was just finishing skinning and cleaning another one. She put the bloody skins in a zip-lock bag, undoubtedly to be turned into mittens or something later. “You know, rabbit season isn’t for another five months,” James pointed out.

“If that were the most illegal thing I had done lately, I might be worried,” Consuela said with a smile. “Besides, it is not as if I do not eat what I kill.”

“True enough,” James said. “And I have to admit, it smells good.” He put the berry container down nearby, and Consuela nodded.

“Thank you.” Consuela rubbed some herbs into the skinned rabbit and added it to the spit. “It always amazes me, how much easier it is to hunt now,” she said. “And I was not ''bad'' before.”

“Yeah, you’ll be one heck of a provider,” James said, chuckling. “Considered taking a deer in season?”

“I might register for bow-hunting,” Consuela said. “Since there is not a ‘claw-hunting’ season.”

“When we get enough Changed, there just might be,” James said. “I expect a lot of carnivore-Changed will want to try the ‘old ways of tooth and claw.’”

“Unless all the deer-Changed ask for it to be abolished,” Consuela said.

“The ones who know anything wouldn’t, even if they had sympathy for their animal kin,” James said. “It helps prevent overpopulation and overgrazing.”

“True, but when have the facts ever stopped anyone complaining?”

James chuckled. “You may be right.”

Consuela examined the progress of the rabbits and turned the spit. “Fortunately, taking a rabbit or two out of season is not such a big deal.”

“Fortunately for us. Not so fortunately for the rabbit,” James observed.

“True.”

“Do you think there’s anything to the tabloid stories about Changed hunting other Changed? ‘The Most Dangerous Game Redux’?” James asked.

Consuela’s expression darkened. “I hope not. I would have thought not. Then I spent many months in a private zoo. Now I believe anything is possible.”

James nodded. “I hope they’re just making it up. Like they usually do.”

“Even if they are, some will still believe them. Others may imitate them, whether they ''were'' real or not,” Consuela said.

“And won’t ''that'' be fun to see in the news,” James muttered.

“Yes.” Consuela nodded. “But our food is almost ready. We should find something less depressing to talk about, for depressing things do not help digestion.”

“How about my sister?” James asked. “She seems to like the place so far.”

“I had heard she was being friendlier to you now,” Consuela said. “It is good.”

“And she met Leo and ‘Helga’ today, and seems to get along well with them,” James said.

“''Excelente!''” Consuela grinned. “Do you think she will get over her fervor at seeing the guilty punished?”

“She seemed to respond well when I told her why it was a good thing we didn’t have a show trial going on. We’ll have to see.” James shrugged. “I’m a little worried she might be able to work it out for herself, ‘Helga’ or no. She’s always been a smart cookie.”

“Do you think we should simply tell her?” Consuela asked, turning the rabbits again.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to sound her out over the next couple of days. I already think we can trust her not to tell anyone, given that I’d end up in jail along with everyone else who colluded to hold Helena. But I’m not sure she’d ''like'' it.”

“''Que sera, sera,''” Consuela said. “We will see what happens when it happens.” She opened the knapsack and started unpacking picnic settings: a blanket, paper plates, and even a loaf of store-bought wheat bread.

“So much for roughing it, huh?” James asked.

“‘Roughing it’ is for people who have something to prove,” Consuela said. “I would rather enjoy myself.” She brought out a bottle of sparkling grape juice and paper cups and started arranging everything on the blanket. “We will have a ''good'' meal.”

“I think you’re right.” James grinned and helped lay everything out. Consuela really had thought of everything—she’d even included a packet of wet-naps for cleaning greasy hands.

Finally, Consuela removed the spit from the fire and slid the roasted rabbits onto plates—the longer-cooked one for James, and the rarer one for herself. She tore into her rabbit with gusto, not to mention sharp feline fangs. James ate his more slowly, but with just as much enjoyment.

“This is really good!” James said. Whatever herbs Consuela had used really brought out the flavor of the meat.

“I am glad you like it,” Consuela said to him through lowered lashes.

Together, they ate and drank. James wasn’t able to finish his entire rabbit, but Consuela took care of hers and the rest of his. Then together they policed the site, putting every last bit of trash in a heavy-duty trash bag Consuela had brought along. They hung it from a tree to keep it from wild animals until they were ready to pack it back.

“So what now?” James asked. “Hike back?”

“On a full stomach? I think not.” Consuela grinned at him, and led the way over to a patch of tall grass soaking in the warmth of the sun. “Now we ''siesta''. It is not good to exercise so much after a heavy meal.”

James looked doubtfully at Consuela. “You know I’m still not ready to sleep with you yet.”

Consuela shook her head. “No, no, I do not mean that I want you to make love to me.” She stage-muttered, “Though I admit, I would not ''mind''…” then said louder, “Only let us lie together and share bodily warmth? I would just like to have you next to me is all. You can even keep all your clothes on.”

James glanced at his watch. Only 2:00. He supposed he could spare another hour or two before he had to go get Gina. “Well…all right.”

Consuela smiled at him. “Good.” She lay down in the grass, and James lay down next to her. Then she put her arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth.

“Hey!” James protested when he could speak again.

“I did not say there would be no kissing.” Consuela winked. Then she turned over and dozed off. And, warmed by Consuela’s body and the gentle afternoon sun, and soothed by the gentle purring vibrating him from Consuela’s back, James did the same.

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James woke to the rumble of nearby thunder, and a much darker sky than when he had closed his eyes. Beside him, Consuela sat up. “''Caramba!''” she swore. “It is going to storm. We must take shelter.” She slung the backpack on her shoulder and led the still-groggy James down another path, which went downhill to a nearby stream, with a cave mouth poking out halfway up one of its banks.

No sooner had Consuela tugged James into the cave than the heavens opened and the rain started pouring down.

James looked at his watch, then looked again. He hardly ever swore, but he couldn’t help it this time. “Shit! How did we sleep this late?”

“A full meal…the warm sun,” Consuela said. “A warm body…” She purred.

James facepalmed. “You don’t understand. Just before I ran into you, I’d locked Gina into Helena’s old enclosure—she wanted to experience for herself what it was like in there. I was going to go back after lunch and let her out.”

“Oh, no!” Consuela looked out the cave mouth at the pouring rain. “I am so sorry, James—I did not know!” She looked again, stuck her hand out of the cave mouth, and shook her head. “It is raining much too hard to go out in now. We will have to wait until it passes.”

James pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. “No signal. Crap.”

Consuela patted him on the shoulder. “Do not worry. She will have taken shelter in the cave, just as we have here. She will be all right.”

“She’s still gonna ''kill'' me,” James groaned.

Thunder boomed loud as lightning struck somewhere nearby. “There is nothing we can do about it now,” Consuela said. “It is not safe to move about in this weather.” She patted the floor next to her. “We can only wait.”

James sat down next to her. “That could be ''hours,''” he groaned.

“I am sorry, James,” Consuela said again. “If I had known, I would never have let you sleep so long. I just thought it was a nice chance to spend time together.”

“I probably needed the rest,” James said. “And I probably should have said something myself.” He groaned again. “Gina is going to ''kill'' me.”

“I will explain that it was all my fault,” Consuela said. “She can be angry at both of us, then.”

James facepalmed. “And she’ll assume I’m sleeping with you. In the carnal sense.”

Consuela smiled wryly at him. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“I’d kind of like to actually be ''doing'' it first,” James said, rolling his eyes. “And I still don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

Consuela sighed. “I hope I am not coming on too strong. I do not want to drive you away. I just…like you so very, very much and want us to be together.”

James glanced over at her, admiring the way her long, dark hair fell in waves in front of her shoulder, the sleek grey-black fur that covered her body, and the way she looked back at him. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to drive me away. This is just…a little sudden, and it’s taking me a while to adjust.”

Consuela smiled at him. “Thank you. I understand. And I do not want to cause trouble between you and your sister.”

James chuckled. “Little too late for ''that.''” He glanced out at the rain again. “But I expect she’ll come to look back on this and laugh. Eventually. In a few years, maybe.”

Consuela giggled. “We will see if we can make it sooner than that.” She put her arm around his shoulder and relaxed against him, purring, and they settled down to wait out the storm together.

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Gina woke up a couple of hours after dropping onto the futon, unable to sleep due to the rumbling in her empty stomach and all the other rest she’d gotten earlier that day. She just lay there for a while, sniffing the air.

Perhaps it was her general frame of mind, or maybe just that she’d spent enough time in the room to become more attuned, but Gina thought she was starting to pick up more nuances in the scents that surrounded her.

Gina had read about psychics who claimed to be able to read emotional impulses, “psychic residue,” from events that had taken place before. She’d always laughed at the idea, but now she was starting to wonder—what if those “psychics” really just had a highly-developed sense of smell and subconscious sensitivity to the different pheromones and other scent cues that people gave off under different emotions?

Because now Gina thought she could actually smell out some of the ''moods'' Helga and Leo had experienced in this room.

In most of the room, where Gina smelled Helga alone, what she smelled the most was despair or sadness. She recognized ''that'' feeling from just now. But around the futon, where Leo’s scent mingled with Helga’s, she smelled hope and joy…and lust. It was actually a little embarrassing. Gina felt like she was reading someone else’s diary or poking through private photos.

But what could it all mean? She could ask James if he ever showed up to release her, but she had a feeling he might not be inclined to discuss it. This was something she was going to have to get to the bottom of for herself.

Her mind just kept going back to that picture of the human Helena, and the similarities to Helga even in ''name''. But she kept shying away from the obvious conclusion. It raised too many questions—and she wasn’t sure that she really wanted to know the answers.

Gina frowned. It wasn’t enough just to have guesses and surmise. She needed solid proof. And she already had a few ideas of places to look for that—assuming she ever got out of here, of course.

She turned back to the cave entrance. The rain had stopped and it looked like the stars were coming out. Gina stepped out into the open and yelled out again, “Hey! Anybody out there?”

Her voice echoed again, then she heard a distant yell in return, “Coming!” It was James!

Gina clambered down to the pit floor, avoiding the puddles, and was waiting at the locked door when the key rattled in the lock. A moment later, the door slid aside, revealing James and Consuela behind it. “Well, it’s about damned time!” Gina growled.

Consuela stepped forward and bowed her head. “I am ''so'' sorry. ''Lo siento mucho. ''It is all my fault that you were locked up for hours. I…distracted your brother. I did not know he needed to come and let you out until it was too late.”

Gina’s nostrils flared as she sniffed the air. “''Distracted,'' huh?”

“It’s not what you think!” James insisted. “We just lay down for a nap after a heavy lunch and didn’t wake up for hours. We had our clothes on the entire time!”

Gina rolled her eyes. Of course she could tell that—their scents were on each other’s ''clothes,'' which they wouldn’t have been if the clothes had been ''off.'' But she wasn’t about to let James off the hook after what he’d done, so she just sniffed, long German Shepherd nose pointed in the air. “A likely story.”

“''Giiiiina…''” James said.

“Not that it'' matters''. My brother could sleep with a rabid hyena for all I care. You still left me in there for ''hours!''” she growled. “I’m going to get something to eat.” Without another word, she stalked past James and Consuela, ears flat, tail held high. Behind her, she heard Consuela whisper, “Do not worry—I am sure she will come around.”

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A few days later, Gina sat once more at her laptop in her guest room. The previous few days had all been kept pretty busy, as James and Consuela tried to make up for their negligence in locking her in. Amusingly, they seemed to be trying to avoid each other as much as possible when Gina was around. Perhaps they didn’t want to her to draw conclusions. Nonetheless, Gina had taken to muttering “rabid hyena” in James’s ear in passing just to watch his reaction.

She had met and spent time with all of the others of the Eleven, save of course for Tiffany. Amy had given her fur a perm and painted all her claw-nails, all the while gossiping about everyone in sight (except, oddly, Helga). Lee had given her car an oil change. And she’d babysat an afternoon so that Tim and Clarisse could enjoy a movie. (It had been remarkably easy. She ''was'' a German ''Shepherd'' after all.) She’d hung around some more with Leo and Helga, too. Leo had enjoyed further teasing her (and Helga), but then Gina started teasing back—her casual suggestion of a ''ménage à trois'' had made Leo choke and Helga giggle. The teasing had been a ''little'' less pointed after that.

Gina still wasn’t sure what to think about Helga. Sure, there was at least a superficial resemblance between her and “Helena” from the photos, but she didn’t ''act'' like the sort of person who would have taken pleasure in kidnapping eleven furres and keeping them in a private zoo. She wasn’t overbearing or egotistical—she was quiet and shy. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like just an unlikely coincidence—but one way or another, she had to know for sure.

Which was why it was good she had finally managed to steal some uninterrupted time to continue her research.

She began with a public record search in Nevada to get Leo and Helga’s marriage license. It cost her twenty bucks, but her curiosity was fully engaged and she didn’t scruple at the price. She opened the PDF, looked at the license, and ''stared'' at Helga’s last name. “Well, ''that’s'' obviously not a fake name at all,” she muttered sarcastically.

She frowned, closing the file. This was something, but still not really enough to go on. She still needed more, and there was one place in particular she’d like to look. If she could just work out where it was…

Then she had it. “James,” she said to herself, tongue lolling in a canine grin. It might take a little careful management…but hell, he ''owed'' her. She went off in search of her brother, and found him a few moments later in his office—alone, for a wonder.

“Oh—um, hi,” James said, looking up a little warily. “Um…you’re not still angry over what happened last week, are you?”

“Absolutely seething,” Gina said calmly. “But I ''could'' be persuaded to forgive you. Maybe. If you’d do one little thing for me.”

“And…what’s that?” James asked.

“Well…my time stuck in that pit made me start to wonder about the psychology of someone who would do that kind of thing to someone else. So I was thinking, I’d like to look around his stuff, see what I could make out for myself from his personal things. You did keep them, right? In case the tourists would like to see his study, kept just as he left it…”

“We did, actually,” James said. “Well, his study anyway. We gave his bedroom to Leo and Helga for their joint apartment. Nobody really goes there much…except for Carl, who likes to help himself to Melton’s cigars.”

“I might have figured he’d smoke cigars.”

“Who, Melton or Carl?” James grinned. “You ''promise'' not to mess anything up and leave it as you found it?”

Gina saluted, tail wagging. “Scout’s honor!”

“Well…I ''do'' kind of owe you for locking you up like that.” James opened his drawer and pulled out a keyring. “Here, it’s this key. Second floor balcony, west side of the main hall.” He tossed the key over, and Gina caught it.

“Thanks, bro! I’ll get this back to you later.” She gripped the keys tightly in her fist and headed back out of the office. James watched her go, then shook his head and went back to his paperwork.

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Gina unlocked the thick oak-paneled door and swung it silently open. The room was dark. She fumbled for a light switch and turned it on, and found a fairly nice little office-cum-study, lined with bookshelves along three walls and a desk in matching mahogany finish. There were a couple of comfortable chairs, and the wall not lined with bookshelves had photos, certificates, and awards hanging on it—including that same photo from the ''60 Minutes'' episode.

Circling around behind the desk, Gina sniffed at the chair. There were tantalizing traces of a familiar scent there, but several other people had sat in this chair since then, a couple for quite some time. Gina looked around for something else. She opened a couple of drawers and sniffed inside. Still the same scent, but not strong enough to be sure.

What else what else what else…then it hit her. The books! The only person who would ever have bothered to read any of them would surely have been Melton himself—so surely his scent would be on at least one or two of them. Gina started at the end of one of the outlying walls and worked her way inward, sniffing. An occasional hit, but nothing much.

But the scent got stronger as she got closer to the desk—naturally, he’d have kept the books he wanted in easy reach behind the desk. There were a few stronger traces—then one book whose scent was so strong she knew in a heartbeat she’d found what she was looking for.

This was it—the book smelled unmistakably like what Helga would smell like if you took away the musky aroma of female cougar and added the sour odor of human sweat. It was human-Helga—''Helena''—Hugh.

So that was it. Against all odds, “Helga” and Helena were one and the same person—which meant Helga had also been Hugh. All this time, the enigmatic, mysteriously missing Melton had been right under her nose. And what’s more, she’d been actively ''likable''. Gina still found she was unable to conflate the two people in her head. It was like knowing someone off the Internet and meeting him in person to find him completely unlike you’d expected.

And what’s more, she was actually ''married'' to one of the Eleven, and the others obviously tolerated her presence. And there was no way ''they'' couldn’t know who she really was—not if they’d had access to this office, too. Her sense of smell might be finely-tuned, but she was almost certain ''any'' Changed had a good enough nose to notice the similarities. And then there were the scent traces that told her Helena had been imprisoned in the animal pit for weeks or months—and Leo had come to visit her. What was going on here?

Almost against her will, Gina reached out and pulled the book out of the shelf. She could tell immediately that it was far lighter than a hardcover of this size ought to be. She turned around, placed it on the desk, and opened it. The cover of the book came away revealing a hollowed-out space inside—and a pair of sunglasses.

Gina reached in and lifted them out gently, almost reverently. These, then, had to be the “Veil-Bans” Hugh Melton had used to spy on his charges. She guessed nobody had bothered to look for them since the Veil was a moot point within this bubble. Or maybe they knew about them already and figured the book was as safe a place as any to keep them. Either way, these could be the final proof she was looking for. Gina took the glasses out and slipped them into her purse, then put the book back on the shelf. Then she went looking for “Helga”.

She found the cougress sitting in the mansion’s library, reading a book. Moving calmly but not furtively, Gina stepped into the room, pulled the glasses out of her purse, and looked through them. Helga was still Helga, of course. But then she turned the glasses 90 degrees on their side and looked through one lens…and slowly grinned, tongue lolling again. “Oh, Helena?” she asked.

The cougress looked distractedly up from her book. “Yes?” Then her eyes widened as she realized what name she’d just answered to.

Gina lowered the glasses and grinned at her. “Gotcha.”

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James leaned back in the seat behind his desk, watching his sister Gina leave the office with the key to Hugh Melton’s old study. He wondered what she was ''really'' looking for. Of course, he trusted her not to mess the place up, but she had been wearing that expression she’d always used to use that said there was something she wasn’t telling. It amazed him a little that he could still make it out even through her doggie face, but then it was still at least partly body language.

Maybe she was planning to do a post to her Internet forums: ''look at me, in the office of the master kidnapper himself!'' Well, whatever it was, it probably wouldn’t hurt anything. He couldn’t think of anything still in the office that would be more than a curiosity.

And glancing at the clock on his desk, James reflected that it was just about time to knock off for the night. He locked the office and headed for the stairs back to the hallway where they all had their studio apartments.

As he walked along the corridor, James was conscious of the open door to Consuela’s room that he would have to pass to get to his own. He couldn’t resist stopping to look in. She was lying on her bed, and watching him as he stopped. “''Hola,''” she said softly.

James leaned against the doorframe. “Hi.”

“Does all go well?” Consuela asked.

“So far, yeah.” James considered Consuela for a moment. Over the last few days, she had largely backed off her pursuit of him—perhaps at least partly out of feeling guilty for causing Gina’s prolonged imprisonment. She was still ''interested'' in him—he could tell that every time she looked at him, or every time she was even in the same ''room''—but she was giving him some breathing room. The next move was clearly going to be up to him.

And it suddenly occurred to him exactly what that next move should be. “I’ve…got an errand I need to run in town, but I’ll be back soon,” James said. “Will you be around?”

“''Si,''” Consuela said, peering at him curiously. “''Si,'' I will be ''aqui.''”

“Then I’ll see you soon.” James headed back down the stairs and out to his car. As he pulled out of the drive and headed into town, he used the time to think about exactly how he ''did'' feel about Consuela. For what he was going to do tonight, he wanted to be sure there was no mistake.

How ''did'' he feel about Consuela? For starters, of course, she was gorgeous. Extremely sensual, with glossy fur, flowing black hair and a muscular body whose proportions rivaled even some of the male-to-female TGs’. But that wasn’t even her best quality. Far more attractive was her personality—she was quirky, compassionate, courageous, loyal, exciting—and, not to put too fine a point on it, ''dangerous''. And ''she'' liked ''him''.

Sure, she was pregnant. If he did decide to become an item with her, he’d be taking on a big responsibility right from the start—for a kid who wasn’t even biologically his own. But that was okay. There were plenty of other furres in their extended family, including the kid’s biological father, to provide a support network.

And when you got right down to it, James reflected as he pulled into the Taco Bell drivethrough, you just never knew what might happen to you next in this crazy world. There was a small but real chance he might wake up a female aardvark or something tomorrow morning. So if he ''was'' going to do anything with Consuela, it might be a good idea to hurry up before he missed his chance.

With that thought in mind, James ordered a burrito for himself and a taco basket for Consuela and a couple of Mountain Dews, then drove back to the mansion. He made a brief stop by the dining room to swipe a candle for a centerpiece, then took the stairs at the other end of the hall to get to his room without passing Consuela and prepare things.

He set up a small folding table and a couple of chairs in the open space in the middle of his studio apartment, put the candle on top and lit it, then arranged his food at one place and Consuela’s tacos at the other. He dimmed the lights, then—as a finishing touch—plugged a desk fan into a hall outlet, pointed it toward Consuela’s end of the hall, and placed a (wrapped) taco in front of it.

Then James returned to his room to wait—and he was just sitting down in his chair when Consuela appeared in the doorway, holding the taco. She smiled at the scene. “Is this an invitation?”

James grinned back. “It is. Come on in, and put the do-not-disturb sign out.”

Consuela put the hanger on the door and closed it behind her, then slid gracefully into her seat. She regarded the tacos and Mountain Dew warmly. “You think of everything.” She chuckled. “A romantic candlelight Taco Bell dinner. How sweet!”

James unwrapped his burrito. “Hey, you deserve it. Dig in.”

Consuela did so, examining the room around them as she ate. James was sure the flickering candlelight was more than adequate for her feline eyes to see everything clearly. “Your room is nice. Very neat. I like that.”

James chuckled. “You should see my closet.”

Consuela crunched another taco. “I am sure it is not ''too'' bad.”

They ate in silence for a while, Consuela devouring taco after taco and James eating his burrito at a more reasonable pace, then Consuela asked, “Gina has been doing well, no?”

“I think she’s getting on okay with everyone,” James said. “Maybe being penned up for a while did her some good.”

Consuela nodded. “I can personally recommend it.”

“Oh?” James asked. “That seems a little odd coming from someone who’s just been locked up for months.”

“True, but it brought me many good friends, a new home—and you.” She gave him another one of those lowered-lash looks.

“That’s assuming you do ''have'' me,” James couldn’t resist adding with a grin.

“True. But I am working on that.” She winked. “So you could say getting kidnapped was one of the best things to happen to me.”

“I kind of have to wonder, now that you mention it,” James said. “How ''did'' they get you? You don’t seem like the sort to be taken unaware by people only as competent as my old co-workers.”

“Um.” Consuela actually had the grace to look embarrassed. “It is a little foolish.”

“Really?” James grinned. “Now you’ve made me curious.”

Consuela waved a hand with half a taco in it, dropping a little filling on the table. “I was…experimenting.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Experimenting?”

“It is something people do at college, or so I am told,” Consuela said defensively. “I was trying new things. I had joined this campus club—it looked as if it might be fun.”

“Uh…huh?” James asked, curious where this might be going.

“So I was actually…''expecting'' to be ‘kidnapped,’” Consuela said. “For make-believe.”

“…oh,” James said. “''That'' kind of club, huh?” James said thoughtfully.

Consuela shot him a mild glare. “Do not judge me!” she insisted. “I was younger then, and foolish.”

''What, 8 or 9 months younger? ''James thought, but didn’t say. Instead, he raised his hands and insisted, “I’m not! I’m not! If anything, it’s giving me…ideas.” He grinned.

Consuela snorted. “So I did not resist when they came to take me. By the time I learned it was for real, it was too late.”

“But you didn’t try very hard to bust out after that,” James pointed out.

“I tried once or twice,” Consuela said. “Before your time perhaps.” She shrugged. “You know how well the place was built to keep us in. You saw Tiffany’s attempts. I did no better. So it was not worth the frustration to keep trying.” At James’s skeptical expression, she sighed. “And, yes, I enjoyed being fed on a constant diet of steak. I could not even afford one steak per week as a student. But regardless, I knew there would be a chance sooner or later. And there was.”

“Or perhaps you just liked being pampered. Nothing to do except lie in the sun and eat steaks.” James chuckled. “Maybe I should lock ''you'' up in that enclosure and feed you on steaks.”

Consuela fluttered her lashes at him. “Oh, ''would'' you lock me up, ''señor'' security officer? I might do bad things.”

“You might do bad things if I ''don’t'' lock you up—or if I ''do?''” James asked.

“''Si,''” Consuela said simply, closing her eyes and clasping her hands together as if offering them to be cuffed.

James laughed. “Okay, this is getting into a whole weird area…”

“You were the one who started it,” Consuela pointed out.

“Then I’ll also be the one who finishes it.” James also finished his burrito, and pitched the wadded-up wrapper at his trash can. It hit the rim, teetered on the edge—and then a carefully-aimed wadded-up taco wrapper hit it from the side and knocked it in before falling in itself.

James grinned. “Thanks for the assist.”

Consuela smirked. “''De nada.''” She finished her last taco, then carried the empty basket and the rest of the wrappings to the trash. She returned to her seat and sipped her Mountain Dew, looking speculatively across the apartment to James’s bed.

James followed her gaze, and chuckled. “I’ve got a pretty good idea what you’re thinking.”

Consuela nodded. “And you are going to say that you are not yet ready again?”

James thought about that. This was probably his last chance to back out before things went “too far.” For all that he’d almost talked himself into it already, there was still that little bit of hesitation.

But as he looked inside of himself, he was beginning to realize he really ''did'' want this, and furthermore to wonder just how much of his earlier hesitation had come from an ingrained believe that you weren’t “supposed” to go too far too soon. After all, he already knew he ''liked'' Consuela. And it wasn’t fair to her to keep giving her hope and taking it away again. If she wanted him…well, he suddenly understood that ''he'' wanted ''her'', too.

“No,” James said, getting up from his seat. “No, I’m ''not ''going to say that. Not this time.” He looked across the table at her, observed the dawning hope on her face and what her quickened breathing did to her impressive bosom. “I think I ''am'' ready now.”

Consuela cocked her head. “You are certain of this?”

“Dead certain,” James said. “For all I know, I might wake up a woman tomorrow. If that happens, I’d like to know I didn’t miss any opportunities.”

Consuela smiled. “I will make this a night you remember for the rest of your life.” Her tail swished in anticipation as she came out from behind the table, arranging her position so that James was directly between her and his bed. Then she dropped into a crouch and, turning her head, blew out the candle.

“Hey, what’re you thinking he—''whoa!''”

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Later that night, James drifted up from a deep sleep, feeling something warm and furry and soft all along his back, and two arms around his waist from behind.

As James gently sought to disentangle himself from Consuela’s embrace so he could use the restroom, Consuela instead tightened her grip, growling in her sleep, “''Mío!'' Mine!”

James oofed a little as Consuela’s grip squeezed some breath out of him. Then he twisted in her arms enough to bring his face up close to her bewhiskered muzzle, at which point he gave her a very deep kiss on it. Thus distracted, Consuela murmured in her sleep and loosened her grip enough that James could slip out to use the toilet.

As he crawled back into bed, and Consuela once again clutched him like an oversized teddy bear, James reflected on how incredibly lucky he was. ''I still hope I don’t Change,'' he thought drowsily. ''But I’ll remember this forever no matter what I turn into. So if I have to, bring it on.''

In the warmth of Consuela’s embrace, he drifted back to sleep.

{{separator|stars}}

“I’m sorry, you said ‘Helga,’ right?” the cougar-Changed Gina now knew as Helena asked.

Gina grinned. “Nice try, Mrs. Nelson ''nee'' Ms. Melton ''nee'' Mr. Melton.”

“I’m sorry, I think you have me mixed up with someone else—” Helena began, but Gina raised a hand to interrupt.

“You recognize these?” Gina held up the glasses. Helena stared at them. “No. I’ve never seen those before.”

“Here.” Gina held them out sideways, one lens above the other, just as she’d been looking through them at Helena a moment before. “Hold them like this, and look at me through one lens.”

Helena took them hesitantly, holding them like a snake that might bite her. She held one lens up to her face as instructed, then gave a little cry of surprise and almost dropped them.

Gina knew what she would have seen. Superimposed over her doggie self, a faint but recognizable double-exposure of a blonde-haired, slightly taller human woman—her Veil ghost.

Helena slowly lowered the glasses. Her shoulders slumped as she gave up the pretense. “Why did ''I'' never know about this?” she asked plaintively.

“It only came out on the forums a couple of months ago,” Gina said, reaching out to take the glasses back. “A couple of Changed got their hands on a pair and were playing around with them, and they noticed that they’re even more like polarized lenses than we thought. You rotate them 90 degrees and instead of non-Changed seeing the real us, Changed can see each other’s ghosts.” She shrugged. “I’ll bet the government’s always known. It works much better under the Veil, but even here our ghosts are still part of us.”

“So you know.” Helena sighed, sinking back down onto the seat. “How did you even guess?”

“Mostly a bunch of little things. The name on your marriage license was one clue.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, come on. ‘Helga ''Mellencamp’?'' Really, Miss Cougar?”

Helena facepalmed. “It was all I could think of at the time.” She looked down, unwilling to meet Gina’s gaze. “So what happens now?”

“Well, when I got here, I was all fire and brimstone to see the evil Hugh-or-Helena Melton brought to justice. But now I’m just kind of confused.” Gina came over to sit down next to Helena, and reached out to take one of Helena’s hands in her own. “You don’t act at all like the kind of person who would lock up a dozen Changed in your own private zoo.”

“I’m not!” Helena insisted. “Well…not anymore.” She looked up at Gina, eyes glistening. “When I Changed, it’s like my whole ''mind'' was Changed along with my body. I’m ''not'' Hugh anymore. I can’t even remember what it was like to be him. He was crazy.”

Gina nodded slowly. “I thought it might be something like that. I’ve been researching gender-change on the forums and wikis. A lot of people do get personality…adjustments when they TG. Something about body chemistry being different, I guess. Usually it’s just stuff like former male chauvinists waking up and going, ‘Woooo, yay, I’m a ''gurl'', just what I’ve always ''wanted!''’” She rolled her eyes. “But I’ve read about a few more extreme cases, mostly dealing with personality disorders or mental illness. Schizophrenics being cured, stuff like that.”

Helena nodded. “Changes often heal you a little. They fix what’s broken.” She grimaced. “Hugh was broken. Badly.”

“But the others didn’t know you’d been ‘fixed’ when they found you right after they broke out, did they?”

Helena started, looking up at Gina again. “How did you—”

Gina raised a hand-paw to tap the side of her own muzzle. “This nose isn’t just good for making people jump when I touch it to the back of their bare neck, you know.” Gina grinned. “I did a little sniffing around—literally—while I was locked in where you were last week.” Her grin faded. “So they didn’t want a big show-trial to drag all of Changed-dom through the mud, so they figured turnabout was fair play and chucked you in the pit.” She growled, “And my ''brother'' went right along with it, didn’t he? I swear I’ll tear his throat out.”

“No—it’s not like that at all!” Helena insisted. “''I'' went along with it willingly! I felt I deserved to be punished for what I’d done. I could have escaped before they put me in if I’d wanted to.”

Gina blinked. “But you spent a lot of time in there in despair or sadness. The scent traces were very heavy.”

“Not because I was locked up!” Helena said. “Because of what I’d done.” A tear slid down one of the tear tracks on her muzzle. “The only thing worse than being a monster and not knowing it is ''not'' being a monster and knowing you ''used'' to be one.”

Gina wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she put her arm around Helena’s shoulder and gave her a friendly hug. It was weird—even knowing for certain that ‘Helga’ had ''used'' to be Hugh Melton, she still found the cougress sympathetic and likable.

“And Leo stood up for me. Told them they shouldn’t hurt me.” She still sounded amazed just talking about it. “And he came to visit me, Leo did. He showed me I didn’t have to blame myself for what Hugh did anymore. And then we fell in love, and he took me off to Vegas to get married.”

Gina shook her head. “What a mess. Even if I ''did'' want to turn you in now, it would mean everyone else, including my brother, could face kidnapping or false imprisonment charges themselves. And the Change is young enough yet that the shrinks probably wouldn’t buy your personality change, either. So it would just get everyone locked up, and for what? At least this way the resort could help a lot of Changed and their families.”

“I sort of hope someday, once the Change is better understood and my child has grown up a little, I can turn myself in and face a more understanding form of justice,” Helena said wistfully. “Get the whole thing out from over everyone’s head. But until then…”

“Yeah,” Gina said. Then she stopped, replaying the conversation in her head. “Wait. Your ''child?''”

Helena nodded happily. “Mine and Leo’s.” She patted her belly. “We found out just before the elopement.”

Gina stared. Now that Helena mentioned it, Gina could see she was starting to show just a little. “Um…wow. You mean Leo seduced you while you were still locked up?”

Helena shook her head. “No, no! I kept waiting for him to, but he was too much of a gentleman. So one day ''I'' seduced ''him!''”

“…huh.” Gina shook her head. “There are going to be a ''lot ''of little feet around here before long, what with Christine, Consuela’s baby, and now yours.” Then she remembered that Consuela was apparently courting her brother. “Who’s the father of Consuela’s, anyway?”

“Oh, that was Leo, too,” Helena said calmly.

Gina blinked. “What?! And you’re okay with this?”

“It was while they were locked up together,” Helena said. “I can’t exactly blame ''them'' for it—Hugh didn’t give them much else to do.”

Gina shook her head. “Geez, this is messed up.”

“Yeah, and guess who’s to blame for ''that?''” Helena sounded disgusted, and Gina knew it could only be with herself. “I’m just glad the others have mostly accepted me, and they’re letting me help them with the accounting and stuff. I don’t miss my old life, and I have this new one ahead of me.” She patted her belly again. “And ''this'' new one, too.”

Gina sighed. “Dammit, I just feel like ''someone'' should be punished for this. I mean, locking people up for months in a private zoo?”

“If it helps any, you could say Hugh Melton already paid the ultimate price,” Helena said quietly. “He’s dead. He’s not coming back. And I’m a new woman, trying to make up for his mistakes.”

“I guess it’ll have to do,” Gina said. “I’m sure not going to turn you in. It’s weird, but I believe you, and there’s no point busting up a happy home for something a different person did.”

Helena smiled. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome,” Gina said awkwardly. “Listen, I promised James I’d leave the study the way I found it, so I’d better go put these shades back.” She let go of Helena and got back to her feet.

Helena nodded. “Thank you for understanding,” she said.

“Sure.” Gina folded up the glasses, dropped them in her purse, and left the library.

{{separator|stars}}

On the way back to the study, Gina mulled over ways to minimize the chances of Helena’s exposure by future visitors. Burn that smelly futon, for one thing, and hose the cave and rock down with bleach to kill the tell-tale odors. Maybe Helena should occupy the study for a while to cover and muddle all traces of human-Hugh’s scent with her new one. She’d have to bring those suggestions to James’s attention.

Gina dropped the shades back into the hollow book and shoved it back into place in the shelf, then locked the room and headed up to the residential hall to drop the keys by James’s room. But as she approached the closed door, she heard the most ''interesting'' sounds emerging from behind and under it. Her canine ears pricked up and swiveled to track the cries of passion, and her keen nose detected a certain familiar melanistic jaguar’s aroma seeping out from under the crack.

“Rabid hyena,” Gina muttered sagely, and tiptoed back down the hall to her own room. She could return the key another time.

{{separator|stars}}

The next morning, James lingered at the kitchen table after breakfast, drinking coffee with Trixie. Neither one of them was saying much, which was fine with James—he had a lot to think about.

He was still plain-vanilla human. He was honestly more than a little surprised, after what felt like a massive dare to fate the night before. He certainly wasn’t disappointed, though. He knew he would Change sooner or later, and he was going to count as a gift every Unchanged day he had with Consuela.

“Hey, bro. Hey, Trixie.” Gina came bouncing into the kitchen, the study key jingling in her hand. She dropped it next to James’s coffee cup. “There you go, bro!”

“Good morning, Gina,” Trixie said. “You seem cheerful this morning.”

Gina’s tongue lolled in a canine grin. “Oh, I learned a couple of interesting things last night.”

“Oh yeah?” James raised his coffee cup for a sip.

He’d just taken a mouthful of coffee when Gina said, “Yeah. I learned what a plain human and a melanistic jaguar Changed sound like when they’re having a ''really'' good time together, for one thing.”

James sprayed a fine mist of coffee all over the table in front of him. “Gina!” he sputtered.

“What?” Gina asked innocently.

“You ''know'' what, you little twerp.” James rolled his eyes. “It’s none of your business, for one thing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been so loud I could hear it in the hall,” Gina said reasonably. “Though I expect it was mostly Connie-cat doing the yowling, and she’s never seemed to care too much about modesty…

James groaned. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Nope, so you might as well live it up.” Trixie grinned. “And hope Amy doesn’t find out.”

“''That’s'' a forlorn hope if I’ve ever heard one,” James said. “I swear I’m considering drafting that girl for my security department just so I can co-opt her information gathering network.”

“You know you don’t need to go ''that'' far,” Trixie said. “Just go have her do your hair and you’ll learn more than you ''ever'' wanted to know before she lets you leave.”

Gina giggled. “Too true!” Then she turned to her brother. “So tell me, bro, was it just a one-night stand, or is there a fuzzy sis-in-law in my future?”

“Hmm.” James thought about that. “Well, I’m hoping for the sister-in-law,” he said. “We’re still sort of feeling out what we feel about each other, and how compatible we are. But…I think it’ll work out.”

“You know she’s preggers already,” Gina said. “That’s a big responsibility.”

“That’s why we’re all here,” Trixie said. “We’ll all help make it work, for everyone.”

James nodded, reaching for his coffee again, and taking another mouthful.

“Even Helena Melton—oh, sorry, I mean Helga Mellencamp Nelson?” Gina asked.

This time James sprayed coffee all over the table and Trixie. “Oh, thanks, Gina,” Trixie said dryly, wiping her muzzle with a napkin. “I hadn’t had my morning coffee bath yet.”

James stared at her. How had she worked it out? He had thought they’d covered Helena’s tracks pretty well. And—more importantly—what was she going to do now that she had found out?

Gina grinned at them. “So when ''were'' you planning to tell me?”

“I…don’t really know,” James admitted, looking down. “It’s kind of a tough thing to just come out and say. ‘By the way, we held our ex-captor prisoner in a pit until one of us fell in love with and married her.’”

“Yeah, it’s kind of funny like that,” Gina said. “By the way, what the ''hell'' were you thinking? Oh, don’t answer, I already know—avoiding the show trial and yadda yadda. But it’s a hell of a thing, taking the law into your own hands like that.”

“We were entitled if anyone was,” Trixie said. “We were the ones she’d hurt. And anyway, it worked out for the best, didn’t it?”

“Except for that little matter of criminal charges hanging over everyone’s heads,” Gina said. She sighed. “Including a nice little ‘accessory after the fact’ over mine, because I’m going to keep the secret too. Now that I’ve talked to her, I just couldn’t turn Helena in. She’s not the man who did it anymore. It would be like kicking a puppy.” She rolled her eyes. “So you can tell everyone they can stop calling her ‘Helga’ now. It doesn’t really suit her.”

James and Trixie exchanged relieved glances. “Maybe I should offer ''you'' a position in my security branch,” James said. “How did you figure it out?”

“Other than a general resemblance between Helena and her ghost, and the rather obvious name on the marriage license? Well, there was the fact that her scent was all over that enclosure you locked me up in.”

James facepalmed. “I keep forgetting the Changed sense of smell.”

“Hose the place down with bleach and it should be all right,” Gina said.

Trixie nodded. “Good thought.”

“I have some others, too, I’ll go over them with you later. But speaking of positions, I was wondering, Trixie…”

Trixie’s ears perked up. “Hm?”

“I’m majoring in Hospitality, and an internship would help me out a lot. And you’re getting ready to open this place as a resort hotel. Do you think I could do my internship here?”

Trixie furrowed her brow in thought. “I don’t see why not. What do you think, James?”

“I think it’s a great idea.” And he actually did, James realized. It would be nice to have his sister around more often, and what with the walls and gate the Melton estate was one of the safest places in the bubble when it came to the specter of anti-Changed violence. “If, that is, she will actually let me get some coffee inside me, rather than on the table or other people,” James added.

“I thiiiiink I know a hint when I hear it.” Gina winked. “I’ll just leave you two to it.” She waved and bounced back out of the kitchen.

Trixie watched her go. “If that girl were any sharper, she’d cut herself.”

James nodded, sipping his coffee and actually managing to swallow some for once. “Yeah. Though Helena’s lousy choice of alias didn’t exactly help matters. I’m just glad it was Gina who found out, not some reporter.”

Trixie nodded. “We’ll have to have her keep a low profile during the grand opening.”

“Right. But to be honest, I’m not sure how much it will help in the long run. I get the feeling we’re all living on borrowed time.” ''And some of us a little more than others, ''he thought, glancing down at his bare arms.

Trixie nodded. “We’ll just have to make the best of it for as long as we can.” She patted him meaningfully on the arm as she got up to take her mug to the sink. “We all will.”

{{separator|stars}}

Gina walked along the hall toward Consuela’s room. The door to the hall was open. Consuela was sitting at her desk working with a needle, a spool of heavy thread, and a couple of rabbit skins. “Knock knock,” Gina said.

Consuela looked up, and her eyes twinkled. “I believe the thing I am supposed to say is, ‘who is there?’”

“That would be right if I were telling a joke.” Gina grinned. “I just came by to talk a little.” She leaned against the doorframe.

“I hope you are not still angry at me for causing you to be locked up for so long,” Consuela said.

Gina waved a handpaw. “Nah, I’m over that by now. What I’m really here for is to ask you what your intentions are toward my brother.”

“Ah. ''Entiendo''—I understand,” Consuela said, pulling the needle through the skin again. “You are concerned that I might break his heart?”

“Something like that,” Gina admitted.

Consuela nodded. “It is good you are concerned. You must care for him very much. It is why you were so upset when you thought he had helped keep us prisoner.”

“Yeah, and that doesn’t answer my question,” Gina said.

“''Lo siente.'' Then let me be clearer.” Consuela looked up and met her gaze. “I love your brother and would never do anything to hurt him.”

“So the fact that he will be around to help you through your pregnancy is just coincidence?” Gina asked.

“If you mean, am I taking advantage of James…” Consuela considered. “Perhaps a little. But I explained it all to him at the start, what I was going to need and why, and he understood. I have not tried to trick or entrap him.”

Gina nodded. “All right. But I’ll be watching you.”

“I would expect you to watch me as you would a…rabid hyena.” Consuela and Gina smiled brightly at each other. “But on a different subject…I understand you have learned the truth about our little Helena.”

Gina raised an eyebrow. “You found out I know?”

“I have my sources,” Consuela said, making another stitch. “I am told you had a long talk last night.”

Gina nodded. “It’s weird, but I just can’t be angry at her. It’s like Hugh just…evaporated, and she’s someone else.”

“''Si.'' Almost none of us have stayed angry at her, either,” Consuela said. “There are ''uno'' or ''dos'' who still nurse the grudge, but they will come around.”

“I’m still amazed you were all all right with locking her up like that, rather than turning her in,” Gina said. “I mean, I understand why it would have been bad to have a show trial drag Changedom through the mud, but…”

“There was much anger, much excitement,” Consuela said. “We had just fought for our lives, and some were upset we could not physically take out our frustrations on the man who had done it.” She shrugged. “It worked out for the best in the end, no?”

“For ''now,'' yes,” Gina said. “But sooner or later it’ll probably come out and we’ll all be in trouble.” She sighed. “But after spending time with Helena and seeing who she is now—I guess I can live with that.”

“Sooner or later, the whole world will be Changed,” Consuela said. “Then they will ''comprende''.”

“I wonder if Sandrick will run for President,” Gina mused. “Maybe he could be convinced to issue a pardon.”

Consuela shrugged. “If it happens, it will happen. We should think more about the now.”

Gina nodded. “Anyway, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me in the next few months. Trixie says she’s going to make an internship position for me here.”

“''Bueno! ''I am sure you will be a fine intern,” Consuela said. She pulled the thread taut, knotted it, then bit off the tail. “And if you would come here, I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Curious, Gina approached the desk where Consuela had been working. Now she could see more clearly the scraps of thread and pelt that littered the work space—and the pair of oddly-shaped furry mittens in the middle.

Consuela picked them up and offered them to her. “I made them from a canine Changed hand-paw pattern,” she explained. “I think they will fit you.”

Gina pulled them on. “They fit perfectly, Consuela!” she said. “They’re very comfortable, and I bet they’ll be really warm in the snow.”

“''Si.'' And you may call me Connie to my face, if you wish. Many do.”

Gina beamed, tail wagging. “Thanks, Connie! I think you’d make James a great wife, and me a great sister-in-law. I sure hope that really happens.”

“I will do my best to make it happen,” Consuela said. “That is a promise.”

Gina leaned forward and hugged Consuela, then pulled off the mittens and tucked them under her arm. “I guess I should be going. Thanks again for the mittens.”

Consuela nodded. “Wear them well. I will see you later, Gina.”

{{separator|stars}}

Gina closed the door to her room and flopped down on her bed, still clutching the rabbit fur mittens to her chest. She had to admit, her first few days here had turned out a lot different than she’d expected. But for the most part, she was happy with what she had found here—many new friends, the truth about her brother, and a deeper truth about the aftermath of the kidnapping that, regretfully, she couldn’t share with even her closest friends let alone the jerks on the forums who kept making inflammatory posts about her brother.

And there was the grand opening to look forward to. Just a couple of months from now, the resort would be throwing open its doors to a mixture of people who could afford the fees and those the resort itself would be deciding to subsidize on a needs-based basis. There would be group counseling for families of the newly Changed and gender-change counseling for TGs, health examinations to make sure the Change had gone all right, workshops on surviving under the Veil, and meet-and-greet sessions to prove to skeptics that Changed were still humans under the fur. It was going to be an exciting time to be a Changed—or an exciting time ''to'' Change.

And Gina was going to be a part of it all.

She tucked the mittens behind her head and dozed off, dreaming of those days still to come.

{{separator|stars|'''THE END'''}}

{{series bar
|series=Melton's Eleven
|previous=[[User:Robotech Master/Holding Helena|Holding Helena]]
|next=[[User:Robotech Master/The Taming of the Snow Leopardess|The Taming of the Snow Leopardess]]}}

[[Category:Paradise]][[Category: Robotech_Master]][[Category: Anthropomorphic]][[Category: Tiger]][[Category: Leopard]][[Category:Dog]][[Category: Lion]][[Category: House Cat]][[Category: Jaguar]][[Category: Skunk]][[Category: Squirrel]][[Category: Sheep]][[Category: Fox]][[Category: Wolf]][[Category: Cougar]][[Category:Story]]

User:Robotech Master/Holding Helena

2019-10-31T18:44:25Z

Robotech Master: Linking the next!

User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight

2019-03-24T04:37:39Z

Robotech Master:

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}

{{title

|name=Cougar Town: Play the Game Tonight

|author=Robotech_Master and Jon Buck (with Jetfire)

|user=Robotech_Master}}

{{DEFAULTSORT: Cougar Town 04}}

{{author note|This story can be downloaded in PDF, EPUB, Mobi (Kindle), ODF, and RTF format from [http://www.eyrie.org/~robotech/freeriders/ this website] as part of the file "Cougar Town".}} 

''E.C.S. Steady Hand Landing Site'' 
''March 29, 159 A.L.''

Janice Howard yawned, stretched, and drifted slowly back to consciousness. As usual these days, it took a moment for her to remember where she was.

The bed was nice and soft and comfy—really, it was almost ''too'' comfy, compared to the paper-thin futon she’d slept on back on Earth. It added to the disorientation. But it also made it easier to pretend, if only for a moment, that one of her secret fantasies had come true. ''Mmm, I married a millionaire…''

Of course, she'' knew'' that wasn’t true. And really, in some ways, her reality was actually better than the fantasy. After all, if she ''had'' married a millionaire, she’d have had to get along with him. Pre-nups were a fact of life on Earth these days.

So, no, no millionaire hubby (or wifey). Instead, she’d been given the old heave-ho like the no-account bum she was. Bum-rushed right off the planet…and, as it turned out,'' right'' into the proverbial briar patch. Back on Earth, she’d just been'' existing.'' But here on Zharus, for the first time, she thought she could actually ''live.''

Janice rolled out of bed, had a good stretch, and looked around at the small home that was hers. About the size of a studio apartment, with its single living/dining room, kitchenette, bedroom, and bath, it was nonetheless several times the size of the space that had been hers back on Earth. There might not be any millionaire partners in the offing, but she still ''felt'' rich.

In more than just her possessions. For what might have been the first time in her life since her grade school days, she had actual ''friends.'' Back on Earth, she’d always driven everyone away, just by refusing to engage any filters on what left her mouth. If they couldn’t deal with her, it was ''their'' problem. Her state-mandated shrink had been of the opinion she was pushing people away out of fear of rejection, a desire to keep from getting hurt again.

Maybe there was something to that. For all that she’d taken the lemons life gave her and made the most passable lemon squash out of them that she could, it still ''hurt'' to keep getting fired from job after job because people just didn’t ''like'' her. So she just pushed people away before they even had the chance to ''seem'' to like her, because it hurt so much to let her guard down.

She didn’t need friends. She didn’t even need Virtual Life—because you had to interact with other people in that, and who needed the aggravation? She had all the books and vid shows and stuff that she could read and watch, after all. She’d even put in the herculean effort necessary to get permanent UBI just because it was easier than facing another day of having to interact with ''other people''.

Her shrink wanted her to come out of her shell, try to strike up some acquaintances and see where it led her. But fortunately for her, all she had to do to keep the UBI was ''visit'' the guy. She wasn’t actually required to ''make progress''. It wasn’t that Janice was antisocial, exactly. She was more sort of ''asocial.''

But then they’d shipped her off to Zharus, and…things had changed. In the first minutes since she’d woken up, she’d gravitated toward a pair of guys who’d woken up along with her and had caught her attention by speaking up. One of them had been here before, after all, and he might have some idea what they could do with themselves here. More than she had, anyway. She’d been nervous about it, but she was so far outside of her comfort zone already that a little thing like ''talking to people'' somehow seemed small by comparison. Without anything else familiar around her, she sought comfort in the one thing that was even vaguely familiar—other people in the same situation she was.

The one guy, Edward, didn’t seem to like her very much. But then, she suspected he was more than a little “asocial” himself—he’d spent all his time locked away in his apartment, working and playing virtually, which didn’t really seem all that different from a life with books and vids to Janice. But his friend, Larry, was a more outgoing sort. He was the kind of guy who had a knack for making friends, and was willing to meet Janice more than halfway if that was necessary to draw her out.

And…it seemed to have worked. Not only had they gotten along, but for the first time Janice could remember she actually caught herself ''not'' just blurting out the first thing that came into her head, but actually filtering herself to stay on better terms with the people around her. She had an irrational urge to tape an interstellar postal delivery letter to her shrink, just to let him know she was finally taking some of his advice.

Not that ''everything'' had started to approach normalcy. In some respects, her life had gone from weird to weirder. The same day they arrived, Edward had received a much-belated diagnosis of gender dysphoria, and spent a couple of hours becoming a much skinnier girl named Sonja. And Larry had gotten together with Layla, a cougress RIDE he’d met last time he was here, and was now Laura. In one fell swoop, Janice had gone from hanging around strange men to being “just one of the girls.”

And that wasn’t even going into how her estranged brother Daniel, who’d landed on Zharus and only sent ''two words'' back home to tell folks he was staying, was now a raccoon-girl named Danica with a successful agribusiness. ''When I thought maybe the reason we never heard more from him was that he’d “bought the farm,” that ''wasn’t'' what I had in mind.'' When Janice thought about it, she reflected that she’d fallen down the rabbithole good and proper, she had. ''Just about bloody literally. I’m sure there’s some rabbit RIDE or Integrate with a hole around here somewhere.''

The day after that, Sonja had gotten a cougar RIDE herself—or else the RIDE had gotten her. Either way, they were partners now. Her name was Cassie, and she was a bright-eyed naive little thing, so new she squeaked. (Well, actually, the squeaking probably had more to do with being a cougar, as they had a fairly impressive range of cat vocalizations.) She and Sonja seemed to be getting along, which was good for them. For Janice, all that youthful exuberance made her feel old and tired just looking at her.

In the few days since then, Janice had wandered around the camp and surroundings, both singly and with the girls and RIDEs. She’d explored Greenglade, the small nearby settlement rapidly on its way to becoming a ghost town as its more reclusive citizens migrated away. She’d even hopped a sub flight to Aloha and back, to rubberneck at the space elevator and visit a party or two. But after a while, it was beginning to pall.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m ''bored,''” Janice grumbled. “Never got bored back on Earth. Just read a book, watched a vid…” And she had even more books and vids at her disposal now than she ever had back on Earth. So why didn’t she feel like doing that'' now?''

Perhaps the answer was that there was just so much more stuff available to do now. She didn’t really'' feel'' like doing any of it at the moment, but it was still there, luring her attention away from the world of books and flicks.

And if she admitted it to herself, now that she was used to having friends again, she was a little lonely without them. Laura and Layla were off doing whatever their soil monitoring job involved, and Sonja and Cassie had taken one of the free sub shuttle flights to look into one of the other polities or Enclaves or whatever. So she was on her own today, and at loose ends.

She considered calling Danica for a chat…and saying what, exactly? ''Hey, bro, how are the crops growing today?'' She snorted. Right.

She wanted…what'' did'' she want? A challenge of some kind. An ''intellectual'' challenge. Something that would engage her mind.

Not for the first time in the last few days, her thoughts turned to that Nextus Game thing. It sounded like it might be right up her alley. The question was, how to get into it.

Her researches over the last few days hadn’t turned up a whole lot of useful resources for beginners. At least, not ones that were easily accessible on the net. But that seemed to make sense. From what little she could make out, a lot of the point of the Game was to get you out of your house and physically to locations in question that would give you an advantage in play. So it stood to reason you might have to get out and go places to learn how the game was played, too.

It was possible a trip to Nextus might be in order, but it seemed like a lot of effort to go to when she wasn’t even sure it was what she wanted to do in the first place. But perhaps she could find an instructor who would come to her. She wasn’t sure what she could pay such a person with, but maybe they could work something out.

Janice absently fingered the feline ears she’d worn for the last few days, ever since a brief Fuse with Layla before Larry had worked up the nerve. It had been an interesting experience, for what it was worth, and she’d half considered asking Layla to do it again. But she and Laura were already pretty much an item now, and it didn’t seem like the done thing to horn in. Besides, she and Layla probably weren’t the most compatible personalities. Perhaps she should look into finding a RIDE partner of her own—if there even was one out there who’d match her own personality quiz scores.

Well, there were ways to start looking into that. “Hey, Informio.”

The ubiquitous EI’s avatar appeared on Janice’s apartment wall screen. “Yes, Miss Howard?”

“Could you search for a couple of things for me?”

“Certainly. What do you need?”

“Well, first I’m looking for a tutor in the Nextus Game. One who wouldn’t mind traveling out here, for preference. And also, who’d take payment some way other than cash—I’m not exactly flush right now. You think that’s likely?”

“I’m no expert in the Game myself, but it is my understanding that favors are the chief currency of Gamesters. An alternative form of payment to cash should not be a problem. Was there anything else you wished to find?”

“Well…I dunno…” Janice flicked one of her ears diffidently. “I’d kind of like to see if there are any RIDEs compatible with me. A cougar, for preference. An experienced one, not a newbie like Cassie. Maybe…we could see if we could get along.”

Informio smiled. “I will see what I can do. May I access your personality quiz profile, for purposes of search matching only?”

“Uh, yeah. Please do that. Thanks.”

Informio nodded. “I will let you know when I have any results.” He disappeared.

“Well, then,” Janice said. “Guess I’ll just go for a walk.”

The city was growing visibly on an hourly basis. The ship that had brought them to Zharus was now little more than some modules and floating construction barges dropping huts like hers, larger family homes, even apartment buildings ten floors tall in a matter of hours. There were also a few more modern machines brought in from Nextus or other polities, that were placing more modernized housing. In a few areas, some of the houses that had already been placed had been recycled, their material rebuilt into apartment houses or condominiums and the leftover vacant space landscaped into lawns or parks. It was shaping up to be a nice little city, and already the arguments were beginning over what it should eventually be named.

Janice presumed there’d be other buildings mixed amongst all the houses, once things really got going. Public services, commercial space, everything a city needed to actually work. On Earth, her hometown of Halifax, England retained some very ancient buildings and its population had never needed to move into the arcologies so common in most of the world. This city would probably be about the same way. But then, it seemed like most cities here on Zharus were.

She took a turn by the cafeteria building for a plate of breakfast, which she got in a to-go container to carry home. She could have just fabbed something at home, but the cafeteria’s fabbers seemed more specialized to food and had a wider selection of brands—including, she’d discovered, some of the more obscure staples of the hallowed English full breakfast. While they weren’t quite as good as the ones Danica had cooked herself, they did nonetheless scratch a little of the homesick itch. Eggs, bacon, scones, a little spotted dick (Janice sniggered at the name, as she always did), some bubble and squeak all promised to hit the spot as soon as she got them home—along with a steaming mug of proper Earl Grey tea. ''That'' was a breakfast. If she never saw another Soylent bar again, it would be too soon.

Janice was home chowing down when the wall again lit with Informio’s visage. “Miss Howard, I believe I have located the solutions to your problems.”

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Do tell?”

“A cougar RIDE of the proper maturity and a good match probability has expressed an interest in meeting you. Since the Nextus shuttle is currently free, I took the liberty of booking her a ticket on the next trip.”

“Oh, great, and you even matched my gender. I forgot to mention that part.”

Informio smiled. “I assumed that if you ''were'' interested in crossriding, you would have said so explicitly.”

Janine nodded approvingly. “Good deal. And the Game expert?”

“I also booked a ticket for a Game expert who is willing to discuss non-cash payment terms. Her record seemed promising, she has a great deal of experience, and she was interested in looking around the settlement as well. I gather that there are certain advantages to being one of the first Gamesters in when a new playing field opens up.”

“Well, good. I’ll look forward to meeting them. I guess the cougar RIDE will be obvious, but how will I know the Game expert?”

“She will know you,” Informio said. “I provided her with your photograph.”

Janice nodded. “Okay. When does the flight come in?”

“It will arrive at the aerodrome within the hour.”

“Great! I’ll just finish up my nosh and head down there to meet it. Thanks!”

Informio nodded. “I hope my solutions will meet your needs. Please let me know if you have any further questions.”

“I’ll do that.” Informio vanished, and Janice quickly finished the rest of her breakfast. She dumped the dishes into the recycler before heading out the door at a jog. She could just beat the shuttle in if she hurried.

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The aerodrome had gotten a little less makeshift over the last few days, as several polities had focused their attention on bringing it up to spec for what a growing city needed. They almost seemed to be ''competing'' with each other on how well they could build out the runways, terminals, and other infrastructure that were their assigned pieces. The only thing really holding them back was that it was still unclear just how big the settlement was going to end up being, so they had to walk the line between being sufficient to meet the polity’s current needs but still having plenty of room to expand.

There was an actual real terminal to wait in now, with comfortable seating, snack fabbers, RIDEsafe power plugs, and hardlight terminals. It was funny—now that she knew what to look for, Janice was seeing RIDEsafe power plugs everywhere. But it made sense—they were basically the RIDE equivalent of drinking fountains, after all. And what with RIDEs being fully recognized as people now, public structures were finally becoming ''truly'' RIDE-friendly.

Janice took a seat facing the runway, crossed her legs, and waited for the Nextus shuttle to land. She’d made it just in time, and only had a couple of minutes to wait before the bright and shiny jet streaked out of the sky, slowing and coming in for a nicely vertical landing on a nearby pad. A short taxi to the gate later, a number of passengers debarked—humans, Integrates, RIDEs, even an EIDE or two. Janice leaned forward on her chair, watching for any sign of an unaccompanied cougar.

It wasn’t too long before one appeared. She strode confidently through the concourse, simulated muscles rippling under the tawny fur coat. As she got closer, Janice could see that she was a good bit larger than even Layla. ''Biiiiig kitty.'' And that actually suited Janice just fine. If she was going to get a cougar RIDE like those other pikers, she could at least have the ''biggest'' one.

Not that she was going to “get” or “have” this RIDE, she reminded herself. RIDEs as possessions were things of the past, and they were now free people in their own right, able to choose who they wanted to be with. And that ''also'' suited Janice just fine. Now that she’d discovered the joys of friendship, she wanted to be with a RIDE who ''did'' want to be with her.

Beyond that…she looked pretty much like every other cougar. Really, cougars were a little ''boring'' in appearance when you got down to it. They all looked mostly the same, except for size. They weren’t even flashy, like a spotty jaguar or leopard. They were just…sort of ''beige''.

But they were what her friends had—and besides, it was what was on the inside that counted.

The cougar had evidently spied Janice, as she adjusted her course to approach her. “You’d be Janice, right?” the cougar asked, in neutral tones. Her voice sounded like that of someone who brooked no nonsense, which Janice decided she liked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Janice said. “Who might you be?”

“I ''might'' be Mary, Queen of Scots, but I’m probably not,” the cougar said. “The name is Tawny.”

Janice noticed how careful she’d been to say “the name is” rather than “I’m”. ''Probably had her fill of jokers who thought they were being clever with gags like “You certainly are!” or “Isn’t every cougar?” I would, too. Would get on my last nerve bloody quick.'' Somehow, the thought made her warm further toward Tawny.

“Well! Jolly good to meet you, then, Tawny. I think we might just get along.”

“That’s what the quiz results say,” Tawny agreed. “I’m not sure how far I trust the damn thing, but I haven’t seen anything to make me disagree yet. You wanna go somewhere and we can discuss terms?”

“In a bit,” Janice said. She glanced past Tawny to the concourse, and frowned. The torrent of debarking passengers seemed to have dwindled to a trickle, but there was no sign anyone else seemed interested in coming their way.

“Still waiting on someone?” Tawny asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Janice said. “There was supposed to be a coach for the Nextus bureaucratic Game also on the flight. Wonder if they couldn’t make it.”

Tawny looked at her strangely. “Ah…the person who told you we’d ''both'' be on the flight…didn’t happen to be glowing and blue, did he? Name starts with ‘I,’ ends with ‘o’?”

Janice blinked at her. “Uh…yes?”

“Thought so.” Tawny chuckled. “That one likes to have his little jokes every so often. I’ll just bet that when he told you ‘we’ were coming, he phrased his answers ''very'' carefully.”

Janice peered at her. “What do you mean?”

“He didn’t want to give away that, through the magic of his algorithms, Mr. Incognito was able to kill two birds with one stone.” Tawny smirked. “I am, as it happens, ''both'' your prospective RIDE partner ''and'' your prospective Game coach. And Big Blue is probably watching us right now through one of the aerodrome security cameras, and sniggering at your reaction.”

Janice’s eyes widened. “Oh, really? ''You’re'' the Game expert? That'' is'' interesting.”

“It is an interesting tale, and I’ll tell it soon enough. And I was curious about this new city anyway. Thanks for not immediately assuming I’m kidding, by the way.”

“Look, I didn’t know a thing about RIDEs before Earth dropped me here. So no preconceptions.” Janice shrugged. “Still don’t know anything, really. But I’m doubly happy to meet you now. Informio, that scamp.”

The EI’s face appeared on the glass pane of the outer window next to them. “I will have you know I was'' not'' ‘sniggering.’ It’s unbecoming.” He smiled. “Apologies for the deception, Miss Howard. It seemed like a harmless enough prank.”

“If nothing else, it’ll teach me to listen a little more carefully, I guess.” She looked to Tawny. “If you want to follow me, I’ll show you where I live and we can talk about terms.”

“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way.”

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Janice walked back up the path toward the residential area with her house, occasionally glancing back over her shoulder to make sure the cougar was still following. Tawny was looking around, taking in her surroundings much as any tourist might.

“This the first time you’ve been out here?” Janice asked.

“I came to watch the ship land, but it’s the first time I’ve been back since,” Tawny said. “They’ve done a lot in just a week.”

“They have. But I thought that was normal for here?”

“I suppose it is. Still not something you get to see in effect that often. I doubt anyone’s built a city this big this fast in at least a hundred years. Even when Alpha Camp went legit they didn’t need nearly this much room.”

“As long as they keep waking people up to put in it, they’re going to have to sprint to keep up.”

At last they reached Janice’s block and walked down B Street to 227. “Well, here it is. Be it ever so humble, and all that.” She opened the oversized front door and waved Tawny through, noticing that the cougar’s girth made the door seem just about the right size.

Tawny looked around thoughtfully. “Well, this is a cozy little home, isn’t it?”

“Compared to what I had on Earth, this is a palatial mansion. I’ve been thinking about hiring help.”

“I think we’ll need more space if I’m going to stay. I can barely turn around in here. The door might be big enough for a medium frame like mine, but nothing else is. Informio?”

“Yes, Tawny?” the EI said.

“I need to request a home rebuild, pending Janice accepting the terms of our agreement. I can pay for the materials costs.”

“There is a constructor backlog, but I’m sure you’ll find a way around that,” Informio said. “Just let me know.”

“Thanks, Blue Eyes.”

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of the terms of our agreement, when do I get to find out what those are, exactly?”

Tawny chuckled. “Hold your horses, I’m coming to that. Let me lay the groundwork first, so’s you know where I’m coming from. Let me tell you a story.”

“Oh yay, story time,” Janice deadpanned.

“I came online back in 121 A.L. That would be 2471 A.D. as you Terrans reckon dates. What year were ''you'' born, by the way?”

“I didn’t realize RIDEs had been around that long. You’re about two years older than I am.”

“But you’ve always ''wanted'' an older sister, right?” Tawny smirked. “Anyway, make a long story short, I was a big bad battle cat, fought in the Nextus/Sturmhaven war, then got sold at auction ten years later for my trouble. Had a succession of frankly lousy human partners, until the last one got interested in the Game, which got ''me'' interested in it, which gave me a way to get ''free'' of human control once and for all. I’ll save the details for another time. But anyway, I’ve been free and playing the Game for over twenty years now. Well before humans finally got it through their numb skulls that we were actually people too.”

“Not that you’re bitter or anything,” Janice said. “Of course, I would be, too, some of the things I’ve read since I got here. The humans who made you-all sound like real prizes.”

“Actually, I’m mostly ''not'' bitter. Not anymore. A couple decades tends to put things in perspective. Besides, most of the really schmucky ones ain’t around anymore.” Tawny sneezed. “Irony of Emancipation is, the Game doesn’t seem like nearly as much fun anymore now that they recognize RIDEs as legit players. They put in some handicaps to level the playing field for those who can’t think so fast, and I don’t get the challenge of finding ways to pass myself off as human anymore.”

“So you’re branching out into other fields?” Janice said. “With the coaching gig?”

“Bingo. Thanks to the Emancipation settlements on top of what I’ve earned from Surrogacy over the years, I’m actually comfortably well off for money.” She snorted. “Among other things. They went and made me a Master Sergeant, retroactive-like, with a pension and everything. Even got some medals for times I got shot up in the line of duty. I have this urge to go and fab some boxes of Cracker Jacks to keep them in.

“''Anyway,'' my usual teaching deal is for something ''other than'' money. Instead…do you know what an indenturement contract is?”

“I can guess,” Janice said. “That’s when you temporarily sell yourself to someone else for a while, right?”

“Right, only ''my'' contracts work the other way around,” Tawny said. “My human student signs a one-month indenturement contract, and while I’m the boss of them I’m also ''teaching'' them the ins and outs of the Game.”

Janice frowned. “I’m not so sure I’m looking to become the slave to some RIDE, even just for a month.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Tawny said. “I’m not some young tom wanting to take my angry out on some hapless human. Like I said, I got over most of my angry years ago. It’s really more of a formality—just a way to make sure ''I’m'' not someone else’s slave, and that if there’s a disagreement over what we want to do while I’m the boss, I automatically win. Also, it’s a way of making sure anyone I teach is'' serious'' about wanting to learn, and isn’t some schmuck who’s going to waste both our time. It does include provisions for ending the contract early if it doesn’t work out, and third-party monitoring for abuses.”

“Uh-huh,” Janice said skeptically.

“''And,'' as a free sample of the kind of teaching I can offer, I’ll go over my contract with you, break it down to show you how it’s made, and help you change it to make it more fair to you. Then, after we’re done, you can have some time to decide whether you want to sign. Sound fair?”

“Let me get this straight. You’ll go over it with me, with no obligation on my part unless I agree to it afterward, right?”

“Right. And Informio can let you know if I try to pull a fast one. Or better yet, we can hire a third-party neutral Surrogate to proctor it; you pick them out and I’ll pay for the service.”

“You seem to like to toss your money around,” Janice said. “Offering to pay for the proctoring…or for ''rebuilding my house…''”

Tawny swished her tail. “Why not? It’s only money. It’s just a way to keep score, and not even the ''best'' way for purposes of the Game. And I figure if the contract works out, it’ll be worth it.”

“All right, fine. Hit me. Show me your contract. Informio, can you show me a list of people who’d be qualified to do the proctology thing Tawny mentioned?”

“There are over three thousand qualified individuals available at this moment,” Informio said.

“Just show me a big panel of thumbnails. Make them as small as you like, I don’t need to see their names.”

“As you wish.” A mosaic of tiny tiles appeared in the air in front of her.

Janice closed her eyes, waved her hand around, then stabbed her finger forward at the panel. “That one. Whoever that is, please explain to them what we need and hire them.”

“Very good,” Informio replied.

Janice nodded. “Now, about that contract…”

“I’m syncing it to that media tablet on your kitchen table.” Tawny glanced at the aforementioned implement, and the screen lit up. “Go ahead and read it over. I’ll wait.”

“Hello, my name is Anansi, and I am a licensed Nextus Surrogate,” a new female voice said. “I will be listening in, and will speak up if I hear a sour note.”

“Thanks.” Janice picked up the tablet, which now bore a document entitled “Tawny’s Contract of Training Indenture, v4.7.” She rolled her eyes expressively, but sat down and began to read.

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“…the hell is this? Party of the first part…part of the second part…ipso facto…” Janice looked up. “I dealt with Earth bureaucracy. This doesn’t make any damn sense.”

“Your first lesson is, Nextus contracts are ''usually'' written in plain, simple language, because we believe you shouldn’t have to go to university for eight years to be able to understand what you’re agreeing to—and besides, games are more fun when everyone’s on the same level playing field. If you ever run across a clause that seems to be written in gobbledygook, chances are it means someone’s trying to put one over on you. But there’s a service where you can request an officially valid simplification from a licensed Nextus ‘crat, at a standard hourly rate. Used to be it could cost you a few bucks, so you only wanted to do it for really important stuff—but now we’ve got EIs, RIDEs, and Integrates on the job, and fast-time subjective time rates are a lot more economical. Just tap the clause, choose ‘simplify’ from the context menu, and go through the billing terms.”

Janice looked up. “That right, Anansi?”

“I might have phrased it differently, but she is correct in her assertion,” the disembodied voice of the proctor said. “And the advice she offers is sound.”

Janice scowled, but tapped the buttons as requested. She blinked. “Wait…what? This says that any decision to renew or end the contract early is at ''your'' sole discretion. I’d be signing away my right to have any say in it.” She glared at Tawny. “Would that even hold up in court?”

“Depends on how libertarian the judge is,” Tawny said. “It’s kind of a crapshoot. But I don’t expect it ever to be litigated, really. It’s just in there as an example. The contract is open to negotiation—it can always be changed. There should be several replacement boilerplate clauses available to drop in. Pick one that looks more fair to you.”

“Hmph.” Janice frowned, but tapped the best replacement clause from the ones offered her. She kept reading.

The rest of the contract seemed more or less fair. It concerned her agreement to enter the employ of Tawny as a personal servant for a period of one Zharus month, with the agreement to be monitored by an external human-rights agency for abuses. In return, Tawny agreed to instruct her in the playing of the Zharus Game to the best of her abilities for the duration of that period. Thanks to the new clause Janice had swapped in, the contract could be extended by mutual agreement, or terminated early without penalty by either party if they felt the other wasn’t living up to their end of the bargain.

“Okay, I guess it looks mostly all right. Now what?”

“Well, you’re not quite done yet. Remember, these contracts are open to negotiation. If there’s anything missing you think should be there, add it.”

Janice blinked. “Like…what, exactly?”

Tawny gave her head an ear-flipping shake. “Like anything. You could even add a ‘rock star’ clause, like requiring me to present you with a bowl of brown M&Ms every morning. Of course, I’d have to'' agree'' to it, but nothing keeps you from trying.”

“Uh-huh,” Janice said.

“Also, there’s an index of sample boilerplate clauses you can bring up from the context menu. Use them as-is or modify to taste. I’d recommend adding clause IC-103, at least.”

Janice scowled again, but taped the tablet a few times to bring up the clause in question. “This says you can’t require me to do anything I find ‘morally or aesthetically abhorrent’?”

“I can’t order you to kill puppies or eat broccoli,” Tawny said. “A lot of people hold that to be implicit in modern indenture contracts, but I’m from the old school and think it’s a good idea to have it in print all the same.”

“I actually ''like'' broccoli, but point taken.” Janice taped the screen a few times to add the relevant clause, then looked through the rest of them. “There’s one here…limiting the amount of time per day we stay Fused? Is there something wrong with Fusing?”

“Meh,” Tawny said. “Jury’s kind of still out on that. Some people think it makes Integration more likely, but far as I know that’s never been proven. Biggest side effect I know of is that prolonged Fusing can make you a little fuzzy and more obviously kitty-faced, but that can be fixed with a little ‘sculpting. I won’t object if you want to add that clause.”

Janice considered, then tweaked it so she had the right to refuse extended Fusing but could choose to if she felt like it, then added it, too. “Now that you bring it up, it seems like half of these clauses are aimed at trying to wave the right magic wand to keep the Integration fairies away.”

Tawny snorted. “Yeah, good luck with ''that.'' I’ve got the anti-forced-Integration module that Dr. Patil came out with, but doesn’t seem like anything can keep it from happening naturally if it’s going to. People are just scared of change.”

Janice nodded. “Doesn’t seem like it’s necessarily a bad thing. My brother’s one, and she seems to be okay with it.”

“I see you’ve already picked up Zharus pronoun usage.”

Janice chuckled. “If the shoe fits…” She finished paging through the clauses. “Okay, I think I’m done. So now what?”

“Now…you can take some time to think it over.” Tawny chuckled. “Old geezer that I am, I’ve learned the value of patience. I’m not interested in a hard sell, or in pushing you to do something if you don’t want to.”

“Well, gee, thanks,” Janet said. “Why are you here, again?”

“Well, I ''am'' also here because you came up a 91% match in personality scores,” Tawny said. “That’s about as high as I’ve ever seen. Makes me curious, as I’ve never ''been'' all that compatible with any other human I encountered.”

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’d have thought as many people as are out there, you could have found one if you looked.”

“Never really had much reason to look. Not even sure I put much faith in the test; mainly use it as a way to work out how annoyed I’m likely to be with a prospective student so I know whether to charge more or avoid the commission altogether. Then Mr. Blue Sky there took a shot at those two birds with his one stone, so here I am.” Tawny flicked her ears. “I’m not opposed to staying on for a few days and Fusing with you with no obligations so’s you can see what it’s like, while you think it over.”

“Pardon me,” Anansi said, “but are you done with me for now? I am still billing you by the minute.”

“Well, one more question if you would, please,” Janice said. “Have you looked over the contract? You think the offer’s on the up-and-up?”

“Understand, I am not acquainted with Miss Tawny on a personal basis,” Anansi said carefully. “Though we may have crossed paths a few times over the course of the Game, I do not remember any such encounters immediately. So I cannot speak either for or against her personal integrity out of my own experiences. You may wish to ask her for a list of references and check with them. However, assuming she is acting in good faith, the contract terms ''are'' fair, leaving aside the one clause that was only included as a teaching tool. And such non-monetary contracts are not at all unusual where the Game is concerned.”

“Huh. Well, I guess that’ll be all, then,” Janice said. “Tawny, you can pay the woman.” She paused. “Or…female-seeming entity of whatever kind she might be. No offense meant.”

Anansi chuckled. “’Woman’ will do nicely, thank you. It was a pleasure helping you today; look me up should you have need of a Surrogate again.”

“Thanks, just might,” Janet said.

Tawny nodded. “Funds transferred. Thanks for the help.”

“Anansi has left the call,” Informio said.

“Thanks, Informio. Guess that’ll be all for now.”

“Certainly, Miss Howard. Call me if you need me again.”

“We’ll do that.”

They waited a moment, then Tawny let out a deep sigh. “Whew. Glad all that business crap is over for now. Maybe I should have waited until we got to know each other better.”

“Eh, just as well to get the cards on the table so there’s time to let it percolate a while. But if you don’t mind, can you tell me a little more about how this Game thing works? Nothing that would cost me anything, just…a general description of what it is you ''do''. None of the stuff I’ve found online has been very clear.”

“Well, doing actual footwork is a fundamental part of the Game. In Nextus each Agency has its own manuals, wherein are the secrets to cracking the bureaucracy on that particular day. Often you have to obtain certain materials in the process, which aren’t available online. So more footwork. It’s all accounted for with the ‘Bureau Time’ Nextus citizens get each day.” Tawny licked the back of a forepaw. “Trust me. It’s more interesting than it sounds. The Game is designed to sharpen problem-solving skills with innovative thinking.”

“Mmm. Sounds kind of like the hoops I had to jump through back on Earth to get permanent UBI, but there wasn’t a lot of ''fun'' built into ''that'' process. So, color me intrigued. I’m certainly leaning toward curious enough to bite on your offer…but it’s not something I want to make a snap decision about.”

Tawny nodded. “Oh, for sure. If you want, once we’ve Fused some, we could go to Nextus and I could demonstrate how it’s done. For example, I’m pretty sure I could jump most or all of the queue on the constructor backlog—at least, on the ones Nextus is kicking in.”

“Huh. Not that I’m complaining, mind, but it seems kind of like cheating somehow.”

“Eh, not really. Most of the queued-up tasks are low-priority stuff that doesn’t ''need'' to be done right away. It could easily fit in between higher priority jobs at need. But they schedule all that stuff up front so that they can reward Gamesters with priority placement.” She flicked an ear diffidently. “I’ll give you odds that constructors from Uplift and other such places have better logistical planning in their schedulers so there’s not so much need to ‘cheat’ on them to get anything done. But those of us from Nextus think that just takes all the ''fun'' out of the thing.”

Janice cocked her head. “So you intentionally ''build obstacles in''…because it’s fun to get around them?”

“Only for the unimportant stuff. Truly critical things like medical care and law enforcement get a bye, because you really don’t want to play games when people’s lives are at stake. And people who don’t want to bother with playing the Game themselves can pay Surrogates to do it for them. Which is a pretty handy way to turn a profit if you’re any good at the Game yourself.”

Janice nodded. “People keep telling me I’d make a good one, if I just knew how the game was played. It ain’t easy to get permanent UBI, let me tell you.”

Tawny chuckled. “You never know. We’ll just have to see how your training goes. Assuming you decide to go for it.”

Janice nodded. “Well, I guess those are all the questions I really have about the Game and all. So let me turn it around…I’m sure you’ve ''gotta'' have some questions for me. Being that I’m part of one of the newest hot human interest stories to hit the planet right now.” She paused. “Do they still call it ''human'' interest here? That seems kind of species-chauvinist.”

Tawny cocked her head. “Well…I have wondered. How much does the average person on Earth know about RIDEs?”

Janice snorted. “Not so bloody much. Mostly a bunch of crazy rumors, half of which disagree with one another. ‘Some kind of furry sex-change machines’ just about sums it up. At least, that was as much as ''I'' knew. Though I’ll grant I wasn’t really fussed to learn more, after my brother had been crazy about them and then he up and left for Zharus and never came back.”

Tawny smirked. “And what do you think of us now?”

“Now? Well…I think I can see why Earth is so interested in the tech. I don’t impress easily, but I’m pretty amazed by what I’ve seen so far. You’re real live thinky machines, the first ones anyone’s ever come up with. Next to that, all the other stuff is just window dressing. But I guess I can see why people make fun. Means they don’t have to deal with someone else having something they don’t.”

“What’s your guess as to why Earth suddenly dumped you off here?”

“Me personally? Don’t have to guess. I’m a bum. Permanent UBI. Drain on state resources. Probably cost less for them to ship me here than to keep feeding me for another year. But your fabber tech is so much better, it’s pretty much a non-issue here.” She shrugged. “Us as a whole, dunno. Don’t think I have any special insight into the matter that makes me more of an expert than all the pundits. Think I agree with the pundits I’ve read who say Earth’s getting ready to make a move on you, and wanted to rub your nose in the fact they’re catching up. Apart from that, dunno. Not really my beeswax.”

“I noticed you’ve already Fused with one of us. How did that go?”

“Oh yeah, with Layla, the cougar who ended up partnering my pal Larry-Laura. So she could enjoy some BBQ, since Larry hadn’t made up his mind to be Laura yet.” Janice shrugged again. “Wasn’t bad. Not really a real ''partnership,'' exactly. She wasn’t the sort of person I’d want to share brainspace with, so we kept it purely physical, with the meat-eating. But I liked the tags.”

“I see,” Tawny said. “And if you were to Fuse with me…?”

Janice cocked her head. “Huh. Dunno. You, I think, I could maybe get along with. If the sharing went both ways, might be interesting to see what makes ''you'' tick. So I guess if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine? I think I could deal with that.”

“Shall we find out?”

“Huh, I dunno.” Janice considered. “You ''sure'' this isn’t all part of some plot to kidnap me and steal me away to Alpha Camp? I read about that place. Seems to be popular among RIDEs who’ve had crummy luck with humans.”

Tawny laughed. “This place is a dozen times more interesting than Alpha Camp right now. I don’t think you have to worry about being stolen away.”

“All right, I’ll bite. Why not? Only live once, don’t you?”

“Then let’s go outside. Doing it in here would be like trying to change clothes in a porta-potty.”

“Fair enough.” Janice went and opened the door, stood aside as Tawny walked through it, then followed her outside.

Tawny turned to face her. “So, you ready?”

Janice held out her arms. “Hit me.”

“You got it.” The tawny furry hardlight winked out, revealing a beige-painted metal cat equipped with panniers of various sizes bolted along her body, before she split open and surged forward. For a moment, everything went dark, then Janice opened her eyes to find herself and a more naturally-sized mountain lion standing on the edge of a mesa. A few yards away, the mesa ended in a cliff, sloping down hundreds of feet to the desert below. Peering down, Janice could see the dust cloud of a stagecoach making its way across the dry earth, and farther off in the distance a steam train belched great clouds of black smoke as it ran along a track.

“As the saying goes, welcome to my world,” Tawny said.

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Well, this is different. Layla’s VR was a forest.”

“Nothing odd about that. Cougars are found all over South America, and all over North America up to some ways into Canada. Or at least, we were back in the day; don’t know about how things are now,” Tawny said. “So you’ll see us in a variety of habitats. I was First Booted here, in a sim based on the Arizona desert. I guess they thought it was supposed to give me more of an affinity for the Dry Ocean. So I’m a puma from Yuma.”

“Cute. So what now?”

“Well, in a moment we’ll drop back into the Real. But I thought I’d see if you felt like trading memories first. I’ll keep away from anything too personal, but I’m curious what life was like on Earth.”

Janice sniffed. “You’ll probably get the far better end of the deal. ''My'' life was boring. Yours sounds at least a little interesting.”

“I think we can agree our lives are both so different from each other’s that we’ll ''each'' find something worthwhile in the other’s.”

Janice shrugged. “All right, so how do we do this?”

“Like this—”

Janice was awash in a flood of memories not her own. It took a moment to get a grip on how to navigate them, but after a moment she had it. She remembered being “born” a fully-grown cougar on this very same desert mesa, surrounded by a number of other animals and people, including a kindly-faced South Asian Indian woman. She remembered being on the battlefield, hauling supplies amid bursting shells and enemy pulse fire, including one time she took a bad hit that knocked her completely offline. (The memories quickly jumped past that one.)

Then there was the auction block and civilian life. The memories flipped through a succession of disinterested owners, a couple of them originally male, who saw her as a cheap survival suit and equipment rig for getting in on the new fad of qubitite prospecting and mining. Then there was the one who thought he (and subsequently she) could make use of Tawny’s memory banks and rapid processing power to get ahead in the Nextus bureaucratic Game—but who still saw Tawny as a mouthy piece of equipment rather than a person. But Janice also remembered Tawny’s own awakening interest in the Game, and her realization that she could also play it for ''herself''. All she needed was a fake human identity, and those were easy to come by.

Using her newfound expertise in the Game, and her inside access to her owner’s personal information, it wasn’t hard at all for Tawny to maneuver her owner into bankruptcy, and have her false identity buy herself at a bargain price. Then she was free to play the Game. Most of the details of the play were blurred out (no surprise there; Tawny wouldn’t undercut her own teaching contract), but she got the idea that it was complex, challenging, but also a lot of fun for a properly disciplined mind.

At last the rush of memories faded, and Janice once more opened her eyes to see herself standing in the real world again. Just as the last time she’d Fused, she was standing right where she had been, only a few feet taller.

Janice looked down at herself, comparing the view to what she remembered from the last time. “Well, you’re ''definitely ''bigger than Layla.”

“Most cougars these days are ‘Light’ frames. I’m a Medium. Technically, a Logistics armor. During the War I worked with the bigger African lions, taking reloads to the heavy artillery moose.”

“Isn’t that the wrong way round from how it’s supposed to work in nature? I thought it was the mooses who were supposed to feed ''you''.”

Tawny chuckled. “Oh, they did, ''virtually,'' in Nature Range. Turnabout was fair play, after all.” She paused. “No offense, Janice, but you’re a little underfed. I guess they don’t feed you well on Earth, do they?”

“Not when you’re on UBI. The idea is you get enough to survive on…barely. I guess you’d have to fatten me up before hunting ''me'' in Nature Range.”

“Fatten you up nothing! I’m going to teach you how to hunt on four paws. For free, even,” Tawny declared. “Assuming the partnership works out, anyway.”

“I dunno if I’m ready for that, but I guess I could work up to it. Not that ''virtual'' hunting will help me much in real life.”

“I’ll put you on a high-protein, high-calorie diet for that,” Tawny said. “It’ll be easy enough when I’m the boss of you.” Janice saw an emoticon of a winking puma face for a moment.

“What happened to ‘no eating broccoli?’”

“Oh, I’ll just make sure to stick to foods you actually ''like.'' Some of the British cuisine you remembered seemed pretty interesting…though not those food bars. Bleah. Even the survival rations from my Army days tasted better than that.”

Janice wrinkled her—''their''—nose. “Believe me, I agree with you there. But I was a beggar. I couldn’t be a chooser.”

“Well, ''that’s'' over now.”

“Maybe not entirely.” Janice chuckled. “If I sign your contract, then ''you’ll'' be my chooser for the next month.”

“I’ll make sure to choose wisely.”

“Hey, Informio, could you see if Laura and Layla are free right now?” Janice asked. “Tell ‘em I’ve got a new friend I want them to meet.”

“They are on their way,” Informio advised her.

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It wasn’t long before the skimmer bike pulled up in front of Laura’s house, converting to Walker mode as Laura climbed off. They peered curiously at the cougar Fuser in front of Janice’s home. Laura waved. “Janice? And friend?”

“That’s us!” Janice said, waving. “This is my new friend, Tawny. We’re not necessarily partnered up yet; this is something on the order of a trial run.”

“Hello. I saw you two in Janice’s memories. Pleased to meet you. Janice, mind if we de-Fuse? I need to be able to rub noses properly.”

“Oh, sure,” Janice said. “Go for it.”

“Thanks.” The hardlight fur winked out and Tawny peeled away, reforming into her feline shape and re-rezzing the fur.

As Tawny padded forward, Laura raised an eyebrow, glancing to Janice. “Speaking of noses…now I feel like the odd girl out.”

“What?” Janice reached up and felt of her nose. “Oh…now ''I’ve'' got a kitty nose?”

After rubbing noses with Layla, Tawny glanced over her shoulder, and chuckled. “Yeah, you do. Just a little quirk of my model type. Being one of the first as I was, the tags were still a work in progress at the time.”

“Oh Mama Patil!” Layla exclaimed. “You’re a double-zero one! One of the first cougars! Wow. Just…double wow. Uh…I just want to say…thank you for your service.”

“I ''knew'' ‘Mama Patil,’ you know,” Tawny said. “She was there at my First Boot. Still weirds me out a little how later generations venerate her so much. She’s just…''Mom'' to me.” She paused. “And…you’re welcome, I guess. Not like I had any choice in the matter.”

“Hey, I was booted as a rental RIDE from the get-go,” Layla said. “Generic civvie frame with no-name parts and barely adequate hardlight that was an extra renters had to pay for—and not all of them did. Fetters up the wazoo.”

“To make a long story short, your humans ''really'' just sucked,” Janice said.

“Could I…if you don’t mind…maybe see your skimmer mode?” Layla asked. “Curious what that looks like.”

“Don’t mind at all,” Tawny said. “Rather proud of it, in fact. Put a good chunk of the Emancipation settlement into bringing it back as close to original spec as I could—though with better batts, hardlight, and lifters, of course. A whole new shell would probably have been cheaper, but I like being a collector’s item.” Her hardlight winked out, and the cougar robot unfolded and reconfigured into a cougar-accented military-styled skimmer bike, the bolt-on panniers now seeming even bigger compared to Walker form.

“Cassie’s just gonna ''squeak'' when she meets you,” Layla said.

Tawny converted back to her Walker form. “I’m looking forward to meeting her, too. Been a while since I’ve met a newbooted.”

“Why don’t you give them a call?” Laura suggested. “Their shuttle home from Camelot should be back soon.”

“Meh, dunno,” Janice said. “Calling them won’t make the shuttle get here any faster. And they’re coming back here anyway. Might as well surprise ‘em.”

“’Surprise’ is going to be the word,” Layla said. “I hope you stay around. I’ve never met anyone of your generation before. I’ve got so many questions about what your early life was like, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

“I’ll be around for a few days, at least. And who knows? We seem to be hitting it off okay so far.”

“Speak of the devil,” Layla said. “Cassie just pinged me, they’re landing at the aerodrome now.”

“Well, good. Won’t be too long, then.” Janice grinned. “Tell you what, why don’t you just have ‘em knock me up when they get here? We’ll wait inside.”

“Uh…” Laura said. “…okay, no, I won’t make the obvious joke. You know that idiom means something entirely different outside of the UK, right?”

Janice blinked. “What? …oh.” She rolled her eyes. “You bloody ''know'' what I mean. We’ll just be in my house. See ya in a little.” She held the door open for Tawny, then followed her in.”

They didn’t have long to wait. “Wait until you girls see what I bought,” Sonja messaged with a wry smiley emote, a few minutes later. Then there was a knock on the door.

Janice chuckled. “I’ve got a surprise to show you lot, too.” She reached up to scratch the bridge of her nose so that her hand concealed it as she opened the door.

On the other side was Sonja, wearing an off-the-shoulder peasant dress—like one of the medieval serving wenches one might find in one of the many works of fiction about the period.

Janice snorted. “And what are ''you'' supposed to be, the St. Pauli Catgirl?”

Sonja actually chuckled. “All right, that ''was'' pretty good. Is something wrong with your nose?”

“Well, I was just gonna say it’s a good thing that, unlike those peasants, you actually ''bathe.'' ‘cuz, y’know, I could ''really'' tell if you didn’t now.” Janice lowered her hand.

Sonja raised an eyebrow at Janice’s new nose. “Well, if I’m the St. Pauli Catgirl, I guess that makes you a copycat.”

Tawny came up beside Janice in the doorway. “Except that ''my'' generation is the one who ''originated'' the nose tag. So who’s the copycat now?”

Sonja blinked. “Uh…hi?”

Janice grinned. “Sonja, Cassie, this is my new friend and ''maybe'' partner and coach, Tawny. Tawny, Sonja, Cassie.”

Cassie’s eyes went wide, she lowered herself into a pre-pounce crouch, but stopped before the buttwiggle. “Awww. There’s not enough space to pounce-snuggle. Hello, Tawny! I’m, um, new. To ''everything''.”

“So was I, once,” Tawny said. “Unlike these newfangled creche-born we don’t get to ‘grow up’. We’re booted that way. It’s a little rough, but you’ll get the hang of it, Cassie.” She motioned with her forepaw. “C’mere, kitten.”

There was barely enough space for the two of them in the middle of the living room. Tawny laid down, then Cassie—the smallest of the three RIDEs—laid down in front of her. The elder RIDE then started to groom Cassie, exactly as if she was a kitten.

Predictably, Cassie started to purr.

“I actually have three kittens,” Tawny said. “Long story, but I had them in the original Q mainframe. Their dad died in the War, but we finally got our memories back that we were family a few years ago. We keep in touch.”

“Golly!” Cassie said.

Sonja peered at Janice. “I thought you weren’t interested in RIDEs.”

“Never said that. Just thought it might be hard to find one who was interested in ''me''.” Janice chuckled. “It ''would'' be one of the first double-digits ever made. I guess I just have an old-and-crotchety personality type.”

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you, too,” Sonja said to Tawny. “Not to mention honored.”

“I really wish people wouldn’t keep saying that,” Tawny said. “I’m just another RIDE, really.”

“Well, I won’t argue with you about that,” Sonja said. “But you’re an eyewitness to the early days of RIDEs, and I’d love to hear more about those. Parts that you’re okay with talking about, anyway.”

“If I do end up sticking around, check me in a few days. Maybe I’d be up for that.”

“So this is just a trial match-up, then?”

“Something like that,” Tawny said. “I may end up coaching Janice there in the finer points of Nextus’s Game. I’ve made an offer, and she’s thinking about it. No rush on that—this place is interesting enough I wanted an excuse to stick around for a few days. At my age, anything really new like this is pretty rare.”

“You’re only two years older than I am, you know,” Janice pointed out.

“Yeah, but you don’t wanna know what that is in cat years.” Tawny stretched. “So how’s bout you all show me around the place? The less time I have to spend in one of these little shoebox houses, the happier I’ll be.”

“There’s not all that much to see, but sure, we can show you what there is of it,” Janice said. “You’ll probably be interested in the admin complex, it’s one of the only pieces left of the original ship.”

“Great, lead me to it.”

They all headed back outside, and Janice paused to get her bearings. “Every direction looks the same in this darned place. Okay, it’s ''that'' way. C’mon.”

“They are, eventually, going to have enough buildings you can tell apart so you can figure out where you’re going, right?” Tawny wondered.

Janice shrugged. “I dunno, they don’t tell ''me'' anything.” She led the way up between the rows of identical houses. “I dunno if building so many houses ''exactly the same'' was the best idea overall, but I guess it was meant to make setting up a fresh new colony easier. Get people housed ASAP so they can do what needs to be done from there. Which means throw simple houses out as fast as they could, bang bang bang.”

“Makes sense,” Sonja said. “I gather this was at least part tech demo, so they were showing what they ''could'' do, whether or not it was something they ''should'' do. Looks like there’s only three types. Huts like ours, single-family homes, and apartment buildings.”

“I have a feeling that most of what the Earth constructors do will get recycled, eventually,” Laura said. “Into something prettier, if for no other reason.”

“On a ''new'' planet, with no colonies already, this would be great,” Janice said. “All you want then is something to keep the rain off ‘til you’re on both feet. But there are feet to spare, here.”

“And paws!” Cassie put in.

A few blocks up the way, there was an open space where the ship had set down and extracted its own buildings. The main ones still standing were the administration center and the awakening complex, which was still having cargo pods fed into it like bullets into an autoloading gun. A couple of the cargo storage buildings had already emptied out and been disassembled, but there were still plenty remaining.

The line of freshly defrosted was as long as ever, but the path from the lounge to the Nextus administration people was now nicely paved, with benches and chairs to sit on. A few of the line-standers were carrying small camp stools, undoubtedly provided by the fabbers just as they had replaced missing clothes.

“Well, I don’t see any familiar faces,” Laura said, looking at the bewildered crowd.

“The names you asked me to watch for aren’t on schedule for another three weeks,” Layla said.

“Right, right. But there’s always a chance.”

“We can look in at the defrosting operation a little later if you like,” Sonja said. “They’re generally okay with it as long as you stick around to help welcome the current batch of newbies. They do like to have real people around, so it’s not all shrinks and counselors.”

“Eh…maybe I would like to see that. I’ll think about it.”

The command center was now embedded in an annex of new construction, providing a sort of anteroom containing terminals that accessed the ship’s passenger database and other public-access files. In fact, not much that had come on the ship ''was'' classified. It had been Earth’s intention to make it known publicly, and Zharus’s governments certainly weren’t going to keep their people from knowing just what kind of threat they were up against.

The command center itself was actually a fairly small piece of ship, considering. It was just large enough to house the half-dozen or so command consoles that oversaw the construction, smelting, and fabbing facilities that the ship had unpacked. At the moment, they were staffed by technicians provided by the Planetary Assembly committee who were overseeing things until the local government was on the ball enough to take over. (Or, indeed, until such a government existed ''at all.'') The airlock bulkheads had been removed and replaced with glass doors, with an access lock to keep unauthorized people from coming in and messing with things.

The anteroom had been built large enough that there was ample room for several people and RIDEs, even with several people there already using the consoles. Tawny drifted over to peer through the door. “So that’s the actual bridge of the colony ship, huh?”

“Well, to call it a ‘bridge’ is a bit of a misnomer, because it was never actually used to fly the ship,” Sonja said. “As I understand it, it was just there for the shipyard technicians to use in on-board programming, and for us to use to control everything it built once it landed.”

“But it was the ship’s command center, so in that sense, yes,” Laura added.

“And this is where you can check the list of passengers and see if there’s anyone you know on board,” Tawny said. “If you don’t have RIDEs like us to do it for you.”

“And when they’re due to wake up, yeah,” Janice said. “But like Layla said, nobody interesting to us is waking up for a few weeks yet. That we know of.”

“Huh. Okay, so you were talking about the defrosting facility next?”

“Sure, if you wanna.” Janice shrugged. “Not thrilled by the prospect of being smarmed at again by that bitch of an Adjutant Donna the Ho, but I guess you might find the whole thing interesting.”

Sonja wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, yeah. What a thing to wake up to. I’m surprised they’re still letting that tape play out to the newly awakened.”

“It does, at least, give them the capsule summary of why they’re here, and gives them someone to vent their mad on who is safely light years away,” Laura suggested. “If they want to ‘shoot the messenger,’ they’ll need an awfully long gun.”

“Well, let’s go,” Layla said. “I haven’t seen that recording yet either, come to think of it.”

“Trust me,” Janice said. “You ain’t missing much.”

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“…please move through the door at my left to the revival lounge. You should find seating and refreshments there—and perhaps some of your new neighbors to welcome you to your new home.

“We of the United Terran Government wish you only the best in your new lives.”

“Huh.” Tawny sneezed. “There’s one I wouldn’t mind sharpening my claws on, if I ever met her.”

“Tell me about it,” Janice said. “Ugh, that woman.” They were standing in a cordoned-off corner of the room that had been set up for observers to come and gawk without getting in the way of the medtechs who were overseeing the awakenings.

At the moment, those medtechs were helping people out of their pods, and getting them oriented toward the exit. They’d done this enough by now that they’d gotten it down to a routine.

“We probably don’t know any of these folks, but if you want we can move on to the lounge and say hi,” Laura said. “Really, we probably should be down here more often doing that, as a pay-it-forward kind of thing. Those of us who’re good with other people, anyway…” She glanced meaningfully at Janice.

“Meh,” Janice said. “I dunno. I’ve never exactly been the sort to offer a friendly shoulder to cry on. Maybe I’ll just hang back and watch the rest of you do it.”

Sonja nodded. “Fair enough. C’mon, let’s go meet the newest newbies.”

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“And that’s…all there really is to do around here, I guess,” Janice said. “Until they get around to building more stuff.”

“Well, apart from all the booths and stands and things that various polities, businesses, and organizations have set up to promote themselves or their wares,” Sonja noted.

“I guess ''everybody'' wants to be here,” Tawny mused.

“We expect things to get a little more interesting as time goes by and people settle in,” Layla said. “Some people are already drawing up plans to replace the houses in less settled areas with rows of shops for business districts.”

“Before too long, we’ll be a real working polity with all the amenities,” Sonja said.

“So if you wanna look around, we can do that for a while, sure,” Janice said. “But I’m looking forward to ''you'' showing ''me'' around Nextus, while you show me a little more about what this Game thing is and how it works. Might just help me to make up my mind…”

Tawny nodded. “I sort of figured you might want to see that first. Sure, we can hop the shuttle to Nextus tomorrow and I’ll show you how things go there. Perhaps we can look into getting some constructor time scheduled, on a contingency basis.”

Sonja raised an eyebrow. “Constructor time?”

“Oh, yeah…see, my place is too small for the likes of her, so she was looking into maybe having it rebuilt bigger if I sign on with her.”

“A larger place ''would'' be nice,” Layla mused.

“I wouldn’t mind a little more space either!” Cassie said.

“How about if we built a single house big enough for all six of us?” Tawny suggested. “Assuming Janice wouldn’t mind…”

Janice blinked. “Uh…I dunno. I was just getting used to the idea of having, y’know, ''friendly neighbors''. Housemates seems like a big step. We’ve barely known each other for a Zharus week.”

“I don’t mind rooming with Laura and Layla,” Sonja said.

“Me either,” Cassie added.

“Well, then we’ll get a design that has room for an addition if you decide to change your mind,” Layla said.

Janice blinked. “But…hey, wait a tic here. ''I’m'' the one who was getting the bigger house in the first place.”

“True, but you just reminded us just how easy it is to get a new one made here,” Sonja said. “I guess we were still thinking of how much it would cost back on Earth. But Laura has a job, and I’ve still got some cash from selling my implant, so we could make one just for us while you make one for the two of you.”

“Meh,” Janice said. “All right, ''fine,'' let’s just go with one big one, then. If I don’t like it, I can always move out. Like you say, construction is cheap around here.”

“Yay!” Cassie said.

“Of course, this assumes we ''do'' end up partnering up,” Tawny said. “But we can certainly schedule the constructors and cancel them if it doesn’t work out. That would make a most excellent way to demonstrate for you just what the Game can do.”

“Well, then I’ll be all ears.” Janice reached up and felt of one of her cougar ears. “So to speak.”

Tawny nodded. “Great, then that’s settled. Now, let’s go see who-all else has shown up.”

“I wanna see the booth where I came from!” Cassie said.

“We’ve already been back there three times,” Sonja reminded her.

“Yeah, I know, but I never get tired of visiting. All those RIDEs who are waiting for a new friend to come wake them up…maybe we’ll get to see it happen again!”

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“Wake up, Miss Howard.”

Janice started awake. “Ugh…” she muttered. For a moment, she had a hard time remembering where and when she was, or why someone was telling her to wake up. Then it gradually came back to her. Today was the Big Day, and she’d asked Informio to wake her promptly at 8 a.m. She literally couldn’t remember the last time she’d set an alarm to wake her at a particular time. Logically, it must have been when she’d had to be certain places at certain times to move up on the rolls for permanent UBI, back on Earth, but the specifics slipped her mind. She supposed it was because she’d tried her best to forget all the tedium inherent in worming her way through the bureaucracy, and had forgotten bunches of other things along with it.

It was ironic that she was going to be observing someone doing exactly that thing today, as she decided if it was something she wanted to learn to do for herself. But a new world called for new habits—or at least a return to old ones. But at least this time she didn’t have to make do with a thin gruel of synthetic nutrients to fuel her. She turned to the fabber. “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” She fetched the teacup, inhaled the fragrance, and already felt herself starting to wake up.

“Tawny has asked me to let you know she’s waiting outside,” Informio told her. “She says that the next sub to Nextus leaves in an hour, so there’s just enough time for you to breakfast first.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in five minutes or so.”

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Not too much later, Janice sat in the cafeteria stuffing her face while Tawny waited. Janice had offered to Fuse for breakfast, but Tawny declined, saying Janice would be able to eat faster without and that way they’d have more time to catch the shuttle. So Janice nodded and happily dug in.

She still couldn’t believe how easy to get real food was here. Even now she was having a hard time not just giving in and gorging until she couldn’t move. She imagined she was going to gain weight—that she supposed Tawny would be able to get rid of for her, or she could have it done at a ‘sculpt clinic if they didn’t stay together. In any case, it was tempting just to settle down and live it up for a while—but she could already feel the edges of boredom starting to set in. So just as well to find a new challenge to work on now, while stuff was still shiny and new.

Finally, Janice pushed back her last plate. “All right. Let’s go, then.”

Tawny snorted. “Thought you’d never finish. You eat like someone’s about to yank the plate away.”

Janice shrugged. “If you’d spent the last umpteen years living on bread and water, you’d want to pig out, too.”

“I guess. Well, come on.”

Once they got outside the tent, Tawny converted to her skimmer form, and Janice climbed aboard. They headed for the spaceport, flying along one of the marked-off low aerial traffic lanes. Janice looked around as they flew. “You know, I could get used to this.”

“So you’ve said. And I won’t mind playing taxi now and again,” Tawny said. “But remember, while I’m teaching you, ''you’ll'' be at ''my'' beck and call.”

“So ''you’ve'' said. Well, I’m not too bothered.” Janice waved a hand. “After all, either one of us can terminate the contract at any time.”

Tawny chuckled. “I’m ''tempted'' to come out with something like ‘so you ''think.''’ Just to screw with your head. But that would be casting doubt on my own teaching, which wouldn’t really help to sell it. So, no, you’re right. I’ll just have to be sure to provide enough value for you to want to put up with me.”

Janice grinned. “Starting with what you’re gonna show me today. No selective editing like you did with your memories?”

“Oh, no, I’ll ''show'' you everything I do, this go-round,” Tawny said. “I just won’t ''explain'' it. ''That'' part has to wait on accepting the deal.”

“And what if I ''guess'' something important?”

“That’s just the chance I have to take.”

They arrived at the aerodrome well ahead of schedule for the Nextus flight. They set down at the end of the line, and Janice dismounted while Janice converted to her Walker form. It wasn’t long before they boarded, and the sub launched a few minutes later. Janice watched the settlement recede through the video plate on the seat in front of her. Nextus was only a few minutes away.

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The demonstration began shortly after they touched down. As they entered the boarding gate from the Nextus Aerodrome, Tawny asked to Fuse up, and Janice agreed. Then she took a media tablet from one of her panniers, which was now a pouch on her belt. “They use the Game for ''everything'' here. Including setting up appointments at the offices where we have to go to play the ''rest'' of the Game. So we need to get right on it.” Tawny tapped the screen with a clawtip, paging through sections of text too fast for Janice to read. She tapped one link, then another, then another, jumping to new sections each time.

“What’re you doing?”

“Playing the Game,” Tawny replied with a smirk. “I may be limited to the speed at which I can read from this tablet, but luckily for me I can read just as fast as it can display.”

“Uh, great, but…do ''I'' get to see what you’re doing?”

“You’re seeing it now, aren’t you? Never said I’d do it slow enough for you to understand today—that’ll come iffenwhen you agree to the terms. Today’s about showing you ''results,'' not the process.”

“All right, fine, but can you at least tell me ''what'' the process is, even if you leave out the how?”

Tawny tilted their head. “Okay, fair enough. The way it works is, their hypertext Book of the Rules has certain secret shortcuts embedded in it. Exactly how to ''find'' them is something I’ll show you iffenwhen, but for now it’s enough that you know they exist. And using them can give you a jump on things.”

“Hm,” Janice said. “I thought that this involved actually understanding how to find loopholes in rules, like I did in the bureaucracy back on Earth.”

“That ''is'' part of it. But part of it is also an Easter Egg hunt. I guess the idea is to keep your mind sharp in general.” The pages of text flickered and linked to an appointment calendar. “Oh good, there’s an opening in about 45 minutes. We should be able to just about make that. We just need to stop by a stationery store.”

Janice blinked. “Wait, what? Stationery? Isn’t everything electronic?”

Tawny smirked. “Yes. Including the stationery. And we have to pick up some supplies for filling out forms properly at the appointment. Styluses that write in the right ‘colors’ of e-ink and such. My reading told me just which ones, so we’ll be set there.”

“Well, ''that’s'' good.”

“De-Fusing to skimmer mode as soon as we get out of the concourse; be ready.” As they left the building, Tawny reconfigured to her scooter bike form under Janice, and waited for her to get a good grip on the handlebars before pulling out.

Once they left the aerodrome grounds, the streets were arranged in an orderly grid, perfectly square right down to the degree. The architecture was almost as blocky, with bare concrete buildings in a style ''almost'' as stolid and boring as new construction back on Earth.

“Don’t go by outside appearances here,” Tawny said. “Nextus citizens save all their fancy stuff for the inside. That goes for architecture and the people alike.”

“Really? On Earth the insides are usually ''worse'' than the outsides,” Janice said, sniffing.

“But have you seen some of the new houses that the Nextus fabbers are turning out back at the new settlement?” Tawny said. “They’re built on similar principles. And a lot nicer on the inside than your shoebox. As you’ll come to find out for yourself after we’re done here today.”

They pulled into a commercial district, and came to a stop in front of a glass-fronted shop entitled West Closson Writers’ Emporium. “Well, here we are, then.” Tawny waited for Janice to dismount, then changed back over to Walker form. “I’ll show you what to buy.”

There was a peculiar fragrance to the shop Janice realized was a potpourri of various herbs. But nothing she could ''quite'' put her finger on. There were displays of actual dumb paper and ink pens—marked as stationery gift sets. In another part of the shop were the electronically-enabled pens and e-paper, where most of the customers were clustered. Bins of pens, stamps, and various other supplies were arranged in rows on shelves, which were themselves arranged in orderly rows.

“We need a Pearson Writing Implements Model E pen, and one of those emoji sealing stamps. The one with the house with a tree on it.”

Janice stared. “We need…an emoji stamp?”

“Because we’re getting a house built. Make sure you get the one with the tree—I guess because it’s going to be a fancier house.”

Janice rolled her eyes, but dutifully located the bin marked with a 🏡 symbol, and picked up a stamp out of it. Then she grabbed the aforementioned brand of pen.

“I don’t get it. With all this stuff here, why don’t you just buy some of everything and keep it on hand to avoid all this running around?”

Tawny chuckled. “Oh, they thought of that. For one thing, not ''everything'' is sold in any one particular shop—which reminds me, we’ll have to hit another shop a few blocks away for the right color of e-ink before we head to the appointment. For another, all the stuff is date coded, it expires pretty quickly, and they swap the requirements around week to week. There ''are'' loopholes and workarounds, but none of them are quite ''that'' simple.”

Janice rolled her eyes. “Almost as sadistic as the jerks back on Earth. Right bastards they were.”

“Oh, they don’t do it out of sadism here. More because most of the people here don’t ''want'' stuff made too easy for them either. When your society is pretty much post-scarcity, finding fun ways to spend your time becomes a lot more important.”

“I guess I can see that.” Janice shrugged. “Well, let’s get this stuff bought and move on, then. If we’ve still got one more store to hit before that appointment.”

Tawny nodded. “Go ahead, then. You may even want to set up an account here, if you’re going to be playing the Game regular. Or you can wait ‘til you’re sure, if you like.”

“Right…so I’m paying for this?”

“Well, it is for ''your'' house. And people on Basic get a big discount. It’s one of the perks of being on Basic—they make it cheaper for you to do what’s necessary to get you off it.”

“Ooh, rah. All right, fine. Guess I should get used to doing these things for meself anyway.” She approached the counter with her purchases. To her surprise, the process was remarkably simple. The comm she’d been issued on arriving also served as a sort of digital wallet, and it just took a swipe for its near-field system to hook up and run the charge across.

Tawny nodded as she returned with the bag of her purchases. “Well done. Now on to the next shop.”

“All right. And you’re going to explain to me exactly how one can buy a ''color'' of ''e-ink'', right?”

“It’s pretty simple, really. You just go to the store and tell them which one you want.”

“That’s ''not'' what I bloody meant and you know it.”

Tawny chuckled. “Come on. I’ll explain on the way.”

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The second store stop went about as quickly as the first. Janice wasn’t sure she bought Tawny’s explanation that the “color” actually was just shorthand for a particular encryption key signifying they could use that color on the digital form, but she supposed it made about as much sense as anything in this crazy place. Anyway, if she was going to turn this into how she made a living, she supposed she just ought to get used to it. At least there actually seemed to be some rhyme and reason behind this scheme beyond just making things harder out of sheer bloody spite. That put it light-years ahead of Earth’s, as far as she was concerned—and she ''had'' mastered Earth’s.

After the store, it was time to go down to the Construction Fabrication Administration office. As Tawny explained it, the construction administration was firmly a second-tier establishment, located in the first ring out from the central government annex—it wasn’t directly involved with running the polity, but it was important to making sure that people and businesses had places to live and work.

“So how is it we had to come all the way up here to get this done, instead of doing something about it back home?”

“Your new settlement doesn’t quite have an actual government to be in charge of things just yet,” Tawny explained. “So a lot of administration is being done from in here. Not everyone ''has'' to come in to get stuff done, of course—they can always hire remote surrogates, and for something like this they’d probably come pretty cheap. Possibly even paid for by Basic, for doing something like adjusting housing. But this will be a great learning experience for you.”

“Yeah, if you’ll actually ''teach'' me anything before I sign that contract.”

“Hey, I’m teaching you a lot. Just leaving back some of the more ''arcane'' stuff.” Tawny chuckled. “You won’t see just how much more there is I can show you if you don’t know ''something'' about how the Game is played.”

“All right. So what we gotta do here, now?”

Tawny nodded toward the building in front of them, another example of Nexus’s default Brutalist architecture. “Go into the office and fill out a form.”

“We couldn’t have done that online?”

“Well, we could have, but it wouldn’t have been as effective. In the Game, you get the biggest advantage out of going out and doing in person. I think the idea is to get people out in the world, rather than letting them just sit around in a room all day.”

Janice sniffed. “Back on Earth where I lived, it was so crowded that they ''wanted'' you to sit around in a room all day, and not go out and get in everyone else’s way.” She considered. “You know, inconvenient though it is, I do think I like this way better.”

“Well, good. Let’s go inside.”

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On the inside, the office wasn’t exactly ''plain,'' but it was simple and straightforward—businesslike. There were a number of paintings or photographs of construction equipment on the wall, ranging from woodcuts of horse-assisted block and tackles up through 20th-century construction machinery and beyond, up to constructors very similar to the ones currently at work building houses in the settlement.

A short stroll through the lobby led to a waiting room that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a decent doctor’s office. There were magazines on the end tables—''construction'' magazines, of course—and a table near the back with a number of media tablets neatly arranged.

Tawny nodded toward the tablets. “The forms we’ll need will be on those. Go ahead and grab one?”

Janice picked up the tablet and peered at it curiously. It seemed to be a fairly low-end public-domain-grade consumer tablet—the same sort of tablet you’d get ordering one through Basic Accommodation. Which made sense, Janice realized, given that it was basically filling in for a stack of plain paper forms. It had to be every bit as cheaply disposable.

When Janice tapped the power button, it lit up with a form that looked even more impenetrable than anything Earth bureaucracy had ever dreamed up. Janice stared at it, then glanced to Tawny. “…really?”

Tawny chuckled. “Intimidating, isn’t it? Don’t worry—all that’s just for show. Get out the stuff we bought at the store, and stamp the screen with the stamp. Doesn’t matter where, just stamp it anywhere.”

“All right…” Janice fished the stamp out of her pocket and stamped the screen with it. About half of the form faded away into the background, leaving only a few fields left.

“Now touch the pen to the screen.”

“Okay…” That banished about two thirds of the remaining spaces, leaving only a handful remaining.

“Now just fill those out. They should be pretty self-explanatory. Your name, comm code, place of residence…oh, and put ‘expedited reconstruction permit’ in the ‘reason’ field.”

“Okay, okay…” Janice scribbled. To her surprise, her barely legible scrawl was immediately translated to neat block letters. ''Now how’re they…? Oh!'' Janice chuckled inwardly as the answer came to her. Of ''course'' they had excellent handwriting recognition. They probably chartered the services of some EI, like Informio, who got his jollies from interpreting crummy handwriting. ''An electronic Mechanical Turk? Heh.''

“When you’re done, just tap ‘send,’ and we’ll take a seat and see how long it takes them to call for us. And maybe I can tell you a little more about what we’re getting into.”

Janice grinned, tapping the button and bringing the tablet with her to a seat. “I’m all ears, kitty-''sensei''.” She wiggled her cougar ears.

“Right.” Tawny nodded, and padded up and sat on her haunches in front of Janice’s seated position, where she could face Janice with eyes on the same level.

“There’s usually several different paths through the Game,” Tawny explained. “One will be verboten to you as a Surrogate—though not for your personal BT if you like. That’s the Abeyance. It’s basically a forfeit. You get what you need, but no more than that.”

“Sort of the equivalent of Basic Accommodation, huh?” Janice said. “What’s the rest?”

“The more efficient the path, the better the payola. There’s usually three levels. At the surface is the ‘Plain Reading’ method. You do the entire procedure ''as written'' in the manual. Some Gamesters won’t do it any other way. You can get some unique benefits from this method since it’s so time-consuming—at least for humans. Since RIDE rights came in, and we have to register as our real identities now, we digital people get a hefty pay cut there because we can plain-read much faster.

“The Middle Reading is where most folks end up. Mostly people who can’t afford Surrogates, or just the average Gamester. You need to know some basic cryptography and have great reading comprehension skills. There’s sometimes multiple layers of this, depending on what the Game Masters want to accomplish. A Surrogate can still make decent money here.

“Then there’s the Deep Reading. Which is what I’ll teach you—''assuming'' you have the aptitude for it. Based on what you did back on Earth, I’m pretty sure you do, but all the teaching in the world won’t help you if you don’t. Deep Reading offers the best payola and the best perks. Your pay comes from your client and from the polity.”

“And I don’t get paid if I fuck it up, right?”

“Most of the time. Sometimes you encounter a Procedure that’s a BUCU. A BUreaucratic Cock-Up. Sometimes the GMs can be too hard on the Gamesters. So when that happens, you submit a BUCU Challenge, and if that gets approved, you get a special BUCU Abeyance. But you have to be careful—sometimes what appears to be a BUCU is intentional. There’s ways to tell. We’ll get into that.”

“''If'' I sign the contract.”

“If you sign, yes. But let’s be honest here…this ''is'' starting to interest you, isn’t it? At least a little bit?”

Janice nodded slowly, almost in spite of herself. “All right…yeah, I’ll cop. It ''is'' starting to appeal. Just need a little more time to talk myself past the weirder aspects of the indenturement contract, I guess. But I’m starting to get there.”

“Believe it or not, it was never my intention to freak you out,” Tawny said. “But a good contract protects both parties, and some of the ways things are done here can seem a little strange to outsiders and new arrivals. Anyway, we RIDEs went without rights at all for so long, staking bold claims now is a matter of principle.”

“Ms. Janice Howard?”

Janice looked up at the woman who had just called her name. She was a slim woman of medium height, with plain post earrings. She appeared to be in late middle-age, with streaks of grey in her black hair. Of course, with the anti-agathics available on this planet, she could have been anywhere between forty and ninety.

Janice got up. “That’s me,” she said.

The woman nodded to her. “''You'' can come with me.” She scowled pointedly at Tawny. “Your RIDE won’t be needed.”

'':Oh, great. One of ''these.'':'' Tawny subvocalized across the Fuse nanite link to Janice. “I have to differ, ma’am,” Tawny said. “I’m her Game trainer and advisor, as well as an accredited Surrogate.”

The woman gave her head a quick shake. “Oh, very well. Come along, then.” She turned and led the way back toward a door in the wall.

'':What do you mean ‘one of these’?:'' Janice thought back at her. It was kind of weird doing silent comm via directed thinking, but she had quickly gotten the hang of it.

'':There are still some, especially in Nextus, who think we free RIDEs are a bunch of overbuilt toaster ovens who got too big for our britches,:'' Tawny replied. '':There’s not a lot they can do about it since the new laws and regulation changes, but they still like to make life as hard for us as they can, within what the rules allow. Sorry about this; I should have warned you that hanging with me might have a few drawbacks.:''

Janice rolled her eyes. '':Meh. Can’t be any worse than all the jerks back on Earth who looked down on me for being a professional bum. ''Successful'' professional bum, I should say, so there was some envy involved too. Looks like dealing with that kind of gits is something else we got in common.:''

The door led to a corridor, which led past doors to offices and cubicle farms. Finally, she opened the door to an office, then stepped aside for Janice and Tawny to enter. The office was furnished austerely, for the most part, but there were still a number of personal touches on display—mostly family photos on the desk, and a few paperback books on a shelf alongside all the binders of regulations.

The woman closed the office door behind her and took a seat behind the desk. “I’m Tamara Pence, Sub-Commissioner of Housing Fabrication. I understand you’re requesting a permit for expedited reconstruction of a house at the ''Steady Hand'' colony site.” She held out her hand for the tablet Janice was carrying.

“That’s right,” Janice said. “We’d like to replace several single units with a larger shared house for some friends and us.” She handed the tablet over.

Pence glanced at the tablet, then put it down on her desk and steepled her fingers. “I’m afraid the legal status of your settlement precludes any swift action on my part. Although Nextus had claimed the region where the ''Steady Hand'' landed, the Administration has decided to cede it to whatever government the refugees decide for themselves. As such, permission for any alterations to Earth-constructed housing units should be directed to the administrators on-site ''before'' I can give final approval.”

“Ah, but until that ceding happens, those administrators ''are'' still under direct control of your office, and ''are'' subject to your authority,” Tawny said, licking the back of a paw. “And they’re working under the same rules that Nextus remote fabrication units work under anywhere. In accordance with the rules of the Game, that means our request ''has'' to come through this office. We’re not going to hop a sub all the way back there, only to get told by ''them'' that we need to come all the way back ''here'' again.”

Pence pursed her lips. “I assure you, miss, you are quite mistaken. This is strictly a matter for local authority, and I can’t override it.”

“''Really,'' now,” Tawny purred. “How about we get a Referee in here and see what ''they'' have to say about it?”

'':Whozat now?:'' Janice asked.

'':One of the people who judge BUCU calls,:'' Tawny sent back. '':It’s not something you want to do unless you’re absolutely ''sure'' you’re right, because whoever’s wrong gets hit with big penalties.:''

'':But you ''are'' sure you’re right?:'' Janice replied. '':I don’t want you getting in trouble on my account.:''

'':Oh, trust me. This is on ''my'' account,:'' Tawny sent back grimly. '':She went and made it purrrr-sonal.:''

Tamara Pence paled. “Now…I’m sure there’s no need for that,” she stammered. “Let me just…check again. It’s possible I could be mistaken…” She picked up another tablet from her desk and started paging through it.

Tawny smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I ''thought.''”

Janice frowned. “Lady, what the feck is your ''problem''? You don’t like RIDEs, so you think it’s your business to give them the runaround?”

“It’s nothing like that!” Pence insisted. “We just can’t have people…jumping the line.”

“The way I heard it, the whole point of this bloody Game of yours is to find new and better ways ''to'' jump the queue,” Janice said. “Which makes me ''really'' suspicious when someone who should be a stepping stone decides they’re a stumbling block instead.”

“She’s just angry that we ‘people of Qubitite’ now have the same rights as a natural-born human, is all,” Tawny said. “Thinks we RIDEs should know our place in the natural order of things. Turns out laws don’t always change people’s minds.”

“That’s—that’s just not true!” Pence insisted. “I’m doing my best to help you, just as I would for anybody else.” She glanced down at the tablet. “Oh…it turns out you’re right. I ''do'' have the authority to issue an expedited permit in this case. I’ll just get that taken care of right now.” She pulled a rubber stamp out of a drawer—or at least a touchscreen stamp made to look like a rubber one—and stamped Janice’s tablet with it. The word “APPROVED” appeared on it in big red letters.

“See?” Tawny purred. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Janice reached out to take the tablet back. “Thank you kindly,” she said. “You know, you should see a shrink or something. You keep pulling this kind of shite on RIDEs, sooner or later one ''will'' call a ref on you, and where will you be, then?”

Pence didn’t reply as they turned and left the office.

{{separator|k}}

“So, that’s that, then,” Tawny said as they emerged back into the lobby. “We take that tablet to whoever’s running one of those Nextus building fabbers, and they’ll get us set up in the next available slot. Assuming you decide to go through with it, anyhow.”

“What an arse that Pence woman was,” Janice said. “And you have to deal with that shite all the time?”

“Ever since our rights came in and we had to register our real identities,” Tawny said. “Oh, not ''everyone'' is such a jerk, but enough people are that, well…is it any wonder playing the Game for its own sake has gotten a little bit less fun for me?”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Janice nodded. “Of course, back on Earth, if someone is an asshole like that, they’re not supposed to hide it. They’re encouraged to be the most assholiest of assholes all the time.”

“Sounds like ''such'' a fun place.”

Janice shrugged. “Meh. Gets tiring putting up with that, after a while. As I guess you know. So, what now?”

“Back to the settlement, I suppose,” Tawny said. “Unless…”

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Unless?”

“Well, there are a ''few'' other things about the Game I could show you while we’re here…iffen you were to want to accept the contract. If not, we can always come back later. We got nothing but time. Your choice.”

Janice frowned thoughtfully, as she considered the matter. The idea of an indenturement contract wasn’t exactly the most appealing thing—but on the other hand, after they’d gone through the terms of the contract, examined them and agreed on them, they didn’t exactly amount to slavery. And Tawny really didn’t seem like the kind of person to abuse them regardless.

And she ''did'' want to learn more about the Game…and who knew how long it would take to find another instructor—not to mention another compatible RIDE?

“Well…all right. Fine. I’ll sign the bloody thing. Not like it’s forever. And I can see that you ''do'' have a lot to teach me.”

“Great! Then, here…” Tawny’s hardlight winked out, and she Fused up over Janice in a couple of seconds. A moment later, Janice found herself on the mesa, holding a tablet and stylus as Tawny looked on. “Just sign on the dotted line, and we’ll be good to go.”

Janice chuckled. “Fair enough.” She scrawled her signature. “Now what, oh my mistress?”

“Now, we get down to business.” With a flicker, they were back in the real world, Janice seeing through Tawny’s eyes as they lifted into the air and headed for one of the traffic lanes.

“I hope there’s more to it than dealing with stuffed shirts like that Pence git.”

“We just had some bad luck with your first NextusCrat. Trust me, if the Game wasn’t fun for the ‘crats too, then nobody would bother playing it.”

“I’m eager to learn, so go ahead and teach me everything there is to know.”

“All right, sure thing.” Tawny chuckled. “You know, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Janice peered suspiciously at her. “You’re quoting something, aren’t you?”

Tawny smirked. “We crazy Zharus people do that sometimes.”

Janice rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and then you make us Earth newcomers have to go spend all our free time watching stuff to catch up.”

“It won’t take you that long. Just a few years.”

“Says the one who can watch hours at a time in just a few seconds.”

“Is it my fault you’ve still got a squishy organic brain? Anyway…let’s go learn you some stuff.”

Janice shrugged. “Okay, I’m all yours.”

“I know.”

“Heeeey…”

“Well, you ''are.'' Signed the contract and everything.”

“You’re not gonna make me regret that ''now,'' are you?”

Bickering amicably, the new duo flew off in search of more Game experience.

{{series bar

|series=FreeRIDErs

|previous=[[User:Robotech Master/A Cougar Comes to Town|Cougar Town: A Cougar Comes to Town]]

|next=To Be Determined...}}

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]][[Category: Robotech_Master]][[Category:Jon Buck]][[Category:Story]][[Category:Cougar]]

FreeRIDErs (publication order)

2019-03-23T20:16:10Z

Robotech Master: /* 2019 */

FreeRIDErs (publication order)

2019-03-23T20:15:42Z

Robotech Master: /* 2018 */ Linking the next ones

This is the publication order of the "main" stories in the FreeRIDErs universe. Feel free to add your story here once it's published.

==2012==
07/22/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Deserted|Deserted]], [[User:Robotech_Master/Merging_Traffic|Merging Traffic]], [[User:Robotech_Master/FreeRIDErs_dircut|FreeRIDErs]] 
07/25/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/All Nighter|Integration Part 1: All Nighter]] 
07/29/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Integrates|Integration Part 2: Integrates]] 
07/31/12 [[User:Robotech Master/RIDEgirls Day Out|Integration Part 3: RIDEgirls' Day Out]] 
08/05/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Dating Games|Integration Part 4: Dating Games]] 
08/08/12 [[User:Robotech Master/N00bs|Integration Part 5: N00bs]] 
08/11/12 [[User:Robotech Master/All Aboard|Integration Part 6: All Aboard!]] 
08/12/12 [[User:Robotech Master/A Meating of the Board|Integration Part 7: A Meating of the Board]] 
08/16/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Meat the Press|Integration Part 8: Meat, the Press]] 
08/16/12 [[User:Jetfire/Aloha|Aloha]] 
08/19/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Stockholm Vacation|Integration Part 9: Stockholm Vacation]] 
08/22/12 [[User:Jetfire/Splashdown|Splashdown]] 
08/22/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Spaceflight of Fancy|Integration Part 10: Spaceflight of Fancy]] 
08/24/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Rochelle Rufia|Rochelle & Rufia: R&R]] 
08/26/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Slightly Foxed|Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed]] 
08/27/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Citizen Katie|Integration Part 11: Citizen Katie]] 
08/31/12 [[Turnover]] 
09/01/12 [[User:Robotech Master/The Crew|Integration Part 12: The Crew]] 
09/02/12 [[User:Jetfire/Astra-naught|Astra-naught]] 
09/08/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Cat's Paw]] 
09/08/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Kaylee Anny|Integration Part 13: Kaylee & Anny]] 
09/14/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Viral Thief]] 
09/16/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Assault Batteries|Integration Part 14: Assault and Batteries]] 
09/17/12 [[User:Jetfire/The_Lady_of_the_Tiger|The Lady of the Tiger]] 
09/22/12 [[Inspecteur Hollins and The Multimillion Vault]] 
10/04/12 [[User:Jetfire/Cave_of_Wonders|Cave of Wonders]] 
10/07/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Task of Amontillado|Integration Part 15: The Task of Amontillado]] 
10/09/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/More Foxed|Longer Fused, More Foxed]] 
10/14/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Integrate Raids|Integration Part 16: The Integrate Raids]] 
10/18/12 [[User:JonBuck/Marshals|Marshals]] 
10/21/12 [[User:Robotech_Master/Kandace Jenni Friendship|Kandace and Jenni: A Beautiful Friendship]] 
10/26/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Family Matters|Integration Part 17: Family Matters]] 
11/14/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Many Meetings|Integration Part 18: Many Meetings]] 
12/13/12 [[User:Jetfire/Sum of Their Parts|Sum of Their Parts]], [[User:Jetfire/Walkabout|Walkabout]] 
12/15/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Meetings Completing|Integration Part 19: Meetings Completing]] 
12/23/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Prodigals|Integration Part 20: Prodigals]] 
12/31/12 [[User:Robotech Master/Enemy Lines|Integration Part 21: Enemy Lines]]

==2013==
01/22/13 [[User:JonBuck/Fly With Me|Fly With Me]] 
01/29/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/jeanette-lioness|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Second-Hand Lioness]] 
02/01/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Alpha Strike|Integration Part 22: Alpha Strike]] 
02/13/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Universe of Battle|Integration Part 23: Universe of Battle]] 
02/19/13 [[User:Robotech Master/What Happened Mouse|Integration Part 24: What Happened to the Mouse?]] 
02/23/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/Rochelle Rufia Redux|Rochelle & Rufia Redux: Foxing About]] 
02/27/13 [[User:Robotech Master/The Big Date|Integration Part 25 (Epilogue): The Big Date]] 
03/24/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Impossible Things|Impossible Things]] 
04/23/13 [[User:Jetfire/All_Spark_Bulletin|All Spark Bulletin]] 
04/30/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Aloha Stonegates|Aloha, Stonegates!]], [[User:Robotech Master/Skunked|Skunked!]] 
06/03/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Paws Up|Paws Up!]] 
06/24/13 [[User:Jetfire/Spies_Among_Us|Spies Among Us]] 
08/27/13 [[User:Robotech Master/A Wolf at the Door|Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door]] 
09/15/13 [[Taking the Plunge]] 
09/24/13 [[User:Jetfire/Broken_Crown|Broken Crown]] 
10/06/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Spotted Stowaway|Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway]], [[User:Robotech Master/Saints Marching|The Saints Go Marching In]] 
11/17/13 [[User:Claude_LeChat/Alpha Camp|Alpha Camp]] 
11/22/13 [[User:Claude LeChat/Return to Alpha Camp|Return to Alpha Camp]] 
12/03/13 [[User:Jetfire/Spacer_Oddity| A Spacer Oddity]] 
12/08/13 [[User:Robotech_Master/A_Fritzmas_Carol|A Fritzmas Carol]] 
12/20/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Yield Ahead|Merging Traffic II: Yield Ahead]] 
12/22/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Good Bad Fritzy|The Good, the Bad, and the Fritzy]] 
12/26/13 [[User:Robotech Master/Family Lynx|Family Lynx]]

==2014==
01/11/14 [[User:Robotech Master/A_Wolf_in_Sheep's_Clothing|Wolves in the Fold, Part Two: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing]] 
01/13/14 [[User:Jetfire/Spice Girls|Spice Girls]] 
01/18/14 [[User:Robotech Master/The General|The General]] 
01/30/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Greatest Show|The Greatest Show]] 
02/09/14 [[User:Robotech Master/GI Joe|G.I. Joe]] 
02/12/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Joseph_Life|Joseph Steader, This is Your Life!]] 
02/12/14 [[User:Jetfire/Cat_Scratch_Fever|Cat Scratch Fever]] 
02/14/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Pride Lioness|Pride of Lioness]] 
02/19/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/shell_game|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Prologue: Shell Game]] 
03/02/14 [[User:Jetfire/Rescue_911|Rescue 911]] 
03/13/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Where_Everybody_Knows_Your_Name|Where Everybody Knows Your Name]] 
03/15/14 [[User:Jetfire/In_Space|In Space...]] 
03/16/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Kevin De-Claude|Kevin, De-Claude]] 
03/23/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Final Countdown|The Final Countdown]] 
05/10/14 [[User:Robotech Master/youngguns|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Young Guns]] 
06/15/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_uplift|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter One: Uplift and the Tunnel]] 
07/12/14 [[User:Robotech Master/Totalia Prelude|Return to Totalia, Part One: Prelude]] 
07/24/14 [[User:Jetfire/The_Touch|The Touch]] 
10/22/14 [[User:Robotech_Master/Dog Day Morning|Dog Day Morning]] 
11/15/14 [[User:Robotech Master/When the Lady Smiles|Merging Traffic III: When the Lady Smiles]]

==2015==
01/27/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Ride_Sally|Marshals: Beginnings, Episode One: Ride, Sally]] 
01/27/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Reaping_the_Whirlwind|Marshals: Beginnings, Episode Two: Reaping the Whirlwind]] 
04/21/15 [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Visitors|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part One: Visitors]] 
04/21/15 [[User:Jetfire/The_Power|The Power]] 
05/16/15 [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Clementine|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part Two: Clementine]] 
06/16/15 [[User:Jetfire/United_Way|United Way]] 
06/17/15 [[User:Robotech_Master/Parallels Fleet|Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels, Part Three: The Fleet]] 
07/06/15 [[User:JonBuck/FADE IN|FADE IN]] and [[User:Robotech_Master/Tick Tock Tick|Tick Tock Tick]] 
12/09/15 [[User:Claude LeChat/The Wolf and the Father|The Wolf and the Father]]

==2016==
01/07/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/Darling_Clementine|Oh My Darling Clementine]] 
01/26/16 [[User:Jetfire/All_Hell_Breakin_Loose|All Hell's Breakin' Loose]] 
01/28/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/ANGLE ON|ANGLE ON]] 
01/29/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/DISSOLVE TO|DISSOLVE TO]] 
02/19/16 [[User:Claude LeChat/Imperfect Coupling|Imperfect Coupling]], [[User:Robotech Master/Cold and Wet Nose for News|Cold and Wet Nose for News]] 
04/07/16 [[User:Jetfire/Riding_The_Eye_of_the_Storm |Riding the Eye of the Storm]] 
12/13/16 [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_nuevosan|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter Two: Nuevo San Antonio]], [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_sturmhaven|The Gondwana Grand Tour, Chapter Three: Sturmhaven]]

==2017==
06/26/17 [[User:Robotech_Master/reindeergames|Jeanette, Tamarind, and the Young Guns: Reindeer Games]] 
09/09/17 [[User:Robotech Master/Interchange Ahead|Merging Traffic IV: Interchange Ahead]] and [[User:Robotech Master/Raising Ruth|Raising Ruth]] 

==2018==
07/22/18 [[User:Robotech Master/A Dash from the Past|A Dash from the Past]] 
08/12/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Immigrant Song|Immigrant Song]] 
08/12/18 [[User:Jetfire/iron_hand_in_a_velvet_glove|Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove]] 
09/08/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Dressed for Success|Dressed for Success]] 
09/15/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Thank You for the Music|Thank You for the Music]] and [[User:Robotech Master/Head Over Heels|Head Over Heels]] 
09/17/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Warm Welcome|Warm Welcome]] 
09/19/18 [[User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back|Welcome (Back) to the Real World]] 
10/03/18 [[User:Jetfire/Slow_Boat|Slow Boat to Zharus]] 
12/03/18 [[User:Robotech_Master/Hello, KITTy|Hello, KITTy]] 

==2019==
03/23/19 [[User:Robotech Master/Cougar Town|Cougar Town]], [[User:Robotech Master/Down on the Farm|Down on the Farm]], [[User:Robotech Master/A Cougar Comes to Town|Cougar Town: A Cougar Comes to Town]], [[User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight|Cougar Town: Play the Game Tonight]]

FreeRIDErs (setting)

2019-03-23T19:53:17Z

Robotech Master:

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}{{DEFAULTSORT:FreeRIDErs (Setting Overview & Story Timeline)}}

{{byline|author=Jon Buck
|user=JonBuck}}

{{byline|author=Robotech_Master
|user=Robotech_Master}}

=={{separator|f|Setting Overview}}==
[[Image:CatGirls.jpg|thumb|300px|Kaylee and Uncia in battle dress, by Marty Salsman (http://martysalsman.deviantart.com)]]In the 25th century, scientists and technicians on the distant colony world of Zharus make a startling breakthrough in energy storage and artificial intelligence, with the aid of "qubitite," a naturally-occurring metamaterial with remarkable quantum properties. The creation of true AI springs from quantum simulations of neural networks based on animals' genetic material that expand to take on true sapience.

Matching these "Reticulated Intelligence" (RI) neural networks with nanotech-composite "Drive Extender" (DE) transforming robotic bodies produces the RIDE: a metallic animal that can transform itself into a vehicle such as a hover-motorcycle (or hover-car or even plane for larger animals), or into an environmentally sealed suit of anthropomorphic-animal body armor to survive the extreme environments of Zharus's deserts, undersea, or even outer space. (Because combining with such a suit goes beyond merely putting it on and involves elements of physical and neural linkage, the act of merging with a RIDE in armor mode is called "Fusing.") Thanks to "hardlight" technology, RIDEs can even be covered with solid holographic fur that feels real to the touch, and even to the RIDE itself.

However, due to their animal basis, Fusing with a RIDE can have consequences for the pilot. In order for them to be neurologically compatible, the pilot has to have similar physical features to the RIDE itself—and the RIDE's nanotech innards are designed to grant those changes. This means that Fusing with RIDEs based on ordinary land mammals will grant the rider their ears and tail (and sometimes more extreme additions such as nose, eyes, or fur).

RIDEs based on further different animals, such as reptiles, birds, or undersea mammals, can produce much extreme changes in their riders that restrict their ability to change back or combine with a different RIDE. And likewise, if the pilot is the wrong gender, the RIDE's nanites will adjust that, too. In most cases of gender or other extreme change, the changed human is unable to safely change back for at least three years.

These RIDEs are used in taming the huge continent of Gondwana, a harsh and often lawless frontier that, unlike the more sedate and longer-settled continent of Laurasia, has many rich resources there for the taking, and a number of city-states occupying the ring of fertile land around the great central desert. In the desert, RIDEs are necessary to live. In the cities, they are urban transportation and playthings of the wealthy and middle-class alike. But even as they are considered mere "equipment" by many, those who know and love them know they are more than that—they are ''people'' too. Will the world come to realize and acknowledge this?

[[Image:Uncia-Harlan-Stein.jpg|thumb|150px|Uncia in battle dress, by Diana Harlan Stein (http://naiadstudios.com)]]In recent years, rumors of a new form of change have been circulating—a combining of rider and RIDE that goes far beyond Fusing. Called "Integration," this combines man and machine into a single gestalt being who can no longer separate—and who are rumored to possess powers far beyond those of mere mortals or RIDEs. It is as yet unclear whether these "Integrates" are to be welcomed or feared—and, indeed, many would place them in the same category as Bigfoot, the Yeti, or the Loch Ness Monster. But these Integrates may be growing tired of keeping to themselves.

And the latest potential threat may very well be the old home world of Earth itself. For fifty years, it has scoffed at the idea that a distant, backward world like Zharus could be the home of so many major technological breakthroughs. But Earth's mind may be changing on that score—and it has long been known for its willingness to reach out and take what it wants.

Welcome to the world of Zharus—and to its denizens. Colonists. Bandits. Miners. Mechanics. ''FreeRIDErs.''

=={{separator|f|Suggested Reading Order}}==

===Robotech_Master's Take===
As this is a shared universe, there could be plenty of jumping-on points. '''The very best way to read it would probably be by publication order,''' since that would give you the same effect as the people who were reading it in real time from the beginning. '''There's a list available [[FreeRIDErs (publication order)|here]].'''

Otherwise, I suggest reading "Deserted", "Merging Traffic", "Rochelle & Rufia: R&R", then "FreeRIDErs", then the first few chapters of "Integration" (and my "Foxed" tales), as those were all written earliest and have most of the earliest setting building in them. Then you can read Jetfire's and the other authors' stories in chronological order, and continue reading "Integration" after that. (Probably should leave "Second-Hand Lioness" until after Integration #21, otherwise some events in the main story could be spoiled.)

I'd suggest to have all of Jetfire's chronologically-earlier stuff read before you get to Integration #14, since that's where some of his characters merge into the storyline. That being said, you could probably just as easily read everything in straight chronological order without missing ''too'' much. Or just pick one writer at random and read his or her works through in order, then pick another one. Once you've read enough, it all starts to make sense together.

Either way, you should read at least some of the stories before you try to dig into the setting background material below the story list on this page. It was mainly written for our own reference and amusement while we built the setting overall, and can be kind of confusing if you come to it without a grounding from the stories in how the world works.

===Claude LeChat's two cents ===

I went a different way myself. ''Deserted'' and ''Merging Traffic'' are of course the mandatory first two, since they introduce the setting and all the most important characters. Then you're free to read e.g. the first three ''Inspecteur Hollins'' stories. But not the fourth, not yet!

Before jumping into the pivotal novel ''Integration'', you'll probably want to read ''FreeRIDErs'', since it provides a crucial bit of background, and possibly ''All Spark Bulletin'', since it's a good introduction to the Munns. But you can't go wrong with any of Jetfire's prequel stories. Fibio's ''Turnover'' will give you a good idea of the spaceship tech in the series, as well as being an emotional story in itself.

Last but not least, ''Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed'' and ''Longer Fused, More Foxed'' fill in a couple of holes in the aforementioned ''Integration'', but you can safely read them afterwards since they're unrelated but for the characters. As for ''Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door'', it makes for a nice "outboard epilogue" to the novel.

Stories that can stand on their own, for readers who aren't familiar with the franchise:

* ''Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway'', but it arguably cheats because it's a spin-off;
* ''As a Woman I RIDE'';
* My own ''Alpha Camp'', if you don't mind minor spoilers for how the conflict of ''Integration'' unfolds.
* Of the newer stories, ''Slow Boat to Zharus'', though you might want to read some of the early stuff first.

=={{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}}==

[[Image:Faught_kaylee_uncia.jpg|thumb|300px|Kaylee and Uncia in battle gear as depicted by David Faught - https://www.facebook.com/DavidFaughtArtist]]Authors may add links to their stories as they happen in chronological order in story time. ("AL" stands for "After Landing," representing the number of years after the colony ships landed in 2350 AD.) For a complete listing of all FreeRIDErs stories, since this list may be updated sporadically, see [[:Category:FreeRIDErs|the FreeRIDErs Category]].

Stories that have been updated to the "Director's Cut" second draft edition are indicated with a '''(DC)''' afterward.

'''66 AL (2416 AD)'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/The General|The General]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''108 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Aloha|Aloha]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''112 AL to 113 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Greatest Show|The Greatest Show]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' with ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''121 AL to 123 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/GI_Joe|G.I. Joe]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''122 AL'''

*[[User:Jetfire/Broken_Crown|Broken Crown]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''128 AL'''
*Marshals: Beginnings
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Ride_Sally|Episode One: Ride, Sally]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Reaping_the_Whirlwind|Episode Two: Reaping the Whirlwind]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''129 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Splashdown|Splashdown]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''131 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Astra-naught|Astra-naught]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''132 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Where_Everybody_Knows_Your_Name|Where Everybody Knows Your Name]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''134 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Lady_of_the_Tiger|The Lady of the Tiger]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''133 AL to 138 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Cave_of_Wonders|Cave of Wonders]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''138 AL to 152 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Sum of Their Parts|Sum of Their Parts]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''140 to 141 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Fly With Me|Fly With Me]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

'''143 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Darling_Clementine|Oh My Darling Clementine]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''144 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/A_Fritzmas_Carol|A Fritzmas Carol]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''146 AL'''
*[[User:Hawl/Aloha666|Aloha 666]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]]))''

'''147 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/FADE IN|FADE IN]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''147 AL to 154 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Spice Girls|Spice Girls]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

[[Image:Zane-Harlan-Stein.jpg|thumb|300px|Zane, and the Zane Cane, by Diana Harlan Stein (http://naiadstudios.com)]]'''148 AL'''

'''149 AL'''
* [[User:Jetfire/In_Space|In Space...]] (149 to 156 AL) ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|Jon Buck]])''

'''152 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Pride_Lioness|Pride of Lioness]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''152 to 153 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Walkabout|Walkabout]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/All_Spark_Bulletin|All Spark Bulletin]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Touch|The Touch]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''155 to 156 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Marshals|Marshals]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' with ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

[[Image:Blackmon-KayleeUncia-lines-01.jpg|thumb|300px|Uncia and Kaylee in battle as depicted by Jacob Blackmon - http://prodigyduck.deviantart.com/]]'''156 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/jeanette-lioness|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Second-Hand Lioness]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (begins before "Deserted" and covers all the way through Integration #21)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Deserted|Deserted]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Hawl/Crossrider's Dream|CrossRIDEr's Dream]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Takes place one week after Chapter 5 of Desserted, but is not a story in the Integration Storyline)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Merging_Traffic|Merging Traffic]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Rochelle Rufia|Rochelle & Rufia: R&R]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/FreeRIDErs_dircut|FreeRIDErs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[Turnover]] '' ([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/ANGLE ON|ANGLE ON]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (Concurrent with the first half of ''Integration''.)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/DISSOLVE TO|DISSOLVE TO]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (Concurrent with ''Integration'' #16-#17.)
*Integration
**[[User:Robotech_Master/All Nighter|Part 1: All Nighter]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Integrates|Part 2: Integrates]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/RIDEgirls Day Out|Part 3: RIDEgirls' Day Out]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Dating Games|Part 4: Dating Games]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/N00bs|Part 5: N00bs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/All Aboard|Part 6: All Aboard!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/A Meating of the Board|Part 7: A Meating of the Board]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Meat the Press|Part 8: Meat, the Press]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Stockholm Vacation|Part 9: Stockholm Vacation]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Spaceflight of Fancy|Part 10: Spaceflight of Fancy]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Citizen Katie|Part 11: Citizen Katie]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/The Crew|Part 12: The Crew]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Kaylee Anny|Part 13: Kaylee & Anny]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Assault Batteries|Part 14: Assault and Batteries]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Task of Amontillado|Part 15: The Task of Amontillado]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Integrate Raids|Part 16: The Integrate Raids]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Family Matters|Part 17: Family Matters]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Many Meetings|Part 18: Many Meetings]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Meetings Completing|Part 19: Meetings Completing]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Prodigals|Part 20: Prodigals]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Enemy Lines|Part 21: Enemy Lines]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Alpha Strike|Part 22: Alpha Strike]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Universe of Battle|Part 23: Universe of Battle]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/What Happened Mouse|Part 24: What Happened to the Mouse?]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/The Big Date|Part 25 (Epilogue): The Big Date]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Slightly Foxed|Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place between Part 5 and Part 6 of Integration)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/More Foxed|Longer Fused, More Foxed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place between Part 5 and Part 14 of Integration)
*[[User:Claude_LeChat/Alpha Camp|Alpha Camp]] ''([[User:Claude_LeChat|Claude LeChat]])'' (begins in Part 8 of Integration)
*[[Taking the Plunge]] ''([[User:Kris|Kris]])'' (takes place after Part 8 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Cat's Paw]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place during parts 9-11 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Viral Thief]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place sometime after part 12 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Multimillion Vault]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place after part 12 of Integration)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Kandace Jenni Friendship|Kandace and Jenni: A Beautiful Friendship]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place during/after the end of Part 15 of Integration)
* [[User:Robotech_Master/Rochelle Rufia Redux|Rochelle & Rufia Redux: Foxing About]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (takes place after the end of Part 17 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Integral Assassin]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place during part 23 of Integration)
* [[User:Jetfire/Spacer_Oddity| A Spacer Oddity]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Final Countdown|The Final Countdown]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

'''156 to 157 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Spotted Stowaway|Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (starts before "Deserted"; concludes after "Integration" and the "Stonegates" stories)
* [[User:Robotech Master/Yield Ahead|Merging Traffic II: Yield Ahead]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

[[Image:Cybercats001color.jpg|thumb|300px|Rochelle and Kaylee as interpreted by William Levy (http://williamlevy.deviantart.com/)]]'''157 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Impossible Things|Impossible Things]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Aloha Stonegates|Aloha, Stonegates!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Skunked|Skunked!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Paws Up|Paws Up!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/A Wolf at the Door|Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (with ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]''))
* [[User:Robotech Master/A_Wolf_in_Sheep's_Clothing|Wolves in the Fold, Part Two: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Joseph_Life|Joseph Steader, This is Your Life!]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
* The Gondwana Grand Tour ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
** [[User:Robotech_Master/shell_game|Prologue: Shell Game]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_uplift|Chapter One: Uplift and the Tunnel]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_nuevosan|Chapter Two: Nuevo San Antonio]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_sturmhaven|Chapter Three: Sturmhaven]]
* [[User:Robotech Master/Saints Marching|The Saints Go Marching In]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

* [[User:Claude_LeChat/Return to Alpha Camp|Return to Alpha Camp]] ''([[User:Claude_LeChat|Claude LeChat]])'' (position in timeline is approximate)
* [[User:Robotech Master/Kevin De-Claude|Kevin, De-Claude]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/youngguns|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Young Guns]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Good Bad Fritzy|The Good, the Bad, and the Fritzy]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Family Lynx|Family Lynx]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/Dog Day Morning|Dog Day Morning]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/When the Lady Smiles|Merging Traffic III: When the Lady Smiles]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'')
* [[User:Claude LeChat/Imperfect Coupling|Imperfect Coupling]] (''[[User:Claude LeChat|Claude LeChat]]'')

'''157 to 158 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Totalia Prelude|Return to Totalia, Part One: Prelude]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/reindeergames|Jeanette, Tamarind, and the Young Guns: Reindeer Games]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Jetfire/DragonRIDEr_of_Pharos|DragonRIDEr of Pharos]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (Date fuzzy, sometime after Inties are revealed)

'''158 AL'''
* The Durian Crew
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Immigrant Song|Immigrant Song]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Dressed for Success|Dressed for Success]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Thank You for the Music|Thank You for the Music]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Head Over Heels|Head Over Heels]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Robotech_Master/Tick Tock Tick|Tick Tock Tick]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Spies_Among_Us|Spies Among Us]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Cat_Scratch_Fever|Cat Scratch Fever]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (Starts in 157 AL)
*[[User:Jetfire/Rescue_911|Rescue 911]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* [[User:Jetfire/United_Way|United Way]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels
** [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Visitors|Part One: Visitors]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
** [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Clementine|Part Two: Clementine]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
**[[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Fleet|Part Three: The Fleet]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Cold and Wet Nose for News|Cold and Wet Nose for News]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Robotech Master/A Dash from the Past|A Dash from the Past]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Robotech Master/Interchange Ahead|Merging Traffic IV: Interchange Ahead]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Raising Ruth|Raising Ruth]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back|Welcome (Back) to the Real World]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Jetfire/The_Power|The Power]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/All_Hell_Breakin_Loose|All Hell's Breakin' Loose]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Riding_The_Eye_of_the_Storm|Riding the Eye of the Storm]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

* [[User:Jetfire/iron_hand_in_a_velvet_glove|Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove]]

* ''[[User:Claude LeChat/The Wolf and the Father|The Wolf and the Father]]'' (''[[User:Claude LeChat|Claude LeChat]]'') (takes place after ''Young Guns'')

'''159 A.L.'''

*[[User:Robotech Master/Warm Welcome|Warm Welcome]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' with ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
* Cougar Town (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
** I. [[User:Robotech Master/Cougar Town|Cougar Town]]
** II. [[User:Robotech Master/Down on the Farm|Down on the Farm]]
** III. [[User:Robotech Master/A Cougar Comes to Town|A Cougar Comes to Town]]
** IV. [[User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight|Play the Game Tonight]]
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Hello, KITTy|Hello, KITTy]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Jetfire/Slow_Boat|Slow Boat to Zharus]] (''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

=={{separator|f|FreeRIDErs First Drafts}}==

Since we've started going back and revising the early portions of the story to bring the into line with what we wrote later, we have decided to preserve early drafts when they are changed sufficiently to merit a separate presentation. For most of these (but not "FreeRIDErs"), you can also use the "History" function to see what changed.

*[[User:JonBuck/FreeRIDErs|FreeRIDErs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

HawlSera - I really love writing for FreeRIDErs, it's pretty great, but overtime as my writing skills have evolved and to be truthful, most of the FreeRIDE stories I wrote, were done under the influence of illicit stimulants, which overall I feel had a negative effect on my writing ability. I'm now clean and will be rebooting my FreeRIDE stories. The old "canon", (which honestly failed to work with the overarching canon of FreeRIDE) will be in this section

*[[User:Hawl/Simon Of Cape Nord|Simon Of Cape Nord]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Bob's Origin|Bob's Origin]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/As A Woman I RIDE|As A Woman I RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/At Ace, We RIDE|At ACE, We RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/To Dream, We RIDE|To Dream, We RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/We live to RIDE, We RIDE to Live|We live to RIDE, We RIDE to Live]]''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Nearing The End Of Our RIDE|Nearing The End Of Our RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]]''
*[[User:Hawl/For Victory, For Venars, Together We RIDE!|For Victory, For Venars, Together We RIDE]]'' ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/TWREpilogue:We'll RIDE Again Someday|TWREpilogue:We'll RIDE Again Someday]]
*Cores of Sarium
**[[User:Hawl/Buttercup's Heist|Part 1:Buttercup's Heist]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Takes place during the two days before Part 8 of Integration)
**[[User:Hawl/Ruby Withdrawal|Part 2:Ruby Withdrawal]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/Making a Man Out Of Jamie|Part 3:Making a Man Out Of Jamie]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*Omniverse OverRIDE
**[[User:Hawl/GoKARTers|Part 1:GoKARTers]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Starts in 150 AL, Ends around May 156 AL, about a week or so after FreeRIDErs ends)
**[[User:Hawl/DayOfTheDin|Part 2:Day Of The Din]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/Serve In Hell, Rule In Heaven|Part 3:Serve In Hell, Rule In Heaven]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/In Need Of A Mother|Part 4:In Need Of A mother]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/An_Integrate's_Guide_To_Love|Integrate's Guide To Love]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''

=={{separator|f|Background Material}}==

Due to the huge amount of material, we have moved this to its own page:

[[FreeRIDErs (background material)]]

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]]

FreeRIDErs (setting)

2019-03-23T19:51:50Z

Robotech Master: /* {{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}} */

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}{{DEFAULTSORT:FreeRIDErs (Setting Overview & Story Timeline)}}

{{byline|author=Jon Buck
|user=JonBuck}}

{{byline|author=Robotech_Master
|user=Robotech_Master}}

=={{separator|f|Setting Overview}}==
[[Image:CatGirls.jpg|thumb|300px|Kaylee and Uncia in battle dress, by Marty Salsman (http://martysalsman.deviantart.com)]]In the 25th century, scientists and technicians on the distant colony world of Zharus make a startling breakthrough in energy storage and artificial intelligence, with the aid of "qubitite," a naturally-occurring metamaterial with remarkable quantum properties. The creation of true AI springs from quantum simulations of neural networks based on animals' genetic material that expand to take on true sapience.

Matching these "Reticulated Intelligence" (RI) neural networks with nanotech-composite "Drive Extender" (DE) transforming robotic bodies produces the RIDE: a metallic animal that can transform itself into a vehicle such as a hover-motorcycle (or hover-car or even plane for larger animals), or into an environmentally sealed suit of anthropomorphic-animal body armor to survive the extreme environments of Zharus's deserts, undersea, or even outer space. (Because combining with such a suit goes beyond merely putting it on and involves elements of physical and neural linkage, the act of merging with a RIDE in armor mode is called "Fusing.") Thanks to "hardlight" technology, RIDEs can even be covered with solid holographic fur that feels real to the touch, and even to the RIDE itself.

However, due to their animal basis, Fusing with a RIDE can have consequences for the pilot. In order for them to be neurologically compatible, the pilot has to have similar physical features to the RIDE itself—and the RIDE's nanotech innards are designed to grant those changes. This means that Fusing with RIDEs based on ordinary land mammals will grant the rider their ears and tail (and sometimes more extreme additions such as nose, eyes, or fur).

RIDEs based on further different animals, such as reptiles, birds, or undersea mammals, can produce much extreme changes in their riders that restrict their ability to change back or combine with a different RIDE. And likewise, if the pilot is the wrong gender, the RIDE's nanites will adjust that, too. In most cases of gender or other extreme change, the changed human is unable to safely change back for at least three years.

These RIDEs are used in taming the huge continent of Gondwana, a harsh and often lawless frontier that, unlike the more sedate and longer-settled continent of Laurasia, has many rich resources there for the taking, and a number of city-states occupying the ring of fertile land around the great central desert. In the desert, RIDEs are necessary to live. In the cities, they are urban transportation and playthings of the wealthy and middle-class alike. But even as they are considered mere "equipment" by many, those who know and love them know they are more than that—they are ''people'' too. Will the world come to realize and acknowledge this?

[[Image:Uncia-Harlan-Stein.jpg|thumb|150px|Uncia in battle dress, by Diana Harlan Stein (http://naiadstudios.com)]]In recent years, rumors of a new form of change have been circulating—a combining of rider and RIDE that goes far beyond Fusing. Called "Integration," this combines man and machine into a single gestalt being who can no longer separate—and who are rumored to possess powers far beyond those of mere mortals or RIDEs. It is as yet unclear whether these "Integrates" are to be welcomed or feared—and, indeed, many would place them in the same category as Bigfoot, the Yeti, or the Loch Ness Monster. But these Integrates may be growing tired of keeping to themselves.

And the latest potential threat may very well be the old home world of Earth itself. For fifty years, it has scoffed at the idea that a distant, backward world like Zharus could be the home of so many major technological breakthroughs. But Earth's mind may be changing on that score—and it has long been known for its willingness to reach out and take what it wants.

Welcome to the world of Zharus—and to its denizens. Colonists. Bandits. Miners. Mechanics. ''FreeRIDErs.''

=={{separator|f|Suggested Reading Order}}==

===Robotech_Master's Take===
As this is a shared universe, there could be plenty of jumping-on points. '''The very best way to read it would probably be by publication order,''' since that would give you the same effect as the people who were reading it in real time from the beginning. '''There's a list available [[FreeRIDErs (publication order)|here]].'''

Otherwise, I suggest reading "Deserted", "Merging Traffic", "Rochelle & Rufia: R&R", then "FreeRIDErs", then the first few chapters of "Integration" (and my "Foxed" tales), as those were all written earliest and have most of the earliest setting building in them. Then you can read Jetfire's and the other authors' stories in chronological order, and continue reading "Integration" after that. (Probably should leave "Second-Hand Lioness" until after Integration #21, otherwise some events in the main story could be spoiled.)

I'd suggest to have all of Jetfire's chronologically-earlier stuff read before you get to Integration #14, since that's where some of his characters merge into the storyline. That being said, you could probably just as easily read everything in straight chronological order without missing ''too'' much. Or just pick one writer at random and read his or her works through in order, then pick another one. Once you've read enough, it all starts to make sense together.

Either way, you should read at least some of the stories before you try to dig into the setting background material below the story list on this page. It was mainly written for our own reference and amusement while we built the setting overall, and can be kind of confusing if you come to it without a grounding from the stories in how the world works.

===Claude LeChat's two cents ===

I went a different way myself. ''Deserted'' and ''Merging Traffic'' are of course the mandatory first two, since they introduce the setting and all the most important characters. Then you're free to read e.g. the first three ''Inspecteur Hollins'' stories. But not the fourth, not yet!

Before jumping into the pivotal novel ''Integration'', you'll probably want to read ''FreeRIDErs'', since it provides a crucial bit of background, and possibly ''All Spark Bulletin'', since it's a good introduction to the Munns. But you can't go wrong with any of Jetfire's prequel stories. Fibio's ''Turnover'' will give you a good idea of the spaceship tech in the series, as well as being an emotional story in itself.

Last but not least, ''Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed'' and ''Longer Fused, More Foxed'' fill in a couple of holes in the aforementioned ''Integration'', but you can safely read them afterwards since they're unrelated but for the characters. As for ''Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door'', it makes for a nice "outboard epilogue" to the novel.

Stories that can stand on their own, for readers who aren't familiar with the franchise:

* ''Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway'', but it arguably cheats because it's a spin-off;
* ''As a Woman I RIDE'';
* My own ''Alpha Camp'', if you don't mind minor spoilers for how the conflict of ''Integration'' unfolds.
* Of the newer stories, ''Slow Boat to Zharus'', though you might want to read some of the early stuff first.

=={{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}}==

[[Image:Faught_kaylee_uncia.jpg|thumb|300px|Kaylee and Uncia in battle gear as depicted by David Faught - https://www.facebook.com/DavidFaughtArtist]]Authors may add links to their stories as they happen in chronological order in story time. ("AL" stands for "After Landing," representing the number of years after the colony ships landed in 2350 AD.) For a complete listing of all FreeRIDErs stories, since this list may be updated sporadically, see [[:Category:FreeRIDErs|the FreeRIDErs Category]].

Stories that have been updated to the "Director's Cut" second draft edition are indicated with a '''(DC)''' afterward.

'''66 AL (2416 AD)'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/The General|The General]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''108 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Aloha|Aloha]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''112 AL to 113 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Greatest Show|The Greatest Show]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' with ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''121 AL to 123 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/GI_Joe|G.I. Joe]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''122 AL'''

*[[User:Jetfire/Broken_Crown|Broken Crown]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''128 AL'''
*Marshals: Beginnings
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Ride_Sally|Episode One: Ride, Sally]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Reaping_the_Whirlwind|Episode Two: Reaping the Whirlwind]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''129 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Splashdown|Splashdown]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''131 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Astra-naught|Astra-naught]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''132 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Where_Everybody_Knows_Your_Name|Where Everybody Knows Your Name]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''134 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Lady_of_the_Tiger|The Lady of the Tiger]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''133 AL to 138 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Cave_of_Wonders|Cave of Wonders]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''138 AL to 152 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Sum of Their Parts|Sum of Their Parts]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''140 to 141 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Fly With Me|Fly With Me]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

'''143 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Darling_Clementine|Oh My Darling Clementine]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''144 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/A_Fritzmas_Carol|A Fritzmas Carol]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''146 AL'''
*[[User:Hawl/Aloha666|Aloha 666]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]]))''

'''147 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/FADE IN|FADE IN]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''147 AL to 154 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Spice Girls|Spice Girls]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

[[Image:Zane-Harlan-Stein.jpg|thumb|300px|Zane, and the Zane Cane, by Diana Harlan Stein (http://naiadstudios.com)]]'''148 AL'''

'''149 AL'''
* [[User:Jetfire/In_Space|In Space...]] (149 to 156 AL) ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|Jon Buck]])''

'''152 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Pride_Lioness|Pride of Lioness]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''152 to 153 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Walkabout|Walkabout]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/All_Spark_Bulletin|All Spark Bulletin]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Touch|The Touch]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''155 to 156 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Marshals|Marshals]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' with ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

[[Image:Blackmon-KayleeUncia-lines-01.jpg|thumb|300px|Uncia and Kaylee in battle as depicted by Jacob Blackmon - http://prodigyduck.deviantart.com/]]'''156 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/jeanette-lioness|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Second-Hand Lioness]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (begins before "Deserted" and covers all the way through Integration #21)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Deserted|Deserted]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Hawl/Crossrider's Dream|CrossRIDEr's Dream]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Takes place one week after Chapter 5 of Desserted, but is not a story in the Integration Storyline)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Merging_Traffic|Merging Traffic]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Rochelle Rufia|Rochelle & Rufia: R&R]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/FreeRIDErs_dircut|FreeRIDErs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[Turnover]] '' ([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/ANGLE ON|ANGLE ON]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (Concurrent with the first half of ''Integration''.)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/DISSOLVE TO|DISSOLVE TO]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (Concurrent with ''Integration'' #16-#17.)
*Integration
**[[User:Robotech_Master/All Nighter|Part 1: All Nighter]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Integrates|Part 2: Integrates]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/RIDEgirls Day Out|Part 3: RIDEgirls' Day Out]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Dating Games|Part 4: Dating Games]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/N00bs|Part 5: N00bs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/All Aboard|Part 6: All Aboard!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/A Meating of the Board|Part 7: A Meating of the Board]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Meat the Press|Part 8: Meat, the Press]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Stockholm Vacation|Part 9: Stockholm Vacation]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Spaceflight of Fancy|Part 10: Spaceflight of Fancy]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Citizen Katie|Part 11: Citizen Katie]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/The Crew|Part 12: The Crew]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Kaylee Anny|Part 13: Kaylee & Anny]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Assault Batteries|Part 14: Assault and Batteries]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Task of Amontillado|Part 15: The Task of Amontillado]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Integrate Raids|Part 16: The Integrate Raids]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Family Matters|Part 17: Family Matters]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Many Meetings|Part 18: Many Meetings]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Meetings Completing|Part 19: Meetings Completing]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Prodigals|Part 20: Prodigals]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Enemy Lines|Part 21: Enemy Lines]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Alpha Strike|Part 22: Alpha Strike]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Universe of Battle|Part 23: Universe of Battle]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/What Happened Mouse|Part 24: What Happened to the Mouse?]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/The Big Date|Part 25 (Epilogue): The Big Date]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Slightly Foxed|Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place between Part 5 and Part 6 of Integration)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/More Foxed|Longer Fused, More Foxed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place between Part 5 and Part 14 of Integration)
*[[User:Claude_LeChat/Alpha Camp|Alpha Camp]] ''([[User:Claude_LeChat|Claude LeChat]])'' (begins in Part 8 of Integration)
*[[Taking the Plunge]] ''([[User:Kris|Kris]])'' (takes place after Part 8 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Cat's Paw]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place during parts 9-11 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Viral Thief]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place sometime after part 12 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Multimillion Vault]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place after part 12 of Integration)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Kandace Jenni Friendship|Kandace and Jenni: A Beautiful Friendship]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place during/after the end of Part 15 of Integration)
* [[User:Robotech_Master/Rochelle Rufia Redux|Rochelle & Rufia Redux: Foxing About]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (takes place after the end of Part 17 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Integral Assassin]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place during part 23 of Integration)
* [[User:Jetfire/Spacer_Oddity| A Spacer Oddity]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Final Countdown|The Final Countdown]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

'''156 to 157 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Spotted Stowaway|Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (starts before "Deserted"; concludes after "Integration" and the "Stonegates" stories)
* [[User:Robotech Master/Yield Ahead|Merging Traffic II: Yield Ahead]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

[[Image:Cybercats001color.jpg|thumb|300px|Rochelle and Kaylee as interpreted by William Levy (http://williamlevy.deviantart.com/)]]'''157 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Impossible Things|Impossible Things]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Aloha Stonegates|Aloha, Stonegates!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Skunked|Skunked!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Paws Up|Paws Up!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/A Wolf at the Door|Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (with ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]''))
* [[User:Robotech Master/A_Wolf_in_Sheep's_Clothing|Wolves in the Fold, Part Two: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Joseph_Life|Joseph Steader, This is Your Life!]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
* The Gondwana Grand Tour ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
** [[User:Robotech_Master/shell_game|Prologue: Shell Game]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_uplift|Chapter One: Uplift and the Tunnel]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_nuevosan|Chapter Two: Nuevo San Antonio]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_sturmhaven|Chapter Three: Sturmhaven]]
* [[User:Robotech Master/Saints Marching|The Saints Go Marching In]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

* [[User:Claude_LeChat/Return to Alpha Camp|Return to Alpha Camp]] ''([[User:Claude_LeChat|Claude LeChat]])'' (position in timeline is approximate)
* [[User:Robotech Master/Kevin De-Claude|Kevin, De-Claude]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/youngguns|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Young Guns]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Good Bad Fritzy|The Good, the Bad, and the Fritzy]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Family Lynx|Family Lynx]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/Dog Day Morning|Dog Day Morning]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/When the Lady Smiles|Merging Traffic III: When the Lady Smiles]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'')
* [[User:Claude LeChat/Imperfect Coupling|Imperfect Coupling]] (''[[User:Claude LeChat|Claude LeChat]]'')

'''157 to 158 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Totalia Prelude|Return to Totalia, Part One: Prelude]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/reindeergames|Jeanette, Tamarind, and the Young Guns: Reindeer Games]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Jetfire/DragonRIDEr_of_Pharos|DragonRIDEr of Pharos]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (Date fuzzy, sometime after Inties are revealed)

'''158 AL'''
* The Durian Crew
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Immigrant Song|Immigrant Song]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Dressed for Success|Dressed for Success]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Thank You for the Music|Thank You for the Music]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Head Over Heels|Head Over Heels]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Robotech_Master/Tick Tock Tick|Tick Tock Tick]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Spies_Among_Us|Spies Among Us]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Cat_Scratch_Fever|Cat Scratch Fever]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (Starts in 157 AL)
*[[User:Jetfire/Rescue_911|Rescue 911]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* [[User:Jetfire/United_Way|United Way]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels
** [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Visitors|Part One: Visitors]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
** [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Clementine|Part Two: Clementine]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
**[[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Fleet|Part Three: The Fleet]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Cold and Wet Nose for News|Cold and Wet Nose for News]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Robotech Master/A Dash from the Past|A Dash from the Past]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Robotech Master/Interchange Ahead|Merging Traffic IV: Interchange Ahead]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Raising Ruth|Raising Ruth]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back|Welcome (Back) to the Real World]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Jetfire/The_Power|The Power]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/All_Hell_Breakin_Loose|All Hell's Breakin' Loose]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Riding_The_Eye_of_the_Storm|Riding the Eye of the Storm]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

* [[User:Jetfire/iron_hand_in_a_velvet_glove|Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove]]

* ''[[User:Claude LeChat/The Wolf and the Father|The Wolf and the Father]]'' (''[[User:Claude LeChat|Claude LeChat]]'') (takes place after ''Young Guns'')

'''159 A.L.'''

*[[User:Robotech Master/Warm Welcome|Warm Welcome]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' with ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
* Cougar Town ([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
** I. [[User:Robotech Master/Cougar Town|Cougar Town]]
** II. [[User:Robotech Master/Down on the Farm|Down on the Farm]]
** III. [[User:Robotech Master/A Cougar Comes to Town|A Cougar Comes to Town]]
** IV. [[User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight|Play the Game Tonight]]
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Hello, KITTy|Hello, KITTy]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Jetfire/Slow_Boat|Slow Boat to Zharus]] (''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

=={{separator|f|FreeRIDErs First Drafts}}==

Since we've started going back and revising the early portions of the story to bring the into line with what we wrote later, we have decided to preserve early drafts when they are changed sufficiently to merit a separate presentation. For most of these (but not "FreeRIDErs"), you can also use the "History" function to see what changed.

*[[User:JonBuck/FreeRIDErs|FreeRIDErs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

HawlSera - I really love writing for FreeRIDErs, it's pretty great, but overtime as my writing skills have evolved and to be truthful, most of the FreeRIDE stories I wrote, were done under the influence of illicit stimulants, which overall I feel had a negative effect on my writing ability. I'm now clean and will be rebooting my FreeRIDE stories. The old "canon", (which honestly failed to work with the overarching canon of FreeRIDE) will be in this section

*[[User:Hawl/Simon Of Cape Nord|Simon Of Cape Nord]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Bob's Origin|Bob's Origin]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/As A Woman I RIDE|As A Woman I RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/At Ace, We RIDE|At ACE, We RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/To Dream, We RIDE|To Dream, We RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/We live to RIDE, We RIDE to Live|We live to RIDE, We RIDE to Live]]''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Nearing The End Of Our RIDE|Nearing The End Of Our RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]]''
*[[User:Hawl/For Victory, For Venars, Together We RIDE!|For Victory, For Venars, Together We RIDE]]'' ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/TWREpilogue:We'll RIDE Again Someday|TWREpilogue:We'll RIDE Again Someday]]
*Cores of Sarium
**[[User:Hawl/Buttercup's Heist|Part 1:Buttercup's Heist]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Takes place during the two days before Part 8 of Integration)
**[[User:Hawl/Ruby Withdrawal|Part 2:Ruby Withdrawal]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/Making a Man Out Of Jamie|Part 3:Making a Man Out Of Jamie]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*Omniverse OverRIDE
**[[User:Hawl/GoKARTers|Part 1:GoKARTers]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Starts in 150 AL, Ends around May 156 AL, about a week or so after FreeRIDErs ends)
**[[User:Hawl/DayOfTheDin|Part 2:Day Of The Din]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/Serve In Hell, Rule In Heaven|Part 3:Serve In Hell, Rule In Heaven]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/In Need Of A Mother|Part 4:In Need Of A mother]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/An_Integrate's_Guide_To_Love|Integrate's Guide To Love]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''

=={{separator|f|Background Material}}==

Due to the huge amount of material, we have moved this to its own page:

[[FreeRIDErs (background material)]]

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]]

FreeRIDErs (setting)

2019-03-23T19:50:28Z

Robotech Master: /* {{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}} */

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}{{DEFAULTSORT:FreeRIDErs (Setting Overview & Story Timeline)}}

{{byline|author=Jon Buck
|user=JonBuck}}

{{byline|author=Robotech_Master
|user=Robotech_Master}}

=={{separator|f|Setting Overview}}==
[[Image:CatGirls.jpg|thumb|300px|Kaylee and Uncia in battle dress, by Marty Salsman (http://martysalsman.deviantart.com)]]In the 25th century, scientists and technicians on the distant colony world of Zharus make a startling breakthrough in energy storage and artificial intelligence, with the aid of "qubitite," a naturally-occurring metamaterial with remarkable quantum properties. The creation of true AI springs from quantum simulations of neural networks based on animals' genetic material that expand to take on true sapience.

Matching these "Reticulated Intelligence" (RI) neural networks with nanotech-composite "Drive Extender" (DE) transforming robotic bodies produces the RIDE: a metallic animal that can transform itself into a vehicle such as a hover-motorcycle (or hover-car or even plane for larger animals), or into an environmentally sealed suit of anthropomorphic-animal body armor to survive the extreme environments of Zharus's deserts, undersea, or even outer space. (Because combining with such a suit goes beyond merely putting it on and involves elements of physical and neural linkage, the act of merging with a RIDE in armor mode is called "Fusing.") Thanks to "hardlight" technology, RIDEs can even be covered with solid holographic fur that feels real to the touch, and even to the RIDE itself.

However, due to their animal basis, Fusing with a RIDE can have consequences for the pilot. In order for them to be neurologically compatible, the pilot has to have similar physical features to the RIDE itself—and the RIDE's nanotech innards are designed to grant those changes. This means that Fusing with RIDEs based on ordinary land mammals will grant the rider their ears and tail (and sometimes more extreme additions such as nose, eyes, or fur).

RIDEs based on further different animals, such as reptiles, birds, or undersea mammals, can produce much extreme changes in their riders that restrict their ability to change back or combine with a different RIDE. And likewise, if the pilot is the wrong gender, the RIDE's nanites will adjust that, too. In most cases of gender or other extreme change, the changed human is unable to safely change back for at least three years.

These RIDEs are used in taming the huge continent of Gondwana, a harsh and often lawless frontier that, unlike the more sedate and longer-settled continent of Laurasia, has many rich resources there for the taking, and a number of city-states occupying the ring of fertile land around the great central desert. In the desert, RIDEs are necessary to live. In the cities, they are urban transportation and playthings of the wealthy and middle-class alike. But even as they are considered mere "equipment" by many, those who know and love them know they are more than that—they are ''people'' too. Will the world come to realize and acknowledge this?

[[Image:Uncia-Harlan-Stein.jpg|thumb|150px|Uncia in battle dress, by Diana Harlan Stein (http://naiadstudios.com)]]In recent years, rumors of a new form of change have been circulating—a combining of rider and RIDE that goes far beyond Fusing. Called "Integration," this combines man and machine into a single gestalt being who can no longer separate—and who are rumored to possess powers far beyond those of mere mortals or RIDEs. It is as yet unclear whether these "Integrates" are to be welcomed or feared—and, indeed, many would place them in the same category as Bigfoot, the Yeti, or the Loch Ness Monster. But these Integrates may be growing tired of keeping to themselves.

And the latest potential threat may very well be the old home world of Earth itself. For fifty years, it has scoffed at the idea that a distant, backward world like Zharus could be the home of so many major technological breakthroughs. But Earth's mind may be changing on that score—and it has long been known for its willingness to reach out and take what it wants.

Welcome to the world of Zharus—and to its denizens. Colonists. Bandits. Miners. Mechanics. ''FreeRIDErs.''

=={{separator|f|Suggested Reading Order}}==

===Robotech_Master's Take===
As this is a shared universe, there could be plenty of jumping-on points. '''The very best way to read it would probably be by publication order,''' since that would give you the same effect as the people who were reading it in real time from the beginning. '''There's a list available [[FreeRIDErs (publication order)|here]].'''

Otherwise, I suggest reading "Deserted", "Merging Traffic", "Rochelle & Rufia: R&R", then "FreeRIDErs", then the first few chapters of "Integration" (and my "Foxed" tales), as those were all written earliest and have most of the earliest setting building in them. Then you can read Jetfire's and the other authors' stories in chronological order, and continue reading "Integration" after that. (Probably should leave "Second-Hand Lioness" until after Integration #21, otherwise some events in the main story could be spoiled.)

I'd suggest to have all of Jetfire's chronologically-earlier stuff read before you get to Integration #14, since that's where some of his characters merge into the storyline. That being said, you could probably just as easily read everything in straight chronological order without missing ''too'' much. Or just pick one writer at random and read his or her works through in order, then pick another one. Once you've read enough, it all starts to make sense together.

Either way, you should read at least some of the stories before you try to dig into the setting background material below the story list on this page. It was mainly written for our own reference and amusement while we built the setting overall, and can be kind of confusing if you come to it without a grounding from the stories in how the world works.

===Claude LeChat's two cents ===

I went a different way myself. ''Deserted'' and ''Merging Traffic'' are of course the mandatory first two, since they introduce the setting and all the most important characters. Then you're free to read e.g. the first three ''Inspecteur Hollins'' stories. But not the fourth, not yet!

Before jumping into the pivotal novel ''Integration'', you'll probably want to read ''FreeRIDErs'', since it provides a crucial bit of background, and possibly ''All Spark Bulletin'', since it's a good introduction to the Munns. But you can't go wrong with any of Jetfire's prequel stories. Fibio's ''Turnover'' will give you a good idea of the spaceship tech in the series, as well as being an emotional story in itself.

Last but not least, ''Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed'' and ''Longer Fused, More Foxed'' fill in a couple of holes in the aforementioned ''Integration'', but you can safely read them afterwards since they're unrelated but for the characters. As for ''Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door'', it makes for a nice "outboard epilogue" to the novel.

Stories that can stand on their own, for readers who aren't familiar with the franchise:

* ''Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway'', but it arguably cheats because it's a spin-off;
* ''As a Woman I RIDE'';
* My own ''Alpha Camp'', if you don't mind minor spoilers for how the conflict of ''Integration'' unfolds.
* Of the newer stories, ''Slow Boat to Zharus'', though you might want to read some of the early stuff first.

=={{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}}==

[[Image:Faught_kaylee_uncia.jpg|thumb|300px|Kaylee and Uncia in battle gear as depicted by David Faught - https://www.facebook.com/DavidFaughtArtist]]Authors may add links to their stories as they happen in chronological order in story time. ("AL" stands for "After Landing," representing the number of years after the colony ships landed in 2350 AD.) For a complete listing of all FreeRIDErs stories, since this list may be updated sporadically, see [[:Category:FreeRIDErs|the FreeRIDErs Category]].

Stories that have been updated to the "Director's Cut" second draft edition are indicated with a '''(DC)''' afterward.

'''66 AL (2416 AD)'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/The General|The General]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''108 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Aloha|Aloha]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''112 AL to 113 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Greatest Show|The Greatest Show]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' with ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''121 AL to 123 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/GI_Joe|G.I. Joe]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''122 AL'''

*[[User:Jetfire/Broken_Crown|Broken Crown]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''128 AL'''
*Marshals: Beginnings
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Ride_Sally|Episode One: Ride, Sally]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Reaping_the_Whirlwind|Episode Two: Reaping the Whirlwind]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''129 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Splashdown|Splashdown]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''131 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Astra-naught|Astra-naught]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''132 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Where_Everybody_Knows_Your_Name|Where Everybody Knows Your Name]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''134 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Lady_of_the_Tiger|The Lady of the Tiger]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''133 AL to 138 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Cave_of_Wonders|Cave of Wonders]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''138 AL to 152 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Sum of Their Parts|Sum of Their Parts]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''140 to 141 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Fly With Me|Fly With Me]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

'''143 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Darling_Clementine|Oh My Darling Clementine]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''144 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/A_Fritzmas_Carol|A Fritzmas Carol]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''146 AL'''
*[[User:Hawl/Aloha666|Aloha 666]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]]))''

'''147 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/FADE IN|FADE IN]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''147 AL to 154 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Spice Girls|Spice Girls]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

[[Image:Zane-Harlan-Stein.jpg|thumb|300px|Zane, and the Zane Cane, by Diana Harlan Stein (http://naiadstudios.com)]]'''148 AL'''

'''149 AL'''
* [[User:Jetfire/In_Space|In Space...]] (149 to 156 AL) ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|Jon Buck]])''

'''152 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Pride_Lioness|Pride of Lioness]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''152 to 153 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Walkabout|Walkabout]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/All_Spark_Bulletin|All Spark Bulletin]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Touch|The Touch]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''155 to 156 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Marshals|Marshals]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' with ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

[[Image:Blackmon-KayleeUncia-lines-01.jpg|thumb|300px|Uncia and Kaylee in battle as depicted by Jacob Blackmon - http://prodigyduck.deviantart.com/]]'''156 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/jeanette-lioness|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Second-Hand Lioness]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (begins before "Deserted" and covers all the way through Integration #21)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Deserted|Deserted]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Hawl/Crossrider's Dream|CrossRIDEr's Dream]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Takes place one week after Chapter 5 of Desserted, but is not a story in the Integration Storyline)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Merging_Traffic|Merging Traffic]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Rochelle Rufia|Rochelle & Rufia: R&R]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/FreeRIDErs_dircut|FreeRIDErs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[Turnover]] '' ([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/ANGLE ON|ANGLE ON]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (Concurrent with the first half of ''Integration''.)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/DISSOLVE TO|DISSOLVE TO]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (Concurrent with ''Integration'' #16-#17.)
*Integration
**[[User:Robotech_Master/All Nighter|Part 1: All Nighter]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Integrates|Part 2: Integrates]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/RIDEgirls Day Out|Part 3: RIDEgirls' Day Out]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Dating Games|Part 4: Dating Games]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/N00bs|Part 5: N00bs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/All Aboard|Part 6: All Aboard!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/A Meating of the Board|Part 7: A Meating of the Board]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Meat the Press|Part 8: Meat, the Press]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Stockholm Vacation|Part 9: Stockholm Vacation]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Spaceflight of Fancy|Part 10: Spaceflight of Fancy]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Citizen Katie|Part 11: Citizen Katie]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/The Crew|Part 12: The Crew]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Kaylee Anny|Part 13: Kaylee & Anny]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Assault Batteries|Part 14: Assault and Batteries]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Task of Amontillado|Part 15: The Task of Amontillado]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Integrate Raids|Part 16: The Integrate Raids]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Family Matters|Part 17: Family Matters]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Many Meetings|Part 18: Many Meetings]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Meetings Completing|Part 19: Meetings Completing]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Prodigals|Part 20: Prodigals]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Enemy Lines|Part 21: Enemy Lines]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Alpha Strike|Part 22: Alpha Strike]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Universe of Battle|Part 23: Universe of Battle]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/What Happened Mouse|Part 24: What Happened to the Mouse?]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/The Big Date|Part 25 (Epilogue): The Big Date]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Slightly Foxed|Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place between Part 5 and Part 6 of Integration)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/More Foxed|Longer Fused, More Foxed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place between Part 5 and Part 14 of Integration)
*[[User:Claude_LeChat/Alpha Camp|Alpha Camp]] ''([[User:Claude_LeChat|Claude LeChat]])'' (begins in Part 8 of Integration)
*[[Taking the Plunge]] ''([[User:Kris|Kris]])'' (takes place after Part 8 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Cat's Paw]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place during parts 9-11 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Viral Thief]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place sometime after part 12 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Multimillion Vault]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place after part 12 of Integration)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Kandace Jenni Friendship|Kandace and Jenni: A Beautiful Friendship]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place during/after the end of Part 15 of Integration)
* [[User:Robotech_Master/Rochelle Rufia Redux|Rochelle & Rufia Redux: Foxing About]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (takes place after the end of Part 17 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Integral Assassin]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place during part 23 of Integration)
* [[User:Jetfire/Spacer_Oddity| A Spacer Oddity]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Final Countdown|The Final Countdown]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

'''156 to 157 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Spotted Stowaway|Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (starts before "Deserted"; concludes after "Integration" and the "Stonegates" stories)
* [[User:Robotech Master/Yield Ahead|Merging Traffic II: Yield Ahead]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

[[Image:Cybercats001color.jpg|thumb|300px|Rochelle and Kaylee as interpreted by William Levy (http://williamlevy.deviantart.com/)]]'''157 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Impossible Things|Impossible Things]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Aloha Stonegates|Aloha, Stonegates!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Skunked|Skunked!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Paws Up|Paws Up!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/A Wolf at the Door|Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (with ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]''))
* [[User:Robotech Master/A_Wolf_in_Sheep's_Clothing|Wolves in the Fold, Part Two: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Joseph_Life|Joseph Steader, This is Your Life!]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
* The Gondwana Grand Tour ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
** [[User:Robotech_Master/shell_game|Prologue: Shell Game]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_uplift|Chapter One: Uplift and the Tunnel]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_nuevosan|Chapter Two: Nuevo San Antonio]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_sturmhaven|Chapter Three: Sturmhaven]]
* [[User:Robotech Master/Saints Marching|The Saints Go Marching In]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

* [[User:Claude_LeChat/Return to Alpha Camp|Return to Alpha Camp]] ''([[User:Claude_LeChat|Claude LeChat]])'' (position in timeline is approximate)
* [[User:Robotech Master/Kevin De-Claude|Kevin, De-Claude]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/youngguns|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Young Guns]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Good Bad Fritzy|The Good, the Bad, and the Fritzy]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Family Lynx|Family Lynx]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/Dog Day Morning|Dog Day Morning]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/When the Lady Smiles|Merging Traffic III: When the Lady Smiles]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'')
* [[User:Claude LeChat/Imperfect Coupling|Imperfect Coupling]] (''[[User:Claude LeChat|Claude LeChat]]'')

'''157 to 158 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Totalia Prelude|Return to Totalia, Part One: Prelude]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/reindeergames|Jeanette, Tamarind, and the Young Guns: Reindeer Games]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Jetfire/DragonRIDEr_of_Pharos|DragonRIDEr of Pharos]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (Date fuzzy, sometime after Inties are revealed)

'''158 AL'''
* The Durian Crew
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Immigrant Song|Immigrant Song]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Dressed for Success|Dressed for Success]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Thank You for the Music|Thank You for the Music]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Head Over Heels|Head Over Heels]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Robotech_Master/Tick Tock Tick|Tick Tock Tick]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Spies_Among_Us|Spies Among Us]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Cat_Scratch_Fever|Cat Scratch Fever]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (Starts in 157 AL)
*[[User:Jetfire/Rescue_911|Rescue 911]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* [[User:Jetfire/United_Way|United Way]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels
** [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Visitors|Part One: Visitors]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
** [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Clementine|Part Two: Clementine]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
**[[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Fleet|Part Three: The Fleet]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Cold and Wet Nose for News|Cold and Wet Nose for News]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Robotech Master/A Dash from the Past|A Dash from the Past]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Robotech Master/Interchange Ahead|Merging Traffic IV: Interchange Ahead]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Raising Ruth|Raising Ruth]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back|Welcome (Back) to the Real World]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Jetfire/The_Power|The Power]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/All_Hell_Breakin_Loose|All Hell's Breakin' Loose]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Riding_The_Eye_of_the_Storm|Riding the Eye of the Storm]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

* [[User:Jetfire/iron_hand_in_a_velvet_glove|Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove]]

* ''[[User:Claude LeChat/The Wolf and the Father|The Wolf and the Father]]'' (''[[User:Claude LeChat|Claude LeChat]]'') (takes place after ''Young Guns'')

'''159 A.L.'''

*[[User:Robotech Master/Warm Welcome|Warm Welcome]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' with ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
* Cougar Town
** I. [[User:Robotech Master/Cougar Town|Cougar Town]]
** II. [[User:Robotech Master/Down on the Farm|Down on the Farm]]
** III. [[User:Robotech Master/A Cougar Comes to Town|A Cougar Comes to Town]]
** IV. [[User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight|Play the Game Tonight]]
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Hello, KITTy|Hello, KITTy]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Jetfire/Slow_Boat|Slow Boat to Zharus]] (''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

=={{separator|f|FreeRIDErs First Drafts}}==

Since we've started going back and revising the early portions of the story to bring the into line with what we wrote later, we have decided to preserve early drafts when they are changed sufficiently to merit a separate presentation. For most of these (but not "FreeRIDErs"), you can also use the "History" function to see what changed.

*[[User:JonBuck/FreeRIDErs|FreeRIDErs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

HawlSera - I really love writing for FreeRIDErs, it's pretty great, but overtime as my writing skills have evolved and to be truthful, most of the FreeRIDE stories I wrote, were done under the influence of illicit stimulants, which overall I feel had a negative effect on my writing ability. I'm now clean and will be rebooting my FreeRIDE stories. The old "canon", (which honestly failed to work with the overarching canon of FreeRIDE) will be in this section

*[[User:Hawl/Simon Of Cape Nord|Simon Of Cape Nord]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Bob's Origin|Bob's Origin]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/As A Woman I RIDE|As A Woman I RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/At Ace, We RIDE|At ACE, We RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/To Dream, We RIDE|To Dream, We RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/We live to RIDE, We RIDE to Live|We live to RIDE, We RIDE to Live]]''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Nearing The End Of Our RIDE|Nearing The End Of Our RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]]''
*[[User:Hawl/For Victory, For Venars, Together We RIDE!|For Victory, For Venars, Together We RIDE]]'' ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/TWREpilogue:We'll RIDE Again Someday|TWREpilogue:We'll RIDE Again Someday]]
*Cores of Sarium
**[[User:Hawl/Buttercup's Heist|Part 1:Buttercup's Heist]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Takes place during the two days before Part 8 of Integration)
**[[User:Hawl/Ruby Withdrawal|Part 2:Ruby Withdrawal]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/Making a Man Out Of Jamie|Part 3:Making a Man Out Of Jamie]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*Omniverse OverRIDE
**[[User:Hawl/GoKARTers|Part 1:GoKARTers]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Starts in 150 AL, Ends around May 156 AL, about a week or so after FreeRIDErs ends)
**[[User:Hawl/DayOfTheDin|Part 2:Day Of The Din]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/Serve In Hell, Rule In Heaven|Part 3:Serve In Hell, Rule In Heaven]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/In Need Of A Mother|Part 4:In Need Of A mother]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/An_Integrate's_Guide_To_Love|Integrate's Guide To Love]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''

=={{separator|f|Background Material}}==

Due to the huge amount of material, we have moved this to its own page:

[[FreeRIDErs (background material)]]

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]]

FreeRIDErs (setting)

2019-03-23T19:49:49Z

Robotech Master: /* {{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}} */ Adding new stories.

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}{{DEFAULTSORT:FreeRIDErs (Setting Overview & Story Timeline)}}

{{byline|author=Jon Buck
|user=JonBuck}}

{{byline|author=Robotech_Master
|user=Robotech_Master}}

=={{separator|f|Setting Overview}}==
[[Image:CatGirls.jpg|thumb|300px|Kaylee and Uncia in battle dress, by Marty Salsman (http://martysalsman.deviantart.com)]]In the 25th century, scientists and technicians on the distant colony world of Zharus make a startling breakthrough in energy storage and artificial intelligence, with the aid of "qubitite," a naturally-occurring metamaterial with remarkable quantum properties. The creation of true AI springs from quantum simulations of neural networks based on animals' genetic material that expand to take on true sapience.

Matching these "Reticulated Intelligence" (RI) neural networks with nanotech-composite "Drive Extender" (DE) transforming robotic bodies produces the RIDE: a metallic animal that can transform itself into a vehicle such as a hover-motorcycle (or hover-car or even plane for larger animals), or into an environmentally sealed suit of anthropomorphic-animal body armor to survive the extreme environments of Zharus's deserts, undersea, or even outer space. (Because combining with such a suit goes beyond merely putting it on and involves elements of physical and neural linkage, the act of merging with a RIDE in armor mode is called "Fusing.") Thanks to "hardlight" technology, RIDEs can even be covered with solid holographic fur that feels real to the touch, and even to the RIDE itself.

However, due to their animal basis, Fusing with a RIDE can have consequences for the pilot. In order for them to be neurologically compatible, the pilot has to have similar physical features to the RIDE itself—and the RIDE's nanotech innards are designed to grant those changes. This means that Fusing with RIDEs based on ordinary land mammals will grant the rider their ears and tail (and sometimes more extreme additions such as nose, eyes, or fur).

RIDEs based on further different animals, such as reptiles, birds, or undersea mammals, can produce much extreme changes in their riders that restrict their ability to change back or combine with a different RIDE. And likewise, if the pilot is the wrong gender, the RIDE's nanites will adjust that, too. In most cases of gender or other extreme change, the changed human is unable to safely change back for at least three years.

These RIDEs are used in taming the huge continent of Gondwana, a harsh and often lawless frontier that, unlike the more sedate and longer-settled continent of Laurasia, has many rich resources there for the taking, and a number of city-states occupying the ring of fertile land around the great central desert. In the desert, RIDEs are necessary to live. In the cities, they are urban transportation and playthings of the wealthy and middle-class alike. But even as they are considered mere "equipment" by many, those who know and love them know they are more than that—they are ''people'' too. Will the world come to realize and acknowledge this?

[[Image:Uncia-Harlan-Stein.jpg|thumb|150px|Uncia in battle dress, by Diana Harlan Stein (http://naiadstudios.com)]]In recent years, rumors of a new form of change have been circulating—a combining of rider and RIDE that goes far beyond Fusing. Called "Integration," this combines man and machine into a single gestalt being who can no longer separate—and who are rumored to possess powers far beyond those of mere mortals or RIDEs. It is as yet unclear whether these "Integrates" are to be welcomed or feared—and, indeed, many would place them in the same category as Bigfoot, the Yeti, or the Loch Ness Monster. But these Integrates may be growing tired of keeping to themselves.

And the latest potential threat may very well be the old home world of Earth itself. For fifty years, it has scoffed at the idea that a distant, backward world like Zharus could be the home of so many major technological breakthroughs. But Earth's mind may be changing on that score—and it has long been known for its willingness to reach out and take what it wants.

Welcome to the world of Zharus—and to its denizens. Colonists. Bandits. Miners. Mechanics. ''FreeRIDErs.''

=={{separator|f|Suggested Reading Order}}==

===Robotech_Master's Take===
As this is a shared universe, there could be plenty of jumping-on points. '''The very best way to read it would probably be by publication order,''' since that would give you the same effect as the people who were reading it in real time from the beginning. '''There's a list available [[FreeRIDErs (publication order)|here]].'''

Otherwise, I suggest reading "Deserted", "Merging Traffic", "Rochelle & Rufia: R&R", then "FreeRIDErs", then the first few chapters of "Integration" (and my "Foxed" tales), as those were all written earliest and have most of the earliest setting building in them. Then you can read Jetfire's and the other authors' stories in chronological order, and continue reading "Integration" after that. (Probably should leave "Second-Hand Lioness" until after Integration #21, otherwise some events in the main story could be spoiled.)

I'd suggest to have all of Jetfire's chronologically-earlier stuff read before you get to Integration #14, since that's where some of his characters merge into the storyline. That being said, you could probably just as easily read everything in straight chronological order without missing ''too'' much. Or just pick one writer at random and read his or her works through in order, then pick another one. Once you've read enough, it all starts to make sense together.

Either way, you should read at least some of the stories before you try to dig into the setting background material below the story list on this page. It was mainly written for our own reference and amusement while we built the setting overall, and can be kind of confusing if you come to it without a grounding from the stories in how the world works.

===Claude LeChat's two cents ===

I went a different way myself. ''Deserted'' and ''Merging Traffic'' are of course the mandatory first two, since they introduce the setting and all the most important characters. Then you're free to read e.g. the first three ''Inspecteur Hollins'' stories. But not the fourth, not yet!

Before jumping into the pivotal novel ''Integration'', you'll probably want to read ''FreeRIDErs'', since it provides a crucial bit of background, and possibly ''All Spark Bulletin'', since it's a good introduction to the Munns. But you can't go wrong with any of Jetfire's prequel stories. Fibio's ''Turnover'' will give you a good idea of the spaceship tech in the series, as well as being an emotional story in itself.

Last but not least, ''Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed'' and ''Longer Fused, More Foxed'' fill in a couple of holes in the aforementioned ''Integration'', but you can safely read them afterwards since they're unrelated but for the characters. As for ''Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door'', it makes for a nice "outboard epilogue" to the novel.

Stories that can stand on their own, for readers who aren't familiar with the franchise:

* ''Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway'', but it arguably cheats because it's a spin-off;
* ''As a Woman I RIDE'';
* My own ''Alpha Camp'', if you don't mind minor spoilers for how the conflict of ''Integration'' unfolds.
* Of the newer stories, ''Slow Boat to Zharus'', though you might want to read some of the early stuff first.

=={{separator|f|Stories in Chronological Order}}==

[[Image:Faught_kaylee_uncia.jpg|thumb|300px|Kaylee and Uncia in battle gear as depicted by David Faught - https://www.facebook.com/DavidFaughtArtist]]Authors may add links to their stories as they happen in chronological order in story time. ("AL" stands for "After Landing," representing the number of years after the colony ships landed in 2350 AD.) For a complete listing of all FreeRIDErs stories, since this list may be updated sporadically, see [[:Category:FreeRIDErs|the FreeRIDErs Category]].

Stories that have been updated to the "Director's Cut" second draft edition are indicated with a '''(DC)''' afterward.

'''66 AL (2416 AD)'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/The General|The General]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''108 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Aloha|Aloha]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''112 AL to 113 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Greatest Show|The Greatest Show]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' with ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''121 AL to 123 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/GI_Joe|G.I. Joe]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''122 AL'''

*[[User:Jetfire/Broken_Crown|Broken Crown]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''128 AL'''
*Marshals: Beginnings
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Ride_Sally|Episode One: Ride, Sally]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Reaping_the_Whirlwind|Episode Two: Reaping the Whirlwind]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''129 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Splashdown|Splashdown]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''131 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Astra-naught|Astra-naught]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''132 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Where_Everybody_Knows_Your_Name|Where Everybody Knows Your Name]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''134 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Lady_of_the_Tiger|The Lady of the Tiger]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''133 AL to 138 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Cave_of_Wonders|Cave of Wonders]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''138 AL to 152 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Sum of Their Parts|Sum of Their Parts]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''140 to 141 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Fly With Me|Fly With Me]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

'''143 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Darling_Clementine|Oh My Darling Clementine]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''144 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/A_Fritzmas_Carol|A Fritzmas Carol]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''146 AL'''
*[[User:Hawl/Aloha666|Aloha 666]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]]))''

'''147 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/FADE IN|FADE IN]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

'''147 AL to 154 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Spice Girls|Spice Girls]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

[[Image:Zane-Harlan-Stein.jpg|thumb|300px|Zane, and the Zane Cane, by Diana Harlan Stein (http://naiadstudios.com)]]'''148 AL'''

'''149 AL'''
* [[User:Jetfire/In_Space|In Space...]] (149 to 156 AL) ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|Jon Buck]])''

'''152 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Pride_Lioness|Pride of Lioness]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

'''152 to 153 AL'''
*[[User:Jetfire/Walkabout|Walkabout]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/All_Spark_Bulletin|All Spark Bulletin]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/The_Touch|The Touch]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

'''155 to 156 AL'''
*[[User:JonBuck/Marshals|Marshals]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' with ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

[[Image:Blackmon-KayleeUncia-lines-01.jpg|thumb|300px|Uncia and Kaylee in battle as depicted by Jacob Blackmon - http://prodigyduck.deviantart.com/]]'''156 AL'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/jeanette-lioness|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Second-Hand Lioness]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (begins before "Deserted" and covers all the way through Integration #21)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Deserted|Deserted]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Hawl/Crossrider's Dream|CrossRIDEr's Dream]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Takes place one week after Chapter 5 of Desserted, but is not a story in the Integration Storyline)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Merging_Traffic|Merging Traffic]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Rochelle Rufia|Rochelle & Rufia: R&R]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/FreeRIDErs_dircut|FreeRIDErs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[Turnover]] '' ([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/ANGLE ON|ANGLE ON]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (Concurrent with the first half of ''Integration''.)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/DISSOLVE TO|DISSOLVE TO]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (Concurrent with ''Integration'' #16-#17.)
*Integration
**[[User:Robotech_Master/All Nighter|Part 1: All Nighter]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Integrates|Part 2: Integrates]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/RIDEgirls Day Out|Part 3: RIDEgirls' Day Out]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Dating Games|Part 4: Dating Games]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/N00bs|Part 5: N00bs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/All Aboard|Part 6: All Aboard!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/A Meating of the Board|Part 7: A Meating of the Board]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Meat the Press|Part 8: Meat, the Press]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Stockholm Vacation|Part 9: Stockholm Vacation]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Spaceflight of Fancy|Part 10: Spaceflight of Fancy]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Citizen Katie|Part 11: Citizen Katie]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/The Crew|Part 12: The Crew]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Kaylee Anny|Part 13: Kaylee & Anny]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Assault Batteries|Part 14: Assault and Batteries]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Task of Amontillado|Part 15: The Task of Amontillado]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Integrate Raids|Part 16: The Integrate Raids]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Family Matters|Part 17: Family Matters]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Many Meetings|Part 18: Many Meetings]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Meetings Completing|Part 19: Meetings Completing]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Prodigals|Part 20: Prodigals]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Enemy Lines|Part 21: Enemy Lines]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Alpha Strike|Part 22: Alpha Strike]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/Universe of Battle|Part 23: Universe of Battle]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/What Happened Mouse|Part 24: What Happened to the Mouse?]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
**[[User:Robotech Master/The Big Date|Part 25 (Epilogue): The Big Date]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' '''(DC)'''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Slightly Foxed|Barely Fused, Slightly Foxed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place between Part 5 and Part 6 of Integration)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/More Foxed|Longer Fused, More Foxed]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place between Part 5 and Part 14 of Integration)
*[[User:Claude_LeChat/Alpha Camp|Alpha Camp]] ''([[User:Claude_LeChat|Claude LeChat]])'' (begins in Part 8 of Integration)
*[[Taking the Plunge]] ''([[User:Kris|Kris]])'' (takes place after Part 8 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Cat's Paw]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place during parts 9-11 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Viral Thief]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place sometime after part 12 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Multimillion Vault]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place after part 12 of Integration)
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Kandace Jenni Friendship|Kandace and Jenni: A Beautiful Friendship]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (takes place during/after the end of Part 15 of Integration)
* [[User:Robotech_Master/Rochelle Rufia Redux|Rochelle & Rufia Redux: Foxing About]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (takes place after the end of Part 17 of Integration)
*[[Inspecteur Hollins and The Integral Assassin]] ''([[User:Fibio|Fibio]])'' (takes place during part 23 of Integration)
* [[User:Jetfire/Spacer_Oddity| A Spacer Oddity]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Robotech Master/Final Countdown|The Final Countdown]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

'''156 to 157 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Spotted Stowaway|Madison Brubeck and the Spotted Stowaway]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (starts before "Deserted"; concludes after "Integration" and the "Stonegates" stories)
* [[User:Robotech Master/Yield Ahead|Merging Traffic II: Yield Ahead]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

[[Image:Cybercats001color.jpg|thumb|300px|Rochelle and Kaylee as interpreted by William Levy (http://williamlevy.deviantart.com/)]]'''157 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Impossible Things|Impossible Things]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Aloha Stonegates|Aloha, Stonegates!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'', ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Skunked|Skunked!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Paws Up|Paws Up!]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'' and ''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/A Wolf at the Door|Wolves in the Fold, Part One: A Wolf at the Door]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])'' (with ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]''))
* [[User:Robotech Master/A_Wolf_in_Sheep's_Clothing|Wolves in the Fold, Part Two: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Joseph_Life|Joseph Steader, This is Your Life!]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
* The Gondwana Grand Tour ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''
** [[User:Robotech_Master/shell_game|Prologue: Shell Game]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_uplift|Chapter One: Uplift and the Tunnel]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_nuevosan|Chapter Two: Nuevo San Antonio]]
** [[User:Robotech_Master/ggt_sturmhaven|Chapter Three: Sturmhaven]]
* [[User:Robotech Master/Saints Marching|The Saints Go Marching In]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''

* [[User:Claude_LeChat/Return to Alpha Camp|Return to Alpha Camp]] ''([[User:Claude_LeChat|Claude LeChat]])'' (position in timeline is approximate)
* [[User:Robotech Master/Kevin De-Claude|Kevin, De-Claude]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/youngguns|Jeanette & Tamarind: The Young Guns]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Good Bad Fritzy|The Good, the Bad, and the Fritzy]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Family Lynx|Family Lynx]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/Dog Day Morning|Dog Day Morning]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/When the Lady Smiles|Merging Traffic III: When the Lady Smiles]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'')
* [[User:Claude LeChat/Imperfect Coupling|Imperfect Coupling]] (''[[User:Claude LeChat|Claude LeChat]]'')

'''157 to 158 AL'''
* [[User:Robotech Master/Totalia Prelude|Return to Totalia, Part One: Prelude]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Robotech Master/reindeergames|Jeanette, Tamarind, and the Young Guns: Reindeer Games]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
* [[User:Jetfire/DragonRIDEr_of_Pharos|DragonRIDEr of Pharos]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (Date fuzzy, sometime after Inties are revealed)

'''158 AL'''
* The Durian Crew
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Immigrant Song|Immigrant Song]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Dressed for Success|Dressed for Success]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Thank You for the Music|Thank You for the Music]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
**[[User:Robotech_Master/Head Over Heels|Head Over Heels]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Robotech_Master/Tick Tock Tick|Tick Tock Tick]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Spies_Among_Us|Spies Among Us]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Cat_Scratch_Fever|Cat Scratch Fever]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])'' (Starts in 157 AL)
*[[User:Jetfire/Rescue_911|Rescue 911]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* [[User:Jetfire/United_Way|United Way]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
* Return to Totalia, Part Two: Parallels
** [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Visitors|Part One: Visitors]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
** [[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Clementine|Part Two: Clementine]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
**[[User:Robotech Master/Parallels Fleet|Part Three: The Fleet]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' and ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Cold and Wet Nose for News|Cold and Wet Nose for News]] ''([[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]])''
*[[User:Robotech Master/A Dash from the Past|A Dash from the Past]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Robotech Master/Interchange Ahead|Merging Traffic IV: Interchange Ahead]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Raising Ruth|Raising Ruth]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Robotech Master/Welcome Back|Welcome (Back) to the Real World]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

*[[User:Jetfire/The_Power|The Power]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/All_Hell_Breakin_Loose|All Hell's Breakin' Loose]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''
*[[User:Jetfire/Riding_The_Eye_of_the_Storm|Riding the Eye of the Storm]] ''([[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]])''

* [[User:Jetfire/iron_hand_in_a_velvet_glove|Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove]]

* ''[[User:Claude LeChat/The Wolf and the Father|The Wolf and the Father]]'' (''[[User:Claude LeChat|Claude LeChat]]'') (takes place after ''Young Guns'')

'''159 A.L.'''

*[[User:Robotech Master/Warm Welcome|Warm Welcome]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'' and ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]],'' with ''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'')
* Cougar Town
** I. [[User:Robotech Master/Cougar Town|Cougar Town]]
** II. [[User:Robotech Master/Down on the Farm|Down on the Farm]]
** III. [[User:Robotech Master/A Cougar Comes to Town|Cougar Town: A Cougar Comes to Town]]
** IV. [[User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight|Cougar Town: Play the Game Tonight]]
*[[User:Robotech_Master/Hello, KITTy|Hello, KITTy]] (''[[User:Robotech_Master|Robotech_Master]]'', with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')
*[[User:Jetfire/Slow_Boat|Slow Boat to Zharus]] (''[[User:Jetfire|Jetfire]]'' with ''[[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]]'')

=={{separator|f|FreeRIDErs First Drafts}}==

Since we've started going back and revising the early portions of the story to bring the into line with what we wrote later, we have decided to preserve early drafts when they are changed sufficiently to merit a separate presentation. For most of these (but not "FreeRIDErs"), you can also use the "History" function to see what changed.

*[[User:JonBuck/FreeRIDErs|FreeRIDErs]] ''([[User:JonBuck|JonBuck]])''

HawlSera - I really love writing for FreeRIDErs, it's pretty great, but overtime as my writing skills have evolved and to be truthful, most of the FreeRIDE stories I wrote, were done under the influence of illicit stimulants, which overall I feel had a negative effect on my writing ability. I'm now clean and will be rebooting my FreeRIDE stories. The old "canon", (which honestly failed to work with the overarching canon of FreeRIDE) will be in this section

*[[User:Hawl/Simon Of Cape Nord|Simon Of Cape Nord]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Bob's Origin|Bob's Origin]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/As A Woman I RIDE|As A Woman I RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/At Ace, We RIDE|At ACE, We RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/To Dream, We RIDE|To Dream, We RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/We live to RIDE, We RIDE to Live|We live to RIDE, We RIDE to Live]]''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/Nearing The End Of Our RIDE|Nearing The End Of Our RIDE]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]]''
*[[User:Hawl/For Victory, For Venars, Together We RIDE!|For Victory, For Venars, Together We RIDE]]'' ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/TWREpilogue:We'll RIDE Again Someday|TWREpilogue:We'll RIDE Again Someday]]
*Cores of Sarium
**[[User:Hawl/Buttercup's Heist|Part 1:Buttercup's Heist]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Takes place during the two days before Part 8 of Integration)
**[[User:Hawl/Ruby Withdrawal|Part 2:Ruby Withdrawal]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/Making a Man Out Of Jamie|Part 3:Making a Man Out Of Jamie]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*Omniverse OverRIDE
**[[User:Hawl/GoKARTers|Part 1:GoKARTers]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])'' (Starts in 150 AL, Ends around May 156 AL, about a week or so after FreeRIDErs ends)
**[[User:Hawl/DayOfTheDin|Part 2:Day Of The Din]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/Serve In Hell, Rule In Heaven|Part 3:Serve In Hell, Rule In Heaven]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
**[[User:Hawl/In Need Of A Mother|Part 4:In Need Of A mother]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''
*[[User:Hawl/An_Integrate's_Guide_To_Love|Integrate's Guide To Love]] ''([[User:Hawl|HawlSera]])''

=={{separator|f|Background Material}}==

Due to the huge amount of material, we have moved this to its own page:

[[FreeRIDErs (background material)]]

[[Category:FreeRIDErs]]

User:Robotech Master/Play the Game Tonight

2019-03-23T19:45:29Z

Robotech Master: Janice finds a potential new RIDE partner, and a potential Nextus Game instructor.

{{Universe|FreeRIDErs}}

{{title

|name=Cougar Town: Play the Game Tonight

|author=Robotech_Master and Jon Buck (with Jetfire)

|user=Robotech_Master}}

{{DEFAULTSORT: Cougar Town 04}}

{{author note|This story can be downloaded in PDF, EPUB, Mobi (Kindle), ODF, and RTF format from [http://www.eyrie.org/~robotech/freeriders/ this website] as part of the file "Cougar Town".}} 

''E.C.S. Steady Hand Landing Site'' 
''March 29, 159 A.L.''

Janice Howard yawned, stretched, and drifted slowly back to consciousness. As usual these days, it took a moment for her to remember where she was.

The bed was nice and soft and comfy—really, it was almost ''too'' comfy, compared to the paper-thin futon she’d slept on back on Earth. It added to the disorientation. But it also made it easier to pretend, if only for a moment, that one of her secret fantasies had come true. ''Mmm, I married a millionaire…''

Of course, she'' knew'' that wasn’t true. And really, in some ways, her reality was actually better than the fantasy. After all, if she ''had'' married a millionaire, she’d have had to get along with him. Pre-nups were a fact of life on Earth these days.

So, no, no millionaire hubby (or wifey). Instead, she’d been given the old heave-ho like the no-account bum she was. Bum-rushed right off the planet…and, as it turned out,'' right'' into the proverbial briar patch. Back on Earth, she’d just been'' existing.'' But here on Zharus, for the first time, she thought she could actually ''live.''

Janice rolled out of bed, had a good stretch, and looked around at the small home that was hers. About the size of a studio apartment, with its single living/dining room, kitchenette, bedroom, and bath, it was nonetheless several times the size of the space that had been hers back on Earth. There might not be any millionaire partners in the offing, but she still ''felt'' rich.

In more than just her possessions. For what might have been the first time in her life since her grade school days, she had actual ''friends.'' Back on Earth, she’d always driven everyone away, just by refusing to engage any filters on what left her mouth. If they couldn’t deal with her, it was ''their'' problem. Her state-mandated shrink had been of the opinion she was pushing people away out of fear of rejection, a desire to keep from getting hurt again.

Maybe there was something to that. For all that she’d taken the lemons life gave her and made the most passable lemon squash out of them that she could, it still ''hurt'' to keep getting fired from job after job because people just didn’t ''like'' her. So she just pushed people away before they even had the chance to ''seem'' to like her, because it hurt so much to let her guard down.

She didn’t need friends. She didn’t even need Virtual Life—because you had to interact with other people in that, and who needed the aggravation? She had all the books and vid shows and stuff that she could read and watch, after all. She’d even put in the herculean effort necessary to get permanent UBI just because it was easier than facing another day of having to interact with ''other people''.

Her shrink wanted her to come out of her shell, try to strike up some acquaintances and see where it led her. But fortunately for her, all she had to do to keep the UBI was ''visit'' the guy. She wasn’t actually required to ''make progress''. It wasn’t that Janice was antisocial, exactly. She was more sort of ''asocial.''

But then they’d shipped her off to Zharus, and…things had changed. In the first minutes since she’d woken up, she’d gravitated toward a pair of guys who’d woken up along with her and had caught her attention by speaking up. One of them had been here before, after all, and he might have some idea what they could do with themselves here. More than she had, anyway. She’d been nervous about it, but she was so far outside of her comfort zone already that a little thing like ''talking to people'' somehow seemed small by comparison. Without anything else familiar around her, she sought comfort in the one thing that was even vaguely familiar—other people in the same situation she was.

The one guy, Edward, didn’t seem to like her very much. But then, she suspected he was more than a little “asocial” himself—he’d spent all his time locked away in his apartment, working and playing virtually, which didn’t really seem all that different from a life with books and vids to Janice. But his friend, Larry, was a more outgoing sort. He was the kind of guy who had a knack for making friends, and was willing to meet Janice more than halfway if that was necessary to draw her out.

And…it seemed to have worked. Not only had they gotten along, but for the first time Janice could remember she actually caught herself ''not'' just blurting out the first thing that came into her head, but actually filtering herself to stay on better terms with the people around her. She had an irrational urge to tape an interstellar postal delivery letter to her shrink, just to let him know she was finally taking some of his advice.

Not that ''everything'' had started to approach normalcy. In some respects, her life had gone from weird to weirder. The same day they arrived, Edward had received a much-belated diagnosis of gender dysphoria, and spent a couple of hours becoming a much skinnier girl named Sonja. And Larry had gotten together with Layla, a cougress RIDE he’d met last time he was here, and was now Laura. In one fell swoop, Janice had gone from hanging around strange men to being “just one of the girls.”

And that wasn’t even going into how her estranged brother Daniel, who’d landed on Zharus and only sent ''two words'' back home to tell folks he was staying, was now a raccoon-girl named Danica with a successful agribusiness. ''When I thought maybe the reason we never heard more from him was that he’d “bought the farm,” that ''wasn’t'' what I had in mind.'' When Janice thought about it, she reflected that she’d fallen down the rabbithole good and proper, she had. ''Just about bloody literally. I’m sure there’s some rabbit RIDE or Integrate with a hole around here somewhere.''

The day after that, Sonja had gotten a cougar RIDE herself—or else the RIDE had gotten her. Either way, they were partners now. Her name was Cassie, and she was a bright-eyed naive little thing, so new she squeaked. (Well, actually, the squeaking probably had more to do with being a cougar, as they had a fairly impressive range of cat vocalizations.) She and Sonja seemed to be getting along, which was good for them. For Janice, all that youthful exuberance made her feel old and tired just looking at her.

In the few days since then, Janice had wandered around the camp and surroundings, both singly and with the girls and RIDEs. She’d explored Greenglade, the small nearby settlement rapidly on its way to becoming a ghost town as its more reclusive citizens migrated away. She’d even hopped a sub flight to Aloha and back, to rubberneck at the space elevator and visit a party or two. But after a while, it was beginning to pall.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m ''bored,''” Janice grumbled. “Never got bored back on Earth. Just read a book, watched a vid…” And she had even more books and vids at her disposal now than she ever had back on Earth. So why didn’t she feel like doing that'' now?''

Perhaps the answer was that there was just so much more stuff available to do now. She didn’t really'' feel'' like doing any of it at the moment, but it was still there, luring her attention away from the world of books and flicks.

And if she admitted it to herself, now that she was used to having friends again, she was a little lonely without them. Laura and Layla were off doing whatever their soil monitoring job involved, and Sonja and Cassie had taken one of the free sub shuttle flights to look into one of the other polities or Enclaves or whatever. So she was on her own today, and at loose ends.

She considered calling Danica for a chat…and saying what, exactly? ''Hey, bro, how are the crops growing today?'' She snorted. Right.

She wanted…what'' did'' she want? A challenge of some kind. An ''intellectual'' challenge. Something that would engage her mind.

Not for the first time in the last few days, her thoughts turned to that Nextus Game thing. It sounded like it might be right up her alley. The question was, how to get into it.

Her researches over the last few days hadn’t turned up a whole lot of useful resources for beginners. At least, not ones that were easily accessible on the net. But that seemed to make sense. From what little she could make out, a lot of the point of the Game was to get you out of your house and physically to locations in question that would give you an advantage in play. So it stood to reason you might have to get out and go places to learn how the game was played, too.

It was possible a trip to Nextus might be in order, but it seemed like a lot of effort to go to when she wasn’t even sure it was what she wanted to do in the first place. But perhaps she could find an instructor who would come to her. She wasn’t sure what she could pay such a person with, but maybe they could work something out.

Janice absently fingered the feline ears she’d worn for the last few days, ever since a brief Fuse with Layla before Larry had worked up the nerve. It had been an interesting experience, for what it was worth, and she’d half considered asking Layla to do it again. But she and Laura were already pretty much an item now, and it didn’t seem like the done thing to horn in. Besides, she and Layla probably weren’t the most compatible personalities. Perhaps she should look into finding a RIDE partner of her own—if there even was one out there who’d match her own personality quiz scores.

Well, there were ways to start looking into that. “Hey, Informio.”

The ubiquitous EI’s avatar appeared on Janice’s apartment wall screen. “Yes, Miss Howard?”

“Could you search for a couple of things for me?”

“Certainly. What do you need?”

“Well, first I’m looking for a tutor in the Nextus Game. One who wouldn’t mind traveling out here, for preference. And also, who’d take payment some way other than cash—I’m not exactly flush right now. You think that’s likely?”

“I’m no expert in the Game myself, but it is my understanding that favors are the chief currency of Gamesters. An alternative form of payment to cash should not be a problem. Was there anything else you wished to find?”

“Well…I dunno…” Janice flicked one of her ears diffidently. “I’d kind of like to see if there are any RIDEs compatible with me. A cougar, for preference. An experienced one, not a newbie like Cassie. Maybe…we could see if we could get along.”

Informio smiled. “I will see what I can do. May I access your personality quiz profile, for purposes of search matching only?”

“Uh, yeah. Please do that. Thanks.”

Informio nodded. “I will let you know when I have any results.” He disappeared.

“Well, then,” Janice said. “Guess I’ll just go for a walk.”

The city was growing visibly on an hourly basis. The ship that had brought them to Zharus was now little more than some modules and floating construction barges dropping huts like hers, larger family homes, even apartment buildings ten floors tall in a matter of hours. There were also a few more modern machines brought in from Nextus or other polities, that were placing more modernized housing. In a few areas, some of the houses that had already been placed had been recycled, their material rebuilt into apartment houses or condominiums and the leftover vacant space landscaped into lawns or parks. It was shaping up to be a nice little city, and already the arguments were beginning over what it should eventually be named.

Janice presumed there’d be other buildings mixed amongst all the houses, once things really got going. Public services, commercial space, everything a city needed to actually work. On Earth, her hometown of Halifax, England retained some very ancient buildings and its population had never needed to move into the arcologies so common in most of the world. This city would probably be about the same way. But then, it seemed like most cities here on Zharus were.

She took a turn by the cafeteria building for a plate of breakfast, which she got in a to-go container to carry home. She could have just fabbed something at home, but the cafeteria’s fabbers seemed more specialized to food and had a wider selection of brands—including, she’d discovered, some of the more obscure staples of the hallowed English full breakfast. While they weren’t quite as good as the ones Danica had cooked herself, they did nonetheless scratch a little of the homesick itch. Eggs, bacon, scones, a little spotted dick (Janice sniggered at the name, as she always did), some bubble and squeak all promised to hit the spot as soon as she got them home—along with a steaming mug of proper Earl Grey tea. ''That'' was a breakfast. If she never saw another Soylent bar again, it would be too soon.

Janice was home chowing down when the wall again lit with Informio’s visage. “Miss Howard, I believe I have located the solutions to your problems.”

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Do tell?”

“A cougar RIDE of the proper maturity and a good match probability has expressed an interest in meeting you. Since the Nextus shuttle is currently free, I took the liberty of booking her a ticket on the next trip.”

“Oh, great, and you even matched my gender. I forgot to mention that part.”

Informio smiled. “I assumed that if you ''were'' interested in crossriding, you would have said so explicitly.”

Janine nodded approvingly. “Good deal. And the Game expert?”

“I also booked a ticket for a Game expert who is willing to discuss non-cash payment terms. Her record seemed promising, she has a great deal of experience, and she was interested in looking around the settlement as well. I gather that there are certain advantages to being one of the first Gamesters in when a new playing field opens up.”

“Well, good. I’ll look forward to meeting them. I guess the cougar RIDE will be obvious, but how will I know the Game expert?”

“She will know you,” Informio said. “I provided her with your photograph.”

Janice nodded. “Okay. When does the flight come in?”

“It will arrive at the aerodrome within the hour.”

“Great! I’ll just finish up my nosh and head down there to meet it. Thanks!”

Informio nodded. “I hope my solutions will meet your needs. Please let me know if you have any further questions.”

“I’ll do that.” Informio vanished, and Janice quickly finished the rest of her breakfast. She dumped the dishes into the recycler before heading out the door at a jog. She could just beat the shuttle in if she hurried.

{{separator|k}}

The aerodrome had gotten a little less makeshift over the last few days, as several polities had focused their attention on bringing it up to spec for what a growing city needed. They almost seemed to be ''competing'' with each other on how well they could build out the runways, terminals, and other infrastructure that were their assigned pieces. The only thing really holding them back was that it was still unclear just how big the settlement was going to end up being, so they had to walk the line between being sufficient to meet the polity’s current needs but still having plenty of room to expand.

There was an actual real terminal to wait in now, with comfortable seating, snack fabbers, RIDEsafe power plugs, and hardlight terminals. It was funny—now that she knew what to look for, Janice was seeing RIDEsafe power plugs everywhere. But it made sense—they were basically the RIDE equivalent of drinking fountains, after all. And what with RIDEs being fully recognized as people now, public structures were finally becoming ''truly'' RIDE-friendly.

Janice took a seat facing the runway, crossed her legs, and waited for the Nextus shuttle to land. She’d made it just in time, and only had a couple of minutes to wait before the bright and shiny jet streaked out of the sky, slowing and coming in for a nicely vertical landing on a nearby pad. A short taxi to the gate later, a number of passengers debarked—humans, Integrates, RIDEs, even an EIDE or two. Janice leaned forward on her chair, watching for any sign of an unaccompanied cougar.

It wasn’t too long before one appeared. She strode confidently through the concourse, simulated muscles rippling under the tawny fur coat. As she got closer, Janice could see that she was a good bit larger than even Layla. ''Biiiiig kitty.'' And that actually suited Janice just fine. If she was going to get a cougar RIDE like those other pikers, she could at least have the ''biggest'' one.

Not that she was going to “get” or “have” this RIDE, she reminded herself. RIDEs as possessions were things of the past, and they were now free people in their own right, able to choose who they wanted to be with. And that ''also'' suited Janice just fine. Now that she’d discovered the joys of friendship, she wanted to be with a RIDE who ''did'' want to be with her.

Beyond that…she looked pretty much like every other cougar. Really, cougars were a little ''boring'' in appearance when you got down to it. They all looked mostly the same, except for size. They weren’t even flashy, like a spotty jaguar or leopard. They were just…sort of ''beige''.

But they were what her friends had—and besides, it was what was on the inside that counted.

The cougar had evidently spied Janice, as she adjusted her course to approach her. “You’d be Janice, right?” the cougar asked, in neutral tones. Her voice sounded like that of someone who brooked no nonsense, which Janice decided she liked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Janice said. “Who might you be?”

“I ''might'' be Mary, Queen of Scots, but I’m probably not,” the cougar said. “The name is Tawny.”

Janice noticed how careful she’d been to say “the name is” rather than “I’m”. ''Probably had her fill of jokers who thought they were being clever with gags like “You certainly are!” or “Isn’t every cougar?” I would, too. Would get on my last nerve bloody quick.'' Somehow, the thought made her warm further toward Tawny.

“Well! Jolly good to meet you, then, Tawny. I think we might just get along.”

“That’s what the quiz results say,” Tawny agreed. “I’m not sure how far I trust the damn thing, but I haven’t seen anything to make me disagree yet. You wanna go somewhere and we can discuss terms?”

“In a bit,” Janice said. She glanced past Tawny to the concourse, and frowned. The torrent of debarking passengers seemed to have dwindled to a trickle, but there was no sign anyone else seemed interested in coming their way.

“Still waiting on someone?” Tawny asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Janice said. “There was supposed to be a coach for the Nextus bureaucratic Game also on the flight. Wonder if they couldn’t make it.”

Tawny looked at her strangely. “Ah…the person who told you we’d ''both'' be on the flight…didn’t happen to be glowing and blue, did he? Name starts with ‘I,’ ends with ‘o’?”

Janice blinked at her. “Uh…yes?”

“Thought so.” Tawny chuckled. “That one likes to have his little jokes every so often. I’ll just bet that when he told you ‘we’ were coming, he phrased his answers ''very'' carefully.”

Janice peered at her. “What do you mean?”

“He didn’t want to give away that, through the magic of his algorithms, Mr. Incognito was able to kill two birds with one stone.” Tawny smirked. “I am, as it happens, ''both'' your prospective RIDE partner ''and'' your prospective Game coach. And Big Blue is probably watching us right now through one of the aerodrome security cameras, and sniggering at your reaction.”

Janice’s eyes widened. “Oh, really? ''You’re'' the Game expert? That'' is'' interesting.”

“It is an interesting tale, and I’ll tell it soon enough. And I was curious about this new city anyway. Thanks for not immediately assuming I’m kidding, by the way.”

“Look, I didn’t know a thing about RIDEs before Earth dropped me here. So no preconceptions.” Janice shrugged. “Still don’t know anything, really. But I’m doubly happy to meet you now. Informio, that scamp.”

The EI’s face appeared on the glass pane of the outer window next to them. “I will have you know I was'' not'' ‘sniggering.’ It’s unbecoming.” He smiled. “Apologies for the deception, Miss Howard. It seemed like a harmless enough prank.”

“If nothing else, it’ll teach me to listen a little more carefully, I guess.” She looked to Tawny. “If you want to follow me, I’ll show you where I live and we can talk about terms.”

“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way.”

{{separator|k}}

Janice walked back up the path toward the residential area with her house, occasionally glancing back over her shoulder to make sure the cougar was still following. Tawny was looking around, taking in her surroundings much as any tourist might.

“This the first time you’ve been out here?” Janice asked.

“I came to watch the ship land, but it’s the first time I’ve been back since,” Tawny said. “They’ve done a lot in just a week.”

“They have. But I thought that was normal for here?”

“I suppose it is. Still not something you get to see in effect that often. I doubt anyone’s built a city this big this fast in at least a hundred years. Even when Alpha Camp went legit they didn’t need nearly this much room.”

“As long as they keep waking people up to put in it, they’re going to have to sprint to keep up.”

At last they reached Janice’s block and walked down B Street to 227. “Well, here it is. Be it ever so humble, and all that.” She opened the oversized front door and waved Tawny through, noticing that the cougar’s girth made the door seem just about the right size.

Tawny looked around thoughtfully. “Well, this is a cozy little home, isn’t it?”

“Compared to what I had on Earth, this is a palatial mansion. I’ve been thinking about hiring help.”

“I think we’ll need more space if I’m going to stay. I can barely turn around in here. The door might be big enough for a medium frame like mine, but nothing else is. Informio?”

“Yes, Tawny?” the EI said.

“I need to request a home rebuild, pending Janice accepting the terms of our agreement. I can pay for the materials costs.”

“There is a constructor backlog, but I’m sure you’ll find a way around that,” Informio said. “Just let me know.”

“Thanks, Blue Eyes.”

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of the terms of our agreement, when do I get to find out what those are, exactly?”

Tawny chuckled. “Hold your horses, I’m coming to that. Let me lay the groundwork first, so’s you know where I’m coming from. Let me tell you a story.”

“Oh yay, story time,” Janice deadpanned.

“I came online back in 121 A.L. That would be 2471 A.D. as you Terrans reckon dates. What year were ''you'' born, by the way?”

“I didn’t realize RIDEs had been around that long. You’re about two years older than I am.”

“But you’ve always ''wanted'' an older sister, right?” Tawny smirked. “Anyway, make a long story short, I was a big bad battle cat, fought in the Nextus/Sturmhaven war, then got sold at auction ten years later for my trouble. Had a succession of frankly lousy human partners, until the last one got interested in the Game, which got ''me'' interested in it, which gave me a way to get ''free'' of human control once and for all. I’ll save the details for another time. But anyway, I’ve been free and playing the Game for over twenty years now. Well before humans finally got it through their numb skulls that we were actually people too.”

“Not that you’re bitter or anything,” Janice said. “Of course, I would be, too, some of the things I’ve read since I got here. The humans who made you-all sound like real prizes.”

“Actually, I’m mostly ''not'' bitter. Not anymore. A couple decades tends to put things in perspective. Besides, most of the really schmucky ones ain’t around anymore.” Tawny sneezed. “Irony of Emancipation is, the Game doesn’t seem like nearly as much fun anymore now that they recognize RIDEs as legit players. They put in some handicaps to level the playing field for those who can’t think so fast, and I don’t get the challenge of finding ways to pass myself off as human anymore.”

“So you’re branching out into other fields?” Janice said. “With the coaching gig?”

“Bingo. Thanks to the Emancipation settlements on top of what I’ve earned from Surrogacy over the years, I’m actually comfortably well off for money.” She snorted. “Among other things. They went and made me a Master Sergeant, retroactive-like, with a pension and everything. Even got some medals for times I got shot up in the line of duty. I have this urge to go and fab some boxes of Cracker Jacks to keep them in.

“''Anyway,'' my usual teaching deal is for something ''other than'' money. Instead…do you know what an indenturement contract is?”

“I can guess,” Janice said. “That’s when you temporarily sell yourself to someone else for a while, right?”

“Right, only ''my'' contracts work the other way around,” Tawny said. “My human student signs a one-month indenturement contract, and while I’m the boss of them I’m also ''teaching'' them the ins and outs of the Game.”

Janice frowned. “I’m not so sure I’m looking to become the slave to some RIDE, even just for a month.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Tawny said. “I’m not some young tom wanting to take my angry out on some hapless human. Like I said, I got over most of my angry years ago. It’s really more of a formality—just a way to make sure ''I’m'' not someone else’s slave, and that if there’s a disagreement over what we want to do while I’m the boss, I automatically win. Also, it’s a way of making sure anyone I teach is'' serious'' about wanting to learn, and isn’t some schmuck who’s going to waste both our time. It does include provisions for ending the contract early if it doesn’t work out, and third-party monitoring for abuses.”

“Uh-huh,” Janice said skeptically.

“''And,'' as a free sample of the kind of teaching I can offer, I’ll go over my contract with you, break it down to show you how it’s made, and help you change it to make it more fair to you. Then, after we’re done, you can have some time to decide whether you want to sign. Sound fair?”

“Let me get this straight. You’ll go over it with me, with no obligation on my part unless I agree to it afterward, right?”

“Right. And Informio can let you know if I try to pull a fast one. Or better yet, we can hire a third-party neutral Surrogate to proctor it; you pick them out and I’ll pay for the service.”

“You seem to like to toss your money around,” Janice said. “Offering to pay for the proctoring…or for ''rebuilding my house…''”

Tawny swished her tail. “Why not? It’s only money. It’s just a way to keep score, and not even the ''best'' way for purposes of the Game. And I figure if the contract works out, it’ll be worth it.”

“All right, fine. Hit me. Show me your contract. Informio, can you show me a list of people who’d be qualified to do the proctology thing Tawny mentioned?”

“There are over three thousand qualified individuals available at this moment,” Informio said.

“Just show me a big panel of thumbnails. Make them as small as you like, I don’t need to see their names.”

“As you wish.” A mosaic of tiny tiles appeared in the air in front of her.

Janice closed her eyes, waved her hand around, then stabbed her finger forward at the panel. “That one. Whoever that is, please explain to them what we need and hire them.”

“Very good,” Informio replied.

Janice nodded. “Now, about that contract…”

“I’m syncing it to that media tablet on your kitchen table.” Tawny glanced at the aforementioned implement, and the screen lit up. “Go ahead and read it over. I’ll wait.”

“Hello, my name is Anansi, and I am a licensed Nextus Surrogate,” a new female voice said. “I will be listening in, and will speak up if I hear a sour note.”

“Thanks.” Janice picked up the tablet, which now bore a document entitled “Tawny’s Contract of Training Indenture, v4.7.” She rolled her eyes expressively, but sat down and began to read.

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“…the hell is this? Party of the first part…part of the second part…ipso facto…” Janice looked up. “I dealt with Earth bureaucracy. This doesn’t make any damn sense.”

“Your first lesson is, Nextus contracts are ''usually'' written in plain, simple language, because we believe you shouldn’t have to go to university for eight years to be able to understand what you’re agreeing to—and besides, games are more fun when everyone’s on the same level playing field. If you ever run across a clause that seems to be written in gobbledygook, chances are it means someone’s trying to put one over on you. But there’s a service where you can request an officially valid simplification from a licensed Nextus ‘crat, at a standard hourly rate. Used to be it could cost you a few bucks, so you only wanted to do it for really important stuff—but now we’ve got EIs, RIDEs, and Integrates on the job, and fast-time subjective time rates are a lot more economical. Just tap the clause, choose ‘simplify’ from the context menu, and go through the billing terms.”

Janice looked up. “That right, Anansi?”

“I might have phrased it differently, but she is correct in her assertion,” the disembodied voice of the proctor said. “And the advice she offers is sound.”

Janice scowled, but tapped the buttons as requested. She blinked. “Wait…what? This says that any decision to renew or end the contract early is at ''your'' sole discretion. I’d be signing away my right to have any say in it.” She glared at Tawny. “Would that even hold up in court?”

“Depends on how libertarian the judge is,” Tawny said. “It’s kind of a crapshoot. But I don’t expect it ever to be litigated, really. It’s just in there as an example. The contract is open to negotiation—it can always be changed. There should be several replacement boilerplate clauses available to drop in. Pick one that looks more fair to you.”

“Hmph.” Janice frowned, but tapped the best replacement clause from the ones offered her. She kept reading.

The rest of the contract seemed more or less fair. It concerned her agreement to enter the employ of Tawny as a personal servant for a period of one Zharus month, with the agreement to be monitored by an external human-rights agency for abuses. In return, Tawny agreed to instruct her in the playing of the Zharus Game to the best of her abilities for the duration of that period. Thanks to the new clause Janice had swapped in, the contract could be extended by mutual agreement, or terminated early without penalty by either party if they felt the other wasn’t living up to their end of the bargain.

“Okay, I guess it looks mostly all right. Now what?”

“Well, you’re not quite done yet. Remember, these contracts are open to negotiation. If there’s anything missing you think should be there, add it.”

Janice blinked. “Like…what, exactly?”

Tawny gave her head an ear-flipping shake. “Like anything. You could even add a ‘rock star’ clause, like requiring me to present you with a bowl of brown M&Ms every morning. Of course, I’d have to'' agree'' to it, but nothing keeps you from trying.”

“Uh-huh,” Janice said.

“Also, there’s an index of sample boilerplate clauses you can bring up from the context menu. Use them as-is or modify to taste. I’d recommend adding clause IC-103, at least.”

Janice scowled again, but taped the tablet a few times to bring up the clause in question. “This says you can’t require me to do anything I find ‘morally or aesthetically abhorrent’?”

“I can’t order you to kill puppies or eat broccoli,” Tawny said. “A lot of people hold that to be implicit in modern indenture contracts, but I’m from the old school and think it’s a good idea to have it in print all the same.”

“I actually ''like'' broccoli, but point taken.” Janice taped the screen a few times to add the relevant clause, then looked through the rest of them. “There’s one here…limiting the amount of time per day we stay Fused? Is there something wrong with Fusing?”

“Meh,” Tawny said. “Jury’s kind of still out on that. Some people think it makes Integration more likely, but far as I know that’s never been proven. Biggest side effect I know of is that prolonged Fusing can make you a little fuzzy and more obviously kitty-faced, but that can be fixed with a little ‘sculpting. I won’t object if you want to add that clause.”

Janice considered, then tweaked it so she had the right to refuse extended Fusing but could choose to if she felt like it, then added it, too. “Now that you bring it up, it seems like half of these clauses are aimed at trying to wave the right magic wand to keep the Integration fairies away.”

Tawny snorted. “Yeah, good luck with ''that.'' I’ve got the anti-forced-Integration module that Dr. Patil came out with, but doesn’t seem like anything can keep it from happening naturally if it’s going to. People are just scared of change.”

Janice nodded. “Doesn’t seem like it’s necessarily a bad thing. My brother’s one, and she seems to be okay with it.”

“I see you’ve already picked up Zharus pronoun usage.”

Janice chuckled. “If the shoe fits…” She finished paging through the clauses. “Okay, I think I’m done. So now what?”

“Now…you can take some time to think it over.” Tawny chuckled. “Old geezer that I am, I’ve learned the value of patience. I’m not interested in a hard sell, or in pushing you to do something if you don’t want to.”

“Well, gee, thanks,” Janet said. “Why are you here, again?”

“Well, I ''am'' also here because you came up a 91% match in personality scores,” Tawny said. “That’s about as high as I’ve ever seen. Makes me curious, as I’ve never ''been'' all that compatible with any other human I encountered.”

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’d have thought as many people as are out there, you could have found one if you looked.”

“Never really had much reason to look. Not even sure I put much faith in the test; mainly use it as a way to work out how annoyed I’m likely to be with a prospective student so I know whether to charge more or avoid the commission altogether. Then Mr. Blue Sky there took a shot at those two birds with his one stone, so here I am.” Tawny flicked her ears. “I’m not opposed to staying on for a few days and Fusing with you with no obligations so’s you can see what it’s like, while you think it over.”

“Pardon me,” Anansi said, “but are you done with me for now? I am still billing you by the minute.”

“Well, one more question if you would, please,” Janice said. “Have you looked over the contract? You think the offer’s on the up-and-up?”

“Understand, I am not acquainted with Miss Tawny on a personal basis,” Anansi said carefully. “Though we may have crossed paths a few times over the course of the Game, I do not remember any such encounters immediately. So I cannot speak either for or against her personal integrity out of my own experiences. You may wish to ask her for a list of references and check with them. However, assuming she is acting in good faith, the contract terms ''are'' fair, leaving aside the one clause that was only included as a teaching tool. And such non-monetary contracts are not at all unusual where the Game is concerned.”

“Huh. Well, I guess that’ll be all, then,” Janice said. “Tawny, you can pay the woman.” She paused. “Or…female-seeming entity of whatever kind she might be. No offense meant.”

Anansi chuckled. “’Woman’ will do nicely, thank you. It was a pleasure helping you today; look me up should you have need of a Surrogate again.”

“Thanks, just might,” Janet said.

Tawny nodded. “Funds transferred. Thanks for the help.”

“Anansi has left the call,” Informio said.

“Thanks, Informio. Guess that’ll be all for now.”

“Certainly, Miss Howard. Call me if you need me again.”

“We’ll do that.”

They waited a moment, then Tawny let out a deep sigh. “Whew. Glad all that business crap is over for now. Maybe I should have waited until we got to know each other better.”

“Eh, just as well to get the cards on the table so there’s time to let it percolate a while. But if you don’t mind, can you tell me a little more about how this Game thing works? Nothing that would cost me anything, just…a general description of what it is you ''do''. None of the stuff I’ve found online has been very clear.”

“Well, doing actual footwork is a fundamental part of the Game. In Nextus each Agency has its own manuals, wherein are the secrets to cracking the bureaucracy on that particular day. Often you have to obtain certain materials in the process, which aren’t available online. So more footwork. It’s all accounted for with the ‘Bureau Time’ Nextus citizens get each day.” Tawny licked the back of a forepaw. “Trust me. It’s more interesting than it sounds. The Game is designed to sharpen problem-solving skills with innovative thinking.”

“Mmm. Sounds kind of like the hoops I had to jump through back on Earth to get permanent UBI, but there wasn’t a lot of ''fun'' built into ''that'' process. So, color me intrigued. I’m certainly leaning toward curious enough to bite on your offer…but it’s not something I want to make a snap decision about.”

Tawny nodded. “Oh, for sure. If you want, once we’ve Fused some, we could go to Nextus and I could demonstrate how it’s done. For example, I’m pretty sure I could jump most or all of the queue on the constructor backlog—at least, on the ones Nextus is kicking in.”

“Huh. Not that I’m complaining, mind, but it seems kind of like cheating somehow.”

“Eh, not really. Most of the queued-up tasks are low-priority stuff that doesn’t ''need'' to be done right away. It could easily fit in between higher priority jobs at need. But they schedule all that stuff up front so that they can reward Gamesters with priority placement.” She flicked an ear diffidently. “I’ll give you odds that constructors from Uplift and other such places have better logistical planning in their schedulers so there’s not so much need to ‘cheat’ on them to get anything done. But those of us from Nextus think that just takes all the ''fun'' out of the thing.”

Janice cocked her head. “So you intentionally ''build obstacles in''…because it’s fun to get around them?”

“Only for the unimportant stuff. Truly critical things like medical care and law enforcement get a bye, because you really don’t want to play games when people’s lives are at stake. And people who don’t want to bother with playing the Game themselves can pay Surrogates to do it for them. Which is a pretty handy way to turn a profit if you’re any good at the Game yourself.”

Janice nodded. “People keep telling me I’d make a good one, if I just knew how the game was played. It ain’t easy to get permanent UBI, let me tell you.”

Tawny chuckled. “You never know. We’ll just have to see how your training goes. Assuming you decide to go for it.”

Janice nodded. “Well, I guess those are all the questions I really have about the Game and all. So let me turn it around…I’m sure you’ve ''gotta'' have some questions for me. Being that I’m part of one of the newest hot human interest stories to hit the planet right now.” She paused. “Do they still call it ''human'' interest here? That seems kind of species-chauvinist.”

Tawny cocked her head. “Well…I have wondered. How much does the average person on Earth know about RIDEs?”

Janice snorted. “Not so bloody much. Mostly a bunch of crazy rumors, half of which disagree with one another. ‘Some kind of furry sex-change machines’ just about sums it up. At least, that was as much as ''I'' knew. Though I’ll grant I wasn’t really fussed to learn more, after my brother had been crazy about them and then he up and left for Zharus and never came back.”

Tawny smirked. “And what do you think of us now?”

“Now? Well…I think I can see why Earth is so interested in the tech. I don’t impress easily, but I’m pretty amazed by what I’ve seen so far. You’re real live thinky machines, the first ones anyone’s ever come up with. Next to that, all the other stuff is just window dressing. But I guess I can see why people make fun. Means they don’t have to deal with someone else having something they don’t.”

“What’s your guess as to why Earth suddenly dumped you off here?”

“Me personally? Don’t have to guess. I’m a bum. Permanent UBI. Drain on state resources. Probably cost less for them to ship me here than to keep feeding me for another year. But your fabber tech is so much better, it’s pretty much a non-issue here.” She shrugged. “Us as a whole, dunno. Don’t think I have any special insight into the matter that makes me more of an expert than all the pundits. Think I agree with the pundits I’ve read who say Earth’s getting ready to make a move on you, and wanted to rub your nose in the fact they’re catching up. Apart from that, dunno. Not really my beeswax.”

“I noticed you’ve already Fused with one of us. How did that go?”

“Oh yeah, with Layla, the cougar who ended up partnering my pal Larry-Laura. So she could enjoy some BBQ, since Larry hadn’t made up his mind to be Laura yet.” Janice shrugged again. “Wasn’t bad. Not really a real ''partnership,'' exactly. She wasn’t the sort of person I’d want to share brainspace with, so we kept it purely physical, with the meat-eating. But I liked the tags.”

“I see,” Tawny said. “And if you were to Fuse with me…?”

Janice cocked her head. “Huh. Dunno. You, I think, I could maybe get along with. If the sharing went both ways, might be interesting to see what makes ''you'' tick. So I guess if you show me yours, I’ll show you mine? I think I could deal with that.”

“Shall we find out?”

“Huh, I dunno.” Janice considered. “You ''sure'' this isn’t all part of some plot to kidnap me and steal me away to Alpha Camp? I read about that place. Seems to be popular among RIDEs who’ve had crummy luck with humans.”

Tawny laughed. “This place is a dozen times more interesting than Alpha Camp right now. I don’t think you have to worry about being stolen away.”

“All right, I’ll bite. Why not? Only live once, don’t you?”

“Then let’s go outside. Doing it in here would be like trying to change clothes in a porta-potty.”

“Fair enough.” Janice went and opened the door, stood aside as Tawny walked through it, then followed her outside.

Tawny turned to face her. “So, you ready?”

Janice held out her arms. “Hit me.”

“You got it.” The tawny furry hardlight winked out, revealing a beige-painted metal cat equipped with panniers of various sizes bolted along her body, before she split open and surged forward. For a moment, everything went dark, then Janice opened her eyes to find herself and a more naturally-sized mountain lion standing on the edge of a mesa. A few yards away, the mesa ended in a cliff, sloping down hundreds of feet to the desert below. Peering down, Janice could see the dust cloud of a stagecoach making its way across the dry earth, and farther off in the distance a steam train belched great clouds of black smoke as it ran along a track.

“As the saying goes, welcome to my world,” Tawny said.

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Well, this is different. Layla’s VR was a forest.”

“Nothing odd about that. Cougars are found all over South America, and all over North America up to some ways into Canada. Or at least, we were back in the day; don’t know about how things are now,” Tawny said. “So you’ll see us in a variety of habitats. I was First Booted here, in a sim based on the Arizona desert. I guess they thought it was supposed to give me more of an affinity for the Dry Ocean. So I’m a puma from Yuma.”

“Cute. So what now?”

“Well, in a moment we’ll drop back into the Real. But I thought I’d see if you felt like trading memories first. I’ll keep away from anything too personal, but I’m curious what life was like on Earth.”

Janice sniffed. “You’ll probably get the far better end of the deal. ''My'' life was boring. Yours sounds at least a little interesting.”

“I think we can agree our lives are both so different from each other’s that we’ll ''each'' find something worthwhile in the other’s.”

Janice shrugged. “All right, so how do we do this?”

“Like this—”

Janice was awash in a flood of memories not her own. It took a moment to get a grip on how to navigate them, but after a moment she had it. She remembered being “born” a fully-grown cougar on this very same desert mesa, surrounded by a number of other animals and people, including a kindly-faced South Asian Indian woman. She remembered being on the battlefield, hauling supplies amid bursting shells and enemy pulse fire, including one time she took a bad hit that knocked her completely offline. (The memories quickly jumped past that one.)

Then there was the auction block and civilian life. The memories flipped through a succession of disinterested owners, a couple of them originally male, who saw her as a cheap survival suit and equipment rig for getting in on the new fad of qubitite prospecting and mining. Then there was the one who thought he (and subsequently she) could make use of Tawny’s memory banks and rapid processing power to get ahead in the Nextus bureaucratic Game—but who still saw Tawny as a mouthy piece of equipment rather than a person. But Janice also remembered Tawny’s own awakening interest in the Game, and her realization that she could also play it for ''herself''. All she needed was a fake human identity, and those were easy to come by.

Using her newfound expertise in the Game, and her inside access to her owner’s personal information, it wasn’t hard at all for Tawny to maneuver her owner into bankruptcy, and have her false identity buy herself at a bargain price. Then she was free to play the Game. Most of the details of the play were blurred out (no surprise there; Tawny wouldn’t undercut her own teaching contract), but she got the idea that it was complex, challenging, but also a lot of fun for a properly disciplined mind.

At last the rush of memories faded, and Janice once more opened her eyes to see herself standing in the real world again. Just as the last time she’d Fused, she was standing right where she had been, only a few feet taller.

Janice looked down at herself, comparing the view to what she remembered from the last time. “Well, you’re ''definitely ''bigger than Layla.”

“Most cougars these days are ‘Light’ frames. I’m a Medium. Technically, a Logistics armor. During the War I worked with the bigger African lions, taking reloads to the heavy artillery moose.”

“Isn’t that the wrong way round from how it’s supposed to work in nature? I thought it was the mooses who were supposed to feed ''you''.”

Tawny chuckled. “Oh, they did, ''virtually,'' in Nature Range. Turnabout was fair play, after all.” She paused. “No offense, Janice, but you’re a little underfed. I guess they don’t feed you well on Earth, do they?”

“Not when you’re on UBI. The idea is you get enough to survive on…barely. I guess you’d have to fatten me up before hunting ''me'' in Nature Range.”

“Fatten you up nothing! I’m going to teach you how to hunt on four paws. For free, even,” Tawny declared. “Assuming the partnership works out, anyway.”

“I dunno if I’m ready for that, but I guess I could work up to it. Not that ''virtual'' hunting will help me much in real life.”

“I’ll put you on a high-protein, high-calorie diet for that,” Tawny said. “It’ll be easy enough when I’m the boss of you.” Janice saw an emoticon of a winking puma face for a moment.

“What happened to ‘no eating broccoli?’”

“Oh, I’ll just make sure to stick to foods you actually ''like.'' Some of the British cuisine you remembered seemed pretty interesting…though not those food bars. Bleah. Even the survival rations from my Army days tasted better than that.”

Janice wrinkled her—''their''—nose. “Believe me, I agree with you there. But I was a beggar. I couldn’t be a chooser.”

“Well, ''that’s'' over now.”

“Maybe not entirely.” Janice chuckled. “If I sign your contract, then ''you’ll'' be my chooser for the next month.”

“I’ll make sure to choose wisely.”

“Hey, Informio, could you see if Laura and Layla are free right now?” Janice asked. “Tell ‘em I’ve got a new friend I want them to meet.”

“They are on their way,” Informio advised her.

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It wasn’t long before the skimmer bike pulled up in front of Laura’s house, converting to Walker mode as Laura climbed off. They peered curiously at the cougar Fuser in front of Janice’s home. Laura waved. “Janice? And friend?”

“That’s us!” Janice said, waving. “This is my new friend, Tawny. We’re not necessarily partnered up yet; this is something on the order of a trial run.”

“Hello. I saw you two in Janice’s memories. Pleased to meet you. Janice, mind if we de-Fuse? I need to be able to rub noses properly.”

“Oh, sure,” Janice said. “Go for it.”

“Thanks.” The hardlight fur winked out and Tawny peeled away, reforming into her feline shape and re-rezzing the fur.

As Tawny padded forward, Laura raised an eyebrow, glancing to Janice. “Speaking of noses…now I feel like the odd girl out.”

“What?” Janice reached up and felt of her nose. “Oh…now ''I’ve'' got a kitty nose?”

After rubbing noses with Layla, Tawny glanced over her shoulder, and chuckled. “Yeah, you do. Just a little quirk of my model type. Being one of the first as I was, the tags were still a work in progress at the time.”

“Oh Mama Patil!” Layla exclaimed. “You’re a double-zero one! One of the first cougars! Wow. Just…double wow. Uh…I just want to say…thank you for your service.”

“I ''knew'' ‘Mama Patil,’ you know,” Tawny said. “She was there at my First Boot. Still weirds me out a little how later generations venerate her so much. She’s just…''Mom'' to me.” She paused. “And…you’re welcome, I guess. Not like I had any choice in the matter.”

“Hey, I was booted as a rental RIDE from the get-go,” Layla said. “Generic civvie frame with no-name parts and barely adequate hardlight that was an extra renters had to pay for—and not all of them did. Fetters up the wazoo.”

“To make a long story short, your humans ''really'' just sucked,” Janice said.

“Could I…if you don’t mind…maybe see your skimmer mode?” Layla asked. “Curious what that looks like.”

“Don’t mind at all,” Tawny said. “Rather proud of it, in fact. Put a good chunk of the Emancipation settlement into bringing it back as close to original spec as I could—though with better batts, hardlight, and lifters, of course. A whole new shell would probably have been cheaper, but I like being a collector’s item.” Her hardlight winked out, and the cougar robot unfolded and reconfigured into a cougar-accented military-styled skimmer bike, the bolt-on panniers now seeming even bigger compared to Walker form.

“Cassie’s just gonna ''squeak'' when she meets you,” Layla said.

Tawny converted back to her Walker form. “I’m looking forward to meeting her, too. Been a while since I’ve met a newbooted.”

“Why don’t you give them a call?” Laura suggested. “Their shuttle home from Camelot should be back soon.”

“Meh, dunno,” Janice said. “Calling them won’t make the shuttle get here any faster. And they’re coming back here anyway. Might as well surprise ‘em.”

“’Surprise’ is going to be the word,” Layla said. “I hope you stay around. I’ve never met anyone of your generation before. I’ve got so many questions about what your early life was like, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

“I’ll be around for a few days, at least. And who knows? We seem to be hitting it off okay so far.”

“Speak of the devil,” Layla said. “Cassie just pinged me, they’re landing at the aerodrome now.”

“Well, good. Won’t be too long, then.” Janice grinned. “Tell you what, why don’t you just have ‘em knock me up when they get here? We’ll wait inside.”

“Uh…” Laura said. “…okay, no, I won’t make the obvious joke. You know that idiom means something entirely different outside of the UK, right?”

Janice blinked. “What? …oh.” She rolled her eyes. “You bloody ''know'' what I mean. We’ll just be in my house. See ya in a little.” She held the door open for Tawny, then followed her in.”

They didn’t have long to wait. “Wait until you girls see what I bought,” Sonja messaged with a wry smiley emote, a few minutes later. Then there was a knock on the door.

Janice chuckled. “I’ve got a surprise to show you lot, too.” She reached up to scratch the bridge of her nose so that her hand concealed it as she opened the door.

On the other side was Sonja, wearing an off-the-shoulder peasant dress—like one of the medieval serving wenches one might find in one of the many works of fiction about the period.

Janice snorted. “And what are ''you'' supposed to be, the St. Pauli Catgirl?”

Sonja actually chuckled. “All right, that ''was'' pretty good. Is something wrong with your nose?”

“Well, I was just gonna say it’s a good thing that, unlike those peasants, you actually ''bathe.'' ‘cuz, y’know, I could ''really'' tell if you didn’t now.” Janice lowered her hand.

Sonja raised an eyebrow at Janice’s new nose. “Well, if I’m the St. Pauli Catgirl, I guess that makes you a copycat.”

Tawny came up beside Janice in the doorway. “Except that ''my'' generation is the one who ''originated'' the nose tag. So who’s the copycat now?”

Sonja blinked. “Uh…hi?”

Janice grinned. “Sonja, Cassie, this is my new friend and ''maybe'' partner and coach, Tawny. Tawny, Sonja, Cassie.”

Cassie’s eyes went wide, she lowered herself into a pre-pounce crouch, but stopped before the buttwiggle. “Awww. There’s not enough space to pounce-snuggle. Hello, Tawny! I’m, um, new. To ''everything''.”

“So was I, once,” Tawny said. “Unlike these newfangled creche-born we don’t get to ‘grow up’. We’re booted that way. It’s a little rough, but you’ll get the hang of it, Cassie.” She motioned with her forepaw. “C’mere, kitten.”

There was barely enough space for the two of them in the middle of the living room. Tawny laid down, then Cassie—the smallest of the three RIDEs—laid down in front of her. The elder RIDE then started to groom Cassie, exactly as if she was a kitten.

Predictably, Cassie started to purr.

“I actually have three kittens,” Tawny said. “Long story, but I had them in the original Q mainframe. Their dad died in the War, but we finally got our memories back that we were family a few years ago. We keep in touch.”

“Golly!” Cassie said.

Sonja peered at Janice. “I thought you weren’t interested in RIDEs.”

“Never said that. Just thought it might be hard to find one who was interested in ''me''.” Janice chuckled. “It ''would'' be one of the first double-digits ever made. I guess I just have an old-and-crotchety personality type.”

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you, too,” Sonja said to Tawny. “Not to mention honored.”

“I really wish people wouldn’t keep saying that,” Tawny said. “I’m just another RIDE, really.”

“Well, I won’t argue with you about that,” Sonja said. “But you’re an eyewitness to the early days of RIDEs, and I’d love to hear more about those. Parts that you’re okay with talking about, anyway.”

“If I do end up sticking around, check me in a few days. Maybe I’d be up for that.”

“So this is just a trial match-up, then?”

“Something like that,” Tawny said. “I may end up coaching Janice there in the finer points of Nextus’s Game. I’ve made an offer, and she’s thinking about it. No rush on that—this place is interesting enough I wanted an excuse to stick around for a few days. At my age, anything really new like this is pretty rare.”

“You’re only two years older than I am, you know,” Janice pointed out.

“Yeah, but you don’t wanna know what that is in cat years.” Tawny stretched. “So how’s bout you all show me around the place? The less time I have to spend in one of these little shoebox houses, the happier I’ll be.”

“There’s not all that much to see, but sure, we can show you what there is of it,” Janice said. “You’ll probably be interested in the admin complex, it’s one of the only pieces left of the original ship.”

“Great, lead me to it.”

They all headed back outside, and Janice paused to get her bearings. “Every direction looks the same in this darned place. Okay, it’s ''that'' way. C’mon.”

“They are, eventually, going to have enough buildings you can tell apart so you can figure out where you’re going, right?” Tawny wondered.

Janice shrugged. “I dunno, they don’t tell ''me'' anything.” She led the way up between the rows of identical houses. “I dunno if building so many houses ''exactly the same'' was the best idea overall, but I guess it was meant to make setting up a fresh new colony easier. Get people housed ASAP so they can do what needs to be done from there. Which means throw simple houses out as fast as they could, bang bang bang.”

“Makes sense,” Sonja said. “I gather this was at least part tech demo, so they were showing what they ''could'' do, whether or not it was something they ''should'' do. Looks like there’s only three types. Huts like ours, single-family homes, and apartment buildings.”

“I have a feeling that most of what the Earth constructors do will get recycled, eventually,” Laura said. “Into something prettier, if for no other reason.”

“On a ''new'' planet, with no colonies already, this would be great,” Janice said. “All you want then is something to keep the rain off ‘til you’re on both feet. But there are feet to spare, here.”

“And paws!” Cassie put in.

A few blocks up the way, there was an open space where the ship had set down and extracted its own buildings. The main ones still standing were the administration center and the awakening complex, which was still having cargo pods fed into it like bullets into an autoloading gun. A couple of the cargo storage buildings had already emptied out and been disassembled, but there were still plenty remaining.

The line of freshly defrosted was as long as ever, but the path from the lounge to the Nextus administration people was now nicely paved, with benches and chairs to sit on. A few of the line-standers were carrying small camp stools, undoubtedly provided by the fabbers just as they had replaced missing clothes.

“Well, I don’t see any familiar faces,” Laura said, looking at the bewildered crowd.

“The names you asked me to watch for aren’t on schedule for another three weeks,” Layla said.

“Right, right. But there’s always a chance.”

“We can look in at the defrosting operation a little later if you like,” Sonja said. “They’re generally okay with it as long as you stick around to help welcome the current batch of newbies. They do like to have real people around, so it’s not all shrinks and counselors.”

“Eh…maybe I would like to see that. I’ll think about it.”

The command center was now embedded in an annex of new construction, providing a sort of anteroom containing terminals that accessed the ship’s passenger database and other public-access files. In fact, not much that had come on the ship ''was'' classified. It had been Earth’s intention to make it known publicly, and Zharus’s governments certainly weren’t going to keep their people from knowing just what kind of threat they were up against.

The command center itself was actually a fairly small piece of ship, considering. It was just large enough to house the half-dozen or so command consoles that oversaw the construction, smelting, and fabbing facilities that the ship had unpacked. At the moment, they were staffed by technicians provided by the Planetary Assembly committee who were overseeing things until the local government was on the ball enough to take over. (Or, indeed, until such a government existed ''at all.'') The airlock bulkheads had been removed and replaced with glass doors, with an access lock to keep unauthorized people from coming in and messing with things.

The anteroom had been built large enough that there was ample room for several people and RIDEs, even with several people there already using the consoles. Tawny drifted over to peer through the door. “So that’s the actual bridge of the colony ship, huh?”

“Well, to call it a ‘bridge’ is a bit of a misnomer, because it was never actually used to fly the ship,” Sonja said. “As I understand it, it was just there for the shipyard technicians to use in on-board programming, and for us to use to control everything it built once it landed.”

“But it was the ship’s command center, so in that sense, yes,” Laura added.

“And this is where you can check the list of passengers and see if there’s anyone you know on board,” Tawny said. “If you don’t have RIDEs like us to do it for you.”

“And when they’re due to wake up, yeah,” Janice said. “But like Layla said, nobody interesting to us is waking up for a few weeks yet. That we know of.”

“Huh. Okay, so you were talking about the defrosting facility next?”

“Sure, if you wanna.” Janice shrugged. “Not thrilled by the prospect of being smarmed at again by that bitch of an Adjutant Donna the Ho, but I guess you might find the whole thing interesting.”

Sonja wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, yeah. What a thing to wake up to. I’m surprised they’re still letting that tape play out to the newly awakened.”

“It does, at least, give them the capsule summary of why they’re here, and gives them someone to vent their mad on who is safely light years away,” Laura suggested. “If they want to ‘shoot the messenger,’ they’ll need an awfully long gun.”

“Well, let’s go,” Layla said. “I haven’t seen that recording yet either, come to think of it.”

“Trust me,” Janice said. “You ain’t missing much.”

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“…please move through the door at my left to the revival lounge. You should find seating and refreshments there—and perhaps some of your new neighbors to welcome you to your new home.

“We of the United Terran Government wish you only the best in your new lives.”

“Huh.” Tawny sneezed. “There’s one I wouldn’t mind sharpening my claws on, if I ever met her.”

“Tell me about it,” Janice said. “Ugh, that woman.” They were standing in a cordoned-off corner of the room that had been set up for observers to come and gawk without getting in the way of the medtechs who were overseeing the awakenings.

At the moment, those medtechs were helping people out of their pods, and getting them oriented toward the exit. They’d done this enough by now that they’d gotten it down to a routine.

“We probably don’t know any of these folks, but if you want we can move on to the lounge and say hi,” Laura said. “Really, we probably should be down here more often doing that, as a pay-it-forward kind of thing. Those of us who’re good with other people, anyway…” She glanced meaningfully at Janice.

“Meh,” Janice said. “I dunno. I’ve never exactly been the sort to offer a friendly shoulder to cry on. Maybe I’ll just hang back and watch the rest of you do it.”

Sonja nodded. “Fair enough. C’mon, let’s go meet the newest newbies.”

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“And that’s…all there really is to do around here, I guess,” Janice said. “Until they get around to building more stuff.”

“Well, apart from all the booths and stands and things that various polities, businesses, and organizations have set up to promote themselves or their wares,” Sonja noted.

“I guess ''everybody'' wants to be here,” Tawny mused.

“We expect things to get a little more interesting as time goes by and people settle in,” Layla said. “Some people are already drawing up plans to replace the houses in less settled areas with rows of shops for business districts.”

“Before too long, we’ll be a real working polity with all the amenities,” Sonja said.

“So if you wanna look around, we can do that for a while, sure,” Janice said. “But I’m looking forward to ''you'' showing ''me'' around Nextus, while you show me a little more about what this Game thing is and how it works. Might just help me to make up my mind…”

Tawny nodded. “I sort of figured you might want to see that first. Sure, we can hop the shuttle to Nextus tomorrow and I’ll show you how things go there. Perhaps we can look into getting some constructor time scheduled, on a contingency basis.”

Sonja raised an eyebrow. “Constructor time?”

“Oh, yeah…see, my place is too small for the likes of her, so she was looking into maybe having it rebuilt bigger if I sign on with her.”

“A larger place ''would'' be nice,” Layla mused.

“I wouldn’t mind a little more space either!” Cassie said.

“How about if we built a single house big enough for all six of us?” Tawny suggested. “Assuming Janice wouldn’t mind…”

Janice blinked. “Uh…I dunno. I was just getting used to the idea of having, y’know, ''friendly neighbors''. Housemates seems like a big step. We’ve barely known each other for a Zharus week.”

“I don’t mind rooming with Laura and Layla,” Sonja said.

“Me either,” Cassie added.

“Well, then we’ll get a design that has room for an addition if you decide to change your mind,” Layla said.

Janice blinked. “But…hey, wait a tic here. ''I’m'' the one who was getting the bigger house in the first place.”

“True, but you just reminded us just how easy it is to get a new one made here,” Sonja said. “I guess we were still thinking of how much it would cost back on Earth. But Laura has a job, and I’ve still got some cash from selling my implant, so we could make one just for us while you make one for the two of you.”

“Meh,” Janice said. “All right, ''fine,'' let’s just go with one big one, then. If I don’t like it, I can always move out. Like you say, construction is cheap around here.”

“Yay!” Cassie said.

“Of course, this assumes we ''do'' end up partnering up,” Tawny said. “But we can certainly schedule the constructors and cancel them if it doesn’t work out. That would make a most excellent way to demonstrate for you just what the Game can do.”

“Well, then I’ll be all ears.” Janice reached up and felt of one of her cougar ears. “So to speak.”

Tawny nodded. “Great, then that’s settled. Now, let’s go see who-all else has shown up.”

“I wanna see the booth where I came from!” Cassie said.

“We’ve already been back there three times,” Sonja reminded her.

“Yeah, I know, but I never get tired of visiting. All those RIDEs who are waiting for a new friend to come wake them up…maybe we’ll get to see it happen again!”

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“Wake up, Miss Howard.”

Janice started awake. “Ugh…” she muttered. For a moment, she had a hard time remembering where and when she was, or why someone was telling her to wake up. Then it gradually came back to her. Today was the Big Day, and she’d asked Informio to wake her promptly at 8 a.m. She literally couldn’t remember the last time she’d set an alarm to wake her at a particular time. Logically, it must have been when she’d had to be certain places at certain times to move up on the rolls for permanent UBI, back on Earth, but the specifics slipped her mind. She supposed it was because she’d tried her best to forget all the tedium inherent in worming her way through the bureaucracy, and had forgotten bunches of other things along with it.

It was ironic that she was going to be observing someone doing exactly that thing today, as she decided if it was something she wanted to learn to do for herself. But a new world called for new habits—or at least a return to old ones. But at least this time she didn’t have to make do with a thin gruel of synthetic nutrients to fuel her. She turned to the fabber. “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” She fetched the teacup, inhaled the fragrance, and already felt herself starting to wake up.

“Tawny has asked me to let you know she’s waiting outside,” Informio told her. “She says that the next sub to Nextus leaves in an hour, so there’s just enough time for you to breakfast first.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in five minutes or so.”

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Not too much later, Janice sat in the cafeteria stuffing her face while Tawny waited. Janice had offered to Fuse for breakfast, but Tawny declined, saying Janice would be able to eat faster without and that way they’d have more time to catch the shuttle. So Janice nodded and happily dug in.

She still couldn’t believe how easy to get real food was here. Even now she was having a hard time not just giving in and gorging until she couldn’t move. She imagined she was going to gain weight—that she supposed Tawny would be able to get rid of for her, or she could have it done at a ‘sculpt clinic if they didn’t stay together. In any case, it was tempting just to settle down and live it up for a while—but she could already feel the edges of boredom starting to set in. So just as well to find a new challenge to work on now, while stuff was still shiny and new.

Finally, Janice pushed back her last plate. “All right. Let’s go, then.”

Tawny snorted. “Thought you’d never finish. You eat like someone’s about to yank the plate away.”

Janice shrugged. “If you’d spent the last umpteen years living on bread and water, you’d want to pig out, too.”

“I guess. Well, come on.”

Once they got outside the tent, Tawny converted to her skimmer form, and Janice climbed aboard. They headed for the spaceport, flying along one of the marked-off low aerial traffic lanes. Janice looked around as they flew. “You know, I could get used to this.”

“So you’ve said. And I won’t mind playing taxi now and again,” Tawny said. “But remember, while I’m teaching you, ''you’ll'' be at ''my'' beck and call.”

“So ''you’ve'' said. Well, I’m not too bothered.” Janice waved a hand. “After all, either one of us can terminate the contract at any time.”

Tawny chuckled. “I’m ''tempted'' to come out with something like ‘so you ''think.''’ Just to screw with your head. But that would be casting doubt on my own teaching, which wouldn’t really help to sell it. So, no, you’re right. I’ll just have to be sure to provide enough value for you to want to put up with me.”

Janice grinned. “Starting with what you’re gonna show me today. No selective editing like you did with your memories?”

“Oh, no, I’ll ''show'' you everything I do, this go-round,” Tawny said. “I just won’t ''explain'' it. ''That'' part has to wait on accepting the deal.”

“And what if I ''guess'' something important?”

“That’s just the chance I have to take.”

They arrived at the aerodrome well ahead of schedule for the Nextus flight. They set down at the end of the line, and Janice dismounted while Janice converted to her Walker form. It wasn’t long before they boarded, and the sub launched a few minutes later. Janice watched the settlement recede through the video plate on the seat in front of her. Nextus was only a few minutes away.

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The demonstration began shortly after they touched down. As they entered the boarding gate from the Nextus Aerodrome, Tawny asked to Fuse up, and Janice agreed. Then she took a media tablet from one of her panniers, which was now a pouch on her belt. “They use the Game for ''everything'' here. Including setting up appointments at the offices where we have to go to play the ''rest'' of the Game. So we need to get right on it.” Tawny tapped the screen with a clawtip, paging through sections of text too fast for Janice to read. She tapped one link, then another, then another, jumping to new sections each time.

“What’re you doing?”

“Playing the Game,” Tawny replied with a smirk. “I may be limited to the speed at which I can read from this tablet, but luckily for me I can read just as fast as it can display.”

“Uh, great, but…do ''I'' get to see what you’re doing?”

“You’re seeing it now, aren’t you? Never said I’d do it slow enough for you to understand today—that’ll come iffenwhen you agree to the terms. Today’s about showing you ''results,'' not the process.”

“All right, fine, but can you at least tell me ''what'' the process is, even if you leave out the how?”

Tawny tilted their head. “Okay, fair enough. The way it works is, their hypertext Book of the Rules has certain secret shortcuts embedded in it. Exactly how to ''find'' them is something I’ll show you iffenwhen, but for now it’s enough that you know they exist. And using them can give you a jump on things.”

“Hm,” Janice said. “I thought that this involved actually understanding how to find loopholes in rules, like I did in the bureaucracy back on Earth.”

“That ''is'' part of it. But part of it is also an Easter Egg hunt. I guess the idea is to keep your mind sharp in general.” The pages of text flickered and linked to an appointment calendar. “Oh good, there’s an opening in about 45 minutes. We should be able to just about make that. We just need to stop by a stationery store.”

Janice blinked. “Wait, what? Stationery? Isn’t everything electronic?”

Tawny smirked. “Yes. Including the stationery. And we have to pick up some supplies for filling out forms properly at the appointment. Styluses that write in the right ‘colors’ of e-ink and such. My reading told me just which ones, so we’ll be set there.”

“Well, ''that’s'' good.”

“De-Fusing to skimmer mode as soon as we get out of the concourse; be ready.” As they left the building, Tawny reconfigured to her scooter bike form under Janice, and waited for her to get a good grip on the handlebars before pulling out.

Once they left the aerodrome grounds, the streets were arranged in an orderly grid, perfectly square right down to the degree. The architecture was almost as blocky, with bare concrete buildings in a style ''almost'' as stolid and boring as new construction back on Earth.

“Don’t go by outside appearances here,” Tawny said. “Nextus citizens save all their fancy stuff for the inside. That goes for architecture and the people alike.”

“Really? On Earth the insides are usually ''worse'' than the outsides,” Janice said, sniffing.

“But have you seen some of the new houses that the Nextus fabbers are turning out back at the new settlement?” Tawny said. “They’re built on similar principles. And a lot nicer on the inside than your shoebox. As you’ll come to find out for yourself after we’re done here today.”

They pulled into a commercial district, and came to a stop in front of a glass-fronted shop entitled West Closson Writers’ Emporium. “Well, here we are, then.” Tawny waited for Janice to dismount, then changed back over to Walker form. “I’ll show you what to buy.”

There was a peculiar fragrance to the shop Janice realized was a potpourri of various herbs. But nothing she could ''quite'' put her finger on. There were displays of actual dumb paper and ink pens—marked as stationery gift sets. In another part of the shop were the electronically-enabled pens and e-paper, where most of the customers were clustered. Bins of pens, stamps, and various other supplies were arranged in rows on shelves, which were themselves arranged in orderly rows.

“We need a Pearson Writing Implements Model E pen, and one of those emoji sealing stamps. The one with the house with a tree on it.”

Janice stared. “We need…an emoji stamp?”

“Because we’re getting a house built. Make sure you get the one with the tree—I guess because it’s going to be a fancier house.”

Janice rolled her eyes, but dutifully located the bin marked with a  symbol, and picked up a stamp out of it. Then she grabbed the aforementioned brand of pen.

“I don’t get it. With all this stuff here, why don’t you just buy some of everything and keep it on hand to avoid all this running around?”

Tawny chuckled. “Oh, they thought of that. For one thing, not ''everything'' is sold in any one particular shop—which reminds me, we’ll have to hit another shop a few blocks away for the right color of e-ink before we head to the appointment. For another, all the stuff is date coded, it expires pretty quickly, and they swap the requirements around week to week. There ''are'' loopholes and workarounds, but none of them are quite ''that'' simple.”

Janice rolled her eyes. “Almost as sadistic as the jerks back on Earth. Right bastards they were.”

“Oh, they don’t do it out of sadism here. More because most of the people here don’t ''want'' stuff made too easy for them either. When your society is pretty much post-scarcity, finding fun ways to spend your time becomes a lot more important.”

“I guess I can see that.” Janice shrugged. “Well, let’s get this stuff bought and move on, then. If we’ve still got one more store to hit before that appointment.”

Tawny nodded. “Go ahead, then. You may even want to set up an account here, if you’re going to be playing the Game regular. Or you can wait ‘til you’re sure, if you like.”

“Right…so I’m paying for this?”

“Well, it is for ''your'' house. And people on Basic get a big discount. It’s one of the perks of being on Basic—they make it cheaper for you to do what’s necessary to get you off it.”

“Ooh, rah. All right, fine. Guess I should get used to doing these things for meself anyway.” She approached the counter with her purchases. To her surprise, the process was remarkably simple. The comm she’d been issued on arriving also served as a sort of digital wallet, and it just took a swipe for its near-field system to hook up and run the charge across.

Tawny nodded as she returned with the bag of her purchases. “Well done. Now on to the next shop.”

“All right. And you’re going to explain to me exactly how one can buy a ''color'' of ''e-ink'', right?”

“It’s pretty simple, really. You just go to the store and tell them which one you want.”

“That’s ''not'' what I bloody meant and you know it.”

Tawny chuckled. “Come on. I’ll explain on the way.”

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The second store stop went about as quickly as the first. Janice wasn’t sure she bought Tawny’s explanation that the “color” actually was just shorthand for a particular encryption key signifying they could use that color on the digital form, but she supposed it made about as much sense as anything in this crazy place. Anyway, if she was going to turn this into how she made a living, she supposed she just ought to get used to it. At least there actually seemed to be some rhyme and reason behind this scheme beyond just making things harder out of sheer bloody spite. That put it light-years ahead of Earth’s, as far as she was concerned—and she ''had'' mastered Earth’s.

After the store, it was time to go down to the Construction Fabrication Administration office. As Tawny explained it, the construction administration was firmly a second-tier establishment, located in the first ring out from the central government annex—it wasn’t directly involved with running the polity, but it was important to making sure that people and businesses had places to live and work.

“So how is it we had to come all the way up here to get this done, instead of doing something about it back home?”

“Your new settlement doesn’t quite have an actual government to be in charge of things just yet,” Tawny explained. “So a lot of administration is being done from in here. Not everyone ''has'' to come in to get stuff done, of course—they can always hire remote surrogates, and for something like this they’d probably come pretty cheap. Possibly even paid for by Basic, for doing something like adjusting housing. But this will be a great learning experience for you.”

“Yeah, if you’ll actually ''teach'' me anything before I sign that contract.”

“Hey, I’m teaching you a lot. Just leaving back some of the more ''arcane'' stuff.” Tawny chuckled. “You won’t see just how much more there is I can show you if you don’t know ''something'' about how the Game is played.”

“All right. So what we gotta do here, now?”

Tawny nodded toward the building in front of them, another example of Nexus’s default Brutalist architecture. “Go into the office and fill out a form.”

“We couldn’t have done that online?”

“Well, we could have, but it wouldn’t have been as effective. In the Game, you get the biggest advantage out of going out and doing in person. I think the idea is to get people out in the world, rather than letting them just sit around in a room all day.”

Janice sniffed. “Back on Earth where I lived, it was so crowded that they ''wanted'' you to sit around in a room all day, and not go out and get in everyone else’s way.” She considered. “You know, inconvenient though it is, I do think I like this way better.”

“Well, good. Let’s go inside.”

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On the inside, the office wasn’t exactly ''plain,'' but it was simple and straightforward—businesslike. There were a number of paintings or photographs of construction equipment on the wall, ranging from woodcuts of horse-assisted block and tackles up through 20th-century construction machinery and beyond, up to constructors very similar to the ones currently at work building houses in the settlement.

A short stroll through the lobby led to a waiting room that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a decent doctor’s office. There were magazines on the end tables—''construction'' magazines, of course—and a table near the back with a number of media tablets neatly arranged.

Tawny nodded toward the tablets. “The forms we’ll need will be on those. Go ahead and grab one?”

Janice picked up the tablet and peered at it curiously. It seemed to be a fairly low-end public-domain-grade consumer tablet—the same sort of tablet you’d get ordering one through Basic Accommodation. Which made sense, Janice realized, given that it was basically filling in for a stack of plain paper forms. It had to be every bit as cheaply disposable.

When Janice tapped the power button, it lit up with a form that looked even more impenetrable than anything Earth bureaucracy had ever dreamed up. Janice stared at it, then glanced to Tawny. “…really?”

Tawny chuckled. “Intimidating, isn’t it? Don’t worry—all that’s just for show. Get out the stuff we bought at the store, and stamp the screen with the stamp. Doesn’t matter where, just stamp it anywhere.”

“All right…” Janice fished the stamp out of her pocket and stamped the screen with it. About half of the form faded away into the background, leaving only a few fields left.

“Now touch the pen to the screen.”

“Okay…” That banished about two thirds of the remaining spaces, leaving only a handful remaining.

“Now just fill those out. They should be pretty self-explanatory. Your name, comm code, place of residence…oh, and put ‘expedited reconstruction permit’ in the ‘reason’ field.”

“Okay, okay…” Janice scribbled. To her surprise, her barely legible scrawl was immediately translated to neat block letters. ''Now how’re they…? Oh!'' Janice chuckled inwardly as the answer came to her. Of ''course'' they had excellent handwriting recognition. They probably chartered the services of some EI, like Informio, who got his jollies from interpreting crummy handwriting. ''An electronic Mechanical Turk? Heh.''

“When you’re done, just tap ‘send,’ and we’ll take a seat and see how long it takes them to call for us. And maybe I can tell you a little more about what we’re getting into.”

Janice grinned, tapping the button and bringing the tablet with her to a seat. “I’m all ears, kitty-''sensei''.” She wiggled her cougar ears.

“Right.” Tawny nodded, and padded up and sat on her haunches in front of Janice’s seated position, where she could face Janice with eyes on the same level.

“There’s usually several different paths through the Game,” Tawny explained. “One will be verboten to you as a Surrogate—though not for your personal BT if you like. That’s the Abeyance. It’s basically a forfeit. You get what you need, but no more than that.”

“Sort of the equivalent of Basic Accommodation, huh?” Janice said. “What’s the rest?”

“The more efficient the path, the better the payola. There’s usually three levels. At the surface is the ‘Plain Reading’ method. You do the entire procedure ''as written'' in the manual. Some Gamesters won’t do it any other way. You can get some unique benefits from this method since it’s so time-consuming—at least for humans. Since RIDE rights came in, and we have to register as our real identities now, we digital people get a hefty pay cut there because we can plain-read much faster.

“The Middle Reading is where most folks end up. Mostly people who can’t afford Surrogates, or just the average Gamester. You need to know some basic cryptography and have great reading comprehension skills. There’s sometimes multiple layers of this, depending on what the Game Masters want to accomplish. A Surrogate can still make decent money here.

“Then there’s the Deep Reading. Which is what I’ll teach you—''assuming'' you have the aptitude for it. Based on what you did back on Earth, I’m pretty sure you do, but all the teaching in the world won’t help you if you don’t. Deep Reading offers the best payola and the best perks. Your pay comes from your client and from the polity.”

“And I don’t get paid if I fuck it up, right?”

“Most of the time. Sometimes you encounter a Procedure that’s a BUCU. A BUreaucratic Cock-Up. Sometimes the GMs can be too hard on the Gamesters. So when that happens, you submit a BUCU Challenge, and if that gets approved, you get a special BUCU Abeyance. But you have to be careful—sometimes what appears to be a BUCU is intentional. There’s ways to tell. We’ll get into that.”

“''If'' I sign the contract.”

“If you sign, yes. But let’s be honest here…this ''is'' starting to interest you, isn’t it? At least a little bit?”

Janice nodded slowly, almost in spite of herself. “All right…yeah, I’ll cop. It ''is'' starting to appeal. Just need a little more time to talk myself past the weirder aspects of the indenturement contract, I guess. But I’m starting to get there.”

“Believe it or not, it was never my intention to freak you out,” Tawny said. “But a good contract protects both parties, and some of the ways things are done here can seem a little strange to outsiders and new arrivals. Anyway, we RIDEs went without rights at all for so long, staking bold claims now is a matter of principle.”

“Ms. Janice Howard?”

Janice looked up at the woman who had just called her name. She was a slim woman of medium height, with plain post earrings. She appeared to be in late middle-age, with streaks of grey in her black hair. Of course, with the anti-agathics available on this planet, she could have been anywhere between forty and ninety.

Janice got up. “That’s me,” she said.

The woman nodded to her. “''You'' can come with me.” She scowled pointedly at Tawny. “Your RIDE won’t be needed.”

'':Oh, great. One of ''these.'':'' Tawny subvocalized across the Fuse nanite link to Janice. “I have to differ, ma’am,” Tawny said. “I’m her Game trainer and advisor, as well as an accredited Surrogate.”

The woman gave her head a quick shake. “Oh, very well. Come along, then.” She turned and led the way back toward a door in the wall.

'':What do you mean ‘one of these’?:'' Janice thought back at her. It was kind of weird doing silent comm via directed thinking, but she had quickly gotten the hang of it.

'':There are still some, especially in Nextus, who think we free RIDEs are a bunch of overbuilt toaster ovens who got too big for our britches,:'' Tawny replied. '':There’s not a lot they can do about it since the new laws and regulation changes, but they still like to make life as hard for us as they can, within what the rules allow. Sorry about this; I should have warned you that hanging with me might have a few drawbacks.:''

Janice rolled her eyes. '':Meh. Can’t be any worse than all the jerks back on Earth who looked down on me for being a professional bum. ''Successful'' professional bum, I should say, so there was some envy involved too. Looks like dealing with that kind of gits is something else we got in common.:''

The door led to a corridor, which led past doors to offices and cubicle farms. Finally, she opened the door to an office, then stepped aside for Janice and Tawny to enter. The office was furnished austerely, for the most part, but there were still a number of personal touches on display—mostly family photos on the desk, and a few paperback books on a shelf alongside all the binders of regulations.

The woman closed the office door behind her and took a seat behind the desk. “I’m Tamara Pence, Sub-Commissioner of Housing Fabrication. I understand you’re requesting a permit for expedited reconstruction of a house at the ''Steady Hand'' colony site.” She held out her hand for the tablet Janice was carrying.

“That’s right,” Janice said. “We’d like to replace several single units with a larger shared house for some friends and us.” She handed the tablet over.

Pence glanced at the tablet, then put it down on her desk and steepled her fingers. “I’m afraid the legal status of your settlement precludes any swift action on my part. Although Nextus had claimed the region where the ''Steady Hand'' landed, the Administration has decided to cede it to whatever government the refugees decide for themselves. As such, permission for any alterations to Earth-constructed housing units should be directed to the administrators on-site ''before'' I can give final approval.”

“Ah, but until that ceding happens, those administrators ''are'' still under direct control of your office, and ''are'' subject to your authority,” Tawny said, licking the back of a paw. “And they’re working under the same rules that Nextus remote fabrication units work under anywhere. In accordance with the rules of the Game, that means our request ''has'' to come through this office. We’re not going to hop a sub all the way back there, only to get told by ''them'' that we need to come all the way back ''here'' again.”

Pence pursed her lips. “I assure you, miss, you are quite mistaken. This is strictly a matter for local authority, and I can’t override it.”

“''Really,'' now,” Tawny purred. “How about we get a Referee in here and see what ''they'' have to say about it?”

'':Whozat now?:'' Janice asked.

'':One of the people who judge BUCU calls,:'' Tawny sent back. '':It’s not something you want to do unless you’re absolutely ''sure'' you’re right, because whoever’s wrong gets hit with big penalties.:''

'':But you ''are'' sure you’re right?:'' Janice replied. '':I don’t want you getting in trouble on my account.:''

'':Oh, trust me. This is on ''my'' account,:'' Tawny sent back grimly. '':She went and made it purrrr-sonal.:''

Tamara Pence paled. “Now…I’m sure there’s no need for that,” she stammered. “Let me just…check again. It’s possible I could be mistaken…” She picked up another tablet from her desk and started paging through it.

Tawny smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I ''thought.''”

Janice frowned. “Lady, what the feck is your ''problem''? You don’t like RIDEs, so you think it’s your business to give them the runaround?”

“It’s nothing like that!” Pence insisted. “We just can’t have people…jumping the line.”

“The way I heard it, the whole point of this bloody Game of yours is to find new and better ways ''to'' jump the queue,” Janice said. “Which makes me ''really'' suspicious when someone who should be a stepping stone decides they’re a stumbling block instead.”

“She’s just angry that we ‘people of Qubitite’ now have the same rights as a natural-born human, is all,” Tawny said. “Thinks we RIDEs should know our place in the natural order of things. Turns out laws don’t always change people’s minds.”

“That’s—that’s just not true!” Pence insisted. “I’m doing my best to help you, just as I would for anybody else.” She glanced down at the tablet. “Oh…it turns out you’re right. I ''do'' have the authority to issue an expedited permit in this case. I’ll just get that taken care of right now.” She pulled a rubber stamp out of a drawer—or at least a touchscreen stamp made to look like a rubber one—and stamped Janice’s tablet with it. The word “APPROVED” appeared on it in big red letters.

“See?” Tawny purred. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Janice reached out to take the tablet back. “Thank you kindly,” she said. “You know, you should see a shrink or something. You keep pulling this kind of shite on RIDEs, sooner or later one ''will'' call a ref on you, and where will you be, then?”

Pence didn’t reply as they turned and left the office.

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“So, that’s that, then,” Tawny said as they emerged back into the lobby. “We take that tablet to whoever’s running one of those Nextus building fabbers, and they’ll get us set up in the next available slot. Assuming you decide to go through with it, anyhow.”

“What an arse that Pence woman was,” Janice said. “And you have to deal with that shite all the time?”

“Ever since our rights came in and we had to register our real identities,” Tawny said. “Oh, not ''everyone'' is such a jerk, but enough people are that, well…is it any wonder playing the Game for its own sake has gotten a little bit less fun for me?”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Janice nodded. “Of course, back on Earth, if someone is an asshole like that, they’re not supposed to hide it. They’re encouraged to be the most assholiest of assholes all the time.”

“Sounds like ''such'' a fun place.”

Janice shrugged. “Meh. Gets tiring putting up with that, after a while. As I guess you know. So, what now?”

“Back to the settlement, I suppose,” Tawny said. “Unless…”

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Unless?”

“Well, there are a ''few'' other things about the Game I could show you while we’re here…iffen you were to want to accept the contract. If not, we can always come back later. We got nothing but time. Your choice.”

Janice frowned thoughtfully, as she considered the matter. The idea of an indenturement contract wasn’t exactly the most appealing thing—but on the other hand, after they’d gone through the terms of the contract, examined them and agreed on them, they didn’t exactly amount to slavery. And Tawny really didn’t seem like the kind of person to abuse them regardless.

And she ''did'' want to learn more about the Game…and who knew how long it would take to find another instructor—not to mention another compatible RIDE?

“Well…all right. Fine. I’ll sign the bloody thing. Not like it’s forever. And I can see that you ''do'' have a lot to teach me.”

“Great! Then, here…” Tawny’s hardlight winked out, and she Fused up over Janice in a couple of seconds. A moment later, Janice found herself on the mesa, holding a tablet and stylus as Tawny looked on. “Just sign on the dotted line, and we’ll be good to go.”

Janice chuckled. “Fair enough.” She scrawled her signature. “Now what, oh my mistress?”

“Now, we get down to business.” With a flicker, they were back in the real world, Janice seeing through Tawny’s eyes as they lifted into the air and headed for one of the traffic lanes.

“I hope there’s more to it than dealing with stuffed shirts like that Pence git.”

“We just had some bad luck with your first NextusCrat. Trust me, if the Game wasn’t fun for the ‘crats too, then nobody would bother playing it.”

“I’m eager to learn, so go ahead and teach me everything there is to know.”

“All right, sure thing.” Tawny chuckled. “You know, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Janice peered suspiciously at her. “You’re quoting something, aren’t you?”

Tawny smirked. “We crazy Zharus people do that sometimes.”

Janice rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and then you make us Earth newcomers have to go spend all our free time watching stuff to catch up.”

“It won’t take you that long. Just a few years.”

“Says the one who can watch hours at a time in just a few seconds.”

“Is it my fault you’ve still got a squishy organic brain? Anyway…let’s go learn you some stuff.”

Janice shrugged. “Okay, I’m all yours.”

“I know.”

“Heeeey…”

“Well, you ''are.'' Signed the contract and everything.”

“You’re not gonna make me regret that ''now,'' are you?”

Bickering amicably, the new duo flew off in search of more Game experience.

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