FOX Squadron
                        by G.L. Sandborn
                     Episode 5 - Bar Scenes
                                


     Colonel Jeffrey Stuart was the last to leave Thirteen
Squadron Headquarters, such as it was.  Unlike previous evenings,
he decided to knock off early and hit the Officers Club on the
way home.  He knew his wife, Kay, would understand.  She was an
officer's wife and used to his occasional bouts of depression
that could only be cured by liquid libations in the company of
other RDF officers.
     As he drove across base, he recalled the eventful day and
pondered what lay ahead.
     In a claustrophobiac interview room, amidst a potentially
hostile audience, Lieutenant Missy Robins made her full report to
General Emerson and the intelligence folks.  He endured her
frightened puppy expression, sitting in a hard chair as the
questions came fast and furious.  Naturally, she labored when
forced to detail the specifics of her escape.  Reliving the most
intimate moments of her struggle to survive felt to Jeff to be
more voyeuristic than strategically revealing.  More than once,
Jeff stepped in like a defense attorney to protect the trembling
girl from pointed questions he felt 'crossed the line'.
     Colonel Walters was a little skeptical at first but the more
he interrogated Lt Robins, the more convinced he became that she
was telling the truth.  He had information from operatives in
Florida posing as civilians that confirmed there were three RDF
personnel taken captive and one, a female, had escaped after
killing her guard.  Missy's story checked, at least as far as the
Miami part went.  The rest, was still suspect; especially the
part about fighting off Migs over the Arkansas Protectorate.  She
was the first to report EBSIS activity in or around the former
Zentraedi stronghold.  There was no reason for them to be there.
     In the end, there was only the matter of what to do with her
left to resolve.  Jeff was only too happy to provide an answer. 
With General Emerson's blessing, she was assigned to Thirteen
Squadron - with the understanding that Jeff would keep an eye on
her and report anything unusual back to them.
     By late afternoon, he was in his own office interviewing Sgt
Nancy Montoya.  Her case was a little harder to figure out. 
Mainly because she refused to say what happened to get her
grounded in the first place.  It took a couple of phone calls and
the intervention of General Emerson to get approval for her
transfer, but in the end, there were no serious objections.  That
in itself he found curious.  Still, he needed her as a pilot but
couldn't shake the feeling there was something important here he
didn't know. 
     He now had six Veritech pilots and two others who Capt Fox
was certain she could train in thirty days.  Then there was Sgt
Graywolf.  He had no idea how he was going to use her.  Although,
he had to admit, she had his computers working better than ever.
He was even surprised to catch Lt Wallace surreptitiously poking
around in parts of the logistics data base he thought was secured
to only a few.  He wondered what other tricks Miss Graywolf had
up her sleeve.
     Still, it wasn't bad for his first week.  Maybe things were
turning around.  Maybe the task wasn't totally out of reach.
     By the time he got to the O Club, he was feeling pretty
good.  Maybe he didn't need that drink after all.  But then, just
one wouldn't hurt.
     The Yellowstone Base Officers Club was a throwback to pre-war 
days.  Built out of an old gymnasium, it had ample floor
space and all the headroom you could hope for.  The club manager
went the old club one better; he hired table waitresses. 
Usually, they were base dependants picking up a few extra credits
waiting tables but they seemed happy with the job and certainly
made the place a little classier.
     Inside, the noise was palatable and the atmosphere a mix of
pre-war dinner club and recreation hall.  A couple of pool tables
far in the back did nothing to disturb the diners and bar out
front.  He ambled through the sparse crowd and picked a table
along the side where he could watch everyone.  A pleasant
waitress quickly appeared to take his order.
     Idly checking out the other patrons, he saw the usual
mixture of paper-pushers, techies, and other assorted non-combat
types.  Few wore wings on their uniforms, those that were dressed
in uniforms, and fewer still were recognizable as operational
squadron members.  They were the usual flotsam and jetsam that
haunted headquarters bases.
     He was just tucking into his first drink when a particular
blonde caught his eye.  Standing at the bar with her back to him,
there was something familiar about her.  It was just a feeling
but it intrigued him.
     When she turned around, he almost dropped his drink.  He
most certainly *did* know her.  Almost immediately, their eyes
met and she let out a squeal of recognition before charging
across the room towards his table.
     "Jeffrey!" she yelled, dodging tables and patrons alike.  He
had just enough time to stand before she threw herself into his
arms.
     "Gail Lynn, what are *you* doing here?" he gasped through
her enthusiastic, rib-busting hug.
     "I just flew in from South America," she gushed before
adding another hug.  "I thought you and Kay would be retired now
and back home taking care of Daddy."
     "Got sidetracked again."  Jeff disengaged himself from his
enthusiastic sister-in-law and held out a chair for her.
     "Still a gentleman," she said with a smile, delicately
sliding into the seat.  "I always said Kay was the lucky one."
     "And you're still the flatterer," Jeff said resuming his own
seat.  "Can I buy you something to drink?"
     "I'd rather have a new wardrobe."  Gail giggled.
     "What, RDF issue not good enough anymore?"
     "Not for a civilian, it isn't."
     Jeff rocked back in his seat and blinked.  "You're getting
out?  The last time we heard, you were the Maintenance Officer
for Skull Squadron."
     "Well, that was then and this is now."  She ran a delicate
hand through her shoulder-length blonde hair.  Her blue eyes
sparkled when she smiled again.  "Miriya took off for the stars,
the squadron turned over, and my service obligation was up.  Time
to get on with life and find out what I'd missed."
     "I heard that you and Miriya were quite a pair."
     "We closed down more bars in a month than most guys did
their entire tour.  We were still able to report for duty in the
morning, fresh and ready to go."  She giggled at his reaction to
the idea of her and the Zentraedi ace hanging out together.  On
the surface, it would seem they had nothing in common.  Yet
somehow, they'd become close friends and spent as much of their
off-duty hours together as Max allowed.
     They were interrupted by a waitress asking about a drink
order.  As Gail pondered her choice, Jeff couldn't help but note
the stark differences between the step-sisters.  
     Where Kay was darkly tanned with hauntingly beautiful brown
eyes, Gail was light-skinned, blonde, and looked nothing like her
father.  While both were relatively short, under five and a half
feet, and shared a common sensuality that harkened back to the
days of buckskin and buffalo robes, the younger Gail was always
more outgoing and sociable than her quiet, thoughtful sister.
     "So, where's Kay?" Gail asked, breaking his thoughts.
     "Probably at home.  We've got an apartment over on the West
side of the base.  It's small but comfortable."
     "She always had the ability to make just about anyplace a
home," Gail mused, cupping her chin and leaning on the table.  "I
guess that comes from growing up in poverty."
     Jeff nodded thoughtfully.  When Gail was five, her parents
divorced and she moved with her mother to Minneapolis.  She was
in the RDF Academy when Dolza's attack destroyed the city.  "I'm
sorry about your mom."
     Gail sighed and shrugged.  "I've gotten over it.  You know,
the funny part is she'd probably still be alive if she'd stayed
with Dad.  Of course, she would have been miserable.  She never
did fit in and I don't think the Lakota ever fully accepted her."
     "They can be difficult," Jeff agreed.
     To his surprise, Gail shook her head.  "No, Mom never tried
to understand them.  I don't think she wanted to.  The only thing
that kept her there for five years was how much she really loved
him."  She sighed and ran a finger around the edge of the cork
coaster.  "I guess it just wasn't meant to be."
     Jeff decided to change the subject.  "You got a place to
stay?"
     "I'm at the BOQ until I Out-process.  Then, it's off to...
oh, I don't know.  Maybe New Detroit.  I hear things are really
hopping there."
     New Detroit was indeed a growing place, one of the jewels of
the unification movement.  It was a major manufacturing center
with an insatiable appetite for talented people who knew their
way around machines and especially robotechnology.  But it was
also a rather rough city, certainly no place for an attractive,
young blonde such as Gail.
     "So, what got you sidetracked?" she asked, accepting her
drink from the waitress.  "You're supposed to be retired."
     "General Emerson conned me into one more assignment."
     "Another squadron?"
     "Another squadron.  This time, I'm headed for the Ozarks."
     Gail gave a low whistle.  "Talk about your raw deals.  What
ever possessed you to take such an assignment?"
     "At first, I was just doing a thirty day organization.  But
when I saw who they were going to stick those girls with..."
     "Girls?"  Gail blinked in thinly disguised surprise.
     "As of this afternoon, I only have women in the squadron,"
Jeff admitted, looking down at his drink.
     Gail rocked back in her seat and crossed her shapely legs. 
"Then the rumors are true."
     "What rumors?"
     "Just some talk about the RDF being out of pilots now that
everyone wants to join the Southern Cross."
     "That's pretty much been my experience.  I've been looking,
RDF Headquarters has been looking, and even my new Exec has been
scouting around.  There's just not much to choose from anymore. 
Hell, I don't even have a staff.  Just one Lieutenant who's
handling everything."
     Gail toyed with her drink, deep in thought.  She glanced up
at Jeff a couple of times, between thinly-disguised glances
towards the bar.
     "I really shouldn't do this, but..."  She bit her lower lip
trying to force her decision.  "What the hell.  You're family,"
she said with a sigh.  "You see those two young ladies at the
bar?"
     It took Jeff only a moment to identify the two she meant. 
Even out of uniform, the taller one looked like a warrior.
     "They flew up with me.  They're on leave right now but I
understand they're going to ask for a transfer under the 'closer-
to-home' posting policy."
     "Oh?  They live around here?"
     Gail smiled before a flicker of a frown crossed her face. 
"Your wife would probably recognize them right away.  Of course,
you haven't seen them in ten years."
     Jeff squinted at the women, trying to figure out just who
they were.  "Relatives?" he asked.
     "Cousins," she replied.  "That's Karen and Linda
Crowkiller."
     "What?" Jeff gasped, looking at the women again.  The last
time he saw them was at a summer celebration... ten, maybe twelve
years ago.  Karen was just a chubby little troublemaker who split
her time between tormenting the other girls and getting in fights
with the boys.  Linda must have spent the entire weekend sitting
on Kay's lap, doing her 'cute' act and being rewarded with
undivided attention.  It was hard to believe the two grown women
sipping drinks at the bar were the same girls.
     "They might be agreeable to join your little 'girls club',
if you present it right," Gail said cautiously.
     "I don't know, Gail."  Jeff slumped deeper into his chair. 
"The RDF has changed a lot in the last few years but I doubt
they'll go for family members serving under me."
     "RDF HQ doesn't have to know."  Gail leaned closer, her blue
eyes alive with mischief.  "Stick to the different last names and
don't say anything that'll give you away."  She paused when he
painfully frowned.  "They're good, Jeffrey.  Karen is about as
good a Veritech pilot as you're going to find anywhere and Linda
learned to fly a Fan Jet on her own."
     "But they're still family," Jeff insisted.  Sure, he was
desperate for pilots but he couldn't see taking on family
members.  That would be... awkward.
     Gail must have understood his hesitation.  "I know," she
said with a sigh.  "You're worried about family reactions should
one of them get hurt."
     That was an understatement.  The trouble he could see
getting from his wife alone was enough to make him sweat.
     "I know I didn't spend much time living with those people
but I did learn one thing.  They would rather trust a tribal 'war
chief' than a stranger.  Losses under those conditions are
considered 'the way of things'."
     Jeff frowned at his glass.  "Gail, I'm not Lakota."
     "I probably shouldn't tell you this," she said softly, "and
Kay would never tell you under any circumstances but you're
pretty highly thought of among the Lakota.  You understand them
and respect their culture.  You've tried to fit in and follow
their way of life.  I think Dad would call it: Walking the right
path."
     Gail's words caused him to reach back in his memory for any
scrap of information that would confirm her assertion.  He
remembered his wife's family, at first, acting cautious, almost
formal, when around him.  He was not 'of the people'.  That alone
made him suspect.  But he was one thing they respected more than
anything else; a warrior.  As his combat success grew, so did
their respect.  His father-in-law even took to introducing him as
a respected Blotahunka; an old term used to describe leaders of
war parties.
     "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to talk to them," he said,
using a little chuckle to hide his uncertainty.
     It took Gail only a few moments to convince the girls to
join them.  Jeff took care to greet each like long-lost relatives
instead of prospective squadron members.
     Karen smiled when reminded of their last meeting and quickly
warmed to her distant relative.  From the way she talked, she
clearly enjoyed her rebellious role growing up.  When talk turned
to her experiences in the RDF, her eyes flashed with excitement.
First recruited as a Military Specialist Scout when she turned
sixteen, she quickly came to realize how much better the pilots
had it.  So, at the first opportunity, she wrangled a Veritech
Training School slot and soon found herself flying with the famed
Skull Squadron.
     Linda, on the other hand, sat quietly, almost as if she felt
out of place.  Her eyes rarely left the table in front of her,
even when Jeff asked her a question.  
     Gail reached over and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. 
"It's okay to talk about you," she said in a motherly way.
     It turns out that Linda, while serving as office staff to
the Destroid Troop assigned to the same base as Skull Squadron,
taught herself how to fly a FanJet in her free time.  Not only
did she learn how to fly but Gail added that she's a superb pilot
- unofficially.
     Jeff ordered another round as talk shifted to what it was
like in the Amazon and how the few remaining rebel Zentraedi
seemed to thrive on the hostile conditions.  The female Zentraedi
especially appeared to be at home in the primitive conditions. 
Unmicronized, the forty-foot giants roamed over a territory that
extended hundreds of miles, striking outposts and villages and
making off with supplies almost at will.  All attempts at
pacifying them failed, leaving the RDF with no choice but to
fight.  Karen had all sorts of stories attesting to the ferocity
of the battles she took part in.  Catching the Zentraedi
'Amazons' was one thing.  Surviving the fight was a totally
different matter.  There were always losses.
     As Karen continued with her stories, Jeff glanced at the
quiet Linda.  Still staring at the table like she was embarrassed
to say anything, he couldn't help but feel she must have been
dying to tell of her own adventures.
     "Well, Colonel Stuart is forming a new squadron and looking
for experienced pilots," Gail said, interrupting Jeff's thoughts
about the quiet Linda.
     He cleared his throat and smiled at the other two.  "Yes,
we're going to be based down in the Ozarks, not all that far from
here," he said, hoping the proximity would entice the tough-looking 
Karen.  He couldn't tell what effect it had on Linda.
     "We're only here on leave," Karen warned.
     "Honey, you don't have to be coy around Jeffrey," Gail said. 
"I told him what you said about getting posted closer to home."
     "That's true but..."  Karen's eyes fixed on the still quiet
Linda.  "I was hoping more for something... quieter," she said
like every word hurt to say.
     Linda's eyes rose to fix her sister in an unhappy scowl. 
"You don't have to do this for me," she said in a soft voice. 
"I'll be okay."
     There was an awkward pause at the two girls stared at each
other.  Gail looked between them, the corner of her mouth
twitching.  It was obvious there was something going on here that
Gail knew about but hadn't told Jeff.
     Karen sighed like it was very difficult to remain calm.  "I
was only thinking --"
     "I know what you were thinking," Linda snapped.  "Just
because Mother asked you to watch out for me doesn't mean I can't
take care of myself."
     "I know that --"
     "And you don't have to apologize for me either," Linda
scolded.  "I may not be a hot-shot pilot like you but I pull my
weight."
     Karen's eyes closed and her jaw set.  Through clenched teeth
she hissed: "Not in front of --"
     "They're family, Karen."
     Karen's eyes darted to Jeff and back to her sister.  Her
whole body sagged.  "All right," she said with an exaggerated
sigh.  "Then I can drop the act."  She looked directly at Jeff. 
"I'm... We're here to see about a transfer closer to home.  Mom's
not doing so well and I thought if Linda were closer, she could
take weekends off to visit and bring her things."
     "What about you?" Gail asked with a frown.
     Karen just shrugged.
     "She's the *warrior* in our family," Linda chided.  "She's
won more feathers than the whole tribe put together."  She
sneered at her sister.  "You ought to make a war bonnet or
something."
     "Jealous?"
     "Not for a second."
     "Your eyes say you're lying."  Karen leaned forward.
     "I live for the day someone pops you good," Linda growled,
her eyes flashing.
     "Ain't gonna happen cuz I'm the best there ever was."
     "Well, you weren't good enough to --" Linda almost choked
trying to shut up.  The look Karen was giving her looked
positively murderous.
     Another uncomfortable pause settled over the table as the
two girls glared at each other.
     "Well, you two ought to get along just fine with the Mills
sisters," Jeff said taking another gulp of his drink.
     Karen snapped a glance Jeff's way and snarled: "DAISY
Mills?" 
     "Yes, Daisy and Virginia Mills are in the squadron along
with Katherine and Samantha Fox, Nancy Montoya, and Missy
Robins."  Jeff leaned back and crossed his legs.  "I've got a
whole tribe.  I understand some of *them* think they're the best
there ever was."
     A predatory smile grew in Karen's face.  "Well, now.  You've
got some *real* fighters in this squadron."
     "I think so.  You interested?"
     "You goin' to the Ozarks and fightin' bandits and stuff?"
     "We're going to the Ozarks to keep the peace," Jeff
corrected.  "We fight when we have to but our primary job is
protecting those who just want to live in peace.  That includes
Zentraedi as well."
     "Zentraedi," Karen spit.  "They don't want peace.  All they
want is to kill and keep killing.  The only good Zentraedi is a
dead Zentraedi."
     "You sound like General Sheridan," Jeff said with a look of
pity.
     "Who's he?" she challenged.
     "The guy who ordered your people onto reservations and
killed those who refused."  Jeff got up and glared at the tough-
looking Lakota girl who continued to stare in shock at his empty
seat, her lower lip quivering in barely disguised rage.
     Jeff excused himself and wandered over to the bar.  Waving
at the bartender, he ordered another, much larger drink.  He
needed to regain his composure.  It wasn't often he had to put
down a Lakota, usually they preferred quiet action to verbal
assaults, but Karen Crowkiller got to him.  Her xenophobia in
this modern age was galling.  
     Oh, he'd encountered racial hatred for the Zentraedi before
but never so close to home and *never* inside one of his
squadrons.  All the Zentraedi he'd served with were accomplished
fighters and straight-shooters when it came to how they got on
with others.  Despite having killed countless Zentraedi in the
last war, he still found it within himself to treat them as
individuals.  Karen's outburst had come like a cold slap to every
loyal Zentraedi he knew.
     "Well, you certainly know how to make an exit."  Jeff
glanced up to see Gail leaning on the bar next to him.  "Pretty
classy."
     "Yeah, well, she got to me," he admitted with a sigh.  "I've
got Zentraedi in the squadron; female Zentraedi."
     "Oh," Gail said softly before ordering another drink of her
own.  "That could prove... awkward if Karen were to join."
     "I suppose it would, *if* she were to join."  Jeff downed
his drink in a single gulp and asked for another.  "Gail, I build
teams.  My squadrons pull for each other, protect each other,
and, if necessary, die for each other.  I can't have someone in
the squadron who can't or won't work with one of the others
because of their race."
     "Very sensible."  Gail sipped her drink and gave him one of
her mysterious little smiles.
     Jeff caught the look and frowned.  "What?"
     "I was just thinking of what Kay said about you after you
two were married."  Gail leaned back on the bar, linking both
elbows over the padded rail.  "She said you were the first white
man she ever met who treated her and her people with respect,
without all that nauseating condescension your people are so good
at."
     Jeff sighed and shook his head.  "My father always taught me
that if I just treated people the way *I* wanted to be treated,
they would respond in kind."
     "Sounds like a wise man."
     "Yup," Jeff sighed.  "Sometimes I miss him."
     "Navy, wasn't he?"  Gail looked at him sideways with a
single raised eyebrow.
     "Yup.  Career Navy.  We didn't see much of him while we were
growing up, he was always at sea, sending us postcards from
exotic places."  Jeff kicked the bar lightly.  "Then the wars
started and the postcards stopped.  We were never told what
happened to him but his ship just... disappeared one day.  Oh,
they sent out search vessels but there's just so much you can do
in the middle of a war."  Jeff took a deep breath and sighed
heavily.  "They never found so much as an oil slick."
     He felt Gail's hand on his arm and her fingers squeezing him
lightly.
     "The worst part is, I can't even remember his voice."  Jeff
hunched over the bar and stared at his drink.  "Mom died a couple
of years later.  She just wasn't the same after Dad disappeared." 
He shook his head, like he was trying to shake off the whole
issue.  He hated dwelling on the past.  Too many bad memories. 
"Anyway, Jen and I were old enough to enlist.  Neither of us
wanted to join the Navy - we just couldn't.  So, we joined the
Air Force because we both wanted to fly."
     "I only met your sister once, at the wedding," Gail said
softly, pressing herself closer.  "I really liked her.  We wrote
each other a couple of times.  She really looked up to you."
     "Yup."
     "It was a real shock..."  Gail's voice trailed off leaving
them standing alone in their thoughts.
     Jeff hovered over the bar for a few moments before pushing
himself upright with another sigh.  "I've got to go.  Kay will be
waiting up with another of her remedies guaranteed to prevent a
hangover."  He smiled at Gail.  "Stop by and see your sister
before you muster out.  I know she'd love to see you again."
     Gail hugged her brother-in-law.  "Don't worry.  I will."
     "And tell the Crowkiller sisters I'm sorry for leaving so
abruptly.  Its just..."  His voice disappeared when he ran out of
ways to explain what he was feeling.
     "Don't worry.  I'll take care of it."  Gail patted him on
his broad shoulder.  She switched to running her hand slowly down
his arm.  "If I could only meet a guy like you," she cooed. 
"Good looking, tough *and* sensitive.  You don't find those
anymore."
     Jeff chuckled and bent over to give Gail a light peck on the
cheek.  To his surprise, she stopped him and instead drew him
into a most unsisterly kiss.  It might have been the alcohol, it
might have been something deeper but he didn't resist.  Her arms
went around his neck, locking them together.  He felt the caress
of her soft lips, tasted the alcohol she'd been drinking and
almost jumped out of his skin when she pressed herself against
him in such a way it was impossible for her to not notice the
reaction she was causing.
     His mind swirled with conflicting orders.  One part of him
screamed to escape; run away and never look back.  This was his
sister-in-law; his wife's sister; the woman who always treated
him like an older brother.
     The other part of him didn't mind so much.  Being in a lip-
lock with a fantasy that occasionally made him long for the days
when Lakota condoned and even encouraged a man to marry both a
woman and her younger sister; to share the work of maintaining a
house, raising the children, and pleasing the husband.
     All too soon, it was over.  They separated, she picked up
her drink, and with a wink, headed back for the table and the
Crowkiller sisters.
     Jeff stood rooted to the spot, blinking and savoring the
last remanent of the feeling.  That is, until he noticed the
bartender grinning.
     "Hey, the misses won't hear it from me," he said, holding up
his hands defensively and grinning.
     "She better not," Jeff warned.  "I've got a GU-11 round with
your name on it if she does."
     The bartender laughed.  "Good night, Colonel."
     Jeff sighed and left enough credits on the bar for his tab
and the girls drinks as well.  Stuffing twenty credits in the tip
jar, he headed back outside; the intoxicating aroma of Gail's
perfume lingering all the way.

*****

     "Come on, Ona," Cindy chirped.  "If we want to get to the
Crash & Burn before they close, we gotta get going now."
     "Are you sure about this?"  Ona's voice, coming from their
barracks room bath, sounded hesitant .
     "I promised to show you what makes guys so special and the
only way I know of to do that is to make sure you *attract* one." 
     Cindy pushed her glasses back onto the bridge of her little
nose and checked her own image in the mirror on the door.  It
didn't look good.  Her skirt was something a school girl would
wear and her sleeveless top did nothing to compliment her figure.
Because of her size, she had to buy all her clothes in the
'junior miss' section.  She sighed.  Why do some girls have all
the luck?
     "I know you're trying to help but I'm not so sure about
going out dressed like this."  Ona's voice sounded tentative.
     "Well, come out here and let me get a good look at you."
     When Ona stepped out of the bathroom, Cindy stifled a tiny
gasp.  Wearing one of Cindy's skirts that was short enough to
show almost the full length of Ona's long, shapely legs and a
halter top that practically screamed 'look at me', Ona nervously
pulled on the hair draped over her shoulder while her knees
subconsciously took turns crossing in front of each other.
     "You wearing the thong I gave you?" Cindy asked when she
finally found her voice.
     Ona squirmed some more.  "Is it supposed to feel this
uncomfortable?" she asked, reaching under her skirt and adjusting
the back strap.
     "You'll get used to it.  Just don't stick your hand under
your skirt after we leave the room."  Cindy walked slowly around
her friend, taking inventory.  "Hmmmm, it needs something," she
said thoughtfully.
     "Like more material," Ona suggested with a worried look. 
"Maybe a jacket or a flight suit."
     Snapping her fingers, Cindy dove into her closet and
rummaged around.  Producing a blue and pink sleeveless top that
appeared to have no visible means of support, she waved it
triumphantly.  "This will be perfect."
     Ona couldn't help her pained expression.  "Perfect for
what?"
     "You want to attract guys, don't you?" Cindy said, moving
behind her and untying the halter's strings.
     When the thin garment fell away from her body, Ona frowned
the image of her bare torso in the mirror.  Since she and the
rest of her former squadron were all from the same clone pool, it
reminded her too much of what happened in South America.  More to
avoid bad memories than personal modesty.  
     Cindy helped her friend slip her arms through the arm holes
of the new blouse and wrapped the two long ends of the mid-length
top around her slender body.
     "I wish I looked as good as you," Cindy lamented, tying the
ends into a knot at the middle of Ona's back, exposing an
impressive amount of the woman's rock-hard midriff.  "You're
perfect."
     Ona frowned again and looked uncomfortable.  "No, I'm not. 
I'm a clone."
     "Well, whatever they modeled you after was as close to
perfect as it gets."  Cindy moved around and began pulling the
top open a little more so it was easier to see what she was most
impressed with.  "What I'd do with boobs like that," she said
wistfully.
     Ona glanced down at her own cleavage before casting a
quizzical look her friend's way.  "What do you mean?"
     With a sigh of resignation, Cindy stepped back and pulled
her thin blue shirt tighter against her body.  Two baseball-sized
mounds topped by tiny marbles molded themselves to the fabric. 
"Compared to you, I've got nothin' to show," she complained.
     "So?"
     "So that's what guys look for.  No show, no go."  She
released her top, allowing it to resume it's amorphous form and
sighed again.
     "I see," Ona said thoughtfully.  "Then Lieutenant Mills must
be *very* popular with guys."
     "I'll bet," Cindy said under her breath, stepping back to
take in the whole picture.
     Ona's feet, her toenails painted baby pink, were clad in
black sandals with straps the wound up her legs almost to the
knee.  A black skirt that barely covered her shapely hips topped
by the new sleeveless midriff-exposing blouse, helped transition
her color scheme from black to pink to her deep blue hair. 
Perfect.  Absolutely perfect in every way.
     "Just a little more blue eye shadow and you'll be ready." 
Cindy ducked into the bath to find her makeup kit.
     The sound of someone knocking on their door caused Cindy to
call from the bath: "Will you get that?  I can't find the right
shade of blue."
     Ona shook her head and pulled open the door.  Her eyebrows
shot up, complimenting her surprised expression.
     Daisy Mills scanned the tall Zentraedi from head to foot. 
"Goin' somewhere special?" she finally asked.
     With an embarrassed frown, Ona tried to shrug and shake her
head at the same time.  Her eyes kept getting caught on Daisy's
impressive bustline restrained in the gray sports bra partially
hidden behind the flap her painter's jean shorts.
     Daisy, feeling Ona's gaze just rolled her eyes.  She'd
endured such looks practically all her life.  "Well, I'm going to
hit a bar or two.  Maybe play a little pinball or something.  I
just thought you and Little Bit would like to come along."
     "Little Bit?" Ona asked, stepping aside so Daisy could
enter.  She left the door open and followed out of curiosity...
or something.
     "Yeah, you know, your roommate."  Daisy looked around like a
prospective buyer.
     "Little Bit is just about ready and, yes, I think that'll be
fun," Cindy said as she emerged from the bathroom, her makeup kit
in hand.
     Daisy chuckled in an embarrassed manner before glancing down
at the floor.  "Sorry.  It's just you and my sister are the same
size and that's what I sometimes call her."
     Cindy's face brightened.  "Yeah, I noticed.  Of course, the
fact we're both camera bait doesn't hurt."  She tucked a hand
behind her head, pushed up the back of her hair and struck a
pose.
     Daisy and Ona glanced at each other and laughed.
     "I knew I was gonna like you," Daisy said still chuckling. 
"You're everything my sister's not."
     "We're both insufferably cute," Cindy insisted with a smile.
     "Yeah, I guess so."  Daisy looked Ona over again.  "So, you
goin' out?"
     "We're going over to the Crash & Burn," Cindy said, tilting
Ona's head so she could apply the eye shadow.
     "Works for me.  They've got one of those pre-war pinball
machines that's kinda cool."
     "What's pinball?" Ona asked trying to remain perfectly still
for Cindy.
     "You've never seen a pinball game?"
     "I've never even been to a bar," Ona admitted.
     "Oh, this is gonna be fun."  Daisy grinned.  "Dressed like
that, we'll probably be comin' home without you."
     "What do you mean?"  Ona frowned causing Cindy to halt her
facial artwork and sigh.
     "You'll probably get lucky."
     "Lucky?"  She frowned again.  This time Cindy gave her a
dirty look and paused long enough to plant her fists on her hips. 
"Sorry," Ona mumbled.
     "Yeah, as in: 'spending a romantic evening with some stud'."
     "Stud?"
     "If you don't hold still, I'm going to give you a coat of
war paint and call it a night," Cindy growled.
     Daisy threw her head back, laughing loudly as she collapsed
onto Ona's bed, coming to rest with her upper body supported by
her elbows.
     "Oh, sorry," Cindy mumbled.  "Ethnically insensitive."
     "No-no, that's funny," Daisy corrected with a wide smile
that accented her dusky complexion with just the right amount of
perfect white teeth.
     When she noticed, Ona swallowed hard and felt her legs press
together.  Daisy's smile made her look absolutely...  She took a
deep breath and shuddered.  Reminding herself that's what got her
in trouble the first time, she flushed all thoughts she was
having about the big-busted Lakota and submitted to her
roommate's makeup job.
     Cindy finish Ona's eye shadow and stepped back to admire her
handy work.  "Perfect," she pronounced and turned Ona so Daisy
could see.
     Ona noticed peaking out from behind the denim, one bra-covered 
breast was now sporting a thumb-sized bump.  She blushed
and looked at Daisy's feet instead.
     "Not bad," Daisy said in admiration of Cindy's makeup job.
     "She could make fifty credits a pop dressed like that," came
a female voice from the hall.
     Ona and Cindy scowled at the person outside the open
doorway.  Daisy did a low growl and bounded off the bed to
confront whomever made the comment about her new friend.  She
jerked to a halt when she saw who it was.
     "I should have known," she said with a snort.
     Nancy Montoya, her arms crossed and wearing a saucy smile,
rocked to one side as she regarded Daisy.  "Well, well, well, BB
herself.  You still hanging with those losers over at the Thirty-Second?"
     "Hiya buttmunch," Daisy responded, leaning against the door
frame, a fist on her hip.  "So they haven't kicked you out yet."
     "Not for the lack of trying."
     "Oh, *that* I can believe."
     "You haven't changed a bit."  Nancy's expression sagged into
a challenge.
     "Neither have you."  Daisy proved she was equal to that
challenge.
     The two glared at each other for a interminably long time. 
Cindy slowly backed behind Ona who's expression had returned to
one she usually wore going into a fight.
     With a sudden whoop that sounded like a cross between a
battle cry and a squeal of delight, the two pilots threw
themselves together into an impossibly tight hug.
     "DAMN!  It's good to see you," Daisy snarled pounding the
smaller girl's back.
     Her face pressed in her friend's cleavage, Nancy locked her
arms behind the larger girl and hoisted her off the floor.  "It's
like old times."
     "Uh, do you two know each other?" Cindy asked, peeking out
from behind Ona, who'd switched to a curious expression of her
own.
     "Know her?  She saved my life," Nancy gushed, releasing her
friend before throwing an arm around Daisy's broad shoulders.
     "How?" Ona asked.
     Nancy poked Daisy in the side.  "You remember that winter
Mom threw me out.  I was nine years-old.  It was November, right
before Thanksgiving."
     "Yeah, it snowed that night and her mother tossed her butt
out like an old dog or something."
     "I would have froze to death if you hadn't snuck me into
your place."  Nancy turned to Cindy.  "Her mom was cool.  Let me
stay in with her and her sister.  The three of us slept in the
same bed."
     "Well, we stayed warm."
     "You had cold feet."
     "That's how I got even with Ginnie at night.  Kept putting
my feet on her butt."  The two giggled like school-girls.
     Cindy nudged Ona and leaned closer.  "Well, at least *some*
of our squadron members like each other."
     "Hey, come on," Daisy urged.  "Let's go... Where are we
going again?"
     "The Crash & Burn," Cindy said reaching for her purse. 
Looping the strap over her head so the purse hung on the opposite
side, she held her hands out to the side.  "Well, I'm ready."
     Daisy and Nancy exchanged looks.  "You're taking a purse?"
Nancy asked with raised eyebrows.
     "I have to take my ID and stuff," Cindy protested.  "Where
do you carry yours?  What if you get stopped?"
     Daisy turned and put her hands on the wall like she was
being arrested and wiggled her butt.  "I just make 'em look for
it."
     With the squeals of laughter, the quartet headed for their
night out.

*****

     Jeff arrived home as quietly as possible.  Hoping to get to
the shower and ditch his clothes before his wife had a chance to
examine him closely, he unlocked the door and slowly swung it
open.  Immediately he was hit with the overwhelming odor of burnt
sage.
     Damn, the thought.  What was she burning in here?  He hoped
it wasn't his dinner.  After all, he wasn't *that* late.
     He slipped through the entranceway and into the bedroom.  So
far, so good.  No wife.  Quickly shedding his uniform and
stuffing it into one of the plastic dry cleaner bags, he headed
for the shower in his underwear.  Every step feeling more
confident yet still wondering what happened to his wife.  Maybe
she was out or something.
     After a good shower and dressed in comfortable leisure
clothes, he toweled his hair as he wandered through the
apartment.  In the living room, on the sofa, his wife lay staring
at the ceiling.  He could tell she'd been crying by her red-rimmed eyes.
     "Hey, what's going on here?" he asked softly, taking a knee
next to the sofa.
     She sniffed and turned her head away.  "Nothing, Jeffrey."
     "It has to be something," he insisted in a soft voice. 
"Your father okay?"
     "Yes, he's fine."  Her voice sounded miles away, like she
was frightened or overly upset.
     That had to be it.  She *was* upset.  She knew about tonight
and Gail and the kiss.  "Honey, it'll be all right," he said
touching her shoulder.
     For a brief moment, she hesitated before rolling towards him
and wrapping her arms around his neck.  Pulling her head into his
shoulder, she shuddered.  "I just don't feel well.  That's all,"
she whispered.  "I'll just go to bed."
     She started to get off the couch but Jeff had other ideas. 
Scooping her lithe body into his arms, he picked her up and
headed for the bedroom.  She clung to him, trembling.
     "I'll sleep on the couch tonight," he suggested when they
reached the bedroom.
     To his surprise, her arms tightened around his neck. "No,
please," her hoarse voice sounded almost panic stricken.  "Don't
leave me alone."
     Now he *knew* something was wrong.  He sat on her side and
gently laid her body on the bed.  Her arms only loosened slightly
as he slid over to his own side.  
     This was getting freaky.  She'd never behaved this way
before.  He started to ask her again but stopped himself.  He
knew she would tell him when the time was right.  For now, he'd
just turn out the lights and try to get comfortable with his wife
pressed up against him.

*****


     The Crash & Burn was rowdy as ever when the girls arrived. 
It was a full-house Friday night in the hottest bar in town.  
Nancy headed for the juke box with a handful of tokens.  She was
determined to control the musical atmosphere for the evening.
     Daisy let out a tiny 'All Right' when she noticed the owners
had installed a new pinball machine.  In a flash, she too
disappeared, leaving Ona and Cindy alone just inside the doors.
     "Well, I guess we better find a table so the others will
have a place to 'crash' after they get 'burned'," Cindy
suggested, setting off through the smokey, noisy, crowded room. 
Ona followed, but kept glancing around when she felt like she was
being stared at.  A couple more looks convinced her that she
*was* being admired by just about everyone in the place.  She
swallowed hard and hurried to catch up with her smaller friend.
     "This doesn't look too bad," Cindy said when she found an
empty table halfway between the dance floor and the pool tables.
Sweeping leftover popcorn and cigarette butts onto the floor, she
pulled out a small cloth and quickly cleaned the table like new. 
"There.  That's better."
     Ona pulled back a chair and frowned as a small furry
creature jumped down and streaked across the floor, heading for
the pool tables.
     "What was that?" Cindy gasped, clinging to the back of her
own chair, her wide eyes scanning the floor for other crawly
critters.
     "Probably just a cat," Ona offered as she checked the chair
for 'leftovers' before sitting down.
     "Oh... yeah," Cindy replied hopefully as she sat down, still
looking around for any other strange inhabitants.
     While she was still scanning for diminutive non-human life
forms, a waitress appeared at their table.  Well, it *looked*
like a waitress.  Dressed in 'Daisy Duke' shorts, cowboy boots,
and a blouse untucked and tied under her breasts, the bored-looking 
woman produced a small pad and a dull pencil.  "So,
whatduyawant?" she moaned over the loud music, her jaw in
constant motion with, what Cindy hoped was, chewing gum.
     "Well, uh...," Cindy looked at Ona who appeared to not have
a clue.  "What do you have?"
     The waitress shifted her weight from one leg to the other
and sighed.  "We got the house draw, assorted bottle beers, and
just about any of the hard stuff ya want," she droned.
     The house draw was usually an alcoholic product produced
locally.  While such beverages were of mixed quality, at best, it
also was usually the cheapest.  "Four draws," Cindy said.
     "Four?"
     "There's two more coming," Ona added.
     "Well, I hope so.  Our house brew gets a little testy when
it gets warm."
     "We'll make sure it's consumed before then."
     The waitress looked at Cindy and frowned.  "You old enough?"
     "Of course.  You wanna see my ID?"  Cindy started to dig
through her purse.
     "Naw," the waitress groaned with a wave of her hand.  "The
cops already been here once tonight.  They never come back a
second time."
     Not waiting for Cindy's response, the waitress ambled off
towards the bar, her passing soon lost in the crush of bodies
coming and going around the dance floor.
     Cindy looked around, her body lightly bouncing to the beat
of the music.  "So, what do you think?" she asked the
uncomfortable-looking Ona.
     The tall Zentraedi squirmed in her chair.  "My bare butt is
touching the chair."
     "That's good," Cindy said in a reassuring manner.  "That
means your skirt is just right."
     Ona's eyes narrowed.  "There's something wet on the chair."
     "Oh," Cindy gasped in sudden understanding.  Handing over
the cloth she'd used to wipe the table, she smiled.  "Good thing
you're wearing black.  It doesn't show so bad."
     Ona took the cloth, folded it once, raised up slightly and
shoved it between herself and the chair.  "Remind me to never
listen to you again."
     "Why?  You look great."
     "I feel half naked.  I'd be more comfortable wearing just my
underwear."
     Cindy wrinkled her nose and shook her head.  "Now *that*
would be too obvious."
     Ona raised her hands in resignation and let them flop back
on the table.  "I give up."  
     She couldn't believe she'd let herself get talked into
wearing so little in public.  Guys couldn't be interesting enough
to go through all this.  She squirmed slightly on the chair.  The
thong had worked itself into an uncomfortable position once
again. 
     Nancy bounded up to their table and plopped down in a free
chair.  She caught Ona's pained expression.  "What's the matter?"
     "I would have checked that chair before I sat down, if I
were you."
     "No need," Nancy replied standing back up and leaning over
the chair.  "I didn't see anything the first time."  When she
bent over, Ona saw a wet spot the size of her fist on the butt of
Nancy's jean shorts.  She just sighed and shook her head.
     "We fixed for music tonight?" Cindy asked.
     "Yup, they got some new stuff in the box."
     The music changed tracks as she spoke.  A Lyn Minmai
original softly crooned from the speakers overhead.  Ona and
Cindy, sporting incredulous expressions, slowly turned to look at
Nancy.
     "Hey," she said, holding her hands up in front of her,
"that's not one of mine."
     Faster than a fire drill, the dance floor emptied.  Most
silently endured the tune, drowning their pain in whatever the
bartender could quickly pour in a glass.  Only a couple of men,
probably micronized Zentraedi, leaning on the bar with glazed
expressions and silly grins, seemed to be enjoying the torture.
     It felt like an eternity instead of the usual two or three
minute song, but the track finally ended.  A series of bored-sounding 
'yeas' went up as the digital changer switched to the
next number.
     With a drum beat loud enough to feel through their chest,
the latest offering from the Protoculture Addicts soon had the
place rocking again.  Nancy pounded the table like she was
playing the drums herself and crowed: "Now THAT's my kind of
music."
     The waitress returned and plopped four foaming glasses of
amber-colored liquid on the table with all the subtlety of a
prison guard dispensing hash to the inmates.  "Four draws hope
you enjoy thank you for coming to Crash & Burn," the waitress
droned in a monotone like she'd said it a thousand times that
night alone.
     Nancy used her hand to squeegee the spillage off the table
then licked off her hand.  "Hmmmm, not bad," she pronounced. 
Cindy made a tiny noise like she was about to loose her cookies.
     Ona picked up her glass and took a tiny sip.  With a nod of
approval, she gulped down the entire glass.
     "Whoa, sister," Nancy warned.  "Go easy on the firewater.  I
hear it'll turn your hair blue."
     Ignoring the joke about her hair color, Ona burped and
blinked at Nancy through watering eyes.  "Very good.  I'll have
another."  Since Daisy was still wrestling with the latest
mechanical amusement and remembering the waitress's warning, Ona
snatched the extra drink and downed it just as fast.  "Yeah, not
bad at all."
     Cindy and Nancy stared at the tall Zentraedi and waited for
the alcohol to hit bottom.  It never did.  Ona licked her lips
and got up.  "I think I'd like another.  I'm going to the bar. 
Can I get you two anything?"
     Their mouths hanging open, the two slowly shook their heads. 
Ona just shrugged and wiggled her way through the crowd, heading
for the bar.
     "Either we're going to have to carry her inside tonight or
she's our new designated driver," Nancy said in awe.
     "You said it," Cindy agreed.  "I wonder if Zentraedi get
hangovers."
     "Hell, I wonder if they ever really get drunk."

     Ona reached the bar with most of her dignity intact. 
Rubbing against all the moving human bodies was... inspiring.
Whatever was in those 'house draws', she *had* to have more.
     "Yo," she called, slapping the bar's sticky surface. 
"Another draw."
     The bartender just nodded and pulled out a normal-sized
glass.
     "Haven't you got anything bigger than that?" she said in
undisguised disappointment.
     The bartender just shrugged and pulled out a mug big enough
to hold a whole liter of fluid.  Moments later, he slid the
oversized mug in front of her.  She reached for it but was
stopped by the bartender's hand over its opening.
     "Twenty credits," he growled.
     Ona smiled knowingly.  Since her outfit contained no
pockets, she had to improvise.  Pulling up the side of her short
skirt, she examined the credit notes she had earlier stashed
under the elastic of her thong.  Acting like she didn't hear the
gasps of surprise on the side she was holding up, she lingered a
bit before releasing her skirt.  
     "Here you are," she said, smoothing her skirt back into
place and handing the note to the bartender.
     The man rubbed his three-day growth of beard and greasily
licked his lips.  "Honey, you do that again, and I'll give you
the next one for ten credits."
     Ona grinned slyly as she scooped up the mug in both hands
and gulped it down in two sustained gulps.
     "Cool," someone gasped behind her.  "Would you look at
that?"
     Ona's eyes roamed left and right before she pulled up her
skirt again and slowly extracted a ten credit note; making sure
to let the tiny thong snap as she did.
     "Oh, man!" another voice groaned from the side she'd held
up.
     True to his word, the bartender provided another mug just as
big as the first.  Gratefully accepting the ten credits, he
grinned, displaying a number of green-tinted teeth, and said:
"Sweetheart, if you got any those credits in front, the next draw
is on the house."
     Ona's demeure smile disappeared in a heartbeat, replaced by
a narrow-eyed look of warning.  The bartender, figuring he'd gone
too far, just shrugged and went back to wiping glasses; his eyes
continuing to surreptitiously caress her with every opportunity.
     "You don't need to do that, darlin'," came a voice
approaching on her left.
     She slowly turned to see standing next to her a tall, clean,
dark-haired young man in an aging cowboy hat, dark blue shirt,
and a pair of jeans held up by the biggest belt buckle she'd ever
seen.  She made no move other than to pick up her over-sized mug
and swallow the contents in a series of more lady-like gulps.
     She felt the man slide against her, smelled his cologne, and
felt his hip press lightly against hers.  He wasn't bad looking,
she thought.  For a man, anyway.  She turned her head just enough
to look him over.
     Deeply tanned, a single hoop ring in his right ear, he
smiled at her with a row of bright white teeth.  His shirt was
open a couple of buttons, exposing a moderate amount of dark,
curly hair on his chest.  A single silver bird with spread wings
hung from a chain around his neck and looked like it was nesting
in the top of his chest hair.  His sleeves were rolled up so his
large biceps, tattooed with symbols she didn't recognize, flexed
when he moved.  As her eyes ventured lower, she saw that his
tight jeans molded themselves to his small butt.  Not bad, she
thought.  The bulge in the front of his jeans intrigued her. 
She'd heard about the male anatomy from some of her Zentraedi
sisters in South America.  When she remembered what his bulge was
supposed to contain, it sound so... interesting.  Maybe that was
what Cindy was talking about when she said guys were 'special'.
     He must have taken her visual tour of his body as some sort
of permission because his arm suddenly appeared around her waist,
his hand coming to rest on her opposite hip.  It wasn't an
unpleasant feeling.  Actually, it felt rather good.  Kinda warm
and friendly and all.
     She wondered why Cindy made this guy hunting business sound
so complicated.  Here was a rather nice one.  He was making her
feel good without venturing places he shouldn't.  She smiled his
way.
     Another draw materialized on the bar.  Since no one appeared
eager to claim it, she assumed it was meant for her.  She gulped
it down in the same manner as the others.  A warm feeling went
through her, beginning with her chest and descending down her
body, leaving a certain part feeling almost like she'd sat in
something again.
     She was just beginning to enjoy the sensation when 'it'
happened.
     His hand disappeared from her hip, only to reappear under
her short skirt, cupping her bare right buttock with callused
fingers.  She felt the muscles in that region quiver and clench
involuntarily.  Her blissful smile dissolved into a shocked
expression.  All the time, the man next to her kept talking in
calm tones, making offers and unique suggestions as his fingers
ventured lower and lower and lower.
     In a flash, her left hand dropped from the bar, her fingers
gripping the bulge in the front of his jeans.  She heard him suck
in hard as her fingers, like claws of a bird of prey, crushed
whatever they gripped.  A strangled cry escaped his throat, his
hand disappeared from her bare skin.  His body, trembling like
every muscle had gone crazy, slowly slid to the floor.  Only then
did she release her super-human grip.
     With an expression that was more of a challenge than a
warning, she turned to face the ashen crowd.  Their eyes were
wide as they backed away from the glaring Zentraedi.  The man
who'd violated her personal space continued to twitch and quiver
on the floor like he was being electrocuted.
     As her eyes scanned the crowd, they began to separate and
quickly move away in little groups of two and three.  Soon, their
exodus became a mad stampede.

     The sudden migration of humans from one side of the room to
the other was not lost on Nancy and Daisy; people accustomed to
reading the forces of nature.
     "Only one thing could cause a stampede like that," Nancy
calmly observed.
     "Ona," they said together, bolting from their seats and
heading for the bar like salmon swimming upstream.

     Back at the bar, Ona spun around to confront the bartender.
     "I want another," she growled.
     "Lady, you've had enough.  I'm cutting you off," the
bartender stammered as he backed away.
     "Gimmie another!" Ona yelled, slamming her fist on the bar
so hard glasses stacked along the wall trembled before starting a
cascading catastrophe on their way to the concrete floor.
     "That's it, I'm calling the cops," the bartender squawked as
he frantically grabbed for the phone.
     Mindless of what it was exposing, Ona started to climb over
the bar, intent on extracting another draw from the bartender
with her bare hands.  
     Two pairs of strong hands took firm hold of each arm.  Her
head snapped one side to the other, casting evil looks both
directions.
     "Whoa, little sister," Daisy said in soothing tones, "You've
had enough excitement for one evening."
     "I want another!"
     "Let's not kill the nice man behind the bar.  That would
take too much explaining," Nancy added as she gently guided Ona
back to the floor.
     "But he grabbed my butt."
     "The bartender?" Nancy asked.
     "No, him," Ona corrected, indicating the young cowboy still
writhing on the floor.
     "Well, he seems to have been rewarded for it.  Why don't we
call it even?"
     Ona glanced between the two before her gaze fixed itself of
the lever that dispensed that wonderful liquid.  "I want
another!"
     Nancy and Daisy glanced at each other.
     "Now what do we do with her?" Nancy asked.
     "I suppose it's up to me.  Otherwise, we'll be here all
night convincing her to leave."  Daisy tapped Ona's shoulder. 
The Zentraedi's head did a elliptical orbit to fix her gaze on
Daisy.
     "What?" Ona demanded.
     "Look up there," Daisy said pointing to a spot above the
mirror behind the bar.  When Ona did, Daisy muttered her
apologies and slugged the blue-haired woman square in the jaw.
     Ona's head snapped hard to the left and her knees wobbled
for a moment before, with Nancy and Daisy's help, she regained
her balance.  
     "What did you do that for?" Ona growled.
     "You were out of control, sweetie.  Sorry."  Daisy turned
the tall Zentraedi and helped Nancy guide her towards the door.
     "But he grabbed my butt," Ona insisted as they stepped over
the still twitching man on the floor.
     "I know dear.  He couldn't help himself.  It's such a lovely
butt," Daisy said, guiding Ona through the rapidly parting crowd.
     "Really?"
     "Oh, absolutely.  It's a hall of fame butt if I've ever seen
one," Nancy said reaching behind Ona and patting her firm fanny.
     "You have a nice touch," Ona cooed.  "I like you."
     "Uh-oh, now you've done it," Daisy said with a grin.
     Ona romantically rolled her head so it came to rest on top
of Nancy's, her long, blue pony tail dangling in front of Nancy's
face.  "You're cute," the big Zentraedi said.  The alcohol had
obviously taken hold.
     Using her one free hand, Nancy lifted Ona's pony tail out of
her face and cast Daisy a curious look.
     "If you two want to be alone later, I won't hang around,"
Daisy chided, grinning at her shorter friend.
     "Don't you dare," Nancy warned.
     Daisy's sinister chuckle was answered by Nancy rolling her
eyes. 
     "I'm curious, just how do you know about Zentraedi and
alcohol?" Nancy asked while swatting at Ona's hair.
     "We had one in flight training.  Used to do the same thing
when we went out drinking - except for the 'butt' part.  The only
way to handle her was to punch her silly," Daisy sighed.
     "By the way, I hate to be a pessimist but if she drank all
that fluid, isn't she about ready to... you know?"
     "I figure we'll do about three potty stops on the way home
and another for when she throws up."
     Nancy pushed open the door outside and paused.  "Good thing
it's your car."
     "I've got that covered too," Daisy answered.  "Just make
sure her head is hanging outside the window while I'm driving."
     As the two Lakota women helped Ona to the door, Cindy
stopped by the bar and bent over the injured man.
     "I'm sorry about her.  She's really a very nice person, once
you get to know her."
     The man just squeaked, his eyes rolling back in his head.
     Daisy halted their struggles to get Ona out the door and
looked back inside.  "CINDY!"
     "Well, gotta go now," Cindy said, backing towards the door. 
"You have a lovely place here.  We'll come back again sometime."
     The sight of a room full of people, their eyes wide and
their mouths open, caused Cindy to push her glasses up on the
bridge of her nose and give a little self-conscious wave before
she turned and fled out the door.

     The four made it back to Yellowstone Base two minutes ahead
of the local cops and were safely back in Grant Barracks by the
time RDF Security was alerted.
     Since Security would be all night trying to figure out who
the troublemakers were before eventually giving up, the only
thing remaining was to sober-up Ona before putting her to bed. 
Daisy and Nancy stripped Ona in her room and shoved her in the
shower.
     "Now what exactly is this supposed to do?" Nancy said as she
turned on the cold water.
     They both threw their bodies against the shower door as Ona
thrashed about in the freezing shower.
     "As I understand it, cold water causes Zentraedi to... ah,
purge their systems faster," Daisy said with authority.  The
sounds of Ona retching and moaning confirmed Daisy's prognosis.
     "How long do we leave her in there?" Nancy asked.
     "Oh, about a half hour or so."
     Soon, Ona had stopped trying to escape enough so they didn't
have to hold the door closed.  Good thing too.  Both were covered
with bruises.
     The half hour passed quickly and the two fished Ona out of
the shower and dried her off.  Walking her to her bed, Nancy
tilted her head to look down the front of the naked Ona.  "Daisy,
how can you tell if her real hair color is blue?"
     "Well, the good news is they don't have to shave their legs
or underarms," Daisy said as they lowered the completely docile
Ona into her bed and covered her with a thick blanket.  "The bad
news is you have to accept their hair color at face value.  Their
lack of body hair has something to do with the cloning process."
     "Oh," Nancy said with a nod of her head.  "How did you get
so smart?"
     "I read a lot," Daisy said, tucking one of Cindy's teddy
bears under the Zentraedi's arm.  "That's why I'm a lieutenant
and you're still a sergeant."
     The two switched off the light and closed the door.  
     "You know, Ona's from that all female Zentraedi squadron
they broke up a few months ago.  You think she's, you know, that
way?" Nancy asked as they walked down the hall.
     Daisy shrugged.  "Don't know.  Don't care."  She shot Nancy
a sly look.  "I'm not.  How about you?"
     Nancy chuckled.  "I'm not *that* desperate yet."
     They joined Cindy downstairs for a quick game of pool on the
rec center's pool table before calling it a night.  One thing was
for certain, Ona was not going to remember a thing in the
morning.  Just another interesting aspect of Zentraedi
physiology.