Chapter 296

The big TV at the end of the kitchen came on to show a helicopter as it topped the mountain.

"HELICOPTER PILOTED BY CAPTAIN REED APPROACHING FROM THE NORTH – PASSENGERS ARE FRANK WAINWRIGHT AND CAPTAIN BILL MADISON. SECURITY HAS GIVEN REED PERMISSION TO LAND," the AI announced as Jeff looked up from making himself a couple of roast beef sandwiches for lunch.

"Thank you," the Prime responded. With the sandwich makings on the table, he put out a couple of extra plates. Filling three big glasses with ice, he got the sweet tea out of the refrigerator before going looking for the type of chips he thought the men would like. By the time he had found the chips and had the tea poured, Frank and Bill were coming through the garage.

"Computer!"

"Yes, Prime," it responded in a much lower volume.

"Tell them where I am."

"I already have, Prime."

Jeff let out a chuckle. "Think you're smart, don't you?"

"I am programmed to learn, Prime."

Again, he could have sworn he heard a quiet chuckle. He would have to ask Laura if she had programmed in the chuckle, or if the AI had added it to its own programming.

A short time later, the three Alphas were sitting at the kitchen table eating their lunch. "When are the women going to be caught up with their rifle training?" Wainwright wanted to know.

Jeff put his glass of tea down. "Talked to Sarge just a few minutes ago. They'll be finished with their basic familiarization course this afternoon. He suggested an hour or two on the range each week to continue to improve their shooting ability."

Bill caught Jeff's eye. "Frank tells me that he probably won't need Jill, Kathy and me for the rest of the week. Suppose I can get some of Ship's simulator time in? Seeing those Interceptors sitting on the flight deck brings back memories of my old Tomcat. I have to try on one of those beasts."

Jeff grinned at him. "Like I said before, all you have to do is tell Ship what you want, then lie down on one of her couches. But get ready to be a plebe again with everyone outranking you, and of course, you'll have no memory of your life here while you're at her academy. Are the three of you going through it together?"

Bill looked a bit uncomfortable. "The girls want to, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. We're all pretty competitive, and well, with my flight experience ... I was worried about hard feelings after the academy. Do you think going through it together is a good idea?"

Jeff almost responded negatively, but said, instead, "Why don't the three of you ask Ship about this together? I'm sure she can arrange it so that you won't know each other during the simulation, or maybe not even meet each other, if you want. But I had rather the three of you, with Ship, make that decision."

"Sounds reasonable," Bill returned.

After Bill left, Frank finished the last of his iced tea, then set the glass back on the table and turned to Jeff. "With Bill's background as a fighter pilot, you know he'll excel in the scout and interceptor training. He'll be so far ahead of them that the women won't have a decent chance of keeping up with him."

Jeff was quiet for a moment before commenting, "And if he doesn't? What about his ego? Fighter pilots tend to have one about a yard wide. It might not fare well if his women ace the course and he doesn't."

Wainwright stared at him. "Do you think that's a possibility?"

"He has two sharp ladies. Besides, I suspect that flying an F14 is a whole lot different from piloting a scout or interceptor powered by an inertialess drive. His previous experiences might well go against him in the new training."

"I thought you said that anyone in Ship's simulation wouldn't remember his or her past life."

"They don't, but how much of what Bill learned and did every day remains with him as reflex? Those reflexes might well be counterproductive with either the scouts or the interceptors. Who knows? I'm just speculating, of course."

"So, are you going to sway their thinking?"

"Nope, I'm leaving that entirely up to the three of them and Ship. I can manage to get into enough trouble on my own without getting involved in their business."

Frank grinned as he stood and walked over to rinse his dishes. "Come to think of it, I'm glad I'm not in his shoes."

Jeff followed Frank to the sink. "Frank, ol' buddy, just when are you and your women going to start your training on Ship's simulator? I assume you three are going with us when we leave Earth."

Wainwright busied himself rinsing his plate and glass. "Well, I hadn't really thought of going. I have a business to run, and I..."

"Haven't asked your women yet, huh?" Jeff said with a chuckle as he nudged a deeply contemplating Frank out of the way. "And besides, just how much money do you want to make, anyway? And along those same lines, Tingle can run your company, and I know for a fact that you have excellent supervisors throughout all your businesses; you've told me so time and again. Why not throw the reins to Tingle completely while we explore the galaxy? There isn't enough money on Earth to buy a ticket on Ship, but you and your women already have a berth there."

Frank put his dishes in the washer before turning back to Jeff. "Who's going?"

"Don't know yet. Most all the Alphas will, I suppose. Oh, I doubt that Matt will want to go. He has a new job as the FBI Denver SAC. They would probably frown on him leaving for a year or two." After pausing for a second, he continued, "But, then again, maybe the General could pull some strings about that, too. Like I said before, I don't know, basically because I haven't asked. First, we have to get a crew trained, then the fortress project is just beginning, and there are several other things to consider."

With the food put up and the dishes in the washer, Frank and Jeff went to sit in the living room to continue their conversation.

A mile down the mountain, Megan Kimbrel carefully backed up her new Grand Cherokee, turned around and headed out Steve and Marcie's driveway, her mind in turmoil. As Steve had said goodbye, he had taken her in his arms and kissed her on her lips. It wasn't a particularly passionate kiss, but it was far more than just a peck, lasting for ten seconds or so, she supposed. While he kissed her, she had been acutely aware of her breasts pushing against the hard muscles of his chest. Marcie immediately hugged her tight and kissed her on her cheek. "Think about it," she whispered into Meg's ear. Steve held her coat for her as she slipped into it. She was still blushing furiously as she walked down the steps to her vehicle.

As she drove down the mountain, she could feel her wet panties clinging to her, and she couldn't seem to get her mind off remembering Steve and Marcie making love last night. Did Marcie really mean what she said? How could she even think about sharing Steve? Sure, we have been friends for ages, and I've been alone for a long time, but a threesome? It sounds vulgar even saying it in my mind. But then again, Diana didn't refer to what they had that way. She said they were all in love with each other and never even thought about being jealous. How could that be? How can Marcie even suggest it? I know that she and Steve are in love, even after all those years of marriage.

Another memory crossed her mind. Marcie said that Steve would be fucking her five minutes after I walked out the door. I wonder if they're doing it right now. Those thoughts caused her panties to become even wetter.

As she reached Martha's Restaurant, a car pulled out in front of her, causing her to have to hit her brakes hard. By the look on the driver's face, he hadn't seen her until it was too late. She was glad the road had been plowed out and she had new snow tires on her Cherokee. She waved for the other driver to go on in front of her, and he waved back.

A little while after turning onto Highway 40, she realized she didn't want to go on home just yet. Choosing a road that led to several of the ski resorts, she turned onto it to test how her new vehicle handled on snow. Although most of the road up the mountain was plowed out, there were still several stretches with a considerable snowpack. The four wheel drive and the new tires carried her on without spinning a single time, even when she deliberately drove closer to the side of the road to get into deeper snow.

I could never have afforded this for myself. How will I ever repay the Matthews?

Turning around in the driveway of the first ski resort, she headed back down the mountain. Twenty minutes later, she turned onto Lakota Trail, and shortly after that was petting her happy animals. But, despite her little friends, the house felt empty. She fixed herself a pot of coffee, and when it was ready, set her cup down on the coffee table before plopping down on her recliner. As she was reaching for the TV remote, the phone rang. Even though she had just left the Spermans a short while ago, she and Marcie talked for an hour, laughing and cutting up like teenagers. A giggling Marcie said that Steve had her bent over the couch while Meg was still in the driveway. "Think about it, Girl. Think seriously about what you're missing."

Meg was sorely tempted, even though she couldn't imagine agreeing to the sex, somehow she couldn't seem to tell Marci no to another visit, and had wound up promising to come back tomorrow. As soon as the phone call ended, she opened her pants enough to allow her hand inside. Her jeans had been rubbing against her during her trip home, keeping her right on the edge. As soon as she touched her clit, her body arched and the orgasm tore through her. Yet again, her mind replayed the scene she had heard by Steve and Marcie's bedroom as she imagined the two of them as they fucked. Three orgasms later, she staggered to her feet and started toward the bathroom. I smell of sex. My living room smells of sex. I need to shower and stop this. I'm acting like some teenage sex maniac.

Continuing to chastise herself, she stripped and tossed her sopping panties into the hamper.

The Prison Planet

Fatigue and a full belly made Morales lethargic. He knew he was going to have to figure out how to preserve food, but for the immediate future, he had to secure his cave for the night. He vaguely remembered something from a movie about animals being afraid of fire. He fervently hoped that was true. Regardless, he was going to try to keep a fire going all night in the entrance of his cave. Now he needed to get enough wood to accomplish that, and he had no real idea how much it would take. Oh well, I'll gather as much as I can before dark – and hope.

For the next hour, he scoured the hillside and dragged downed limbs near the front of his cave, stacking them in a rough pile near the entrance. Double bladed axe in hand, he hurried to a thicket of small trees to cut several poles, their diameters roughly the size of his forearm and a little longer than the entrance was wide – at least he hoped they were, he hadn't had anything to measure with, or if he did, he didn't have time to find it in the case. After stripping the limbs off, he dragged the poles back to the cave. Between dragging all the deadwood, then the poles, he was so tired he was trembling, but he still had to get a lot more done before full darkness.

Taking a few minutes out from the heavy work, he cut the top out of a bush and swept the first twenty feet or so of the cave reasonably clear of refuse. He would get to the rest of it when he had more time.

Back in front of the cave, he took his axe and began cutting the downed wood – mostly limbs he had found – into reasonable lengths. As he cut the first limb, the blade of his axe went through the small limb and on into the ground. Shit, you idiot, he admonished himself, you're fucking up the edge on your axe. With a handful of leaves, he wiped the blade clean and inspected the edge. Apparently he hadn't damaged the blade when he hit the ground with it. This has to last me a lifetime, he admonished himself, then remembered that he had a duplicate of everything in Robertson's case. Still, I can't afford to screw up my tools.

From then on, he put the limb he was cutting across a bigger limb that was laying on the ground, and his stroke stopped in the second limb instead of hitting the ground with the blade of his axe. About halfway through cutting the limbs down to size, he realized he had begun to form blisters on his hands. "Shit," he muttered as he stood looking at his hands, "Why didn't I use my gloves?" Then the next thought that hit him was, I need to save my gloves. I can't just run down to the hardware store and buy some more. With a sigh, he continued with the cutting.