The Three Graces Ch. 2

Brazil 7

He lined up the crosshair on the red blur in the sea of green and yellow with the joystick.

"Just like a video game." He muttered, his finger on the trigger button.

There had been more than a few incidences of team members vaporizing overly curious local inhabitants. Lance Johnson, in Africa, had been sacked because it happened much too frequently. What the hell, disintegrate a few monkeys, a few natives, what's the difference? It got world press coverage though, when he bagged himself an anthropologist trying to score some medicine for a measles outbreak.

He switched from thermal to night vision but the foliage was too thick to see the figure. He'd just have to wait and see if it came closer. It appeared to be heading towards one of the audio stations and would soon trigger the standard warning in all of the languages common to the area.

George Watanabe wasn't especially worried. The force dome enclosing the hover where he sat and the small encampment surrounding it, was proof against anything they'd meet in the Brazilian rainforest. The remote controlled beam weapon, mounted atop the generator mast, made the odds extremely one-sided.

He was one of the expedition samplers. Each member of the team had multiple duties, including this security watch. The Analyst/Communicator performed the watch during the day while they went about their routine tasks. The rest of the team took turns pulling the duty during the night. His sampling team partner, Sid Croft, was sleeping. The other sampling team, Herve and Bella Swanson, was probably going at it in their tent right now. Scanning the remotes, he saw lights in the common tent. Cezary Tchornov, the Team Leader and Jose Bonilla, the Analyst, were watching satellite feeds or playing Go.

It was a good entry-level position for a Geologist, just graduated from University of Hawaii. The periods away from the island were amply rewarded, giving him the credit for his condo in Waipahu and the upkeep on the young dancer he was living with. He would have made more money if he had gone to one of the colonies, but his susceptibility to low-gravity sickness had prevented that. It also would have meant no more surfing at Sunset, though he heard the big waves on Oceana would make suitable substitutes.

They expected to be here for two weeks, barring unforeseen circumstances, collecting samples, doing preliminary analysis, and sending the results back to the corporation Geologists for further compiling. He liked the work. Wandering around remote places, armed, equipped with navigation and sampling gear, made him feel like an explorer.

A console alarmed flashed, indicating the audio warning had been tripped. He located the remote and increased the gain on that pickup. At first he heard nothing, then there was a rustling and he heard sobbing.

"Who's there?" Pause. "Is anyone there?" a woman's voice said in English. "Somebody help me." Then nothing.

He switched back to thermal and panned towards the audio remote. There was the figure, unmoving, near the remote. He tried hailing from the remote but got no response so he decided to beep Cezary to let him decide what to do.

"What's up?" the Pole asked, after George had let him into the hover.

"There's somebody out by remote 3. It's a woman, speaking English. Sounds like she's in trouble." George pointed out the figure on the console screen. "She didn't respond when I tried to talk to her." He replayed the audio feed.

"She's lying down." Cezary said, looking at the screen. "I guess I'll take Jose and go have a look." He went over to the equipment rack and pulled out two sidearms, comms gear, night vision, and rummaged around for the medical bag.

"Keep in touch and track us on thermal." George let him out and resealed the hover.

A few minutes later his voice came over the speakers, "We're at the shield. Let us out." He heard Jose testing his throat mike, "Check…Check."

"Roger, dropping the shield." When he saw them safely outside he re-energized the field.

"Jeez, its dark out here."

"Turn on your illuminator bonehead, the cover doesn't let any moonlight in. George, direct us."

"To your right a little, about 70 meters." George plotted an intersection of the three red blobs on his screen.

"Got her." Cezary said, a short time later. "George, you won't believe this. She's out of it. We're bringing her back…Put her other arm over your shoulder …Bring us in George."

The Hover

George opened the door to the hover. Cezary and Jose came up the ramp and into the main compartment carrying a small figure between them. They were an incongruous sight, the two men in rumpled khakis, Jose with his thick, black beard. The girl, long black hair hanging down and covering her face, in an expensive evening dress. Cezary carried a pair of impossible platform dress shoes.

"Its like she dropped out of the fucking sky, man." Jose voiced what they all felt.

"Let's put her on the sample table." Jose cleared a spot of an assortment of the surprising ore samples George's team had found today and Cezary laid her on the table.

"I'm going to have to run her an IV." Cezary made his preparations. "Other than general exposure and a few scratches, I think she'll be fine." He moved the IV rack next to the table and started her on a bag of saline. He took some swabs and antiseptic from the medical bag and treated some lacerations she'd acquired moving through the thick undergrowth. Infection was a serious problem under these conditions.

"Now, we just let her rest. Maybe tomorrow when she feels better we can find out what the hell she's doing here. I'm going to bed, George, keep an eye on her and call me if anything happens."

George let them out of the hover and resealed it. With the two gone, he was finally able to get a good look at the girl himself. He was surprised to see that she was Japanese. And exquisite. Long, jet-black hair now lay splayed out over the table. When standing it would probably fall, straight and thick, past her tiny waist. The thin black evening dress contrasted sharply to her smooth white skin, and did very little to conceal her firm, upturned breasts.

"Jeez, she's not wearing any panties." He muttered to himself. "Where the hell did you come from. Beam me up Scottie." He noted the smooth flow of the dress, from the neckline, to the hem, with no impressions of undergarments. At her crotch, a slight mound in the smooth fabric was formed by her bush. In spite of himself, George found himself getting hard.

"Shit, just what I need. Two more weeks in this hole." He went back to the console chair and plopped down wearily, trying to will his insistent cock back under control.

He brought up the initial data from the day's samples and went through it again. It was all but confirmed. There was a source of high grade Belium, right here on this planet, probably from an ancient asteroid strike. Some samples had appeared, last year, from an independent sampler. The man had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Under an incredible shroud of secrecy a small team of corporate researchers went to work finding the source. A small, carefully selected team conducted all satellite imagery, spectrum analysis, and finally, field research. George felt extremely proud that he had been chosen. Today's samples were the proof. A Top Secret satellite burst had, only hours before, been fired back to the project head.

This had tremendous implications. Belium was the source for the newly developed interstellar drives. It was extremely scarce and until now was found only on Belias. Wars had been fought over this stuff; hundreds of thousands of colonists had been exterminated in the revolution.

It was no use. His eyes kept wandering back to the girl on the table and his cock tented the front of his coveralls. He made sure that she was lying still on the table and saying, "What the hell." he undid the Velcro and started stroking himself. He recalled the old gamblers adage, "If you've got a good hand, you don't need a partner." He thought of his girlfriend in Hawaii, but his gaze kept returning to the mass of black hair and the breasts he could make out from his chair.

"This could be the greatest day of my life, and here I am, jacking off." He said aloud.

"Come here then." George started in surprise. He swiveled the chair to see the girl sitting up on the table, watching him. Her gaze moved from his eyes, to his cock, and returned to look at him inquisitively.

"I thought you were unconscious." George managed to stammer, his hand frozen on his cock.

She stood up, removed the IV from her arm and walked sensuously to the front of the cabin. She swiveled his chair to directly face her and knelt between his legs. Pausing, she raised her lowered eyes and looked him full in the face. She reached out and gently removed his hand from his cock and replaced it with her own, stroking slowly.

"Why don't you let me take care of this."

Fish Market

Thousands, no, millions of lifeless eyes regarded him sightlessly.

He walked through the crowded, bustling Osaka fish market contemplating his dinner and his glowing future. The sampling teams had made a find today, vindicating two years of intensive research. His position in the company was assured. This find would be historic. He smiled, thinking of the journal submissions he could now make, to the envy of his competitors, after all this secrecy.

He felt a sharp pain in his side as one of the tightly packed shoppers bumped into him. When he turned, a young woman bowed slightly and continued on her way. He watch her trim, tan, legs stride purposefully and the sway of her hips, that always made him think of well lubricated parts, sliding together, as she walked. He noted the string of white coral beads around her tan ankle and thought, probably some bar girl, getting dinner before going to work in one of the cities many clubs. She pulled out a phone as she walked and started talking, oblivious to the many stares following her.

He turned back to the fish, feeling an odd heaviness come over him. The small pain in his back still bothered him. He'd should go get a checkup.

As he started to examine the fish he stumbled and surprised, found himself kneeling next to the table, a roaring in his ears.

"Oh no, not now, I'm having another heart attack." He thought, thinking of the medication he now left at home, thinking himself recovered.

People around him began to press in. He saw a face above him, asking if he was alright. How did he get on his back? He tried to answer but black spots were forming in his eyes. Then there was nothing.

A small crowd formed around him and one of them called for an ambulance.

She walked to the edge of the market. Stopping near a trash can she pulled the sharpened bicycle spoke out of her skirt, wiped the thin streaks of red on a piece of paper and deposited both in the can.

The paramedics never noticed the small dot of blood on the back of his shirt where the spoke had entered and pricked his heart. Just another old guy having a heart attack and bowing out.