Chapter 4

“Morning, Ladies. I brought homemade blueberry pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice ... And coffee.”

“Coffee?” perked Stacy. Helen was awake and waiting to see what disaster befell her rival.

“Are you sure you are only fourteen?” A vastly amused and satisfied Villainess asked upon seeing Stacy’s new outfit.

“EEK! ... What the hell?”

Sydney ignored the byplay and pushed the trolley to the center where the card table and chairs were set up waiting.

“Closet has a mirror, Ms. Lacey Leather.” The unbridled glee couldn’t be hidden in Stacy’s counterpart’s voice. The hostile glare that Helen received in turn was promising of retribution.

A sixteen-inch leather mini was bad enough, the bustier with the scratchy starched lace was thick enough to cover her points up high - from a distance. The boots were silly, yet comfortable-looking. Even Stacy’s lustrous brown hair was longer, now reaching down to the middle of her back. The bands on her stockings made the woman obviously feel like a tramp, judging from her reaction. But the gap in the back of the skirt was...

My wife needs another spanking; those outfit choices were definitely influenced by her and not left up to Sydney.

Furious, Stacy glared at Sydney, who was setting three places for breakfast. “You think this is funny?”

“Yes, I do, you laughed at me.” Helen answered for my student.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Twintail Moonbeam ... Sydney, how am I supposed to get anything done dressed like this?”

“Stacy, you do have leeway. Just think of the possibilities. I know you can come up with acceptable alternatives, given time.” My student replied, all-too-reasonably for her victim’s comfort.

Unlike Helen, who went verbally ballistic upon seeing her changed appearance, Stacy internalized her anguish.

“Come eat while the food is still hot. I brought bacon and coffee.” Helen was already seated and munching on a large portion of bacon drenched in syrup.

“I’m too pissed to eat.”

“Coffee then. Sit and eat something. After breakfast, I will let you know about today’s game.”

‘Not the best segue, Sydney,’ I noted from my den. Not that my student would acknowledge hearing me over her earbud.

“Sorry. Look, I am saving your lives with my game. Honestly. Dr. Death won’t accept anything short of a strong punishment. If I let you off lightly, all three of us would be on his hit list.”

“What do you mean ‘all three’? What do you have to worry about?” Stacy still hadn’t moved from the mirror. Every time she looked at herself in that clubwear outfit and the gap in the back of her miniskirt, it brought about another frown.

Taking a bite of the semi-crispy bacon, “Leonard will not be pleased if I wasted his time. Unless I make a genuine effort to punish you two, I don’t think I can escape his wrath.”

Fists on her hips, “Why?”

“Master called it ‘Hubris’. I believed I could save you and wanted to try.”

“Bullshit. You just wanted guinea pigs,” Helen refused to believe Sydney’s reasoning.

“Look at Helen’s hair: longer, blonde and full. How many people would pay millions to have hair like that? Do you really think I needed to abduct you just for my experiments?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Puma, dear.” Helen added sarcastically, throwing Stacy’s original words back at her. “You didn’t object when it was my turn.”

“You are a fucking criminal; you can rot for all I care.”

“One happy family.” Helen smirked at Sydney’s supposed naïveté.

Breakfast between the three continued in tense silence, even when Stacy joined the two others, she ate little and said less.

...

“Today’s game is a UF history test. From the time of the first Europeans arriving on Federation shores until now. Two hundred questions with five bonus questions. The bonus questions are only needed to break ties. All three of us will have one hundred minutes to fill out the test. There are no multiple-choice questions, nor are there any essay questions.”

“For instance, question one is: ‘Where is Plymouth rock: city and state?’ Both need to be correct for you to get credit. If you only put the city or state down, then it will be marked wrong.”

“Wait, you are taking it too?” Helen interjected.

“Yes, but mine will be reviewed by Master. If he is not pleased with my results, then I will face a punishment of his choice. All I know is that we all get the same test and it’s supposed to be ‘easy’. Moria made it from memory.”

“Who the fuck is Moria? Wait. Didn’t you say something about her being Lady Strife?”

“Moria O’Shannan. Yes, she is an aunt-like figure to Mistress Catherine and one of my mentors when she is in town.”

“Fuck, easy.” Helen did not believe it for a second.

Stacy was still brooding and silent.

“Helen, the test is between you two. You aren’t competing against anyone else.”

“What happens if neither of us get one right?”

“If both of you get less than twenty-five percent correct then I will make a new test. How is that?”

“Ok, I guess.”

“Stacy?”

“Fine.”

Curious, I opened my copy of Moria’s test. ‘Where is Plymouth rock? What date was the first colony settled in North America by the Europeans? Where is Quincy market? Where is Roanoke? What is the name of the oldest continuously commissioned warship in the UF? Where is it harbored? Who was the first UF President? What is the name of his home? Who was the second President? The third? Who burned down the first white house? When? Where is the Freedom Trail?... ‘

The questions were mostly common knowledge, hitting the high points through Federation History. The five bonus questions were interesting: ‘Where is Filene’s Basement first store located? Who was the sculptor responsible for Mount Rushmore? What was the UF first national park? Who was the first woman awarded a doctorate in medicine by a university in the Federation? Who was the first woman Federation astronaut?’

I scored 192 of a possible 200 points and three of the bonus questions correct. I had no clue what or who Filene’s Basement was until I looked it up and, sadly, I was also unfamiliar with Elizabeth Blackwell or her numerous accomplishments.

Boris was given the task of grading the results for the three women.

“Miss Sydney Thomas: a score of 181 points, plus four of the bonus questions were answered correctly. Please do better next time.” he announced with a hint of disappointment.

I thought she was going to hit him. I laughed hard at Sydney’s scrunched up face. “Boris, be nice or I’ll recycle you.”

“Yes, Miss Sydney.” There wasn’t an ounce of contriteness in his reply. Boris’s AI had developed tremendously over the years.