Chapter 6: Tying Loose Ends

After lunch we went back home again. First, the cabal agreed that we didn't have to be dead yet. Second, they called George-the-recruiter in and I handed him my keys. He had a cell phone that worked anywhere, even down in tunnels, and he always carried at least two of those portable pads with him in his briefcase. If they needed him, he could stop anywhere, lock himself in a bathroom somewhere, and pop back to the ship for a minute. They had him go back to our condo and set a transporter ring down inside. After that, he could go on about his business.

We went back down again in our fishing clothes. They agreed that we had to take the boat out and drown, but after that they wanted Diana to help George-the-recruiter get some help, while I was to come back up to Freighter #2 and continue learning all I could before going out to Jupiter.

How could that work? She couldn't be seen after we took the boat out. Besides, our appearance was changing. We both looked younger than we did yesterday. It may not be much, but I knew me, and I spent a lot of time looking at Diana, too. We both looked younger. We should be okay for normal people, but our kids would know. And, if this continued, it would soon be obvious to everyone that something was wrong with us.

The only way Diana could stay was if she didn't go fishing with me in the first place. If she was still alive after I drowned, then she could be seen running around everywhere for a day or two, but then she would have to start acting like a normal widow. It would be better if we did everything we could for a day or two, then both of us drowned.

It was obvious to all of us that these disappearances were going to become more and more of a problem, until we came up with a viable cover story. George had that one already figured out, though. As soon as we had our Virginia office set up and working, it could be used as a "front" for a black government operation which hired specialists for unofficial foreign, um, ventures, yeah.

Anyone who dug into where people were going would find enough clues to conclude that we were fronting for the CIA -or somebody similar- who was feeding people into black ops, and then they would get stonewalled. The government would support our refusal to be investigated any further.

And, anyone would accept that they had solved the mystery when they got visited by men in black suits asking that they go investigate an unusual fish kill in Alberta instead. It's January, and the weather is delightful up there right now. Here, we'll help you get in the cab. It will take you to the airport. Fred here will go with you to make sure you don't get lost on the way. We've already bought your tickets.

A couple rounds of that, with "investigating reporters" getting stranded in unpleasant out-of-the-way places on tickets easily found to have been bought by an account paid for by the US Department of Agriculture, and the few news services not controlled by the UN would accept that the US was doing something fishy. Nothing new here.

So, once we got home I spent a couple of minutes contacting some retirees I'd like to work with again, found my latest SubVets newsletter, and then started getting the boat ready to go. After I had it hooked up to the truck and everything back on the driveway, I went back in and contacted some more people.

Meanwhile, Diana and George went to go see Ginger. I don't want to know how they convinced her to step on the transporter pad, but she was working part-time as a purchaser and would probably jump at a well-paid full-time job with the government. Ginger was going to have to be one of our "living" people who stayed here and ran our ground-side operation.

When they got back from that fishing expedition, Diana and I went to Little Creek Commissary to do our weekly grocery shopping. Yes, we got our usual stuff, but the important part of the trip was to slowly walk up and down every single aisle so that the scanner in her purse could look at everything they had on their shelves. The Giant Open Air Market at Ward's Corner would have had a better selection, but they got bought out a while back and now it was just another grocery store.

While we were driving home, Diana asked me where I wanted to eat, if it was going to be our last meal on Earth. I had to smile at that. Tripp's, off Independence in Virginia Beach. It's the best steakhouse for at least a hundred miles. Maybe we could get some use out of that scanner there, too.

Why ask? She knew the answer to that question. Because she needed to know where to send her employees, that's why. Diana called Ginger and invited her, since she was "back in town", then called George and invited him, but he was already down in the Triangle area of North Carolina. Until his investment company got organized enough to have transporter pads in every city, the only way he could get around was to drive his car.

Ginger would meet us at seven. We went back to our condo, put the groceries away, and just curled up on the back porch lounger for a few hours. Maybe a waste of our last day on Earth, but it was what Diana wanted to do and it was what we did. We did try one more time to have children, the first time we had done that out there in the daylight. I know I had a good time; I'm pretty sure Diana did too.

Dinner would have been very nice, a good quiet meal with a good friend while an alien scanner recorded every dish the restaurant served, but Diana and Ginger wanted to discuss me like a ham they were going to split. Diana claimed that since my recent operation I was too active for her and she needed help before I did something we would both regret. Before I could say anything she turned back to me and told me to butt out, I didn't have any say in it.

Then she turned back to Ginger and told her that it wasn't cheating if she set it up. Ginger replied "Oh, good. I would never support Roger cheating on you, but as long as it's not cheating I'll help you with whatever you need help with." Are they talking about what I think they're talking about? Yes, they are. We were 'moving' tomorrow and Ginger would never have another chance, so she should take advantage of me tonight.

When we left Tripp's I got in Ginger's car with her, and she wanted to hold my hand while she drove. I'm not talking about that night. Diana may be right, I had a lot more energy than one might expect, but Ginger was up to the challenge. Maybe not every night, but for one night she could stay with me. We got a lot of exercise that night, and I have some great memories. Let's just leave it at that. Ginger is almost as beautiful as Diana.

Diana came over to have breakfast with us after we had made ourselves presentable the next morning. When Ginger let her in, my wife gave her a quick hug and kiss, then she gave me a much longer and intimate one. I think it was more intimate. She asked "Did you miss me? You probably never even noticed I wasn't there. This is the first time you've thought of me all night, isn't it?"

Ginger rescued me, though. "Well, in his defense I did keep him distracted all night." Then she came over and gave me a hug, too. Maybe even better than the one Diana had just given me. Then, right in front of Diana, she stepped back, opened her bathrobe, and gave me another hug. I already knew she wasn't wearing anything under it; I'd been watching when she put it on after our shower.

What was I supposed to do now? I hugged her back, but I also said "I still think this is wrong. You are beautiful and I will always want you, but I'm married and very happy about that."

Ginger said into my shoulder "As long as you only sleep with me when Diana tells you to, you aren't doing anything wrong. And you did a lot of things very right. I haven't felt that good since Eric died."

Well, if Diana was okay with it I wasn't going to argue with both of them. And, if Diana was looking better all the time, well, Ginger had also improved overnight, with the nanites doing whatever she had asked them to do. My cock had no problem telling me it was ready to 'sleep' with Ginger whenever she wanted. It told Ginger that, too.

Ginger rubbed herself on my erection right there in front of Diana, too. "I got enough last night for now, but if Diana ever gets upset with you, you can come stay with me until she's over it."

After that she tied her robe tight again and went to fix breakfast in her kitchen. I knew that Diana had been here countless times over the years but I had always stayed away from Ginger's house. After last night, though, I very much enjoyed watching the way she moved inside her robe. When Diana caught me I defended myself. "I'd rather look at you, if you're willing to dress that way. Ginger, do you have a second robe Diana could wear for breakfast?"

They looked at each other and smiled, then Ginger told me to watch the bacon and they both went upstairs. When they came down Diana was wearing an older robe that had some worn-out places. I didn't need to peek through them, I could tell from the way she moved coming down the stairs that she wasn't wearing anything else under it.

I told Ginger she could watch her own bacon; I was watching my wife. That got me an open-robe hug from Diana, too. Hopefully, it also got me out of the doghouse for watching Ginger.

Diana and I mostly sat and enjoyed our coffee, keeping Ginger company while she fixed bacon and eggs. I did some thinking, though. I could reasonably say that I was sleeping with two beautiful women. One was my wife and the other was her best friend. Both women knew about each other, and neither seemed to mind. My wife had actively pushed me into her friend's bed, so she certainly shouldn't be complaining, and Ginger had been after me for a decade or more.

I was pretty sure that I was the only man Diana had ever slept with, at least since she met me. Anything that happened before we met didn't count. And, if Ginger ever had a boyfriend after she lost Eric she had certainly hid it from Diana. She was probably telling the truth, that I was the first man to enjoy her bed since the accident. So, neither was sleeping around. They certainly didn't fit any definition of slut that I believed in.

Still, if they wanted to act like sluts around me they shouldn't complain if I want to treat them like sluts. When Ginger brought the last plate to the table and sat down, I said "Ladies, as fetching as you both look, I'm pretty sure you would look even better without the robes. Ginger, you're done cooking, aren't you?"

Again they looked at each other and smiled, and they both dropped their robes to their waists without getting up. "I was right. Absolutely lovely." After that I proceeded to completely ignore the fact that they were having breakfast with me topless, other than enjoying the sights, never mentioning it again. I had played with Ginger's toys all night and I'd spent a good amount of yesterday playing with Diana's. They deserved some time off for good behavior.

When we were done eating, I sat back and looked at them both. "Okay, I have been given conclusive and irrefutable evidence that I should just be quiet and do what you two want me to do. What's next?"

Diana reached over and took my hand. "Dear, I want you to treat Ginger better. She needs a man, and she hasn't wanted anyone but you since she lost Eric. She's been patient, she's been honest, she hasn't tried to undercut me or go behind my back, and it's time you started taking care of her the way you should."

God help me, Ginger took my other hand. "I know you can't marry me. I won't ever replace Diana, but I can be the woman you go see when she has a headache. The only thing I'll say no to is treating me better than Diana. You should never treat me better than your wife. She is a jewel to be treasured beyond all others."

That's the way Ginger talked some times. And I agreed that Diana was a jewel to be treasured, but here she was telling me I should be treasuring another woman, too. And they were both leaning forward so that they were holding my hands against their breasts.

"Roger, I want you to consider Ginger as your second wife. I trust her, and I want you to also. She's not stealing you from me. She's helping me take care of you so that I have time for my own career."

That was a valid argument. In the modern US Defense Department, a serviceman and his spouse were considered to be partners in the serviceman's career. He went off to war, to get killed or wounded or at least gone for too long, and she had to put everything about her own life on hold to take care of the home and children without a father who was gone just as if he had abandoned her. Even when he was home, he wasn't really always there, as the service still had needs. So, being a military wife, taking care of husband, house, and children was a full-time job. It didn't leave any time left for a career of her own.

A lot of couples couldn't do it, getting divorced, which made it even harder on the kids. The military as a whole had a horrible divorce rate. And, if there were any questions about how difficult sub service was, you could just look at the statistics for accidental (stupid) deaths and divorces. The boats led all the services in both. The service had a very good safety record on the boats, but when we got off and went home we tended to drink too much, party too much, fight too much, and the submarine service led the whole military in both "recreational deaths" and divorces.

Congress had even passed laws about splitting the retirement income, in case of divorce. If the couple had been together for at least half of a career that spanned at least 20 years, she got part of the retirement income -it was a sliding scale that depended upon the actual numbers- and was eligible for VA medical care in her own right. None of us guys liked that, but we had to admit that they should get something for being a single parent all those years.

Today, we were both starting new careers, and if we were going to have any children with our new youth, it would be nice to have some help raising them. I wasn't sure that a pushy broad with a career of her own to mind was the best choice, but it wasn't my choice. It was Diana's.

I'm not coordinated enough to play with four different breasts at once, but I tried. Diana's are larger and firmer than Ginger's, but Ginger's nipples get harder. They let me play until I was sure I could tell them apart in the dark if I ever needed to, then they said we had places to be.

Ginger was going to drive to Arlington to meet with some of George's fellow corporate recruiters and decide if she wanted them working with us. If she liked any of them, when George got back to Tidewater this afternoon they were going to take them 'to the main office' to be 'interviewed'.

Diana and I had to go get the boat, go fishing, and drown. How lovely!

Drowning was no big deal, we had done most of the steps countless times before. We made our lunch, hooked up the trailer and drove out to the Lynnhaven boat ramps, launched "Miss D", and went out to one of the sandbars that didn't have anyone else nearby. That was harder than it sounds. Chesapeake Bay is huge, but it is surrounded by cities full of guys who think they can fish.

We took a couple of hours to stop and anchor, fish some, then move on before we found a good spot with no one around. We caught a couple of fish but nothing memorable. When Diana landed a huge Red Drum, though, we decided that we had to keep it. It was about 2 feet long and probably 30 or 35 pounds. Not a record, but bigger than anything we had caught in a long time.

I cut the line and held the Drum while Diana set up the transporter pad, then we opened the cooler, grabbed two beers, and left. Anyone who found the boat would find the cut line and open beer cooler with stuff missing and conclude that we had gotten too drunk for whatever we caught. Anyone who knew Roger and Diana Edelmann would know better, but it would satisfy the police. They didn't know us.

This time, when we stepped into that room on Freighter #2, we were there for good. I took Diana's Red Drum straight to the mess room to be scanned in. That one fish was going to feed a lot of people. And, with all the stuff we scanned at the Commissary, it could be fixed a lot of different ways. Diana didn't want her beer so I tracked down Frenchy.

He thought there wasn't any point in scanning the beer in but he let me do it anyway, then we drank them both before they got warm. He was right; that was the last decent beer I had for a long time.

The three of us had to go our separate ways after that. I was going out to Jupiter. Diana was going to stay in moon orbit helping Admiral Kennedy figure out who-all we needed up here, and Ginger stayed on Earth managing the effort to get us more bodies.

After I got a briefing on how to get to Jupiter, Diana and I had one more night together in our pod in Freighter #2. She was depressed and afraid and I spent most of the night just holding her and reassuring her. We'd been separated quite a few times before, but that was always for a few months, or half a year. This one looked permanent.

Always before I'd been on a United States Navy warship. Accidents happen, but the cold war had ended without any major battles in large part because the Soviet Union had never felt comfortable challenging our fleet. Their leaders understood land warfare and they had built a war machine that could grind across all of Europe if the US stayed out of it. We weren't willing to stay out of it, though, and they went broke trying to build a navy that could make us stay out.

Diana had always known that, on a USN warship, I had a better chance than anyone else of coming home from WW3, and on the submarines it was almost guaranteed. The Russian boats just weren't our equal. There may not be a home to come home to, but most of our boats would have survived even a total war with the Soviet Union. Out in the deep ocean, we were the lions and the Soviet submarines were jackals.

This time, we were like the Americans in 1775, building Bushnell's Turtle to go attack HMS Eagle. We had no navy, and we were going up against the biggest baddest force in the known universe. Until we learned enough to build a fleet that could stop the big bad aliens, we were going to have casualties. The early ships were all going to be sacrificed for knowledge and time. I'd use the Romans and their early wars with Carthage when they didn't know how to fight at sea to compare us with, but we didn't have the best army in the world to fall back on, either, this time. The other guys probably had that, too.

We had our own advantages, though. We had a billion years of competition bred into our genes, and we had a million years of a galactic civilization to give us tools. Like any contest, the winner wouldn't be the strongest or the fastest or the biggest. It would be the one that used its strengths to find and destroy the other's weaknesses. We could do this. It was as fair a fight as any.

Still ... I was an early recruit to this war. I was going to go try to hold the line while Diana helped arm Earth. Think of the patriots who held the Alamo while Texas organized and trained an army, or the 300 heroes who stood at Thermopylae while a few cities in Greece got ready to fight the whole damned Persian Empire.

What did those two groups have in common? Knowing your history isn't always a good thing. I couldn't very well reassure Diana when I didn't believe my lies myself. I finally told her that if I did something stupid she could get it revised in the papers to be heroic, have a ship named after me, and send Junior out to avenge me after he graduated.

That made her feel better. "You don't ever do something stupid. Our friends will know we didn't drown, fishing drunk. You'll be the one who learns the secret and comes back to tell us how to win, oh crafty Odysseus." We slept, after that.

I woke to find Diana trying to use me for her filthy needs again. When she realized I was awake she told me that she wanted more children. Well, I knew what that was all about, but my instincts agreed with her. I should have more children before I died. If we slowed them down, and Junior's generation stopped them, then our youngest would see his own children live free. I made it as good for her as I could.