The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

‘Pierced’

(mc, f/f, nc, sf)

DISCLAIMER: This material is for adults only; it contains explicit sexual imagery and non-consensual relationships. If you are offended by this type of material or you are under legal age in your area, do NOT continue.

Synopsis:

Alien bioweapons are unleashed on an human colony world.

* * *

‘Pierced’

Chapter Five ‘Velcado Farm’

Part Two

* * *

Margot awoke to a fabulous smell.

She rubbed her eyes and looked around. Lillana’s bed was empty, as was the mattress which Junipero had been sleeping on. Light was coming in around the boards across the windows.

“Late again,” she mumbled, standing up and stretching. The t-shirt pinched her armpits. She followed the smell down the stairs and around the corner—ignoring Cora and Vanderbruk, sitting quietly in the foyer—into the kitchen, where she found some of the other women hanging around with plates of food and forks in their hands.

“Bacon and eggs again,” Lillana said from near the stove. “The sausages went bad, I’m afraid. But the butter is still alright, so have some on your cornbread.”

“You were away at cooking school, weren’t you?” Margot asked, taking a clean plate from a small stack on the counter.

Lillana smiled. “No. My mother felt that cooking was a life skill everyone should have. I’ve always enjoyed it.”

Margot piled scrambled eggs and bacon onto her plate. Lynn Thompson and Han-Irinov were leaning against the counter, working on their own meals. Margot looked over at Helen Tsugerloi, who stood by the sink looking out the window.

“You’re not eating?” Margot asked.

Tsugerloi idly rubbed her stomach. “No, I’m not hungry,” she said. “It smells great, but... dunno, just not very hungry.”

“Mf,” Margot replied.

“That’s what I said,” Han-Irinov observed, wiping her plate with a piece of cornbread. “Honest to Ancestors ranch cooking and she’s not hungry.”

“Where’s Stone?” Margot asked.

“She’s out with Junipero, looking at something,” Han-Irinov replied. “Andreia and Han-Harris are working on the AATGV again. Her daughter,” she added, nodding her head sideways at Lynn, “went with them.”

“If the situation was... different,” Lynn said, “I’d worry that she’d ask me if she could get a tattoo. I think Miss Han-Harris is making an impression on her.”

“So what are the rest of us doing today?” Margot asked. “Just waiting for the AATGV to be ready?”

“Pretty much. Now that Vanderbruk can see again, I want to go over some maps with her, understand where we are going. You should be in on that.”

Margot nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. On a full stomach.”

Han-Irinov raised her fork, bacon twined on it, and winked.

* * *

Cliffgarden was, not surprisingly, not marked on their maps.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never been there,” Vanderbruk said. She was seated with the datapad in her lap, Pearl and Margot looking over either shoulder. They were all in the sitting room, having left Cora in the foyer.

“I know it’s here somewhere,” she added, pointing to an otherwise blank section, between road 29 and the sea. “South of Zhuetia maybe twenty kilometers. That’s what Doctor Megowan said.”

“Well, there’s nothing else there,” Han-Irinov observed. “We ought to be able to find it.”

“We’re not actually going to go through Zhuetia, are we?” Margot asked, looking at the map.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Han-Irinov said. “Which is fucking alright with me. Given what’s happened to fucking Savoy I’m just as happy avoiding any other fucking towns.”

The door to the mudroom opened and Stone walked in.

“Hey, Captain,” Han-Irinov said. “Just checking the map, now that Doctor V here can see.”

“Where’s Junipero?” Margot asked.

“She’s on lookout,” Stone replied, walking towards the three of them.

Margot stood up. “She was on lookout yesterday—and I haven’t had a turn. What are you trying to do, baby me?”

Stone blinked. “You’re—well, that is, you’re not in my command...”

“Oh, fuck that. I’m going to go spell her if you don’t mind. Any objection if I take her shift?”

Stone stared at her, then shook her head, eyebrows raised. “Whatever you like, Sergeant. Send her down. See you after lunch.” She leaned over the back of the sofa to look at the datapad in Vanderbruk’s hands. “Show me.”

Margot walked outside. The warm air washed over her—and suddenly memories from Arc of Sands came pressing all around her. Tied up outside, sweating, while infested women paraded around, presenting themselves to the xenos to be fucked. Cora, spraying her with... venom.

Going down on her.

Xiulan.

She nearly stumbled, tried to push it away. Where was Xiulan? What did she look like now? Liquid black eyes? Was she full of eggs? Or was she like those infested women yesterday, hard black hands and feet, black veins curving beneath her golden skin?

Margot stood in the yard and reeled under the visions.

A sudden revving from the utility shed snapped her out of it. The AATGV grumbled, then roared, exhaust blasting from the stack.

Then Cruzado-Liu started shouting and the engine cut off, a faint echo humming between the buildings for a moment before going silent.

Margot could see Cruzado-Liu hop down out of the driver’s side door, and Han-Harris meeting her at the vehicle’s front corner, pointing at something beneath the open hood. Calla Thompson stood nearby, one arm smudged with grease and a spanner in her hand. She was wearing incredibly short shorts and a tight pink t-shirt, and even from the yard Margot could see the intent way she watched Han-Harris.

Margot crossed the yard to the silo. She barely looked at the metal rungs which scaled the side before hopping up and beginning to climb.

The view at the top was fantastic. The boards nailed across the farmhouse windows had somehow focused the mind on scanning for threats; but here, a good ten meters higher still, there was no impediment when looking in any direction. The air was only slightly hazy from the humidity, and the view became a vista, a thing not of threat but of beauty.

“Savoy is right over there,” Junipero said. She handed Margot a pair of binoculars. “You can’t see much of it, because of the hill, but you can see the top of a couple of buildings.”

Margot looked; she could see a few silos, doubtless at the port, the tops of one or two office buildings, and two—no, three—steeples.

She lowered the glasses and looked around. To the south she could see the vast mucky flatness of the Zhaoze, and the narrow ribbon of road running across it. To the east was jungle, miles of it, and in the distance the greyish shapes of the southern Spine.

To the north, from whence they had come, were a few kilometers of farmland and then more jungle, as far as the eye could see. And to the west, past the farmland and the visible bits of Savoy, was the sea.

The wind blew gently, tousling Margot’s hair.

“I’ve been thinking,” Junipero said.

“Yes?”

“If we don’t find anything at this Cliffgarden place, we should get a boat. Vanderbruk said the xenos can’t swim.”

“There are islands out there we could get to?”

Junipero nodded. “Yeah, there’s like two different groups within a few hundred klicks. Privately owned, but who cares, right?”

Margot looked at the distant ocean. “Can you sail?”

“No, but we could find a boat with an engine. It can’t be that hard to drive a boat.”

Margot suddenly thought of the Navy man she had thrown the shotgun to. He was almost certainly dead, although there had been that infested male yesterday.

Would it be better if he’d been killed?

“Belangier?”

“Hm?” Margot snapped back to the present.

“What do you think? About driving the boat?”

“It’s trickier than you’d think,” she replied slowly. “But I think you’re right, if we want to get away, a boat’s the way to do it.”

Junipero nodded. “Yeah. So what did you come up here for anyway?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m taking your shift. You were up here yesterday, it didn’t seem right that I sit on my ass while you take two watches. Go on down. I’ll pull this one.”

“Captain agree to that?”

“She did.”

Junipero shrugged. “All right then. Thanks. Maybe I’ll see if the Specialist could use a hand.” She looked around. “Let’s see, you’ve got the binoculars, here’s the walkie-talkie. If you see anything, just press that and it’ll communicate with the other one that the Captain’s wearing. Shit, you’re an Impy, you know how to use these. And here’s the noise gun. Aim it anywhere but yourself, it’ll make a big bang and get everyone’s attention. Though I’d use the walkie-talkie first.”

Margot took the proffered device. “Got it. Do you think Stone would mind if I tested it?”

“Nope, go ahead.”

Margot pushed the button. “Testing, testing. Captain, can you hear me?”

She released the button, and two seconds later Stone’s voice came through clearly. “I’m hearing you loud and clear, Sergeant. Anything to report?”

“Nothing, just testing that I can use the equipment.”

“Surprisingly for a fuckfeather, it appears that you can. Need anything else?”

“Negative. All clear up here.”

“Great. I’ll relieve you at thirteen hundred.”

“Roger.” Margot looked at Junipero. “Anything else? High-powered sniper rifle?”

“I wish. I was going to lug one of the 88s up here, but Captain said to just bring a sidearm.”

“Didn’t Pearl have a rifle up here yesterday?”

“That she did. Wen gave it to her. She’s still got it. I think she named it ‘Bruce’.”

“Hrm. Alright.”

“Then I’m heading down,” Junipero announced. Margot nodded at her. Junipero slipped around her, put her feet on the metal rungs, and began her descent.

Margot looked off into the distance, then at the fenceline running around the near fields of the farm. She wasn’t sure how far the property extended, though it was clearly far more than just the grassy ten or so hectares right around the farm.

Nothing was moving. There were birds in the distance, circling in an updraft; the wind ruffled Margot’s hair. It was cooler up here in the breeze.

She wondered if the xenos would keep to their word. There was no particular incentive for them to do so, but then how badly did they want to overrun the farm? When they had the thousands of humans from Savoy, how much did a dozen on an outlying ranch even count?

Margot took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. The wind caressed her face.

Then she resumed scanning the perimeter.

* * *

The walkie-talkie crackled.

“Sergeant,” Stone said.

“Captain,” Margot replied. “I assume by your presence at the base of the silo that my shift is concluded?”

“Glad to hear you’re not asleep up there. You are correct. I’m coming up.”

Margot looked around the fenceline again. The sun was high in the sky now; there was a line of clouds far to the north, but otherwise the sky was blue and clear.

Stone’s head appeared at the top of the ladder.

“I hope you brought a hat,” Margot said. “Sunny up here.”

“As a matter of fact,” Stone said, stepping onto the metal grillwork of the catwalk, “I did.” She pulled a crushed green cap from a pocket, and fitted it to her head.

“Here’s the noise gun and the binoculars,” Margot said, handing them over. “Who do you want to have the other end of the walkie-talkie?”

“Why don’t you keep that end,” Stone replied. “If you decide to take a nap or surrender to the xenos or something, give it to Han-Irinov.”

“Roger that,” Margot said. “I was thinking I might go bother Cruzado-Liu in the garage.”

“You a mechanic?”

“No, but I hate sitting around feeling useless.”

Stone snorted. “I hear you. Well, good luck with your utility, Sergeant.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Margot squeezed past her and took hold of the rungs. She climbed down.

At the bottom the air was several degrees hotter, though still not so bad as at Arc of Sands or even Naigurh. Margot walked over to the garage.

Calla Thompson was standing at the entrance, by the side of the AATGV. “Hey, Sergeant Belan—Bel—Boulon—”

“Belangier,” Margot said, “but you can call me Margot. How’re the repairs going?”

“Good,” Calla said, nodding with an earnest expression. “They’ve got the new axle mounted and the, uh, the train hooked up? Something like that? Bekka is sooo good at this,” she enthused, eyes wide. “She knows so much stuff, and can just... do it, you know? She doesn’t need to look in a manual or anything.”

Margot smiled and nodded. “The benefits of a practical education. Could they use a hand in there?”

“I’m helping,” Calla replied. “You know, fetching tools and things. I’ve learned what a lot of them are! And I helped pack some bearings, which are little silver balls, and I lubed up, uh, some other stuff. But, you know, come on in, maybe they could use, you know, you.”

Together they walked into the utility shed, lit now by overhead lighting. Han-Harris and Cruzado-Liu were bent over a workbench; Han-Harris had a welding mask on, and held a torch. Cruzado-Liu wore a pair of darkened safety glasses.

Light flared, flashed, then died.

Han-Harris leaned back and flipped the mask up. “I think that’s good,” she said.

Cruzado-Liu had leaned in even further and was inspecting the wheel rim, safety glasses on her forehead. “Yes, that looks fucking tight. Nice welding, Bekka.”

Bekka took a step back and shook her head. “Mmf. I’m fucking tired,” she said.

“Hard to sleep last night?” Cruzado-Liu asked.

“No, slept like a brick. Dunno why, just tired.”

“I can pitch in,” Margot said, coming forward, “though I can’t replace Miss Han-Harris here. But if you just need muscles and hands, maybe she could take a quick break? Catch a nap?”

“Calla’s been doing real good,” Bekka replied, then yawned. “But I can use a nap. Andreia, you got this? For like an hour.”

“Yeah, I got what I need.” She tilted her head towards the house. “Go catch some Zs. No sense working groggy.”

“Thanks, Bekka,” Calla said, puppy-dog enthusiasm in her voice. “Anything else I can do to... uh, help?”

Bekka laughed. “No, girl, I can do sleeping on my own. I’ll see you in a bit.” She walked past the AATGV towards the shed’s entrance.

Calla watched her leave with big eyes. Margot’s gaze met Cruzado-Liu’s, and they both chuckled. Cruzado-Liu cleared her throat.

“Alright ladies, I want to get the tire on this rim and the wheel back on the AATGV. Calla, grab that tire and roll it over here. Belangier—”

“Margot,” Margot corrected.

Cruzado-Liu gave a curt nod. “Margot. Come here and help me with this.”

Margot went to work.

* * *

Bekka shambled into the mudroom. She washed her hands and arms in the large basin sink, unlaced her boots and slid them into a cubby, and walked into the sitting room.

The youngest of the SSDF squad—Vaquero? No, Junipero—was sitting on one of the sofas, datapad in hand, in a sports bra and underpants. Bekka raised her eyebrows.

“Oh hey,” Junipero said, “Mrs. Thompson is doing laundry. Laundry room’s upstairs, apparently. I dunno if you have any extra clothes, but if you give her your coverall she’ll wash it for you.” The girl gave a chuckle. “Gotta have clean clothes when we leave, I guess. Wouldn’t want to face the xenos looking tatty.”

“Thanks,” Bekka said. She walked around to the foyer, where the two infested women were sitting on different couches. They both turned to look at her with their creepy black eyes.

Bekka wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of flinching, so she looked right back. The eyes were sick weird, but almost creepier were the black veins around the edges of their faces and on their necks.

They ought to leave them here. No, they ought to turn them out, make them walk to Savoy.

No one said anything, so Bekka walked upstairs. She could hear the older Thompson woman singing something without lyrics from the short corridor that connected to the landing right at the top of the stairs, so she walked down it. There was a window—boarded up—at the end of the corridor, and open doors on right and left. Behind the door on the right was a restroom.

On the left was the laundry room. Sure enough, Lynn Thompson was in the room, rubbing at some stain on one of the camouflage uniforms; the washing machine was open and filling with water.

“Hey,” Bekka announced.

Mrs. Thompson looked up with a start. “Oh! Hello! Bekka, right? Hey, I am doing laundry if you have something to wash, I don’t know if you brought any other clothes but if you did I can take your, uh, your coverall...”

Bekka unzipped. “Didn’t bring any others,” she said.

“You, uh, that...”

“Nice of you to do the laundry,” Bekka said, sliding the arms down her backside, then stepping out of the coverall’s legs one at a time. “I’m going to take a nap.”

Lynn Thompson just nodded, eyes wide. She tried not to stare at Bekka’s bare breasts, and mostly succeeded. Bekka bent over and picked up her coverall, handed it to Lynn. “Thanks a lot,” she said. “Really considerate.”

“Ss-ure...” Lynn said as Bekka dipped her head, then stepped back out of the room.

Bekka chuckled to herself as she walked back down the hallway, then around the landing towards the room she was sharing with the Thompsons and Helen Tsugerloi. That had been too much fun not to do, although she really shouldn’t be weirding things with a woman sleeping in the same room.

Bad enough that Calla had such an obvious crush on her. The kid was cute; in another situation, Bekka might have taken her up on it, seen what she had, maybe show her a few things. But with things all fucked up like this... and with her mom in the same room... no. Better to play dumb, ignore the starry eyes.

The door to their room was closed and Bekka opened it slowly. To her surprise, the vet was on her own bed, asleep.

She was a looker, too. Tall, dark hair, nice body, and those Earth-Asian eyes... Bekka watched her shift in her sleep; she was in a t-shirt, with the thin sheet crumpled around her waist, and the way her bosom moved...

Meh. Tired and horny. Bekka yawned. Well, one of them she could take care of, with the vet in the room. She walked over to the bed she’d been sleeping in, crawled in, pulled the sheet up over her bare breasts, and yawned again.

She’d probably have sex dreams. Might as well enjoy them.

She was asleep in moments.

* * *

The room was quiet. Birdsong faintly penetrated the windows; the house’s cooling system hummed softly from a vent in the ceiling.

The two women slept peacefully.

In each of them, a tiny black root, not quite the diameter of a piece of yarn, now nestled along the back of their throat, stretching from the egg in their stomachs up the esophagus, up through the pharynx, then penetrating the flesh at the very back of their sinuses. The tube had the very finest layer of anesthetic slime on it, preventing any itching or discomfort.

Or discovery.

In their brains, the seed which had been at the tip of the root like the head of a spear as it wriggled its way up through their bodies was now nestled comfortably, swiftly spreading its own roots, drawing from the perfect nourishment the egg was slowly pushing up to it.

Bekka smacked her lips and turned in her sleep.

Helen shifted, her arms rising above her head, turning her face against a bicep.

The door to the room opened, quietly, slowly. Lynn Thompson stood in the doorway, Helen’s clean clothes neatly folded in her arms.

She smiled a wicked smile, and looked over her shoulder.

Then she slipped into the room, closing the door behind herself, and set down Helen’s clothes atop the nearby dresser. She bent down and slid the mattress which Calla had been sleeping on across the floor to the door, blocking it.

That done, she unbuttoned her shirt, and reached inside to unclip her bra. Her heavy, oblong breasts fell forward.

Her smile faded as she stood over the sleeping form of Tsugerloi. With both hands, she gently massaged her breasts, squeezing them from her chest outward towards her large, round areolae. For a moment, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation.

Tiny wet drops appeared on her nipples.

She squeezed and the droplets grew—clear, sticky fluid, from glands that had been as repurposed as the rest of her.

Lynn got down onto her knees. She looked deeply at Helen’s face. It was entirely slack, relaxed. The seed would keep her asleep for a while longer.

The egg which Lynn had planted within her was entirely sufficient to bring Helen into the brood, but with additional nourishment it could convert her that much faster.

Lynn leaned forward and guided her nipple to Tsugerloi’s mouth. Faint expressions flickered across Helen’s face, brief ghosts of confusion as it pushed against her closed lips, but she did not wake. Then her jaw slowly fell open and Lynn’s nipple pushed inside Helen’s mouth.

A moment later, Helen gave a gentle suck.

Lynn shivered. As Helen nursed, Lynn let her hands slip down into her pants, into her panties, and gently stroked herself. Not too close to orgasm, not too close, but she could not resist enhancing—acknowledging—the pleasure that fulfilling her purpose was giving her.

A few moments later Helen was still suckling eagerly, but Lynn sensed that she had taken enough. She pulled her nipple back with a wet pop.

Helen’s mouth followed the nipple upward, continuing its sucking motions, and her sleeping brow furrowed in unhappiness that the breast had been withdrawn. Then, slowly, her mouth stilled. With a deep sigh, her head sank back down, chin resting on her own chest.

Lynn kissed her on the lips, then stood up. She looked at the door, listened carefully. The washing machine was still running.

Then she crossed the room and knelt down next to Bekka.

* * *

“Okay, turn it on.”

Margot pushed the ignition switch, and the AATGV rumbled to life.

It sounded good. She waited for a bang, a shudder, something wrong, but there was just the steady thrumming of the engine.

Cruzado-Liu closed the hood, and came around the drivers’ side.

“I think it’s ready,” she said, wiping her hands on a rag. “Time for some test driving.”

“You want me to back it out?” Margot asked.

Andreia shook her head. “I’d like Han-Harris to be here, I want her opinion about some stuff. Let’s let it run, shake out the new hoses. You mind going in to fetch her?”

“Sure thing,” Margot replied. She pushed the door open and hopped down, leaving the AATGV running.

Outside, the sun was dipping towards the horizon; the long shadow of the farmhouse stretched across the yard. As Margot walked towards the house she saw Han-Irinov and Calla Thompson coming towards her from the fields to the north. The young woman was holding her shotgun, which she waved in the air.

“Margot!” Calla said. “Pearl—I mean, Corporal Han-Irinov was showing me how to shoot the gun! It was incandescent.” Her eyes crunched into a scowl. “I am gonna fuck up any of those monsters that get near us.”

Margot gave Han-Irinov a look; she shrugged. “If you’re gonna arm her, she ought to know what to do with it,” she said. “Kid’s got a killer instinct.”

They fell in with Margot and walked together up onto the rear porch. Han-Irinov pulled the door open. “How’s the AATGV? Sounds like it’s running again.”

“Cruzado-Liu thinks its fixed,” Margot replied. “Time for some driving tests. She sent me in to fetch Han-Harris.”

“I’ll get her!” Calla said, and raced into the house.

“Killer instinct?” Margot asked, washing her hands in the mudroom basin.

“She’s got a thing for those xenos,” Han-Irinov replied. “Not sure why. I asked about her father, maybe the xenos got him, but the Thompsons are tourists and not only is he off-world, he and the mother have been split for years.” She shrugged. “She sure seems eager to pop some fucking crabs, though.”

They walked into the sitting room. Stone and Lillana Wen were packing boxes—Margot could see packages of various kinds of dried food, batteries, some tools. They had apparently just been repacking the food which they’d taken from the roadside store, augmenting and replacing it with stores from the farmhouse supplies.

Stone saw them and stood up. “Ah, Sergeant,” she said. “I wanted to speak with you. Have a moment?”

“Sure, let me hit the head first,” Margot replied.

She walked into the kitchen and found Helen Tsugerloi washing her face. “Hey, Helen,” she said in passing.

Tsugerloi looked up. “Oh, hi, Margot.” There were dark circles under her eyes.

“You okay?” Margot asked.

“Yeah,” Tsugerloi replied, shaking her head. “I’m just... groggy. I don’t know why, I had an excessively long nap. But if anything, it’s made me sleepier.”

“You just need some tea,” chirped Lynn Thompson. She walked into the kitchen from the foyer; behind her came her daughter and Han-Harris. The mechanic was also yawning and rubbing her eyes. “I’ll put a kettle on,” Lynn said. “Bekka dear, stay here and have some tea. It will perk you right up.”

Margot left the kitchen and went to the restroom. When she came back through, the kettle was hissing on the stove, and Calla was excitedly telling Han-Harris about the targets she’d ‘destroyed’ with the shotgun.

“How much ammunition do we have for the shotguns?” Margot asked Lillana, as she re-entered the sitting room.

“Quite a lot,” Lillana replied. “Corporal Han-Irinov asked the same, when she volunteered to help Miss Thompson practice her marksmanship. Additionally, there is a reloading bench in the shop. For those weapons, we are not in danger of running out.”

“You ready?” Stone asked Margot, who nodded. Stone inclined her head towards the door, and they walked together through the mudroom and back out into the yard.

The silos and the side of the utility shed were painted with glowing orange light. Margot looked up and saw Junipero at the top of the silo, looking into the distance with her binoculars. In the sky to the east, a hawk glided through the sky.

“So,” Stone said, as they walked slowly across the yard.

“So.”

“They turned on the electricity, Belangier. What does that mean to you?”

“For this conversation, call me Margot, please. And in answer to your question... well, let me think. It means that they have people. People who can do things like repair electrical lines.”

“And substations, and generators... and I think we can assume they’re not paying these people. You saw the work gang they brought to harvest those cows. Margot... they’ve got enough converts that they are turning Savoy back on. That they are turning Verdis back on, I would guess.”

Stone stopped walking. They were at the far side of the yard; the silos loomed above them, their long shadows stretching across the grassy field to the east. Half a kilometer away, a field of maize stood behind a split-rail fence.

Behind them, there was the rev of an engine. Margot looked over her shoulder; she could see the AATGV backing out of the shed, Han-Harris walking alongside. The big vehicle stopped; then it began to roll forward, beginning a circle around the yard.

Stone looked at Margot. “This invasion... it’s turning into an occupation. Doctor Vanderbruk, your friend Cora in there... those are what we’re fighting now. There must be thousands of them. Tens of thousands. And they’re smart enough to run an electrical grid. We’re not on the run from beasts anymore. We’re running from people. Smart people. Dangerous people.”

Margot looked across the field. “That was a good amount of supplies you had there,” she finally said. “What’s your plan?”

Stone resumed walking, out into the field. “Cliffgarden. This chemical agent... it may be a chimera. It may even be a trap. But we have to check it out. If there’s even a minuscule chance that there is something which can destroy these things, we have to know.”

They turned right, facing south. The ground sloped gently downward; in the distance Margot could see the grey-green sweep of the Zhaoze. Tomorrow’s destination.

“A trap?” she asked. “What makes you think that?”

Stone shrugged. “What do we know about Vanderbruk? Nothing. We picked her up already infested. The only thing I can’t figure is what she’d get out of leading us on. If she just wanted us taken, why not claim the cure was back at her office in Wotao? Why have us drive all the way down here? If she is lying, I don’t see a reason. And... I want to believe she’s telling the truth.”

“Or was,” Margot observed.

“Exactly. Maybe she’s flipped. Maybe she flipped earlier. How would we know?”

They turned right again, walking towards the setting sun.

“So, Cliffgarden,” Margot said. “Then what?”

“Well, that’s the question. We might be able to hide out there, if it’s defensible.”

Margot shook her head. “They’ll come. If they hear that something there is dangerous to them, they’ll come. Even if there’s nothing there, if they’ve taken Zhuetia, it won’t be safe.”

“So what, then?”

“A boat,” Margot replied. “There’s no sign they can fly, or swim. I understand there are islands out there,” she said, gesturing to the orange sliver settling into the sea.

“There are,” Stone said. “But remember where I started. We’re fighting people now. If they can run a power station, they can fly aircars, or load up boats.”

“We’re not going to find long-term safety,” Margot observed. “If the Empire doesn’t send help, eventually the xenos are going to get us.”

They stopped walking. The farmhouse was to their right; the exterior lights had come on. The sky was turning lavender behind them. A bat fluttered by.

“So why me?” Margot asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you out here with me, rather than Pearl, or Andreia? You’ve known me for all of four days.”

Stone sighed. “I don’t know. It’s probably just the military in me.” She gestured at the farmhouse. “They’re kids. You’re, what, mid-thirties? You don’t look rejuved so I’m thinking this is your first time around.”

“Thirty-six.”

“Right. I’m forty two. I dunno, Bel—Margot. It feels like life came to a crashing end a few days ago and we just haven’t realized that we’re dead yet. I can talk to you because I don’t know about your family in Wotao or your favorite bar in White Beach or your dog in Helenni. You and I, we’re tied together by one thing, the same thing, this catastrophe. It helps me to think clearly.”

Lights shone across them and Margot turned her head. One of the combots had rolled around the farmhouse and was scanning them. A moment later, the lights turned off and the combot turned its attention elsewhere.

“I guess that makes sense. I’m not even from here,” Margot said. “I’m just trying to survive. I’m not thinking about loss. Actually, no, I am. I had a... friend, at the resort. My... my lover.”

Stone put a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah. I could tell.”

The orange color fled westward, leaving the sky a darkening purple. Stars began to appear in the east.

“So are we leaving in the morning?” Margot finally asked.

“Yeah,” Stone replied. “No sense traveling when we can’t see. I make the distance to Stonecliff at three hundred kilometers, more or less, so unless the road is out somewhere we should reach it early afternoon.”

“And then we’ll see,” Margot said.

“And then we’ll see. Say, if we find a marina—do you know how to drive a boat?”

“I do not.”

“Me neither.” Stone laughed. “But how hard could it be?”

A dark figure appeared at the edge of the farmhouse by the yard. “Hey, Captain,” Cruzado-Liu called. “Supper is ready!”

Margot looked at Stone. “We’ll do what we can do,” she said. “And what will be, will be. Thanks for your confidence, Varra. I’ll do my part.”

“I could tell,” Stone replied. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

* * *

Dinner that evening was round two of roasted chicken; this time, turned on a spit in the brick-sided oven.

“No sense leaving them for the arboghests,” Lillana said, laying the bone from a drumstick down on her plate.

“What’s an arboghest?” Calla asked.

“Cat-sized predator,” Han-Irinov said. “Sneaky little fuc—uh, things. They like bits of metal for some reason so they’re always stealing screws, nuts, coins, shi—uh, stuff like that.”

“They eat chickens?”

“Yes,” Lillana replied. There are some other things around which here do, too, but they mostly stay away from the farm. Arboghests... they’re not that afraid of people. There could be one sniffing around right now.”

“Are they dangerous?” Lynn asked.

Lillana took a serving of salad from the large wooden bowl. “Not in my experience. Miss Tsugerloi?”

Tsugerloi was pushing the food around on her plate with a fork. “Hrm? Oh, uhm, arboghests? Harmless. They’ll bite you if you grab them but otherwise are no threat to anything larger than a chicken or a small dog.”

“Not hungry?” Lillana asked Tsugerloi.

Tsugerloi frowned. “It smells delicious, but my stomach is still a bit uncomfortable.”

“You should eat,” Han-Irinov said, “Hard to say when home cooking will be available again.”

Margot looked down at the other end of the table. Han-Harris, too, was idly picking at her food. Junipero, Cruzado-Liu, and Stone had finished their portions, and Junipero was taking seconds.

“So are there a lot of these... arboghests?” Calla asked.

“They’re not uncommon,” Tsugerloi said. “They eat the small rodentiles and introduced mammals like rabbits and squirrels. They’re one of the native species that’s done okay for itself since all the Earth fauna was introduced.”

“Can I shoot one?” asked Calla.

“Calla!” said her mother.

“What? It would be good practice hitting something...”

“Don’t shoot stuff just to kill it,” Han-Irinov said. “Shoot stuff that needs shooting. You planning to eat an arboghest?”

“Ew, no.”

“Then unless you catch them raiding the chickens, why not leave ’em be?”

Calla made a moue.

“More green beans anyone?” Lynn asked.

* * *

The house was dark and quiet.

Calla sat in the chair and bounced her feet back and forth. She had been woken up by Liqin Junipero, telling her it was her turn to be on watch. Han-Irinov, her watch partner, told Calla that she would take position downstairs, leaving Calla to watch the bedrooms.

So now she was sitting in the upstairs landing, shotgun leaning on the wall next to her, listening to the occasional creak of the building or the sound of some patrolling nightbird.

It had been twenty minutes. Time enough for Junipero and Belangier to have fallen asleep.

Calla kicked her legs back and forth, and waited.

Then it slipped into her mind. Knowledge from the Cora drone, downstairs.

Han-Irinov was now obedient and distracted.

Calla smiled and rose to her feet. She walked quietly around the landing and looked through the doorway into the room where her mother, Helen, and Bekka slept.

The room was dimly lit. All three women were sleeping peacefully.

She considered waking her mother to attend to the other two women, but it seemed unnecessary. Their conversions were proceeding just fine, although neither of them knew it; soon they would be eager members of the brood.

Calla slowly brought the door almost closed. She walked around the landing to the next room and gently pushed that door open. Inside, in the big four-poster bed, she could see the sleeping form of Lillana Wen. The owner of the house... short dark hair, almost pure Earth-Asian features. Not as much Calla’s type as Bekka Han-Harris was—mmm, those tattoos, that wonderful upturned nose—but sexy, very sexy.

She wasn’t alone of course. Margot and Liqin were asleep on mattresses on the floor. The Imperial woman was cute, too, with her strong nose and those pretty eyes—and those muscles!—but the Cora drone had plans for her and the Calla drone would never interfere with another drone’s purpose. And anyway, she wanted Lillana more...

She let her hand slide down inside the waistband of her pajamas. Wen was asleep with her mouth open, and Calla envisioned herself squatting over her, pushing her slick ovipositor between those lips.

She pinched her lip with her teeth as she ruffled her pubic hair.

Calla pushed the door further open. The room was dark, only barely illuminated by a single battery powered light. She would have to be quiet, very quiet—the Imperial and the SSDF girl weren’t drugged; any noise might wake them.

But when she’d implanted her first egg into Bekka, she’d made almost no noise at all, not even as the orgasms shivered through her. Mother had noticed. Mother had told her.

Mother was proud of her.

She’d be even quieter as she slipped her second egg into Miss Wen.

Calla glided across the room. She approached the tall four-poster bed; she could see the curves of Lillana’s body under the white sheets. The young farmowner seemed even smaller in the big bed.

Calla felt her ovipositor begin to loosen in her womb.

One hand on the bedpost, she carefully stepped past the mattress Margot was sleeping on. The Imperial was out cold, the edge of her open mouth sticking to her pillow.

There was a soft ‘ping’, from something on the bedside table.

Lillana made a muffled noise. Then she sat up.

“Hello?” she said.

Calla froze. “Hey,” she replied. “It’s Calla. I was just checking on things.”

“Mm. Hello, Calla,” Lillana said. She leaned over and brightened a light at her bedside. “Everything all right?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Yeah,” Calla said. “I was just... you know. It’s my watch, I was looking around.”

“Great. Well, let me know if you need anything.” Lillana slid open a drawer. She took out a book, a printed book.

“You’re going to read?” Calla asked.

“I’m a light sleeper,” Lillana replied. “I might read, I might doze. You go on and keep watch. We’ll be safe in here.”

“Great,” Calla said, giving a smile. She turned around and stepped back past the sleeping form of Margot, and slipped out the door. With another smile, she closed the door behind her.

Her mouth bent into a moue. She had so badly wanted to implant Lillana. The woman had such secrets—the guns, the combots... once she was brood, Calla would get to learn what was behind that door in the secret gun room. Her waking up was so disappointing! Damn that little alarm chime!

But Calla was too smart to try again. She only had a couple of hours, while the Cora drone worked her control ever deeper into Han-Irinov’s obedient mind. Calla didn’t know how Cora was doing it, or why she didn’t simply instruct the human to walk off the farm and hand herself over for infestation, but she knew there was a reason and that it was good.

Damn! Damn, damn, damn! Lillana would have been such a good catch!

Calla pushed it from her mind. No matter. Lillana would be brood. They all would be. It just wouldn’t be Calla who converted her, at least not on this night.

Then she smiled.

There was a third room.

Calla passed by the door of the empty room and came to the guest bedroom where the other two SSDF women slept. Cruzado-Liu was spoken for; what the Cora drone was doing to Han-Irinov, the Emilee drone was doing to Cruzado-Liu.

But Captain Stone...

Calla slipped the door open. Both women were asleep on their sleeping mats, Cruzado-Liu in the center, Stone closer to the left-hand wall. Han-Irinov’s empty mat was on the right, by an ornate dresser. Calla looked at Stone. She wasn’t pretty, her features too strong, too angular. Striking, perhaps. Not beautiful.

But she would be an excellent slave.

Inside herself, Calla felt her body tighten around the egg which awaited its turn to be planted inside a human. Her hand slid under her waistband, found that her slit was still wet.

Then it touched her mind.

A broodmind. Calla’s face lost all expression as she opened her mind without hesitation. It would read and control. She would obey.

It was outside the house. Not close, not where the combots might find it. Only just close enough for its control to reach the brood slaves.

It read her mind, copied out her memories, stored them away. It knew everything she knew, felt, experienced, or thought. Calla had no secrets from her masters. Secrets had ceased to exist. She did not miss them.

It analyzed her thoughts, scanned her memories. It was pleased with her secret conversion of Bekka; Calla bit her lip as the pleasure spiked through her. She had obeyed! She had made her master proud! She had served the brood.

Even as she was trembling with pleasure, instructions slid into her spread-open mind, became her new thoughts.

The broodmind’s attention moved on. Dimly, Calla was aware of it implanting commands into the Cora drone and the Emilee drone. It had taken their thoughts, their memories, back to the brood as a whole, and the brood had decided on a course of action. Now this broodmind put back into their minds precisely how they would serve.

Calla looked across the dimly lit room with a new perspective, a new understanding. She smiled, and stepped back into the hall. Stone would join them soon enough.

They all would.

* * *

By the time the sun was up, they were organized.

The AATGV could seat ten, but not comfortably. It was also not practical for the civilians to drive, and they needed at least one SSDF member in the interior to man the RKT. It also made sense for the two infested women to once again be transported in the back of the EVDP patrol car.

The farm had two groundcars other than the tractor and the combine harvester, and there was also Tsugerloi’s truck. If they took the boxes of supplies in the back of the AATGV, it made little sense to take the truck. Tsugerloi was disappointed to leave it behind, but she took out her medical kit, patted the truck on the side, and parked it inside the shed.

So their convoy would be Stone, Margot, Junipero, and Han-Irinov in the AATGV, along with the supplies. Cruzado-Liu and Han-Harris would be in the patrol groundcar, with the two infested women. The Thompsons, Tsugerloi, and Wen would ride in the larger of the two Wen household groundcars—which turned out to be a KTT Essex, a luxury groundcar, probably the most expensive private transportation on the planet which couldn’t fly.

Of course Velcado would have had an Essex. He’d probably had a driver.

The combots were unfortunately too heavy to bring. If they unloaded the ammunition, they might have managed one of them in the rear of the truck, but being unloaded rather defeated the entire point of bringing one.

The women packed the vehicles in the pre-dawn light, and as the sun rose over the horizon, they were ready to head south.

At least, until Wen threw a wrench into things.

“What do you mean you’re not going?” Stone demanded.

“That is correct,” Lillana replied. “I am not.”

“But... you can’t stay here.”

“I do not see why I cannot.”

“By yourself...” Stone waved her hands. “You’ll be overrun. Combots or no. One crawler sneaks in and you’re done.”

“That is my risk, and my choice,” Wen replied. “I am not going. Please, take the groundcar. I wish you the best of luck.”

“Why? Why don’t you want to come with us?”

“This is my family’s farm. I simply wish to stay here.”

Stone argued with her for ten minutes more, but the farm owner did not change her position. Everyone else shifted uncomfortably on their feet in the pale light of the early morning.

Finally, Stone threw up her hands. “Alright!” She ran a hand over her face. “Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Wen. It has been... extremely helpful. And kind of you.” Stone looked over at the other ten women. “Anyone else want to stay here?”

Calla Thompson looked at her mother, but neither said anything. Tsugerloi and Han-Harris remained silent.

“Right. Then let’s moving.” She looked at Lillana. “Thanks again. Wish you’d reconsider.”

“I shan’t. And you are very welcome. It was pleasant having all of you.”

Margot walked towards the AATGV. Han-Irinov fell in beside her.

“You think she knows something that we don’t?”

Margot shook her head. “I don’t know. I think, if heading down the peninsula were an obviously bad idea, she’d have said something.”

“Then why’s she want to stay here? Captain’s right, they’ve got lots of ways to get her if she’s alone. Combots won’t keep everything out.”

“I don’t know. I think she’s got some other play, something she’s not telling us about. Her father was General Velcado, after all.”

“What?” They stood at the AATGV’s side door. Han-Irinov stopped. “Her name’s Wen.”

“That’s her mother’s name. Her father was General Velcado.”

“The General Velcado? The Hammer of Fucking Austerhaut?”

“That’s the one.”

Han-Irinov stared across the yard. “Fuck me in and fuck me out,” she said. “You’ve—that’s fucking unbelievable. No wonder she’s got a fucking energy pistol.”

“You noticed that then.”

“’Course I fucking did. Velcado’s daughter.” She whistled. “Fucking... fuck. Well. Shame she’s not coming with us. Fuck, now I don’t half rate our chances.”

Margot snorted. “Did you rate them before?”

Han-Irinov hopped up into the AATGV’s interior. “No. But... shit. If she feels safer here than pitching in with us... ah, we’re fucked, Belangier.”

“You’re probably right,” Margot said, sliding the door closed. “But better fucked together than all alone.”

* * *

The AATGV rolled out into the field. More precisely, onto a dirt road which led across the south field.

Behind them came the EVDP groundcar, Cora and Vanderbruk sitting quietly in the back. At the last minute Han-Harris had asked to switch cars, rather than to ride with the two infested women, so Junipero took her place and Han-Harris went back to the big Essex groundcar with Tsugerloi and the Thompsons.

Han-Harris had rigged up the radios so they could talk with each other, and wired a portable box into Wen’s groundcar.

“Alright,” Margot said into the little handset, “Report in. Junipero?”

“We’re good,” Junipero replied. “Fuel full, ride smooth, prisoners docile.”

Margot snorted. “Good. Han-Harris?”

“Uh, hi! This is Calla. I’m sitting in the front. So, uh, I have the radio? Anyway. We’re all fine. Tsugerloi says that she’s never ridden in a groundcar this nice. It’s pretty comfortable. Uh. Over?”

Stone rolled her eyes, and Margot chuckled softly. “All right. It’s only half an hour to the bridge. If you see anything questionable, speak up.”

“Roger.”

“Uh, sure! Yes!”

Margot watched Stone shake her head and smiled.

They drove the AATGV down the dirt road. At the edge of the field, Margot hopped out and opened the gate. Beyond the field of grass were neat rows of some bushy plants: soybeans? Potatoes? Margot didn’t know. But there was little room amongst them for the big xenos, and Margot had her pistol on her hip.

Not that it mattered. Gate open, she got back in the AATGV and they proceeded onward. After the Essex went through, Calla hopped out and closed the gate behind them.

They drove down the dirt road for about two kilometers, then took a second dirt road west. After a few hundred meters, it joined with the paved surface of road 29.

Stone turned left, and they headed for the causeway over the Zhaoze.

* * *

Lillana sat on the roof of the porch and watched them go.

She was using a pair of amplified binoculars; even at seven kilometers she could see Calla’s enthusiastic smile as she leaned over the seat to talk with her mother and Bekka in the rear of the Essex.

It had been a nice groundcar. In her last few years at home, she had driven it into Savoy, sometimes with her father in the back. She could still almost smell the interior.

The convoy slowed as it came upon the main road into Savoy. Slowed, but did not stop, nor turn. From there, the route south bent eastward, descending rapidly towards the causeway across the Zhaoze. Lillana watched as, one by one, the vehicles rose up that last hill, then descended out of sight.

That was that, then.

For a moment, she sat there, enjoying the feel of the early morning air. It was unlikely she’d ever be here again, the home she’d grown up in. She considered a quick visit to her father’s grave, but there was little point. He had raised her to be eminently practical. She would be his monument.

How long until the xenos, and their fresh army of slaves, made an appearance? They must be watching the farm. They’d have seen the little convoy’s departure, and probably noticed Lillana not being among them. It was hard to say, hard to guess at the workings of alien minds. But their arrival could be quite soon.

Best to leave while the leaving was good.

Lillana slung the long rifle over her shoulder, let the binoculars drop to her chest, and climbed in the window. She closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of her room, her own room. With a strange feeling in her chest, she looked around, at her four-poster bed, her antique wash stand, the photograph of her with her parents on Mount Shang. She had a digital copy, of course, but she reached up to touch the glass over the print.

Then she gathered herself and went downstairs. She went through the kitchen, noting that Lynn Thompson had done the dishes and left them drying on the counter.

In the formal dining room, she faced the cabinet. She found the small ceramic figurine that her father had shown her.

With a quick strike of the binoculars, she shattered it.

The lever was just as he’d said it would be.

Lillana took hold of the lever, and pulled it down.

Behind the cabinet, she heard grinding as the mechanism lurched into life. Would it work? It had never been used, obviously.

Of course it would. A moment later, she heard the crunching and popping as the epoxy cylinders were crushed open; the hissing of the water, and then the wet scraping sound as the cement began to fill the shaft.

A shame. Hopefully one day someone would be able to return for the collection.

She unscrewed the lever, leaving only a small hole in the shelf, and pocketed it as she walked out to the yard. Out of habit, she locked the door behind herself.

One of the combots was roaming the yard. They were programmed to recharge themselves; no reason to make it easy for the xenos and their slaves. Lillana gave it a nod as she walked to the smaller silos.

She climbed the metal rungs of the second silo, up to the small dormer at the top. Her fingerprint was enough to open the deceptively high-tech door, which slid downward to reveal a rope ladder, hanging from the interior roof.

It was only a few meters down. Her flycycle was right where she’d left it. Lillana pulled on her leather-look reactive suit, in fetching black and dark blue. The normal models of suit would harden in nanoseconds to prevent a crashing rider from abrasion or impalement.

Lillana’s suit would stop bullets. She leaned the rifle against the wall and moved her energy pistol to the exterior belt integrated into the reactive suit. Straddling the flycyle, she lowered herself onto the seat and gave a small wiggle.

The empire had forbidden her father the rejuv treatments he could easily have afforded. Condemned him to years of age, and ultimately death, for being too dangerous to the ruling clique. He had never given up on the possibility of his official redemption, even as one faction fell to another fell to another, and no summons ever came.

But he was also and ever a realist. He knew that he might never leave Strand. To that end, he had confided in his daughter. Told her about the small cabin in the Southern Spine, the automated defenses, the secrets he’d hidden there.

About the single person launch vehicle.

Lillana waved her hand in a particular way and the side of the silo slid open. With her hands back on the grips, the flycyle rose into the air.

She bade a silent farewell to the farm, and a silent good luck to the women headed south.

She flew east, low over the trees, and was gone in a moment.

* * *

End Chapter Five