Chapter 5

Blasts of redness assaulted James from the inside of his eyelids. Each beat of his heart seemed to drive red hot spikes from his eyes to the back of his brain. His pain was a river without an end. Squinting against the throbbing, he groaned and slowly reached up towards his head to rub his eyes. He felt a hand reach out and stop his movement.

"Shhhhhhh, just try to relax. I've got something here for the pain. I'd have given it to you earlier, but you have to be conscious before taking it after the jolt you just got. Open your mouth." Tarra's voice seemed to be holding back tears as she dropped two small pills into his open mouth that immediately dissolved on his tongue.

She felt awful; her training had broken down. She remembered all the discipline exercises she had undergone to learn to control her abilities. This was the first time she had ever stunned someone for real, and she hadn't meant to.

What he must think of her! The taboo against genetic engineering was still very strong in human cultures. The Eugenics War, even 140 years later, had placed a stigma on anyone who performed or underwent the types of enhancements her great grandparents had. It was why they had settled on Ragnor, out of the umbrella of the Federation. They had far less bureaucracy to snoop into people's background. The people of Ragnor were fiercely independent and tolerant of others.

He had seemed so accepting of her color changing abilities, laughing in delight as she had shifted on the trip to the hospital. Now he'll think she was a dangerous monster - something to be shunned and avoided.

She had moved him into the house, easily picking up his limp body using her genetically strengthened muscles. That strength was another legacy from her Special Forces great grandparents. Speed and agility were two others.

The only downside to her enhancements was the huge amounts of food she had to eat to constantly fuel them. She wasn't kidding when she had told James that her brother teased her about how much she ate. He ate twice as much as she did, but still teased her.

James sighed as the powerful pain killer did its work and looked up at Tara. His head was resting in her lap. He could see her red and blotchy eyes staring down at him, "What hit me? I just remember a bright light."

She sniffed back a tear, "Th ... tha ... that was me..." her voice faded out unable to go on.

James didn't at first understand her reply. She knocked him out? That made no sense at all. Why would she knock him out? How? She clearly didn't mean to if she was somehow involved. There was obviously more to the story, but there was another, more pressing, problem.

"How long was I out for?" he asked.

"Only about 10 minutes."

"Damn, too long. Didgi's going to be really worried and might do something rash. Where are my shorts? I need them right now." James was feeling better, as the analgesic worked its magic. The pain was down to just a dull throb in the background.

"They are right where you dropped them by the pool," Tarra seemed to be holding it together better.

He stood up and felt a wave of dizziness that quickly passed. His stomach roiled a bit from nausea that he forced down. He looked around trying to get his bearings. He was back inside the house. He strode over to the patio door and out onto the deck and spotted his shorts sitting in pile, next to her discarded bikini.

"Thanks," he walked quickly to them and took a small cylinder out his pocket and held it up to his lips.

"Didgi? Please tell me you haven't launched," he said into the comm.

"ARE YOU OK? You were knocked unconscious! I'm coming," the computer's voice blasted out, panicked in its intensity.

"I'm fine now, don't come. Don't go anywhere. It was some kind of mistake, but everything is OK now. It's 'right as rain.' " James gave the code phrase that confirmed to his concerned computer that he was not under duress; he was telling the truth.

If it wasn't true, if someone had been forcing him he would have dropped a different phrase. He had several other code phrases that could be used to tell her what he wanted her to do. Good planning was important in his business. Good planning for unexpected trouble was even more important if you wanted to become an old blockade runner. James had no intention of leaving his fate to others.

Didgi's voice seemed less frantic, "I was so worried. I could tell you were hurt, but you didn't push the panic button. I didn't know what to do. I was going to come get you if you didn't respond after 15 minutes."

"I know. I'm glad you didn't launch early. It's very important that you remain under stealth mode. Continue to monitor me like you always do."

"Aye Aye, Captain. Thanks for reassuring me, I don't like it when you get hurt."

"I know you don't. We'll talk more later, OK?"

"OK. Thanks."

Once again James thought it was like comforting a little kid when his computer's protective subroutines were activated full out. But she had saved his bacon on more than one occasion when he encountered trouble.

He always carried the remote comm that relayed his implanted biosensors to her. The comm also sent whatever audio it picked up. The signal was extremely hard to detect and operated at amazing distances with little energy output. When it wasn't being used for real time communications, it saved up the data it gathered, compressed it and "chirped" it back to the ship every ten seconds. Even at low power levels the special comm unit could easily push the signal out of buildings or from underground since its signal was unattenuated by ordinary matter.

It didn't work on any electromagnetic spectrum. It used linked neutrinos that were generated at the ship and then looped by the comm. It was yet another of his R&D innovations courtesy of friends in high places. He doubted if there were more than a handful of such neutrino based comms in existence.

James himself was fascinated with science and technology and the practical application of it to solve issues he encountered. This fascination was not shared by many others who preferred to just use tech. When he started talking about "quantum tunnels" and "causality linkages" most people's eyes started to glaze over. He had remembered reading an old, pre-Diaspora essay from somebody named Clarke that said, "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." That's what the comm seemed to most people, magic - BFM.

James looked over at Tarra who was standing close, listening to him reassure his ship that he was OK. She still looked anguished, her eyes wide.

"What would she have done to me if you hadn't woken up?" Tarra asked.

"Nothing to you directly. Probably just ripped off the roof over your living room and plucked me out with a force beam. She wouldn't actually hurt you or anyone else unless it was clear you were actively violent or tried to stop her." James regarded Tarra closely. It was clear that she was still under a lot of stress and was genuinely worried about her part in what had occurred.

Time to get back to finding out more from her. "Now just what exactly happened? What knocked me out?"

Tarra looked like she was about to cry again; she took a deep breath to regain her composure and said, "It was me. I did it. Not intentionally. When I, ummm ... came that last time I lost conscious control of my chromatophores. My God, I have never cum that hard before in my life." Tarra had to fight back more tears. She looked at him, her expression begging him for understanding, "The excitement of being with you ... I ... I wanted to just let go, lose a little control with you."

Tarra reached out and touched his arm. He put his hand over hers and indicated that she should continue. "I shouldn't have been able to release a stunstrobe without actively desiring to do so."

"Stunstrobe. I think I know what that means," James rubbed his forehead, "You can actually generate light? Not just change colors?" This was incredible. He wondered how she could generate such powerful light.

"Yes. It is part of the military adaptation. I have special cells, output chromatophores, which have the ability to create light. They can be very intense. They are able to strobe so brightly that they can stun unprotected combatants. Most chameleons have them disabled. My family does not; our tradition has always been to keep the ability charged." Now Tarra almost regretted that family quirk that kept them active. It was a powerful, often unexpected, defensive ability but one that could backfire.

Tarra continued, "Because of that decision to keep them activated, we have to agree to undergo some very specialized training to ensure that we can control it. A lot of that control is being able to manage our emotions." She paused and showed a weak smile, trying to gauge his reaction.

He raised his eyebrows inquisitively at her. "Go on," he said.

"As you saw when I started to get aroused, my skin can start to burst colors in response. You can't keep a cap on your emotions and still fully enjoy foreplay or sex. So I let go of that control. I never thought that I could get so lost in what was happening that I'd involuntarily release a stunstrobe. I've never done that before." Her face took on a stricken look, "I'm afraid when you made me cum that last time, it triggered a full stunstrobe. You were so close to me, that you got the full effect. Can you forgive me?"

James thought back to what was happening just before he was knocked out. It all tied together. How incredible and embarrassing. He'd just got knocked on his ass by a woman during a most intimate moment. At the same time, maybe it was quite the compliment.

He smiled at her, "Yes, I forgive you. But it's going to put a bit of a glitch in any future lovemaking if you are going to blast me unconscious in the middle of it all." His smiled broadened and he winked to show he was kidding.

She squealed and threw her arms around him, "Thank you! I was so worried that you would wake up, hate me and think I was some kind of monster."

He kissed the end of her nose and said, "Don't be silly. I'm really quite taken with you - unusually so. There is just something about you that really draws me. On the other hand, I don't relish the thought of having to wear a blindfold around you if you get excited. Your beauty is too great to hide it from me." The boyish grin was back.

"If you really mean that, I think I have a solution. First off, it really is unusual to stunstrobe like that - even under those circumstances. How would you like to meet my grandmother?"

James looked confused over what appeared to be a sudden change of topic, "Grandmother?"

"Yes. She can help us out. She's got the counter to my knock out punch."

"Well, if you put it that way, I'd love to meet your grandmother."

"Great, let me give her a buzz and we'll head over. It's just a couple of minutes away. While I call can you get me two or three of the energy drinks out of the cooler? That stunstrobe takes a lot of energy and I'm famished."

"Was he that good child?" Tarra's grandmother looked over at her with the question.

"Better than good, Grandma. I've never had one that strong in my life. It was everything I could do not to blackout myself." Tarra's reply was muffled as she talked around a mouthful of some kind of local sausage and cheese. She hadn't stopped shovelling in food since they had arrived and sat down at the kitchen table.

The subject of their conversation was slowly sipping a soft drink and munching on a much smaller portion of the snack. He wasn't going to touch this conversation if he could help it. He still couldn't believe that this woman was Tarra's grandmother. Mother, just maybe. But she looked far too youthful to be a grandmother. Maybe it was the bright yellow bikini, and the mature but very athletic physique it exposed that did it. The clothing customs here, and their revealing nature, were something you really had to get used to.

"How long is he here for? He's made his medicine drop. Which we thank you for young man," Grandma's face was very sincere in her gratitude. "Over half of my friends and neighbours are dead. If we didn't have so many chameleons in our circle it would be even more."