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We all tend to blame others for our misfortunes. In my case, I blame
Sandra Foxley. Sandra and I had a great affair for three months, but
she called me on a Thursday night and said we were finished. This
left me with nothing to do Friday night so I went bar hopping and
that’s how the trouble started.

I was at the Shanghai Bar; the third stop and the fourth beer of the
evening. Oakland was playing the Yankees on TV when the alien
approached me. He didn’t look very odd at first, although I noticed
later that his eyes were more purple than blue and had no lashes. He
mostly kept his hands in his pockets; otherwise, I would have noticed
right away that his palms had thumbs on both sides.

“You look like a guy with time on your hands,” he said. “How about a
beer?”

I replied, “Sure, why not? My girl dumped me yesterday, claiming I
don’t satisfy her any more. Pretty damn depressing, don’t you think?”

“Well, I can help you pass the time and offer you a new experience, if
you’re interested,” said the alien. “Would you be willing to take a
harmless medical exam for research? It won’t take long, and we pay
triple.”

Oakland was losing anyway. “Sure, why not? When do I have to be
there?” I asked.

“I’ll provide the transportation. Let’s go now,” replied the alien.
He tossed a five on the bar and guided me into the men’s room. By
habit I headed toward the urinals but the alien steered me toward a
stall. “Hold that just a minute; we’ll be needing a specimen,” he
explained. He closed the stall door and raised his wrist to his lips;
that’s when I noticed his extra thumb. I tried to ask him about it
but he paid no attention. Instead, he spoke into his watch using a
funny language and then the room blanked out.

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Walking along the dark street, I thought for a moment to the almost daily occurrences that seemed to dominate the news. Numerous bodies had been found in the recent weeks. Bodies savaged physically, and sexually. Bodies of mostly women, but a male or two as well. Grinning to myself I walked on, shrugging my shoulders and pushing my hands deeper into the pockets of my overcoat. The tabloids were shouting about rampant [tag]vampires[/tag] and wolfmen. Right. Even though the reputable papers did mention, from time to time, the disturbing fact that the victims did seem to be a bit on the anemic side, the whole thing seemed pretty outrageous. Here at the beginning of the 21st century, old ghost stories were dominating the papers. Chuckling lightly to myself, I turned and started across the street, heading toward the little bar that I usually frequented.

As I walked in, swinging my coat off my shoulders and hanging it on ‘my’ coat hook, the bartender gave me a nod. As I reached my stool, I found a draft waiting for me, and I casually tossed back a swallow, looking around the bar. The TV was on, over the end of the bar, and the late news was on, more jabbering about yet another body found just after nightfall today. Pity, I thought to myself. “It’s your buddy at work again, Slade,” the bartender jibed toward me.

“Can’t you put some other trash on Tom? Don’t you get sick of this shit?” pushing my empty mug toward him, he picked it up, and soon, I found it back before me.

“You know I only put it on to annoy you, Slade,” he grinned broadly at me and went to the other end of the bar, taking a drink to an old man sitting there. He always bugged me about this shit, knowing how I felt about sensationalism. We had talked often of how these losers would pull some cheap stunt, grab some publicity, and get credit for being so strange. And a vampire impersonator certainly had the attention of the city now. “You know they found that gal,” he gestured toward the screen which showed a body being carted into a waiting ambulance, face covered, “about a mile from here?” He grinned at me, and I just shrugged. No sense feeding his mirth.

“Yeah? You’re hitting them close to home, eh?” He laughed as I ducked the wet bartowel that soared toward me. Eventually, thankfully, the news changed to more mundane matters, and I watched silently as one little tragedy after another was shown. Pity.

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It had been one week since Ariel had been introduced to the role Eric wanted her to play, below, in the dungeon below the royal bedroom. And she had waited eagerly. Eric had not inclined or willing to take her there a second time. She had insisted on wearing her collar for long periods of time, even walking on the beach near the castle wearing it. She had not seen Flounder, but she had seen Sebastian. She had thought he might be angry at her, perhaps hold her in lower esteem, but he seemed as friendly as ever. Grimbsy as well had been his usual friendly but reserved self, never letting on from his behavior that he had seen her bound and kneeling on the floor of Eric’s dungeon. Only the leather collar which she wore constantly told her that the scene in the dungeon had ever happened at all.

Eric was in the bedroom when she got back from her walk along the beach. She wondered why she had not seen Flounder, nor her father, nor in fact anyone who had not been in some way involved with the events in the dungeon. He was sitting on a velvet chair in the bedroom, smiling in the same way he had smiled at her down below.

“Morning,” he said, and she recognized the tone in his voice. Yes, it was time.

“It’s good that you already have your collar on,” he said. Ariel’s hand crept to the leather collar around her neck, playing briefly with the ring embedded in the front of it. He arose, embraced her, and took her hands. As he kissed her she felt him secure cold metal cuffs around her wrists, and when he broke the kiss and moved away from her, her wrists were firmly but comfortably locked together.

He snapped a leash onto the front ring of Ariel’s collar. Then he opened the hidden door within the royal bedchamber and led her down into the dungeon. The door at the bottom slammed shut and locked. Ariel jumped at the sound.

“Nervous, are you?”

Ariel bowed her head. She had tried to think about what he would want from her, and physical signs of submission seemed to be a good idea.

“Somewhat, Master,” she said, her clear alto voice the same one that had serenaded him on the beach two weeks ago. She wondered what he was going to do with her. She had enjoyed the floating experience of last week, but had no desire to allow Sebastian the crab to punish her in order to get to it. Her nipples were still sore from the ordeal the crab had inflicted on her as punishment for the chaotic three days before her marriage to Eric.

(click to read entire story…)

Jerry Gilman yawned and wiped his face with a towel. He stared blearily at his watch. Slowly, his eyes focused on the face. 2:30 A.M. He carefully put down the soldering iron and stared at the device on his bench.

The Amplifier didn’t look like much. A tangle of wiring and integrated circuits. In the center was one of the new room-temperature superconducting chips. He’d had to scrounge it from the University’s Supplies Department…well, he thought…steal it, really.

The idea had come to him one day as he worked on his PhD thesis. He was working on a double doctorate, Cognitive Science and Electronics. His thesis had to do with ‘coupling’ to brain signals. Originally, he’d expected the work to lead to better EEG machines.

But a breakthrough had happened. Jerry had realized that there were two sides to communicating with the brain. And the new superconductors…He had been working like a fiend for two months. He hadn’t mentioned it to his thesis advisors–the implications were too huge. So he’d had to pretend to be working on his original thesis. This amounted to two full-time jobs, and the effort was beginning to tell on him.

He shut everything down and went to his apartment to crash. He slept for 48 hours straight, then returned to the lab.

In the light of day, the Amplifier looked even less imposing. His calculations and tests said it should work. But would it?

He placed the Amp into a small plastic box and put the unit in his pocket. In the other pocket went the heavy battery pack which would power it. Grunting, he made a note to work on minimizing the power requirements. A fine wire ran under his shirt, up his neck, and to a small adhesive patch on his temple. He covered the patch with a cap.

Inspecting himself in the mirror, he decided the set-up was unobtrusive enough. Only the thin wire was visible. He strolled outside onto the campus. It was a sunny, bright day, and the green quadrangle was filled with students. Jerry switched on the Amplifier. He staggered, almost fell to his knees. A wave of thoughts and emotions surged through his mind. Frantically, he fumbled for the gain control. At last, he had adjusted the Amp so that he could deal with the input. (click to read entire story…)

Anderson asked the logical question: “Now what?”

“We’ll handle this just like a standard set of permanent orders.” He pulled the desk drawer open and handed Anderson a piece of paper, it was another set of BuPers message orders. When the standard wording was translated, it read that Lt Anderson was to be detached from his current duty station, take 30 days’ leave (known as “delrep” for “delay in reporting”) and report to the military air terminal at McGuire Air Force Base in civilian clothes; he was not to use his own vehicle to get there. His personal effects (known as “household goods” or “HHG”) were to be put in storage at government expense for the duration of the orders. “You won’t be stationed at McGuire,” Col. Hampton explained, “That’s where we’ll be picking you up. Bring three days’ worth of clothes. The Commodore of DesRon 2 has already written a detaching fitness report, you’ll sign it when you get to where you’re going after your leave.

“So go home and get your personal life in order. Make sure you’re parents know that you’re going to be out of touch for a long time, it may be a few years before they get to see you.” He handed Anderson a card. “They can call this number in case of an emergency, but make damn sure they understand that doesn’t include anything less than imminent death. And make sure they know that you may not be able to come back for any kind of emergency. You can use the address on the card as a forwarding address for your mail.”

“Where am I going?”

“You’ll know when you get there, Sherry. The same lady who drove you here will take you back to your transportation. See you in a month.”

Anderson left the room. Hampton watched him go and sighed. He was getting to have too much time in this assignment, he told himself. At first, he thought of the program as a way to gain some use from worthless deviates. But now, he knew that the men he recruited were fine people, they simply had a different orientation. Hampton now knew that tossing them out was a waste; now at least he could do something with some of them. (click to read entire story…)