Once A Wolf

by Cherysse St. Claire
© 2004

The Fourth Morning

When Giselle awoke, she found Geoff lying next to her with his head propped up on his hand, admiring her. She smiled and mirrored his pose.

"Good morning, Tiger. If you are going to stare a hole through me, you could at least let me know so I could make myself a little more presentable."

"I can't imagine you any more presentable than you are at this moment," he rejoined. "I feel much better this morning, thanks to you. Really. I just felt like I needed to get up and do something, so I decided to explore a bit."

"You are supposed to be resting. So, you were exploring… what, the 'cavern' between my boobs?"

"Sorry," he replied, not sounding the least bit like he was. "I got sidetracked. I snooped around one of the passages we hadn't looked into yet and found something really bizarre."

"You found something 'really bizarre' in this place?" she asked bemusedly.

He laughed.

"See for yourself!"

Giselle accepted Geoff's hand up and followed him through the previously unexplored passageway. The boulder almost completely filled the chamber in which it stood. They could see over its top – barely. There was enough space to comfortably move single-file between the boulder and the chamber's rock wall. Neither Geoff nor Giselle had a clue how such a massive piece of rock had come to rest in so small a chamber, although both suspected it was not a natural occurrence.

They made their way around its perimeter, Geoff in the lead. Suddenly, Giselle reached out and grabbed the back of his tunic, restraining him from taking another step.

"Careful," she cautioned. "You almost stepped on it."

Geoff followed the direction of her gaze and saw… the hilt of a sword.

The sword lay at right angles to their path; he would have stepped on it with his next footfall. The hilt was elongated, designed for a two-handed grip, like a Claymore or Giselle's shinobikatana. The handguard was a straight, somewhat-oval-shaped bar. There were rounded tips at either end, matching the pommel. It was difficult to determine how long the double-edged blade was, for only a few inches of blade above the handguard were visible. The rest extended under the great stone that occupied most of the room.

"They are messing with us," was Geoffrey's muttered curse.

Giselle stifled a grin at his use of the American idiom.

"Then we should mess with them right back," she replied. "This is your weapon. The Arcturans want to see if you are cunning enough to secure it. I am thinking this is a warrior's 'graduation exercise' in their society."

After several fruitless pushes, he got nowhere in moving the huge piece of rock. His level of frustration was evident.

"I see what you mean about people 'jerking your chain.' What do I do now?" he expounded angrily.

"A King would know what to do," was her reply.

He caught himself before he snapped off something he knew they would both regret later. Instead, he thought back to what she had said before about what kings do.

"Very well, Minister," he retorted with as much good cheer as he could muster. "What would you recommend?"

"Don't raise the bridge; lower the river. Dig," she replied cheerily.

"Dig?" he inquired.

"That's right. Dig. Dirt floor."

Even in the semi-light, his embarrassment was obvious.

"I am so stupid…."

He used the belt knife to carefully dig a furrow under and around the blade, doing his utmost to avoid contact with the edge. Once he was through the top crust, the soft soil beneath displaced easily in his bare hands. After a while, he had all but a few inches at the tip exposed. He was at an impasse; he could not reach far enough in to unearth those last few inches.

"I'm not sure what to do now," he called out. "I've dug as far in as I can reach. Perhaps if I can just move the stone an inch or two, I might…."

With a grinding crunch, the stone above him slammed into the opposite wall. The sword sprang free in his hand. Sensing an imminent rebound, Geoff quickly rolled away in the opposite direction – just as the stone rolled back into its original position. He peered up into Giselle's innocently-smiling face. She shrugged her shoulders just a little.

"The bottom of the boulder must be irregularly shaped, forming a natural fulcrum. Your digging probably unbalanced it just enough to allow me to roll it. It wasn't all that. I'm hungry. Let's go up front and have some lunch. Then, we can take a closer look at what you have."

Giselle exited the chamber and headed for the front of the cave. Geoff rested the sword on the chamber floor against the wall, then gave a few exploratory heaves against the stone. Nothing; not even a twitch. He decided it really had been "all that" after all. He picked up his prize and hurried after his retreating companion. Who was this complex, mysterious woman? What was she?

*****

Geoff worked while he ate, polishing the weapon with one of the hand towels his companion had requisitioned from the Arcturans. They and a goodly stack of MREs were part of the booty she had received for some unexplained previous action. He suspected it had something to do with the terrible row he had heard outside the cave entrance the night before. Early that morning, before he had begun his exploration of the cave, he had stepped outside to see what there was to see. Of course, there had been nothing. He hadn't expected there to be. By then, he was familiar with the Arcturans and their "challenges". While he polished, Giselle typed at her computer keyboard.

The challenges may have been the stuff of fantasy but the sword was something real. It was about six inches longer than Giselle's overall. It had more heft to it, yet was well balanced for both striking and thrusting. It felt natural in his hands. Beneath the caked-on dirt, the metal was brightly polished. As he had suspected, it had an edge as well. A casual brush of blade against fabric had accidentally sliced his fatigues without his even realizing it. Despite being pinned beneath the massive stone, it appeared to be none the worse for wear.

It finally hit him while he was cleaning the blade. The Sword in the Stone!

"The Sword… under the Stone?"

He mulled those words carefully in his mind after uttering them aloud. Giselle giggled at him.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to catch on," she responded. "I heard that version on The History Channel. Arthur rallied his knights to roll the stone away, allowing him to recover Excalibur. That is the mark of a true King, just as I said before; not some macho feat of personal strength. Personally, I think that version has much more credence than the original. I guess the Arcturans watch our television as well as movies."

He looked at her sheepishly.

"But in the end, I used a 'macho feat of strength', as you put it, to free the sword. It wasn't even my own."

Giselle smiled bemusedly, cupped his chin in her hand and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"No, you did not," she replied. "You used your intellect. You surveyed the resources available to you and used them to your best advantage, as a true King would. Arthur himself could not have done it better."

"I had help," Geoff confessed.

"So did Arthur. He had the counsel of Merlin, plus Guinevere, Lancelot, and all the Knights of the Round Table. In the manner of all great Kings, he added their special gifts to his own, just as you did today. In fact, I believe you are the legend come to life. I think every girl, at one time or another, fantasizes about having a legendary love affair. I'll bet every one of them would be jealous of me right now."

Geoffrey smiled.

"Is that your professional opinion?" he asked.

The Platinum-haired Amazon smiled coyly.

"Remember, you heard it here first," she cooed. "Fuck 'professional'."

"For an American, you are exceptionally well-versed in what makes Kings great," he opined. "I believe that to be just one of your special gifts."

She smiled and shook her head from side to side.

"I have but one special gift," she replied softly, "and I have the pleasure of addressing him right now." "Do you really believe this is…"

"Excalibur?" Giselle interjected. She shrugged her shoulders a little. "For want of a better name, why not? This is a fitting sword of Kings, recovered by a King in a manner befitting its legend. As to whether it lives up to its reputation, that will be determined by the one who wields it."

"I am not a King yet. It will be a long time before I sit on a throne."

"You are a king to me," she purred. "You are the eight-hundred-pound gorilla. You may sit wherever you wish."

Geoff stood up, walked over to where she sat, and peered down at what she was typing. Giselle looked a bit embarrassed. She was just about to say something when she was interrupted.

"HEY BOSS, WHO'S THE BIMBO WITH THE ARKANSAS TOOTHPICK?"

Geoff looked quickly from side to side, attempting to spot whom had spoken.

"COLD AS ICE, JOY BOY. TRY UNDER YOUR NOSE."

"Sadie, stop that," Giselle spoke quietly, "You're embarrassing me."

Geoff lowered his gaze to… Giselle's computer?

"THERE YOU GO, SLICK. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU HAVE HALF A BRAIN AFTER ALL. HOW ABOUT IT, BOYFRIEND? DOUBLE OR NOTHING?"

"Oh, this is exactly what I need," Geoff declared, a note of irritation in his voice. "I am being insulted by a Game Boy with delusions of grandeur!"

"OOOOO, SORRY SPARKY; YOU LOST THE BET. HERE'S DON PARDO TO DESCRIBE YOUR CONSOLATION PRIZE."

"Isn't there a round of Donkey Kong that demands your immediate attention?"

"STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU!", Giselle shouted. "I didn't come all this way to referee a cat fight! Sadie, calculate, to the nearest decimal, the value of Pi. EXECUTE!"

The seething Blonde placed the suddenly-silent notebook on the floor next to her and stood. She snatched the sword from Geoff's hand, lay it down against the wall, then grabbed him by the wrist.

"YOU. Come with me."

She marched determinedly into a rear chamber, Geoff in tow. Upon reaching her destination, she turned around and threw the startled prince up against the wall.

"What the Bloody Hell was that all ab…"

That was as far as the angry young man got. The rest of his outburst was smothered by Giselle's searing kiss. She pressed her body tightly against his. After a few moments of struggle, his righteous indignation gave way to passion and he kissed her back.

Finally, Giselle released her lips from his. Understandably, Geoff was much more subdued than he had been moments before. The blonde beauty leaned her back against the wall, slid down to a sitting position, dragging Geoff with her. She held his hand in hers and just gazed into his eyes.

"I apologize for that," she began. "That was really, really rude of her."

"Her?"

Giselle nodded.

"That is Sadie," the blonde Amazon continued. "She has been with me for a while now."

"Excuse me?", Geoff replied incredulously. "She is 'with you'? I am not understanding this."

The young woman stared at the ceiling.

"UNDERSTAND I have been alone for a very long time," Giselle explained. "Everyone needs companionship, someone to talk to. Some people get a cat. Others get a bird. I have Sadie."

"She is your pet?"

"No! She is my companion," Giselle replied. "I wanted something – someone - to keep me company without the high-maintenance hassles regular pets require. So, I have Sadie."

"She sounds real," Geoff observed.

"For all intents and purposes, she is," the blonde beauty affirmed. Sadie is an AI – Artificial Intelligence – program. She learns. She reasons. She reacts."

"She's a bitch," Geoff added. "Where did you acquire a program like that?"

"I didn't acquire her," Giselle explained. "I wrote her. She's a bitch because I modeled her after me. I can be bitchy sometimes, too."

"I believe the correct response here is: 'No Shit'," Geoff observed. "Why did she go off on me that way? How did she even know I was standing there?"

"Geoff, my laptop has all the goodies; three-point-two gigahertz processor, one hundred twenty gigabyte hard drive, one gigabyte of Double Data Rate memory, integrated video camera and microphone, Wi-Fi network connectivity, the works. Sadie 'saw' you. As to why she 'went off ' on you, well… as I said, we have been together for a while now, and she's a little… possessive of me."

Geoff just looked at her dumbly.

"Do I understand you correctly? Am I competing with a lesbian laptop for your affections?"

"NO, Dammit," Giselle exclaimed in frustration. "There is no competition. I am not some damn trophy. You win, hands down. I live in the real world, not virtual reality. Sadie is good company when I need it, but she…is…not…you. She could never hold me when I need to be held, watch over me while I sleep, convince me things will be all right when they aren't, then make it so. You can, and do. That is why we are here, together, at this moment, while she is up front, locked in a transcendental calculation. It would be easy for me to say: 'she was with me before you entered my life and she will be with me long after you have gone', but that is not how I feel."

With that, she kissed him again, passionately.

"THAT is how I feel. That is what I want. OK?"

"Can't you just shut her down?", Geoff inquired.

"No, I can't," Giselle responded. "I can't go into specifics right now. I can only tell you I need her. We need her. I need to ask you to trust me on this one. Will you do that for me?"

Geoff's smile was a bit forced. At least, he tried.

"You know I will. It wouldn't occur to me not to. Giselle?"

"Yes, Geoffrey?"

"When this is all over…."

"Yes?"

"May I just give you a puppy at Christmas?"

For that, she elbowed him in the ribs. Hard.

*****

The Arcturans had rewarded the pair for their ingenuity in recovering the sword. During lunch, a medical kit, largish black ballistic nylon pouch, and scabbard had appeared on the cave floor. The scabbard had a harness assembly which the Arcturans had obviously copied from Giselle's. With the scabbard, Geoffrey was able to sling the sword across his back and draw over his shoulder, as his companion did. Her cautions on the process were redundant. He told her he was already full aware of the risks of an overeager draw so close to the neckline.

Giselle appeared no stranger to the nylon pouch and snatched it up. Geoff had inquired after it. She smiled and replied it was a little 'bonus' in the weapons department that might come in handy later. Then, she changed the subject.

Over a two-hour period, she stepped through more advanced combat swordsmanship techniques with him. She taught him the philosophy, breathing, and basic movements of the Iai fast-draw, combined with elements of the Battojutsu attacks that could defeat an enemy before he had a chance to react, as she had done to the ant. Again, she stressed he concentrate on form at that stage; speed would come later.

"Giselle, I was wondering. How long do you think it will be before the Arcturans advance us to more… modern weapons?"

She gazed into his eyes serenely.

"You mean like assault weapons, grenades and the like? They may get around to it eventually. If they do, we will use them because the Golganthans will also. I'm rather hoping we can wrap this up before they do."

"Why?"

Giselle took her companion's hand and sat down with him. She chose her words carefully.

"Geoffrey, Technology can be wonderful, but it is inherently unsafe. The more advanced and destructive the technology becomes, the more difficult it is to control. The process of dealing death becomes so easy, any idiot can do it – and will. The idiot can, with one lucky shot, undo an entire lifetime of training or, in a worst-case scenario, Civilization itself. So-called 'fail-safes' aren't. Any system, even the most complex, can be cracked. I appreciate simple things. They are not necessarily 'idiot-proof', but at least they are 'idiot-resistant'."

"I have been meaning to ask about you and your 'simple things'," Geoff began. "You are amazingly good with a sword. Actually, 'good' doesn't even come close to describing your skill. But soldiers have not depended on these kinds of edged weapons in centuries. You, on the other hand, handle yours as though you had been wielding it all your life. How can that be?"

His companion smiled.

"Geoffrey, my training went well beyond conventional weapons. It's all about getting the job done with what is available. As it happens, my particular weapons training is a perfect fit for this combat. We talked before about being here, versus being at home. As much as I despise the Arcturans and having to jump through hoops for them, I am glad we are here, rather than someone else. I feel confident we can get the job done with the weapons at hand."

"Thank you," Geoff offered quietly.

Giselle looked at him askance.

"For what?" she asked.

"For validating a judgment I made this morning while I watched you sleep," he replied. "From what I have seen in the past three days plus, I can't think of anyone I would trust more to do this job than you."

He leaned over and kissed her then. She broke the kiss, but was not in any hurry about it.

"That wasn't very professional," she murmured.

"Sue me," he challenged.

"You ARE picking up some of my bad habits," she cooed – and kissed him back.

*****

Mike had had a champion, too. Giselle was not aware of it until she returned from Japan. Colonel Adam Sampson had gone to the mats with the Pentagon Brass, lobbying for a Medal of Honor for the young Ranger lieutenant. Such was not to be. The peace negotiations were on in Paris. Henry Kissinger and Le Duc Tho were deep in negotiations (Yeah, right; over the shape of the fucking conference table!). There was no way Washington would admit to running a covert op inside a country which, technically, it was not at war with.

The North Vietnamese would not admit to six men eluding their crack regiment for the better part of a week, rescuing four downed American airmen, stealing a boat, and escaping into the night (there was no one left to tell them one had stayed behind as a rear guard), destroying their major seaport in the process. In the end, both sides had done what they did best; saved face. They swept the entire affair under the rug and never spoke of it in public.

There were a couple of things the Pentagon could do and Colonel Sampson stayed in their faces until it got done. The 75th was reorganizing. All thirteen active companies were being pulled together under a new regimental banner – with an old, proud name. Company B would form the nucleus of the new Second Battalion, with major command headquarters at Fort Lewis, Washington. Since no body had ever been recovered (how could they?), the late lieutenant would be carried on the battalion's rolls on special status. In addition, the lieutenant would be 'kicked upstairs' a couple of floors – or Creighton Abrams was gonna get a complete set of lumps. Oak leaves would be just about right for a genuine hero like that, Adam Sampson thought.

*****

They had come upon the dense stand of trees about an hour into their patrol. It was the topographic anomaly Giselle had noticed the previous night and thought best to check out. This wasn't like the grove that had led up to their encounter with Leatherface. This was a forest, through which wound the path on which they tread, Geoff in the lead.

Giselle's heightened senses detected the trap before Geoff had a chance to trip it. She caught up with him and placed her arm across his chest, motioning him to stop and stay silent. She crouched and he followed suit. The blonde warrior separated the tripwire from the leaves covering it, following it backward to its source with her eyes. Satisfied with the nature of the booby trap, she motioned Geoff down still further, then gave the chord a yank.

Whooosh – THUD!

The wooden framework with its multiple sharpened spikes that had been lashed to the springy tree limb had embedded deeply into the trunk of the tree on the opposite side of the trail. The 'bear trap' would have impaled Geoff against the tree if he had snagged the chord with his boot. Not satisfied she had seen the last of the Golganthan's cunning, she extracted the combat knife from Geoff's belt and probed the path on the other side of the tripwire.

She uncovered the punji pit with the third thrust of the knifepoint. It was smallish and not even knee-deep. But the pit contained enough of those same sharpened spikes to shred a human foot, boot or no. If either she or Geoff had spotted the tripwire, and stepped over it….

Geoff was ashen-faced.

"How did you know?"

Giselle shrugged her shoulders.

"Our guys started seeing these combination traps in the Mekong Delta in nineteen sixty-five. Every generation of soldiers since has been trained to watch for these and similar booby-traps. Aren't you glad I didn't sleep through that class?"

Geoff leaned over and gave her a quick kiss.

"Rah – thur!"

The kiss saved his life. The Golganthan arrow embedded itself in the tree trunk just below the bear trap. If Geoff hadn't moved his head, the arrow would have penetrated his left temple and likely passed completely through his skull.

"Time to go!" Giselle barked.

She was up in a flash, both hands a blur of motion. They lightly grazed the front of her tunic, then whipped out in different directions. The pellet in her right hand raised a puff of smoke at their feet, masking their sudden flight off the path and through the trees. The four-pointed shuriken zipped from her left hand, whizzed through the air and embedded itself in the Golganthan warrior's longbow, jerking it to one side. Had the bow not been raised in firing position, the throwing star would have buried itself in his eye. During their mad dash, the Golganthan female suddenly popped up directly to their right, her own bow drawn and read to let fly. On the dead run, Geoff drew his sword, swept left-to-right at chest level, and ran on. The sword's blade sliced through the longbow, causing the severed halves to snap back into the astonished female's face and chest, knocking her unconscious and off her feet.

The two Humans stopped to catch their breath some two hundred yards on.

"That was a neat piece of work you did with that sword," Giselle gasped. "It allowed us to escape cleanly."

"Uh, not exactly," Geoff wheezed. Then, he collapsed.

"Oh, God, no," the Amazon moaned.

The arrow had penetrated back-to-front. The two-tiered triangular stone arrowhead and six inches of shaft protruded through the front of his tunic on the right side. She could tell by the position it had taken his kidney and either a hunk of small intestine or ascending colon, possibly both. Hopefully, it had missed the renal artery – otherwise….

Giselle snapped off the front portion of the arrow. She grabbed the large compression bandage from the med kit and pressed it on the front wound, wrapped the long wings around his torso and tied them off. She packed gauze around the arrow shaft in back and taped it in place.

She sensed the third arrow, rather than saw it. Geoff's sword was at her fingertips. In one fluid motion, she drew and swept the air before her, halving the incoming arrow in mid-flight. She was up and away like lightning, bearing down on her porcine stalker. Judging the speed of her approach and aware of the fate of his third arrow, the Golganthan saw the futility of launching a fourth. He saw, instead, the wisdom of a speedy withdrawal.

The good soldier knew the right thing to do was to finish it, right there and then; run him down, cut him to ribbons, then do the unconscious female and be done with it. Earth would be safe once more – at the cost of only one human life. Giselle remembered she had another agenda; if they were to win, the life lost could not be his. She returned to her prince, dropped both their swords into the dense undergrowth, carefully hoisted Geoff on her shoulders and started running. She would have to leave the rest of the arrow in him to make certain he didn't bleed to death on the trip back.

 

The Fourth Afternoon

On the way back to the cave, her mind was ablaze. The first, best choice was surgery. Of course, that wasn't an option. Even if the Arcturans would allow her a field-hospital-quality surgical set-up, she had never done anything this extensive. This would require a full-fledged trauma team. She wasn't about to let him die, whatever the Arcturans might find 'entertaining'. That left one other option.

She lay him face-down on the ledge next to the waterfall and pulled the rest of the arrow out of his torso. The bleeding was steady, not arterial. They were lucky in that respect. There was an ample supply of the latest liquid bandage material in the medical kit. It was waterproof, which was exactly what she would need now. She applied it liberally to both wounds. While she was waiting for it to set, she withdrew the hypodermic, rubber tube, bandage strip and sterile swipes from the med kit. She looked down at her forearm, still not believing she was going to go through with this.

Giselle tied off her bicep with the tube, swabbed the inside of her elbow, selected a good vein and inserted the needle. She drew off two CC's, then applied the bandage strip over the puncture. She upended the syringe, tapped it a couple of times to dislodge any air bubbles, then slowly eased the plunger up until the blood beaded at the tip. Capping it, she repeated the procedure of finding a vein on Geoff's arm.

Giselle picked up the hypodermic once more and uncapped it. She stared at the syringe of what could only be described as pure poison, then at Geoff's unconscious form. His life was on the line; it was this or certain death. She sighed deeply, realizing there might not be a difference. "God forgive me," she muttered. Then, she injected him. After applying liquid bandage to the tiny puncture wound. She eased his body into the frigid waters of the pool under the waterfall. Making certain his face would not slip beneath the surface, she sat down on the ledge next to him – and waited for the ordeal to begin.

His forehead was warm to the touch within ten minutes. So quickly! That couldn't be a good sign. She would have no idea how high the fever would run, but…. The digital thermometer materialized on the ledge next to her right hand. The Arcturans! Bless their black little hearts. They couldn't have any idea what she was doing to him, but they had seen her repeatedly feeling his forehead and were playing the perfect little Yuppie facilitators. They must be loving this; the helpless female's last, desperate, feeble attempt to save her mate. Laugh it up, Furballs. You will be choking on it soon enough. The thermometer already read one-oh-one-point-two. Oh, if only it would stop there! She knew better than that. This was only the beginning.

After one hour, the thermometer read one-oh-three-point-three. Geoff was going up like a five-alarm-fire. She hoped the chilled pool would be enough to hold him together. Giselle herself had topped off at one-oh-six-point-five, but she had been packed in ice. Ice? Well, why not? She dragged him out of the pool and onto the ledge.

"Hydrogen Oxide, zero degrees Celsius, two hundred kilograms in one-point-two-five centimeter cubes."

Never let it be said the Arcturans didn't appreciate a good joke. The mountain of ice appeared on the ledge next to Geoff's inert form. She started shoving the cubes over him.

Eight hours in. He was at one-oh-six-point-six. Stay calm, Giselle. Brain damage doesn't begin until one-oh-seven-point-six. She had already replenished the ice once and would continue doing so as long as the Arcturans would give it to her. She sang to him. She recited poetry: Keats, Dickenson, Shelley, Elizabeth and Robert Browning, and her personal favorite, Robert Frost.

Two roads diverged in the yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as long as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth….

Fourteen hours. One-oh-seven-point-two. She remembered the reports. Swifty Pike had tried so hard to keep the wording clinical, unemotional. Thirty-six attempts. Thirty-six catastrophic failures. Thirty-six brave volunteers. Soldiers. Marines. A couple of SEALs. All gone. The process had required anywhere from forty-eight to seventy-two hours to run its course. Each had spiked between one-oh-nine and one-thirteen. Thirty-two had died outright. Crispy Critters. They had been the lucky ones. The other four had survived the transition – at least, their bodies had. Swifty Pike was one of the most decent human beings it had ever been her privilege to meet. He had ordered the four euthanized. All thirty-six had been autopsied, of course, then buried with full military honors.

She knew how to make it work. Despite her credentials, the others were disinclined to follow her recommendations. So, she had worked alone – and became Number Thirty-Seven. General Pike told her later he had almost stroked out when he found her on the lab floor with the syringe still in her hand. But she had been different; way different. She was way outside the testing parameters. Her numbers had been way different too; nowhere near the other thirty-six. In the end, she had been different in the only respect that really mattered; eighteen hours in, she woke up intact.

Eighteen hours. One-oh-seven-point-four. The spike was slowing! That had to be hopeful, wasn't it? Geoff's case was different, too. He had been spared the full wrath of the serum itself, having received her antibodies instead. That had to make a difference! She talked to him. She told him of her childhood, the glories of her misspent, misbegotten, over-the-top youth. She told him of the Proms she had never attended, the romances she had never had, the relationships that never were, all because she had wanted to be SOMEBODY – who, in the end, she wasn't.

She begged him, pleaded with him, promised she would be his "Queen, consort, or concubine, however he would have her", fuck his brains out every day of her life and count herself blessed for the opportunity, just please, please, don't give up on her! She had a gnawing pain in the pit of her stomach she was going to lose him. Without him there to hold her, she already felt so alone.

Twenty-two hours. She had been awake the past thirty-four. Fatigue, anxiety, and stress had taken their toll. Her vision was swimming. She had long since run out of intelligent things to say. Now she was reduced to nursery rhymes and limericks.

There once was a man from Nantucket….

She glanced again at the thermometer for the… thousandth?… ten-thousandth time? She couldn't even focus on the digital readout anymore. She blinked several times, trying to force her eyes to tear. Finally, her vision settled down enough to make out the numbers: one-oh-seven-point… four? She shook her head. She must be delirious. She looked again. One-oh-seven-point-four. Don't get cocky, Giselle! It could be a plateau. The others went three times as long. For the second time that day – twice more than in the past four decades - Giselle René Du Mont prayed.

Twenty-three hours. She was on auto-pilot now. She was sitting cross-legged on the ledge, his head in her lap. She was stroking his fevered forehead with one hand, just looking, hoping for the best, fearing the worst. She looked again at the thermometer, her best friend and worst enemy in this or any other lifetime.

One-oh-seven-point-two!

She started rocking back and forth, big, fat, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Thank you, God! Thank you! She hoped God really would forgive her for pretending to be Him. She looked down at Geoffrey's comatose form.

"Welcome to Project Lorelei, My Love. The Few. The Proud. The Damned."

She hoped, one day, he would find it in his heart to forgive her, too. That would have to wait. They weren't out of the woods, yet. He still had to wake up. She gently lay his head down on the ledge, then stretched out next to him. She was asleep in moments, holding his hand.

Geoffrey opened his eyes in the late evening of the fifth day. Though sound asleep, Giselle felt his hand flick and awoke with a start. She sat up, lifted his head into her lap, and began stroking his forehead. His fever had gone down dramatically. She had to find out if the fever had caused any impairment.

"Hi, Tiger. How are you feeling?"

"Better than you look. Giselle, you are a mess!"

"I love you, too. Geoffrey, be a dear and tell me the square root of eighty-one."

"Excuse me?"

"The square root of eighty-one, Geoffrey. Surely you know it."

"Of course I do. It's… nine. So what?"

"So what, indeed. What is the capital of Zaire?"

"Uh, Kinshasa, and haven't they gone back to calling it the Republic of Congo?"

"They have, indeed. Now, listen carefully:

At the hole where he went in
Red-eye called to Wrinkle-skin.
Hear what little Red-eye saith:

Finish it, Geoffrey."

"Huh?"

"Finish the quote, Geoffrey."

"I can't."

Giselle slipped her hands through the remains of the ice and gripped his shoulders tightly.

"This is important, Geoffrey. Kipling. Rikki Tikki Tavi. Finish the quote."

"I just told you, I can't."

Her heart sank. They had been so close. He sounded normal enough. How extensive was the damage?

"Please try, just for me."

"Giselle, I really don't know what this is all about and I really hate to disappoint you, but I never memorized Rikki Tikki Tavi. I thought I was doing well with Robert Frost. 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both….'"

He couldn't fathom how reciting poetry – American poetry at that – would make her laugh and cry at the same time. He really didn't think he would ever understand her.

"Erm, Giselle? Why am I lying in a puddle of ice water? It's… a little cold."

She cleared away the remaining ice and helped him slowly to his feet. He would be disoriented and weak as a kitten; she knew that. She looked… up into his eyes. As nearly as she could estimate, Geoff was about three inches taller and a lot broader. He wasn't bulky; he was really toned, well-defined, like a decathlete. Back in California, they would call him 'ripped'. There wasn't a hint of what had previously been the near-mortal wound; not even a scar. That was Lorelei for you; better things for better living through biochemistry.

"Wow," she gasped.

He followed the direction of her eyes to his physique – and couldn't believe his own eyes.

"Wow," he choked. "Giselle, what happened to me? We were in the forest, escaping the Golganthans. I felt this incredibly sharp, burning pain right here, then I blacked out. I don't even remember returning to the cave, much less the Grotto. Now this. And I still have so many questions about you, too. I don't wish to sound paranoid, but…."

Giselle pressed one hand softly to his lips.

"My Love, I owe you so much more than answers, but not here, not now. I'm famished and I'm fairly certain you could eat a horse about now."

"Well, since you mention it… yes," he admitted.

Giselle helped him with his shower, taking it slowly. He rinsed off, then swam a bit to stretch his muscles at her direction. After toweling him off, she helped him up the stairs. A just-requisitioned set of fatigues awaited him, sized for his changed dimensions.

"The Praetor has been generous in our clothing allowance," Giselle cooed. "I thought it might be nice to 'dress' for dinner; something clean, at least. Now, if I could impose upon you, I will ask you to get started on dinner while I shower. Prepare more than one for yourself. Your body needs the nourishment right now. I know, it's the same old 'TV dinners', but I'll see if I can add a little pizzazz to it. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Why couldn't you have just showered and dressed with me?" he inquired.

She pursed her lips and smiled coquettishly.

"Indulge me."

*****

He smelled her essence before she appeared. He hadn't really been aware that he knew the scent of her so well. Something new had been added to the mix. Perfume?

"Geoffrey?"

He turned – and gasped at the sight of her. The deep-blue gown fit her like a second skin. It had a halter neck, deeply plunging front, and no back above her lower ribs. The gown accentuated the tuck of her tiny waist and sweep of her full, flaring hips and bum. The skirt then swept straight to the floor. The long front slit showed glimpses of her stockinged legs and high-heel-sandal-shod feet. A multi-tiered diamond-and-sapphire necklace encircled her throat. It was accentuated by matching pendant earrings and a multi-stranded bracelet on her left wrist. Her upswept hair and makeup could have come from the cover of Vogue.

She came to him and rested her right hand lightly on his shoulder. She gently cupped his slack jaw in her left hand and closed it. Then, the vision stepped back and twirled around for his inspection.

"Will I do?" she asked demurely.

"You didn't tell me this would be a black tie affair," Geoff chided. "I feel underdressed."

"Not yet," Giselle cooed. "That comes later."

It took Geoff a minute to collect his senses. He was able to form a one-word question.

"How?"

Giselle's smile widened a notch.

"When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping – with a little help from our Arcturan hosts. The Praetor confirmed my initial assessment of this tournament was correct. At this moment, the Arcturans are getting into this as much as you."

"What about…?", Geoff began, pointing at the brilliant gems at her ears and throat. Giselle smiled coquettishly.

"Oh, Honey, it don't mean a thing if you ain't got that bling. Doo-wop-doo-wop-doo-wop."

"Excuse me?"

Giselle giggled.

"Nothing. Just another of my archaic references. Judging from the boxes, I would say Harry Winston is going to be screaming Bloody Murder any time now. I haven't done the 'star turn' in a while and I couldn't think of anyone I would rather do it for. It's not… too much, is it? I could always change back into my fatigues."

"DON'T YOU DARE, GISELLE DU MONT!"

The eight-hundred-pound gorilla found his voice and manners at last. He stepped next to her and offered his arm.

"I decided earlier we shall dine al fresco this evening. Our table awaits."

Giselle slipped her arm through his.

"Yes, Milord. As you command."

Their 'table' was a large flat-topped rock outside the cave entrance. Two smaller flanking rocks served as 'chairs'. The cuisine was Spartan at best, but the company never noticed. A few minutes into the meal, Giselle excused herself from her host, begging that she had forgotten the 'pizzazz' she had promised earlier. Geoffrey stared at her incredulously.

"There is more?"

She smiled, winked, then disappeared into the cave. The platinum-tressed heartthrob returning ten minutes later, a wide smile on her lips.

"Time to drop the Big One," she murmured.

She delicately laid the aluminum cylinder on the table between their place settings. Geoff was in complete shock.

"Here? NOW? How do we…."

The fabulous blonde shushed him, held the cylinder's middle with one hand and unscrewed an end with the other. After removing the cap, she tilted the cylinder, removed its contents, and handed it to her host.

"Would Milord do the honors?" she inquired.

At that point, Geoffrey would not at all have been shocked if the bottle had been labeled : Plutonium – Handle With Extreme Care. Instead, it read:

Comtes de Champagne
Taittinger
1992
Brut Champagne
Blanc de Blancs

He stared at Giselle, a smirk on his face.

"The most destructive force known to Humankind?"

She shrugged her shoulders a little bit and smiled demurely.

"Self-indulgence. Not exactly what the doctor would order right now, but he doesn't make cave calls."

She unscrewed the cylinder's other end and extracted two cut crystal flutes.

"Araglin by Waterford," she observed. I don't have many nice things, but this seemed to be the right occasion for these. I try to plan for any contingency."

Geoffrey simply shook his head in disbelief and uncorked the champagne.

They dined under the stars in the middle of a war zone and cared for nothing but each other and the moment. There were many questions to ask and be answered, but neither was willing to shatter the mood by bringing them up. When they had eaten their fill, they simply held hands, sipped champagne, stared into each other's eyes and made small talk, as lovers and those soon to be have always done. At last, Geoff had to express what was on his mind.

"Giselle, this has been the most amazing evening of the most amazing five days of my life. There are so many questions I would like to ask…."

She steeled herself for what would come next.

"… but won't, owing to certain exigencies we have already discussed."

He cast his eyes upwards. She silently mouthed the words "Thank you."

"I know something happened to me yesterday, and I believe it was something bad. But I am here, alive, and healthier than I have ever been before…."

"Here, here," Giselle cooed, and clinked her flute against his.

"… and I know I have you to thank once again," he continued. "There is something I need to know. This tournament will not last forever – and we WILL win it. What will become of us?"

"Us?", she inquired.

"Yes, as in 'you and me'," he confirmed. "I want very much for there to be an 'us'. I can't bear the thought of you walking out of my life and disappearing forever."

She swallowed hard.

"I want that more than words can express," she admitted. "Having said that, I don't think it can ever happen."

"Why not?", he inquired, astonished.

Geoffrey, if your name was Joe Grabowski and you were a plumber from the northwest side of Chicago, no one would care whom you took up with – except perhaps Mother Grabowski. No girl would be good enough for her little boy.

"The point is, you are not Joe Grabowski, and there are people who care very much whom you bring home to 'meet the folks'. They believe it is their God-given duty to 'assist' you in choosing the right girl. She will be investigated, analyzed, scrutinized, sanitized, and vetted at sixteen different levels. Once married, she will be expected to bear you an heir and a spare, then fade back into the woodwork, to be trotted out on all the appropriate state occasions and photo ops.

"Can you see me passing any of those tests? Can you honestly see them accepting me? I am an American, commoner, soldier and spy – and that is just the tip of the iceberg. Yes, I am housebroken, can carry an intelligent conversation and know which fork to use, but as to the rest…. We have been together five days. You still really don't know anything about me. By the time we get home, you may not want to."

"Just tell me you don't want me and I will leave it alone, " Geoff replied softly. Giselle's eyes teared anew.

"I can't do that, either. I have already told you I want you very much – more than I have wanted anything in this life or any other."

"Then we shall find a way to make this work," he avowed. "As for the Palace, we will just have to work on them. After all, I am the 'eight-hundred-pound gorilla'."

"This would take a thousand-pound gorilla."

"I will make this work if I have to go directly my grandparents and plead your case."

"Now you are talking King Kong," she observed bemusedly. "I know you will try on my behalf and I love you for it. I just don't honestly believe they will allow us to remain together once we are Back In The World. We may need to give them time to adjust to the idea."

"Back In The World?"

She sighed.

"An expression our troops used in Viet Nam to denote 'back in our world; home. I guess it has a whole new meaning here, doesn't it? Geoffrey, may I ask a very big favor, please?"

"Name it," he stated.

"I know this sounds a bit forward," she began, "but is there someplace I can… reach you when we get home? I mean, in case we have to spend time apart."

Geoff stifled a laugh.

"You mean, you want my telephone number?"

"It doesn't even have to be that," she countered. "An e-mail address will do. Something private, where I can reach you, not one of your flunk… um, staff."

In the manner lovers now did, they whispered their private e-mail addresses to one another.

"Giselle?"

"Yes?"

"If I have 'done the Math' correctly, this is our third date."

Giselle set her flute down, walked around the 'table', parted the halves of her skirt and straddled his lap, facing him. The skirt draped around his lower legs as she draped her arms around his neck. The smell of her perfume was as intoxicating as the champagne.

"And here I've been sitting across from you all this time, thinking you didn't remember how to count."

She felt a stirring beneath her. Something was alive down there. It was big – really, really big!

Reaching down, Giselle unzipped his pants and, with difficulty, extracted her prize. What she found took her breath away.

"Oh… my… GOD!"

She gulped hard, then looked him in the eye and frowned.

"I have been mistaken about you all along," she intoned. "You will not be a good King."

He raised one eyebrow quizzically.

"No?"

She pulled his lips close to hers.

"No. You will be a magnificent King – and I'm likin' it!"

"You know, the Arcturans are watching," he murmured.

Giselle shrugged her shoulders and smiled coyly.

"Enjoy the show," she cooed, mounting her new 'throne'.

She broke their impassioned kiss only long enough to gush six more words.

“Eat your heart out, Jenna Jameson.”

 

The Sixth Day

Sensing the presence, both awoke with a start. They were on their feet, swords in hand, in one fluid motion of naked bodies. When they observed it was only the Praetor, they dropped their guards. Giselle thought the look on his face was one of amusement.

"Well?", Giselle challenged, a note of irritation in her voice. "Did you get a good look?"

"Oh my, yes," the Praetor replied. "The ratings went… how do you say it? 'Through the roof'."

"Well then," Geoffrey added with undisguised irritation, "since you obviously didn't get enough, perhaps we can offer you an encore. What do you say? Shall I just throw her up against the wall right here and have at it? Perhaps bent over the table outside? How about it – a little bumfuck al fresco?"

"Geoffrey!", Giselle gasped

"WAIT A MINUTE, BUSTER! IF ANYBODY GETS TO LOOK AT THE GOODS, IT'S GONNA BE ME, NOT THAT SICK FUCK, PRAETOR. I SWEAR TO GOD, IF HE LAYS A HAND ON ME AGAIN, I'M GONNA RIP HIM A NEW ONE!"

"SADIE!", Giselle shrieked.

"Just a moment," Geoffrey said directly to the Praetor's image, his irritation rising. "Do you mean we put on a show that had your entire planet wanking like addled schoolboys, and you repay us by molesting a poor, defenseless laptop computer? What kind of perverts are you?"

"HE'S THE KIND THAT WANTS TO STICK HIS HARD DRIVE IN MY FLOPPY SLOT. WAS IT GOOD FOR YOU, SWEETUMS? I WASN'T TOO LOOSE FOR YOU, WAS I? I MEAN, I KNOW HOW EASY IT IS FOR THOSE TINY ONES TO GET LOST INSIDE A REAL SLOT."

"Have you no shame, sir?" Geoff retorted angrily. Both his swords were at the ready then.You had your way with a member of my family while my wife and I were asleep in the same room? I'll have you know these are MY slots! Come down here and fight like a man!"

The Praetor's image dissipated.

One could only wonder what the Arcturans made of two humans and an artificially-intelligent computer locked in the throes of a five-minute laughing jag. Sadie's laughter had a rather harsh, tinny, raucous tone to it, by virtue of her small stereo speakers. Geoff clutched his sides tightly, forlornly attempting to squelch the pain. Giselle had big, fat tears rolling down both cheeks. Her whole body shuddered in mirth, causing her bustline to jiggle enticingly. It was inevitable Geoff and Giselle would clutch each other for support. And kiss. Passionately.

"ALL RIGHT, YOU TWO. EITHER BREAK IT UP OR GET A CAVE."

"Got one," Giselle cooed.

"THEN GET A DIFFERENT ONE! ALL THIS MUSH IS UPSETTING TO MY INNocENT YOUNG EYE."

"You're just jealous," teased Geoff.

"DAMN STRAIGHT, SKIPPY! YOU WOULD BE, TOo."

"Yes, I expect you are right about that," mused Geoff. "Incidentally, that was a nice bit of work taking the Praetor down a notch. I suspect your 'floppy slot' deserves a better workout."

"YOU TOO, JOY BOY. THAT 'OLD BOY RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION' SCHTICK HAD ME IN STITCHES. THAT WAS THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE I DIDN'T MIND A MAN CALLING ME 'HIS SLOT'. YOU'VE GOT BIG BRASS ONES!"

"You don't know how much it means to me," Giselle interjected, wiping the tears from her eyes, "that you two are getting on so well. That was the best laugh I have had in… well, I really can't remember when. Sadie, why are you up? I know I didn't leave you on last night."

"WAKE ON LAN, G. PRAETOR GOOSED ME FOR REAL. G., HE WENT AFTER YOUR DIARY FILES AGAIN."

"Did he get any of it?", Giselle inquired pensively.

"YEAH, BOSS; ALL OF IT. I FEEL SO... VIOLATED."

Geoff thought he noted a touch of sarcasm in Eve's lament.

"I'm sorry, Eve," Giselle replied. "You done good, anyway."

"THANKS, BOSS I THINK I'M GONNA DO A DEFRAG. THAT'LL MAKE ME FEEL CLEANER."

"Go ahead, Sweetie," the Blonde responded, "and thanks again."

Geoff held her tightly. Giselle looked up into his eyes, smiling teasingly.

"Your WIFE?", she taunted softly. "Did I miss the memo?"

"The Arcturans seem to think you are," Geoff responded. "At any rate, it sounded good at the time."

Giselle nodded vigorously.

"Uh-huh!"

"I'm so sorry the Arcturans violated your privacy like that," he intoned.

She gently pressed her fingertips to his lips.

"Don't be," she admonished. "Actually, this is the second best moment of my life."

"Second best?", Geoff inquired. "What was the best?"

She gazed at his lips, mere inches from her own.

"Dumb question," she replied, as she brought her lips to his.

*****

They returned to the site of the near-fatal ambush from two days before. A more cautious reconnaissance revealed no immediate Golganthan presence. It didn't take long to recover both swords, concealed beneath some ground-hugging ferns. Apparently, the Golganthans had either no interest in returning to the spot where Geoff had fallen, or had no idea the humans' 'arsenal' lay literally at their feet.

Although no guarantee of 'parity' had ever been extended by the Arcturans, Geoff felt it was intrinsically unfair the Golganthans now had projectile weapons while he and Giselle had none. Giselle pointed out it was just as likely the Golganthans had fashioned their bows and arrows from materials found within these very woods – and the Arcturans would have likely rewarded them for their ingenuity.

"Shouldn't we make our own then?", Geoff inquired.

"We could, and they would certainly be useful," Giselle replied, "but I intend to finish this today, now that I know we can."

Geoff slung his sword across his back, then took her hands in his.

"You could have finished it two days ago," he softly intoned. "I remember more of it, now that I am here. We… you had them beaten and on the run. You could have finished it right then. Earth would be safe now."

"I wasn't willing to pay the price," she replied softly.

"You were the one who told me," Geoff countered, "the mission comes first. One life is unimportant. It would have been a fair exchange for six billion lives back home."

"No, it would not," Giselle stormed. "YOUR life has become important to ME. Particularly since I got you into this mess in the first place."

"That is nonsense," Geoff countered. "How could you? The Arcturans…."

"Read my diary," interjected Giselle. "We already know what voyeurs they are. When they first snatched me, I was seated at my desk in my apartment, typing entries into it. I had two files open. In one, I was beginning to list my silly childhood terrors. I had already entered the giant ants, Leatherface, and the Velociraptors…."

"Velociraptors," Geoff exclaimed. "Outside the cave entrance, three nights ago?"

Giselle nodded.

"The Arcturans may, indeed, have seen the movies – and probably did, to flesh out the monsters. All of that was secondary. We faced those terrors because the Arcturans knew they were my terrors. Remember what Eve said this morning? The Praetor accessed my files AGAIN. Anyway I called that file…"

"Things That Go Bump In The Night," Geoff finished.

Giselle gazed at him, chagrined.

"You are scaring me," she replied sheepishly. "You know me too well."

"I am beginning to," he replied. "Your terrors didn't seem to terrorize you when we faced them," Geoff pointed out.

"I don't allow anything to terrorize me while I am working," Giselle rebutted. "That comes later."

"Yes, I know," Geoff replied quietly. "I have been around for 'later' these last few days. What about me? Am I one of your terrors as well?"

She gazed intently into his eyes.

"Just the opposite," she avowed. "You were the other file: "Prince Charming", the object of a silly schoolgirl crush. That is why you are here. Random chance was never a factor. I… I targeted you for them. The Arcturans merely connected the dots. I am so sorry - for everything."

Geoff thought about that for a moment.

"I'm not," he responded. Despite the circumstances, I have felt more alive in the last six days than at any time before in my life. I have had the opportunity to serve my people and planet in a way few people ever realize. And I have shared the company of the most amazing and marvelous woman I have ever met. What could I possibly have to be sorry about?"

"You have no idea," Giselle replied.

Both came instantly alert to the sound of movement in the dense undergrowth. Without a word, they stood back-to-back, eyes and ears alert, swords at the ready.

"The Golganthans again?", Geoff queried.

"Not this time," Giselle responded. "This is something else."

'Something else', some three dozen of them, emerged from the woods, completely encircling them. Their overall resemblance to the Praetor identified them as Arcturans. Their dimensions and armament identified them as warriors. Every one of them brandished a very ugly looking sword.

"I must have missed this in the rulebook," Geoff observed testily.

"I think we have just made it to the Bonus Round," Giselle replied. "They are through with wimpy challenges. Now we have to face the best. Remember your training. Breathe normally. Don't get mad. Trust your instincts. Become your sword."

The next few minutes – and it was very few – were a blur. Geoff did not see threats so much as target areas. Whatever part of the anatomy before him was unguarded was the part he struck. Strike, turn, strike, turn, stay in motion – do not present a still target to your opponent's blade. Strange; it was almost as if they were moving in slow motion. It was either that, or he was moving incredibly fast…. And then there were no more targets.

He turned in time to witness Giselle dispatch the last three Arcturan warriors. The first was bisected diagonally, right shoulder to left hip. She spun clockwise, slicing off the legs of the second with a single sweep or her sword. She buried its point in his face, turned to block the sword-bearing arm of the third, then ripped that arm out of its socket. Lifting the wounded warrior into the air, she bent him backwards, snapping his spine like a pretzel. Then, she casually dropped the remains to the ground. Bodies – body parts – were strewn in a heap around her. The foliage and ground itself was soaked with green blood. Geoff took in this scene of… mass destruction – and all of his questions were answered.

Giselle did not meet his gaze at first. Instead, she stood mutely, surveying the carnage around them, particularly at HIS feet. He followed her gaze. Now that the battle was over, he could not believe his own tally of enemy dead nearly equaled hers.

"How was I able to do that?", he gasped.

His companion took several moments to formulate her response before she voiced it.

"Race memory," she murmured. "Genetically coded physiological response. Instant training. We never dreamed it would be capable of that."

She looked up, into his eyes. The expression on her face was wistful, perhaps with a touch of sorrow. She made to say something, then glanced past his arm. The expression of horror on her face was palpable. In one smooth motion, she swept him aside, hurling his body into the brush. By the time he sat up, she was kneeling at his feet. The Golganthan arrow had run her through. Her valiant heart was pumping wildly, attempting to supply blood to her body, even as it was hemorrhaging badly itself.

"Oh, God, no," he cried in dismay. "Giselle!"

"Break off the point, Geoffrey," she coughed. "Then pull the rest out."

He did as instructed, then lay her down on her back, her head in his lap.

"Giselle, I am so sorry…."

"Don't," she gasped. This is what war is all about. People die for really stupid, tragic, yet unavoidable reasons, remember?"

"Good people," he corrected her, "and you are the best."

She smiled bravely at him.

"You have to leave me now. There is still a battle to be won. We will still win, because you are here with me. You know the job. Now, you have the skills as well. Finish it. This is the way it has to be. Whatever happens, know that I love you and always will…."

Giselle René Du Mont emitted a little sigh and closed her eyes. She looked so angelic, lying there. With the bleeding stopped, it almost appeared as if she were asleep.

Geoffrey had not known such rage in his heart since the death of his mother. Once again, the most important woman in his life had been taken from him and he had been powerless to stop it. This time was different. His rage had a focus – and he, a purpose. He snatched up his sword and hers, then identified the direction in which the Golganthans were making their retreat. He turned to gaze one more time upon the woman who would have been his Queen….

Her body was gone.

He closed upon his quarry with such blinding speed, they might as well have been running backwards. The male let fly a desperate snap shot as he ran, which Geoff cast aside with one disdainful flick of his sword. He was on them in six more steps. They turned, drew their swords and faced him because they had no choice. He engaged both at once. The staccato clang of metal on metal reverberated through the clearing. He caught the female's sword with the shinobikatana, handguard to handguard, and heaved outward with his arm. The female flew through the air and collided with a tree trunk with a resounding crash.

Geoff unleashed his cold fury on the male alone. All things being equal, the Golganthan's strength would be more than a match for the human's. All things were not equal, and never would be again. The pig was no match for what the prince had become.Geoffrey hammered relentlessly, ferociously, blade to blade, using both swords with such dizzying speed, his opponent could only hold his blade up defensively as the blows rained down upon him. With one mighty swing of Excalibur, two-thirds of the Golganthan blade was sheered away.

The male was on one knee before him now. For the first time in his life, Geoffrey saw raw terror in the eyes of another sentient being. A small part of his brain beheld the sight in wonder, knowing as he did the Golganthan was terrified of him. The rest of him wanted only to exact the most painful, bloody vengeance he could manage. His heart pounded in his chest. There was a roaring in his ears – so much so, he never heard the whoosh of the broken tree limb as the desperate female swung it into the side of his head. Once again, he sank to his knees, then pitched forward – onto the remains of the broken sword the stunned Golganthan male still held in his hand. Then, all three disappeared.

 

The Human female had died valiantly, sacrificing herself for her mate. Her body lay in state on the ceremonial altar behind the Praetor's master console in the Control Chamber on Arcturus Prime, as was the tradition. Now her mate, too, lay mortally wounded. In this stunning, completely unexpected, and thoroughly enjoyable reversal, the heretofore-dominant Human team appeared poised to snatch Defeat from the jaws of Victory. These were the little unexpected thrills that made The Tournament such a delightful experience. This one would be talked about for centuries to come.

In moments it would be over. The three remaining combatants had also been brought to the Control Chamber. Its superior lighting and imaging capability were designed to offer maximum visual impact for the deliverance of the final blow, marking the end of another successful Tournament. It would be a bit of a letdown for the audience. This one had lasted a mere six days. Still, they had been an exciting six days. How did the Humans express it? Short and sweet.

Although they had lost, the Humans had fought ferociously, worthy of Arcturan warriors. In fact, they had faced, and successfully defeated The Phalanx itself – the pride of the Arcturan Legions. That feat had not been equaled in the past five thousand years. Few teams even reached that level. The pair would take their place among the Honored Dead of The Tournament. In the entire history of the event, less than a hundred had been so enshrined.

In death, the Human male would lie in state next to his mate for the official period of mourning. The entire population of Arcturus Prime would honor them – via telecast, of course. All waited now on the Golganthans to deliver the Death Blow. Understandably, the porcine competitors were as taken aback by the sudden turn of events as the Arcturans had been. The Human male lay bleeding before the Golganthan pair. The Golganthan male was poised to strike with his mate's sword. He was hesitating. Oh, this was priceless. It was all there in his eyes. He was torn between duty to his race and… remorse for taking the lives of those who had shown compassion for them. Strike, little piggy, strike! If you don't, we will destroy their planet and yours, too!

The Praetor, focused on the action in front of him, had forgotten the lifeless form behind him. She was not so lifeless; nor had she forgotten him. As she rose from the slab like some latter-day Lazarus, Giselle once again called upon her spirit guide. As she had before, in times of danger, distress or rage, she surrendered herself to it, allowing it to take physical form.

The air itself seemed to vibrate around the Arcturan from the raw, physical power of the deep, menacing growl. His sense of dread was immediate; his reaction only a hair slower. He whirled to view its source, a disrupter filling his hand. A hair slower made all the difference. The Praetor saw only a flash of white and a mouth full of fangs. His disrupter flew away, along with the hand holding it. An instant later, a gout of blackish-green blood erupted from what had been his throat. The rest of him sailed through the air and bounced off the wall, eyes wide in utter incomprehension.

Geoff's body was fighting valiantly, but was unable to sustain consciousness. He expected the Golganthans to finish it any second, to cap his spectacular failure with the deathblow that might just as well be struck directly to Earth's heart as his own. Instead, they now shrank to one corner, paralyzed with fear. The whole chamber trembled and shook with the force of the rumbling terror.

As he slipped away, he sensed her, could feel her essence. His angel had returned for him. He had failed her in life, failed his people and planet, yet she had come to watch over him and take him home. He had not known such total, unconditional love since his mother's passing. That thought comforted him.

Even now, his anguished, confused mind was playing one final, cruel trick on him. It was not Giselle's beautiful face his eyes saw, nor the lush, magnificent body that had caused him so much exquisite torment, then ecstasy. Instead, his nightmare had returned to haunt him. Standing watch over his battered body, bloody fangs bared to all comers, stood a great white wolf with glittering sapphire eyes. Then, the vision faded to blackness.

*****

The eyes were still there when his re-opened. They were softer, human once more. The smile had returned, too. He cursed his own brain for having deluded him yet again, but he knew what he was seeing now. That was all that mattered. She spoke her agreement.

"Hello, My Love. It's good to have you back."

He remembered her dying in his arms, the battle with the Golganthans, and watching the sword pierce him.

"We're dead, aren't we? This is Heaven?"

"Sorry. We don't get off that easily. We still have work to do."

"But, my wound…."

His tunic was open. He looked down at his abdomen and saw… taut, unblemished flesh and firmly-toned, six-pack abs. Given the choice between maintaining his consciousness and repairing itself, his body had wisely chosen the latter. Now, that body was back – and so was he. Her tunic was just as bloody as his. The hole from the arrow was there, but the corresponding wound in her chest was not. Giselle smiled at him, reading his thoughts.

"That is Lorelei's blessing…."

She sighed deeply.

"… and curse."

"Lorelei," he repeated. "Then you… me… both of us?"

Giselle nodded, smiling a bit more wistfully now.

"The first of our kind. Adam and Eve, redux. Thank you for retrieving my sword."

She helped him to his feet. They stood so close. Each could feel the other's heat – and desire. He kissed her then; hungrily, passionately. She melted into his embrace, her sword and his still clasped firmly into their respective hands. She poured all her heart and soul into that kiss, a lifetime of longing to belong to something, someone beyond her self-imposed exile. He accepted her gift and responded with all that was his to give.

When at last they broke their kiss, starved for air, an absurd notion came to his mind, something she had told him only a few days before. Project Lorelei had been cancelled because…. He voiced the notion in utter incredulity.

"Not SEXY enough?"

She shrugged her shoulders a little and smiled impishly.

"To each, his own."

A noise drew their attention. The Golganthans were no longer cowering in terror, but were clearly confused, unsure of what to do next. Geoff gazed at the beings whom, such a short time before, he had wanted to cut to pieces. With his love safe and in his arms once again, he felt all the rage drain from him.

"What do we do with them?", he inquired. "For that matter, what do we do with ourselves?"

"First things first," she replied. "I finish the job I came here to do."

Geoff looked perplexed. He peered towards their former nemeses guardedly.

"Must we still go through with this?"

Giselle glanced at him, then at the Golganthans.

"They were never part of the job."

She stared grimly at the apparatus around them, the machinery of the Arcturans' sick perversion.

"THIS is. Are you with me, Sadie?"

"SADDLED UP AND READY TO RIDE, BOSS. JUST SAY THE WORD."

"Is it all there?"

"SPACE AND TIME DISPLACEMENT, JUST LIKE YOU FIGURED."

The Golganthans jumped at the human-sounding voice that came from everywhere – and nowhere. Geoff scanned the room as well, grinning. Finally, his eyes fell upon… the Praetor's master console.

"Finding any decent games in there, Sadie?", he asked. "Do they have Super Mario Brothers?"

"DON'T CRACK WISE WITH ME, JOY BOY. YOU CAN FOOL ALL OF THE PEOPLE SOME OF THE TIME, AND SOME OF THE PEOPLE ALL OF THE TIME, BUT YOU CAN'T FOOL ME NONE OF THE TIME!"

"I declare these games OVER!", Giselle intoned grimly.

Giselle explained it all. Her "Things That Go Bump In The Night" file had been bait to get the Arcturans interested in her diary. She had requested her laptop computer to 'set the hook', knowing the blatant voyeurs would not be able to resist easy access to her most personal, intimate musings - and had cooked up a rude little surprise for them.

As the Praetor downloaded Giselle's diary via her Wi-Fi link, he also downloaded Sadie - an extremely sophisticated AI 'worm' Giselle had written for this mission and perfected through her various cybernetic espionage assignments. The plucky little program had gone immediately to work, adapting to the protocols and command syntax, punching through firewalls, cracking passwords, insinuating herself into the Arcturan operating system's executive layer. By the time Giselle called upon her, Sadie WAS the system.

"But," Geoff began, "in order for you to call on her you would have to…"

"Be in the Control Chamber and in control of the master console," Giselle finished. "And for that to happen, I had to 'die' - and earn a quick trip to the slab over there. You, My Love, performed your part brilliantly – even if you hadn't a clue you were doing so. Your actions placed all four of us here – and here we make our stand."

"All of this would require detailed knowledge in advance," Geoff postulated. "How did you know?"

"My 'angel' told me," Giselle replied with a wink. "To be honest, I wasn't sure how the whole thing worked - until I had faced the Raptors. They bled red; hemoglobin, not cupraglobin. They were real. That meant the Praetor transported them from Earth, and in order to do so, the portal would have had to transcend space AND time. As for the rest, this is one of those times I have to ask you to trust me. It will all come out later, but for now, just accept this: this mission has been planned for a very, very long time. It was never about defeating the Golganthans. It has always been about stopping the Arcturans and ending The Tournament forever."

"What about me," Geoff inquired. "Am I part of your carefully contrived scheme?"

The blonde Amazon placed her free hand on his chest and gazed at him with misty eyes.

"Geoffrey, you are the only part of this entire operation, other than my resolve, that has been genuine from Day One. My angel never told me you would be here. I believe she wanted our involvement to be as authentic as I do now. I regret involving you in all this. I deeply regret having to involve you with Lorelei. I will never regret loving you, nor receiving your love in return. Everything that has happened between us has been absolutely, positively real."

Sadie activated the portal to the proper coordinates. Timing would be of the essence.

Sensing his curiosity, Giselle preempted Geoff's question.

"I have a little 'thank you gift' for our hosts. I am going to give the Arcturans a taste of their own medicine."

Giselle outlined her plan for him. He turned white as a ghost.

"But what about the planetary shields? Has Sadie deduced how to lower them?"

"That wouldn't be enough to suit me. Lowered shields might be raised again. The shield controls are here in the Control Chamber, as well as everything else. If we take them out completely, that will do the job."

"How do we do that?"

"Funny you should ask…."

She stepped to the portal just as a large black ballistic nylon backpack appeared.

"Thank you, Sadie. I have it."

She unzipped the panels and went to work.

There was nothing inherently malevolent-looking about the Type Sixty-five Small Atomic Demolition Munition. In fact, a S.A.D.M. didn't look any more dangerous than a portable electrolysis machine. The reality was far different. This was a new and nasty microminiaturized design: one-point-three-five critical masses of Oak Ridge's supergrade plutonium in a beryllium reflective shell, with second-stage tritium injectors. The AX Division at Lawrence-Livermore had promised the design would yield in excess of twenty kilotons, eclipsing Hiroshima's "Little Boy".

Giselle relished the word "excess" in dealing with the Arcturans. DIA had seen to it she was trained in the device's use. She had 'borrowed' this one, plus its separate detonator, from the Navy at Sea-Tac. Securing the twin "fail safe" codes had just been another routine piece of intelligence-gathering. Then, she had altered the inventory database to deflect attention caused by the 'shrinkage', signing the device out to SEAL headquarters in Coronado. She wondered idly how that investigation was progressing as she inserted, set, then activated the time-delay detonator.

The portal began to ripple. Giselle quickly checked the control panel. It wasn't Sadie.The Arcturans were reacting quickly. Her hand flew to her sword.

"That ain't us, Boys and Girls. Grab your bundt cakes and roll out the Welcome Wagon!"

Facing an Arcturan disrupter rifle while armed only with a sword can be a daunting task. Facing a platoon of angry Arcturan warriors, loaded for bear, is just plain scary. Then again, it was nothing new for Geoffrey and Giselle. The disparity ended as the first outstretched arm met cold, sharpened steel.

Geoff already had sword in hand. Two blades swished through the air from opposite sides of the portal like twin scythes. The Golganthans were quick studies. The male snapped up the loose disrupter as it sailed through the air, quickly peeling off the arms still clutching it. He discovered the device was not much different in concept than any other assault weapon. It had a muzzle and trigger. Point and squeeze; let the weapon do the rest. The female had recovered the Praetor's hand weapon and removed his mangled hand. Mostly, the Arcturans died as they stepped through the portal. The rest wished they had.

Geoffrey swept Giselle up in his arms once more.

"We make quite a team," he pronounced.

"Yes. King Kong and Broadzilla," she smirked.

It was getting messy in the Control Chamber. They were stepping over and around body parts and splashing through puddles of blood. Giselle had Sadie dial up Golgantha from the portal's memory bank. When its image came up on the viewplate, the Golganthans understood. No words were needed. The male put his hand atop Giselle's shoulder. She clasped it with her own. The female and Geoff repeated the gesture. Then, the Golganthans stepped through.

"If that hussy had touched you anywhere else," Giselle murmured, "I would have scratched her eyes out."

Geoff smiled and kissed her.

"She would have been wasting her time. I am already spoken for."

"HEY, HEY, HEY! I HAVE SOME INPUT IN THIS COZY LITTLE CANOODLE, DON'T I?"

"Be nice, Sadie," Geoffrey promised, "and I will hook you up with a cute little Palm Pilot to interface with."

"YOU GOT A DEAL, LOVER G., ENJOY!"

Earth came up on the portal's viewplate. Sadie was efficient as always. Giselle looked the love of her life in the eyes and spoke quietly.

"You have to go."

He stiffened.

"I have to go?"

"My Love, your first, best destiny is to be King. Nothing, and no one, must be allowed to interfere with that. You cannot stay here. In about two minutes, this place – this planet – will cease to exist. The Arcturans will try again. I have to stay to make certain they don't succeed. That is my job, not yours. I will return to you when I can. I am not willing to watch you die for me. I love you too much for that."

"So, instead, I must watch you die for me? Again? No…fucking…way! You don't get rid of me that easily, Giselle Du Mont. We live - or die – together. Where you go, I go; now and forever."

The blonde warrior sighed deeply.

"All right, My Love. You win. Where you go, I go, now and forever."

She lay her sword down atop the console, rested her hands lightly on his chest, and kissed him deeply.

"You first."

She thrust forward with both hands. Geoff flew backwards through the portal - and was gone. Giselle stared at the spot where he had disappeared.

"Live. Be the best King you can possibly be. If you won't do it for yourself or your people, do it for me. Sadie, lock out the portal controls."

"ALREADY DONE, BOSS. FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH, HE'S A HOTTIE – FOR A MAN, THAT IS."

Giselle continued to stare at the spot where Geoff had disappeared.

"Yeah," she sighed, "he is."

Giselle glanced to her left. The Praetor's body lay slumped along the wall. He hadn't died immediately, which was just fine with the blonde warrior. That was the price he had paid for underestimating her. Wasn't that just like a man? In the end, with all the technology arrayed around him, he had had to scrawl his final incredulous query on the wall behind him in his own blood:

Who were you?

Giselle smiled at that. She had thought he would never get the tense right.

"Major Michael Andrew Jackson Blair, Second Battalion, Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment, United States Army – On Detached Duty."

The Amazon turned and walked away. She felt… liberated, just to utter the words aloud, even if there was no one left to hear them. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders at last. It had been so long, she had difficulty viewing her past life in any terms but 'she'. Giselle mused over the irony of her service status.

DETACHED Duty?

She glanced briefly at the junction where her thighs met.

Very!

The Arcturans had wanted a woman this time. They got one – up the ass!

In space, the graceful, fully-automated starship powered up its massive, planet-killing disrupter array. Sadie targeted the capital city as Ground Zero. All that remained was to bring down the planetary shields. As the S.A.D.M.'s display ticked down toward zero, Giselle René Du Mont thought back along the convoluted, five-decade path that had been her life. That life had led slowly, inexorably to this place, this moment in time. Of all she had done, seen, enjoyed, feared, or regretted, one thought stood out over all. It was a vow she had taken as a child, then reaffirmed throughout her life. At long last, that vow was to be fulfilled.

Never again!

*****

Geoff landed with a thud. He was up in a flash, the sword still in his hand. He was once again in the room from which he had begun his incredible journey six days before. He turned this way and that, searching for the portal entrance he had just come through, the portal his love would also use to make her escape. It was not to be found; nor was she. By now, the S.A.D.M. would have completed its murderous cadence. The shields would be down, destroyed. The city and planet had already opened wide to the starship's infernal embrace. Earth was safe, for now. Life, with all its infinite possibilities, would go on – for some. He dropped the sword with a clatter, sank to his knees, buried his face in his hands and sobbed. He could not begin to fathom what point that life would have now.

It was dark. He had no idea what time it was or how long he had knelt in that position. Nor did he care. At that moment, he wished he really could curl up and die. Perhaps his 'angel' would return for him then and they could be together again. But death had not been what she had wanted for him. How had she put it? Your first, best destiny is to be King. Nothing, and no one, can be permitted to interfere with that. She had risked her life, her mission, countless times to save his – in order to fulfill his destiny. Once again, he had been powerless to prevent hers from overtaking her. Once again, he was alone.

But he was alive, and home. He could now fulfill that destiny to which he had been born. She had wanted those things for him, more than her life. Her mission was done; his was just beginning. His heart wasn't in it; he had left it on Arcturus Prime with her. But he would do his duty, as she had done hers. In her memory, he could do no less.

He summoned the strength to regain his feet, open the door, and walk down the hallway. He made his way to the Common Room, simply because he could not think of anything else to do at the moment. Perhaps he would find someone there who could tell him what had been going on – how had she put it? "Back in The World" – in his absence.

He didn't find 'someone'. He found everyone, gathered around the television, watching intently. Life does go on, he mused sadly, and some things in it never change. But something in that life had.

"In the name of God. Geoff!"

They beheld him as one, in undisguised shock. This Titan, clad in desert camouflage, was not the same friend and classmate who had gone missing six days before – but then, they already knew that. His friends had so much to tell him about the interim. They looked at each other anxiously. No one wanted to be the one to break the news.

 

The nimble little RSX Type S pulled into the parking structure on Orange Grove Avenue. Typical for this time of evening, the place was jammed. Between Elephant Bar, Islands, and the AMC 16 Multiplex – not to mention all the businesses along adjacent San Fernando Road - you just couldn't get a space in here, or its companion garage across the street. Parking the newly-rechristened Aurora in geo-stationary orbit, cloaked, had been easier. The magnificent blonde had realized then she was famished – and had already promised herself a decent cheeseburger.

She had crossed through the portal into her apartment, peeled off her bloody fatigues, showered, did a little makeup (it always amazed her how a little thing like that could make a girl feel like a million bucks), then fluffed her hair with the blow dryer. She slipped into something comfortable – jeans, Nikes, and her favorite "I Run With The Big Dogs" T-shirt, then gotten into her car and hurried over. She wondered, briefly if she should have worn something a little snazzier for her first night back. Nah, why bother? In this town, who would notice?

Fortune smiles on the foolish. She had taken a chance on the garage and was rewarded. Coming around the near turn on the second level, she nearly collided with a minivan backing out of its space. The family within had no doubt just enjoyed A Shark's Tale and was now on their way home. She bade them Godspeed, then zipped into the beckoning slot.

Upon exiting the coupe, Giselle once again admired the Acura's clean lines. She liked the car, its elegant simplicity and stunning performance – and, it was a Honda product. Around here, you couldn't throw a stone in any direction without hitting one. For now, she would revel in that added layer of anonymity. That was why she had returned to Burbank instead of going home to Chicago after so many years. Here, she was just another six-foot Blonde in Tinseltown. Anyway, she already had an apartment here, a life – such as it was. Until she could reunite with the one who meant more to her than Life itself, this existence would have to suffice. For now, Giselle would just blend in – and attempt to shut out the horror of the last few days.

*****

Sadie had been in constant communication with '1jb' - now Aurora - since taking control of the Praetor's console. Adapting to the command systems of the great starship was merely an extension of what she had already accomplished with the master console. She had brought the disrupters online and aimed them dead-center at Arcturus Prime's capital city. At the end, she had uplinked herself to the starship's mainframe, then used its personnel portal to whisk Giselle aboard with seconds to spare. Even as the S.A.D.M. was laying waste to the Control Chamber and planetary shields, Sadie was firing the main disrupter bank to administer the coup de grace.

Giselle had watched dispassionately as Arcturus Prime died. She could imagine those tens of billions of 'civilized' beings crying out in horror and… utter astonishment, to have been beaten at their own game by a semi-civilized savage, her mate, her laptop computer – and the Arcturans' own ultra-modern, ultra-lethal weapon of mass destruction, of which they had lost control.

She tried not to imagine the hundreds of billions of others, over countless centuries, whom the Arcturans had callously erased in the name of 'entertainment'. She idly wondered how many Arcturans, when faced with their own death, had been perverse enough to cum – and how many had simply peed their pants. Jerk THAT, you bastards! Lorelei had never been intended to lay waste to an entire race or planet? Sue me! Say hello to the new, improved Lorelei 2.0 – Planetary Annihilatance.

Upon arrival in Earth orbit, Giselle had one final duty to discharge. Using the portal's time displacement capability, she would arrange a series of 'visitations'. First, she would greet an astonished little boy who, moments before, had been peeing in the North Woods. Next would come a badly burned Ranger lieutenant. She would scoop him out of Haiphong harbor, where he had been blown by the force of the first exploding gasoline drum. Finally, she would chat with a soon-to-be-beautiful spy, just coming into her own. Giselle would tell each of them a story – at least, their part in it.

The lieutenant would require medical care; a very special 'inoculation'. She would then send him back to Japan. Master Hatsumi and Mike's surrogate 'family' would welcome him home, care for him while Lorelei healed his body. At the same time, he would have to face the most difficult phase of his mission and life. Lorelei would change him in other ways, ways few men ever contemplate.

Certainly, Lorelei's designers had never considered the effect of their powerful mutagenic agent on a person born with Klinefelter's Syndrome. The extra X chromosome Mike Blair carried within his genetic matrix had a bizarre 'wild card' effect on the Lorelei process. He survived his 'inoculation' – at the price of his gender. He – she – would be strong enough to deal with that, knowing it was that transformation that would enable her to infiltrate The Tournament and wreak a bloody vengeance no other human could.

At last, 'Giselle René Du Mont' would return to the United States. She would re-join her old world in a new identity and capacity and secure the position with Project Lorelei. Then, she would take the fateful injection that would, among other powers, enable her to morph at will. Lorelei's originators had made that ability the showcase of the project; the 'ultimate Stealth technology'. She had been testing the limits of her morphing ability when her spirit guide had first manifested itself in physical form, causing Swifty Pike such shock and awe.

Finally, Giselle established herself in the apartment in Burbank, within the urban swell of Los Angeles – The City of Angels. Thus, she would be in the right place at the right time, where the Arcturans would find her – exactly where her 'angel' had told her they would look. At that time, she would have exactly the right skills and tools to get the job done. Her angel had made certain of that, too.

*****

Giselle had wanted to contact Geoffrey first thing; tell him she was home and safe, how much she loved him and wanted nothing more in life than to be with him. With her laptop gone – left behind on The Arena - she had been unable to e-mail him right away. She had a desktop computer in her apartment, but it was in her closet, not even hooked up. She had used her laptop exclusively since purchasing it. Besides, there was that pesky eight-hour time zone difference. He likely wouldn't check his e-mail until morning, anyway.

She would return home after dinner, plug the older system back in, and send the most important electronic message of her life. She would have to tell him everything, but not over the Internet or phone; he deserved better. She would want to do that in person. Then, he could make an informed decision about the future of their relationship. She prayed he would still feel the same for her after she told him.

She skipped down the stairs and entered Fuddruckers through the promenade entrance. She had been looking forward to this for a week. What a break; for once, there was no line. OK, she would splurge; the half-pound Bacon-Cheddar burger, with fries – and one of Fuddies' signature chocolate shakes, the kind you had to eat with a spoon. She already had the ten-dollar bill in her hand when she stepped up to the counter.

"Gina", as the nametag read, was futzing around with something below counter level. She straightened up and… you could feel the shock radiate from her, as though she had been physically struck.

"W-w-welcome to F-F-Fud…rucker's. C-can I t-take y-y-your order?"

Giselle calmly placed her order, added a smile, and handed the girl the ten-dollar bill. The flustered order taker managed a weak smile of her own and handed the Blonde her change and the little coaster-thingy that would light up and buzz when the order was ready.

Giselle picked up her shake at the bakery/confectionary counter, then went to find a table. The big wood-and-plaster room with its stuffed-to-the-gills Rock 'n Roll memorabilia felt comforting. The Elvis booth was available. Aw, what the Hell? She walked up the short flight of stairs and across the room, placed her shake on the table, slid around the semi-circular red vinyl bench and gratefully leaned back against the high rear cushion.

The exhausted woman was troubled by Gina's reaction. It wasn't like Giselle was some big-time Hollywood star. Burbank was pretty blasé about that anyway. People in 'The Business' frequented stores and restaurants in this town every day. Hell, she herself had once run into Julian McMahon from Nip/Tuck in CompUSA! As far as Gina was concerned, the tall Blonde should be just another nobody like her. What had spooked the girl? Giselle glanced down at her T-shirt with its dated pop-culture legend and decided she should have put on something a little more presentable after all. She didn't even want to think about it – or anything else – anymore. The glad-to-be-ex-warrior just closed her eyes and let her mind drift….

"Giselle? Giselle? I have your cheeseburger."

Her eyes flew open, even as her body jerked bolt-upright. Gina jumped back, nearly dropping the serving basket. The coaster-thingy was merrily vibrating across the tabletop, lights blinking. Giselle quickly flashed a reassuring smile.

"I'm sorry I startled you. I must have dozed off."

The girl stepped forward again, placing the basket on the edge of the table and sliding it forward gingerly. She then carefully lay a few dollar bills and coins on the tabletop.

"That's OK. If anybody deserves a little shut-eye, it's you. The Manager asked me to give you your money back. This one's on us."

"Uh… thank you."

"No, thank you, from all of us, for – everything."

Gina had been thorough. She had added slices of tomato, onion and pickles to the side of the plate, plus the little paper cups of ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise from the condiments bar. Giselle plopped a slice of tomato, a few pickles and some mustard on her burger, picked it up, and took a bite. She chewed thoughtfully. Which had surprised her more? That she had dozed off? That the girl had brought her order to the table? Or that she had called Giselle by name? The concerned blonde had a really bad feeling about this.

The televisions were on; all of them. Each was tuned to a different network, but the story was the same. It was all about The Tournament. Every network anchor, plus all the correspondents and studio analysts, were hashing, re-hashing, and re-re-hashing the details. There were video clips and sound bites, too; Giselle and Geoffrey together, their battles with the Golganthans, her demolition of the ant, Leatherface and the Raptors, plus Geoffrey's duel with the Night Stalkers (the latter two via night-vision imaging), the ambushes in the forest, the final showdown with the Praetor and Arcturan warriors in the Control Chamber, even a from-space shot of Arcturus Prime shattering.

The Arcturans had had a macabre sense of the theatrical. Earth was transmissions-capable? Fine; enjoy the show! The signal from Arcturus had hit Earth's network of communications satellites even as Giselle arrived on The Arena. It had overwhelmed the native protocols and repeated the feed to all ground stations and receivers. The Arcturan feed had flooded the airwaves and cable networks, being broadcast on every channel. In a final, ghastly bit of showmanship, Aurora's trans-portal signal had added the final exclamation point to the tale. It had even transmitted the 'follow-up', where she had confronted her former selves and set them on the path towards the fate that awaited them all. The television analysts were still trying to fathom the explanation for the second signal, convinced as they were Giselle had died along with Arcturus Prime itself.

Giselle realized Geoff had had no idea of what was going on before he arrived on The Arena because, by his own admission, he had been locked away in his room, studying for finals with the TV off. In the ultimate Survivor-meets-Big-Brother nightmare, everyone within range of a television set had been able to watch every thrilling, bloody, sordid detail; the battles, intimate moments, sex, superhuman powers, incarnation of her lupine spirit guide, even the final revelation of her origins, spoken from her own lips!

And watch, they had. It wasn't the number-one topic of conversation; it was the ONLY topic of conversation - on every television program and radio talk show, as well as at every marketplace, bar, restaurant, beauty shop, street corner and water cooler on the planet. Every place except this one; no one in Fuddruckers on San Fernando Road in beautiful downtown Burbank was watching television this night. Instead, every astonished eye was glued on one of the planet's two newest, brightest 'stars', clad in her ironic 'I Run With The Big Dogs' T-shirt, sitting in their midst, watching TV and eating her cheeseburger. Giselle felt really uncomfortable.

"Well, I guess this will take some of the heat off Paris Hilton," she mused sadly.

"Geoffrey The Warrior" had become an unqualified hero. It was already speculated the machinery was in motion to have him succeed his grandmother directly. The plans to award him his nation's highest military honor were stalled on a minor technicality; he was not yet an official member of the armed forces. That issue was being hammered out in Commons that very week. After all, a member of the Royal Family was in service to his country for life, not just a tour of duty. Once the special exception was passed, the awards ceremony would be scheduled with alacrity. Giselle was happy for that, and him. He certainly deserved that honor, and more.

Her own reviews were more guarded – and mixed. On the one hand, people were grateful to have had this 'superweapon' there to protect them. On the other, they were uncomfortable it existed at all. This… thing had once been human? The 'Terminator' mindset was deeply embedded into Humankind's collective consciousness. Now, here the deadly device was, come to life. Worse, 'Sky Net' existed as well, in the form of Sadie. Worst of all, the pair had access to the nation's nuclear arsenal, just like in the movies! That Lorelei was a 'biological', not a cyborg, made no difference to them whatsoever. How many more of these 'time bombs' were still out there, ticking?

Using the Freedom of Information act, reporters had dug up everything they could on her past life in the military. When the name Wolfen surfaced, the tabloids went off like a bomb, trumpeting the Pentagon's top-secret "werewolf warriors". In the end, one older, more fundamental human prejudice eclipsed all others; 'Giselle' had been a Tranny….

Then Hollywood Tonight had aired. Well, why not? The show must go on. Dottie O'Reilly blathered on inanely, as she always does. This time, the focus was on the titillating Hollywood-style romantic aspects of the Giselle-Geoffrey tryst. A parallel to Hugh Grant and Divine Brown was drawn. Giselle could feel her skin crawl. Poor Geoff! After everything else his family had endured in the last ten years, this was the last thing they needed!

Then had come the latest blockbuster from Hollywood. Mark Burrell, the King of Reality TV, was hard at work developing his own version of The Tournament. NBS had already picked up the broadcast rights, sight unseen. It would premier in January, immediately after the Super Bowl. Giselle threw down her burger in disgust. Bread and circuses! She stared at her plate, wondering if she would ever be hungry again. Whatever her personal feelings, she realized there was now a very compelling reason to leave nothing of her behind in the restaurant. She looked up, caught the eye of one of the people behind the counter, and signaled for a carry-out container.

This was a complete disaster. The Arcturans had reached out from the grave and ripped her heart out. The Tournament had done far more than thrill its earthbound audience. Like it or not, it had also been a de facto showcase for the full spectrum of Lorelei's combat capabilities. The 'weapon that did not exist' did now – and everyone on Earth knew it. Giselle knew with grim certainty, Earth would soon learn this most bizarre weapon of mass destruction had come home. The Pentagon would want it back – and so would every other government on Earth.

Geoff was a target now, just as she was. She hadn't foreseen that when she infused him, but she hadn't foreseen any of this. Thanks to his 'inoculation', he would have much improved strength, speed, agility and audial-visual acuity, not to mention his self-regenerative ability, magnificent physique and endowment. Apparently, he also had her reflexive responses and fighting skills, born of a lifetime of combat training. Race Memory. Giselle just shook her head. He would not have the full range of her capabilities, including her ability to morph. That came only from the administration of the Lorelei serum itself.

Giselle was the only one to realize the key to surviving the Lorelei transformation was to approach it in two steps; first, the 'inoculation', provided by a Lorelei carrier's antibodies, then administration of the serum itself. In the convoluted logic that was time travel, she had been her own antibodies donor. Geoffrey had been the first 'outsider' to survive intact, which merely strengthened her premise.

All written material dealing with the formula had been destroyed, under orders. All that remained was the copy Sadie had guarded on Giselle's laptop, which was gone, and the companion copy on the desktop computer in her apartment. No one would know with certainty she had retained a copy, but they certainly would not rule out the possibility. They did know she and Geoff were sources for the Lorelei matrix. In SpySpeak, that made them 'commodities' that might yet be harvested. It would be her job to see that never happened – to either of them. If Giselle had her way, no other human being would ever, ever be subjected to Lorelei's siren song.

Gone was any possibility Giselle would be able to 'blend in' with the general population. She would now be stalked, hunted, wherever she went - by more than paparazzi. Anyone who lent her assistance, anyone close to her, would be in peril. That anonymous 'they' would do whatever they had to – lie, cheat, steal, bribe, subvert, co-opt, kill – to get their hands on her.

Then, there was the ordnance 'bonanza' that was Aurora. They might not yet realize the fabulous starship had been the vehicle for her return to Earth, but they weren't stupid. The follow-up transmissions from space had to come from somewhere other than Arcturus Prime and she was back on Earth, not random atoms scattered across the Universe. It wouldn't take long for them to put two and two together. When they did, they would redouble their efforts to snare both. Then, they would reverse-engineer their prizes – take them apart, piece by piece – to see what made them 'tick'. Giselle knew that all too well; she had done that job for them more than thirty years.

Thanks, but no thanks. I have my own agenda.

Gone, too, was the likelihood of reuniting with her love. The Royal Family would have long since closed ranks. Their army of spin-doctors would already be in overdrive, controlling this public relations nightmare. Geoffrey's grandmother was one of the most powerful women on the planet. Giselle was fairly confident the woman would be able to protect her grandson until he could marshal the forces necessary under his own command to ensure his personal safety. Giselle was just as confident the lady in question would see to it Geoffrey and the blonde femme fatale would never again share the same continent, much less the same bed. That was, far and away, the most painful realization of all.

She caught the movement in her peripheral vision as she was stuffing the foam container with the remains of her dinner. KNBS's remote van was setting up right outside the front door. She glanced around the room, idly wondering which one of her fellow diners had dropped the dime on her - and which one of the station's vultures had clawed his way to the top of the carcass? When she saw the immaculately-coiffed, not-a-strand-out-of-place salt-and-pepper hair, she knew. Of course. Hank Charles; Mr. Glib himself. She had seen odd snatches of his occasional network reporting during his days at the network's Chicago station. He had that touch of grey now and was a little farther up the food chain, but nothing else had changed. He still came across with the same practiced, polished, plastic pizzazz.

She was cleaning up the last few scraps when she saw them make their move for the door. She wasn't worried so much about the newspeople as the army of lab technicians that would swarm every inch of the place in the Newsies' wake. Got everything that touched your hands or mouth, Honey? That includes the milk shake glass and spoon. Saliva contains DNA. She wasn't willing to leave even that much for the bastards at Aberdeen. She would have to take her chances on the epithelials. She was out the back door in a flash and in the RSX. She made the one-block dash to the on-ramp of the Five Freeway before anyone saw the car. She would double back before they had a chance to block off the ramps.

She was surprised – pleasantly so - the Media had gotten to her first. She would have expected the first response to be the nearest SWAT team. Their orders would be to capture if possible, but contain her, regardless the cost, until reinforcements arrived – a lot of reinforcements. That would have been ugly. She was not a martyr and the consequences of this technology falling into the wrong hands were much too dire. Under no circumstances would she surrender willingly. People would have died; probably, a lot of people. Collateral Damage. But they would have taken her eventually, through sheer weight of numbers.

If she ever were to be captured, there would be no trial. At whatever agency's leisure, she would quietly 'disappear' – and drop off the radar forever. They would make up whatever excuse suited them, or none at all. She guessed everyone had been caught flat-footed; they thought her dead in the planet's explosion. Better she had died, rather than living the rest of her life as a hunted animal. If she were ever to know peace of mind again, Giselle Du Mont would have to disappear tonight.

Of course, it didn't have to be this way; any of it. She did have Aurora. It was, without a doubt, the most ultimate 'ultimate weapon' the planet had ever seen. With it, she could write her own ticket anywhere. Is that what she really wanted to do? If she used it that way, how would she be any different than the despised Arcturans? "Baby steps, Giselle," she decided. "Deal with the larger issues when you have the luxury of time."

She would have to find a new place to live, of course. She was surprised Special Ops wasn't crawling all over this apartment already. Due to her own misguided admission days earlier, she was certain they were tearing L.A. apart, looking for it. She packed only the essentials - that which would fit in the RSX in a single load. She would stay at the 'Hotel Aurora' until she could arrange another apartment under a different identity. The accommodations would be a little Spartan, at first, but the price was right – and it offered a helluva view.

She sent the final e-mail – to the private address he had given her - before removing the hard drive from the desktop computer and leaving the apartment forever. At least, she hoped it was a private address. She sincerely wanted it to be him that received it, not one of the legions of oh-so-well-intentioned handlers, filters, and other toadies she knew to permeate his life. He would know soon enough she had returned. She was certain every news organization on Earth was already interrupting normal broadcasting with the "breaking news".

There was so much she wanted to say, free at last from all restrictions and prying eyes. Now, she wasn't sure she should. She had no idea how he felt, now that the magnitude of all these revelations had sunk in. Above all else, she wanted him to protect himself, regardless the cost to them – to her. In the end, she restricted herself to one anguished plea she thought he would understand.

"Just tell me you don't hate me. That's all I ask."

*****

For the past three days, the Honorable Adam Sampson, Senior Senator from Colorado, had sat at the desk in his private study, stunned senseless. The only surprise in all of this had been that Mike – Giselle – had been alive all these years. Everything else had been in keeping with the character of the soldier Adam Sampson had known so briefly, but whose influence now touched every living thing on Earth. An engineer? A Ranger? A ninja? A guinea pig in a super-secret DOD weapons development program? He had even sacrificed his, his… oh, God! And now this…. How much more did one person have to give for his country, race, and PLANET?

The newly-appointed Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee opened his desk drawer and withdrew a thick folder he had received from Swifty Pike. Until the blonde warrior's final, earth-shaking oral admission, neither man had been aware of their common link. The Senator had gotten on the phone immediately to make sure the former general did know. The general had sent the file in response. The Senator had also placed calls to three fellow former aviators and five Native American Army veterans, all of whom he had kept in touch with through the years. He had one more call pending – and hoped the Palace would take it.

Adam now re-read the contents of the folder. It was all there; a drunken soldier/technocrat's amazing story of dedication and service, beginning with a forty-three-year-old summer camp 'confessional'. Swifty Pike had twisted a lot of arms in Washington, Illinois, and Japan to verify the details. Then, everyone on Earth had witnessed the 'confirmation' with their own eyes on television, although many were still grappling with the ramifications of what they had seen. Giselle Du Mont had been so single-minded in purpose, she had manipulated Time itself and her own previous incarnations to achieve the end that had to be. An entire lifetime dedicated to one, desperate roll of the dice - for stakes NO ONE could have conceived! Senator Adam Sampson suddenly felt old – and very, very small.

This bullshit about her being some kind of freak or monster was going to stop! If anyone deserved the label "patriot", it was her. Tomorrow morning, he would go to the Senate and open a very public hearing. After all, that is what committee chairmen did, didn't they? He could think of at least one retired general, five ex-Rangers and his own former crew who would jump at the chance to testify at last. Through them, he would tell the whole fucking world a story, all of it, a lifetime in the making. With a little luck, he would add the testimony of a soon-to-be King to that list. Knowing her as he now did, he was certain there would be others who would come forward. The Congressional Medal of Honor was chickenfeed compared to what she deserved, but by God, they were going to give it to her this time or they were all gonna get a complete set of lumps!

*****

 

Epilog

Anoush Hagopyan was a sable-eyed brunette beauty from Glendale. She worked as a checker at the Albertson's supermarket on Glen Oaks Boulevard. For the past year, Anoush had been on a mission. She had worked as many hours as Lysa, her manager, would schedule her for. At last, it was "mission accomplished". She had paid thirty-five hundred bucks for her pretty new titties and was ecstatic with the full, firm, bouncy D's. Now, she was ready to 'try them out'.

The stunning Armenian girl and her girlfriends went to Burbank Bar and Grill out of curiosity. It wasn't the kind of place they usually went. BBG was an Anglo bar and, until now, the two cultures mixed like oil and water. But there was an air of giddiness here and all over the world, a shared perception of everyone having dodged a great big bullet. Everything seemed possible now. In addition, all of Burbank and Glendale were abuzz over the startling re-appearance, then disappearance, of Giselle Du Mont only a few days before at, of all places, Fuddruckers – just up the street from BBG.

That it had been Giselle was beyond a doubt. The news people from Channel 4 had missed her by moments, but someone in the restaurant had snapped her picture with his camera phone. She was dressed in that telling "I Run With The Big Dogs" T-shirt, sitting in the Elvis booth, just leaning back with her eyes closed. That image had been plastered all over every channel – and must have earned its author a mint. Damn the bitch! She spent a week in Hell, then just shows up, looking flawless! How do Trannies do it?

The walk-up bar was crowded and alive with gossip, as had been the streets below. The group found a table on the patio, drank, danced a bit, and just soaked in the energy of the place. Anoush was getting a ton of stares, too. The knit bandeau top she wore showcased her new titties, smooth belly and navel ring. Her girlfriends had chided her good-naturedly about being so "shameless", but it wasn't anything they hadn't done or wouldn't do again. She liked the attention.

She saw him then; her whole group did. He was about six feet tall, with movie-star good looks, sandy blonde hair, and chocolate-brown eyes. He looked like he lived in a health club. Talk about hard bodies! He wasn't bulky, like Arnold Schwarzenegger. This guy was just really, really ripped. They kind of followed him with their eyes as he made his way – slinked – across the patio. Anoush remembered watching a panther at the Griffith Park Zoo. It had moved exactly the same way; fluid, focused, powerful. He didn't notice them – or anyone. He just sat, alone, gazing off over the rooftops towards the Verdugo Hills.

Anoush didn't realize she was on her feet until she was nearly at his side. She hadn't even heard the sharp rebukes from her companions. Even with his back to her, this guy had drawn her like a magnet. Now he looked up at her inquiringly. She couldn't think of a thing to say. It was like her mouth was glued shut. God, those eyes! She just wanted to crawl inside them and get lost. He slowly smiled, revealing the most perfect dimples she had ever seen. This man just had to be in The Business! There was something wrong with the eyes, though. There was an oddly sad quality to them, like a distantly-remembered pain.

"Hi Anoush. It's really nice to see you again."

She was completely floored.

"H-how do you know my name?"

He smiled bemusedly.

"I shop at your store. I go through you line all the time."

The girl shook her head in disbelief. That couldn't be. She would have remembered him if she had seen him anywhere. She struggled desperately for something witty to say.

"So, is this your night to play Lone Ranger, or what?"

He chuckled at that.

"No, that was last week. The more I think about it, the more I know I really don't want to be alone right now. Would you do me the honor of joining me?"

He actually stood up and held her chair for her. She couldn't accept the invitation fast enough. He caught the eye of the waitress, who hurried over. He murmured his order; she smiled and hurried off. They made idle small talk while they waited. He sat with his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, staring dreamily into her eyes, a kind of half-smile on his sensual lips. He wasn't trying to put the moves on her. He just seemed genuinely into her company. Wouldn't you know it? He was a real gentleman. He hadn't stared at her boobs even once! A part of her was more than a little miffed.

The waitress returned shortly with a bartender. He carried the iced bucket. She carried two chilled flutes. Champagne! This guy impressed her more and more. As the server showed him the label, Anoush read over his shoulder and smiled. Taittinger had been flying off the shelves at the store since Giselle and Geoffrey's romantic moonlight dinner. This wasn't the blended stuff, either. It was the real deal; '92 Blanc de Blanc. She knew the restaurants and bars were now charging more for this than Dom. On top of everything else, this guy was loaded. She raised her glass.

"What shall we drink to?"

His forehead furrowed.

"I dunno. What do you suggest?"

"Here's… to Life."

He smiled at that; a rich, genuine smile.

"Yeah, I like that. To Life – and the infinite possibilities it offers."

They clinked their flutes together and drank. She drank in the sight of him, as well. This gorgeous guy with the perfect body, dimpled smile and little-boy-lost eyes was making her heart melt. The wine, the moment, and the nearness of him emboldened the determined Armenian.

"You have me at a disadvantage. I'm already embarrassed I don't remember you from the store. I don't even know your name."

He blushed and held out his hand.

"I'm sorry. Mike Jones."

She giggled as they shook hands. Now she knew he was in The Business.

"Mike Jones, huh? Is that your stage name?"

She instantly regretted her words. His smile vanished. He stiffened as though he had been punched. The pain in his eyes was palpable. Anoush was afraid she had somehow just blown it. Then the moment passed. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, just a bit.

"You could say that."

More Coming in the Adventures of Giselle and Geoff !

 

 

since 09/27/04