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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2011.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Blue Planet - 2
by Mararch (mararch@pacbell.net)

***

Robert and Debbie, newly married innocents, get pulled 
into the far future in order to help free humanity from 
a race of Dominant females. Novel length. (MF, bi, nc, 
1st, orgy, bd, mc, sci-fi)

***

CHAPTER TWO

Every muscle went instantly limp and they fell, the 
natural limits of their joints causing them to tumble 
back, arms slipping from around each other, bodies 
parting as they sank into a pair of crumpled heaps. 
Strangely, the surface they landed on was surprisingly 
soft, as if they had been tossed like rag dolls onto a 
deep, rich feather bed.

The thunk of their landing faded with a strange, hollow 
echo and they lay, immobile, breathing deeply, slowly, 
in a shattered daze. As their minds began to slowly 
collect, they first became aware of the low, distant hum 
that seemed to permeate the very air around where they 
lay. Then, slowly, they opened their eyes.

What they saw was mostly a gently glowing whiteness that 
seemed to fill the entire universe, having no 
recognizable source. Rather it seemed to ooze from every 
direction.

Robert was the first to try and move, his natural 
instincts telling him to seek out any danger that might 
lurk in this strange, unknown environment. But he 
quickly discovered that he was unable to command any of 
his muscles to do more than flutter or twitch 
helplessly. It seemed as if the only thing he could 
control was the direction his eyeballs were focused, and 
as he flicked them around rapidly, scanning his 
surroundings, he could make out very little that made 
sense.

A shock of panic roared through him. Where was Debbie? 
What had happened to them? And where was he?

With a supreme effort he focused his concentration on 
the muscles of his shoulders and legs and strained with 
all his might. Vibrating like plucked bowstrings they 
obeyed and he succeeded in forcing his torso over onto 
his side, though the effort exhausted him. Yet as his 
head lulled over he caught a fleeting glimpse of 
Debbie's legs splayed and limp somewhere beyond his own. 
She was here, with him. But was she all right?

Suddenly a high, reedy, thin voice echoed through the 
air, as if from some unseen speaker.

"Please do not attempt to move. You are in no danger. 
You will regain control of your body in a very few 
minutes. Attempting to move now may result in muscular 
damage. Everything is all right. Just relax."

Part of Robert's mind instantly became wary, but the 
gentle, soothing tone of the voice did help calm him and 
he allowed his muscles to go limp. The strange sensation 
of twitching, fluttering and tiny flexing rippled along 
his arms and legs and even across his stomach, and he 
was vaguely reminded of that experiment back in high 
school biology where a dead frog's leg was touched with 
a wire connected to a battery and kicked out mindlessly.

He took advantage of his helplessness to do a quick 
inventory of his physical condition. As far as he could 
tell from the sensations his skin were transmitting to 
his brain he was dressed only in his jockey shorts and 
the half unbuttoned shirt with the tight collar that had 
caused him such discomfort during the wedding ceremony. 
Rented tuxedoes, he thought idly. And it struck him that 
the flash of Debbie's legs he'd seen had been encased in 
the white, shimmering stockings she'd worn under her 
wedding dress.

In fact, he realized, the last conscious thought he 
could recall before finding himself in this strange 
place had been of stepping up, wrapping his arms around 
Debbie and kissing her. Then... then what, he wondered. 
Then here. But where in hell was here?

He drew in a deep breath and attempted to wiggle the 
fingers of his left hand. He found that though feeling a 
bit stiff, he was able to command them to slowly ball 
into a fist and uncurl to their full length. He repeated 
the experiment with his right hand. Next he carefully 
flexed his wrists and slowly made a functional inventory 
up the length of his arms to the shoulders. The voice 
had been correct. He was coming out of it, whatever it 
had been in the first place.

Finally he was able to plant a palm against the soft, 
almost spongy surface on which he lay and push himself 
up, slowly turning his head to where he had seen Debbie. 
She was there, and she was moving, her posture like that 
of a small child asleep, one arm resting across the 
corset at her stomach, the other drawn up, the fingers 
laying limply against her face. She appeared to be 
sleeping.

A wave of relief passed over Robert. She was all right, 
he told himself. Then he slowly turned his head and 
scanned their surroundings.

He saw that they were, in fact, in a large windowless 
room, every surface composed of the thickly padded white 
that seemed to glow at him from all sides, above and 
below. By squinting he was able to judge that the 
ceiling must be ten feet overhead and the walls were at 
least twice that distance away on any side of them. He 
looked down at where his palm was pressed into the floor 
and wiggled the tips of his fingers. It felt like soft 
suede leather drawn loosely over thick, soft padding but 
it too seemed to glow gently from some inner light.

He looked slowly around the room once more, trying to 
pick out anything that would indicate a door or window 
but able to see little in the fog of light that assailed 
him from every direction.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice choked and harsh. 
"Anybody out there?"

His voice sounded strange in the room, as if it wanted 
very much to echo but was being swallowed and smothered 
by every surrounding surface.

"What's going on?" he called, his voice gathering 
strength. "Where are we?"

There was a very faint click and the high, gentle voice 
returned.

"Please do not be alarmed. You are perfectly fine. 
Explanations will be made shortly. No harm has come to 
you."

Robert snorted quietly.

"Terrific," he muttered, turning his attention back to 
where Debbie was lying. Her eyes were open now and she 
was actually stretching, as if coming awake from a deep, 
restful sleep. But as her mind seemed to drift up 
through the haze her face grimaced and she moaned. Then 
she rolled her head and focused on where Robert was 
already, slowly, painfully, working his way up onto his 
hands and knees.

"Robert?" she said quietly, her voice quiet and tense.

"Just relax, honey," he said, soothingly, managing 
finally to get over onto all fours and clumsily maneuver 
toward her. "I think we're okay."

"Where are we?" she asked, her own gaze slowly sweeping 
the space.

"I don't know. But we're not alone."

Her eyes turned quickly back to him and there was 
concern in them.

"It's okay," he said reassuringly. "I don't think 
anybody wants to hurt us."

"But," she said, now beginning her own struggle to sit 
up, "what happened? How did we get here?"

"I don't know, sweetheart," he said, finally  dropping 
over onto his haunch beside her and turning into a 
sitting position. "But I damn well had better find out."

Debbie managed to push herself up onto one hip, bracing 
herself on a locked arm, reaching out with the other to 
touch and hold his elbow.

"Robert, I..." she said, her voice tense.

He laid a hand across her own at his arm.

"Shhh," he said, soothingly. "Don't be afraid. We're 
going to be all right. I promise."

They looked at each other and his warm, reassuring smile 
seemed to be all she needed to build a calmness upon. 
She smiled back and he felt her fingers squeeze his 
elbow gently.

Suddenly there was a loud hiss from the wall which they 
were both more or less facing and their attention was 
pulled in that direction just in time to see a vertical 
gap running from ceiling to floor begin to open, like an 
invisible elevator door parting. Inside the gap stood a 
shadow, back lit by an even brighter glow from beyond 
the opening. Surprisingly, the figure, though clearly 
human, appeared quite short and rotund, almost dwarfish.

Robert and Debbie exchanged a surprised glance and 
quickly turned their attention back to the figure who 
stepped briskly into the room and approached them. As it 
neared they could clearly see that it was a man, no more 
than four feet tall and quite stout, wearing a long, 
straight cut light gray tunic. He stepped up to within a 
few feet from where the stunned couple sat on the soft 
surface, his arms apparently clasped behind his back.

"Well," he said in a high, reedy though surprisingly 
pleasant voice "I see you're recovering nicely. Please, 
come with me."

With that he turned on his heels and took a step back 
toward the glowing opening in the wall.

"Wait a minute," Robert bellowed, half in annoyance, 
half in surprise as he awkwardly pushed himself to his 
feet.

The figure stopped, turned and regarded him with 
curiosity.

"Yes?" the little man asked, calmly.

"What the hell," Robert roared, "is going on around 
here? Where are we? What did you do to us?"

The little man seemed to absorb this as if it were 
nothing at all out of the ordinary and tossed off a 
bland, tolerant smile.

"All your questions will be answered shortly. Please, 
come with me."

And once again he turned and was moving in brisk, 
stunted steps toward the opening. Robert stared down at 
Debbie and they exchanged a look of bemusement. But then 
Debbie shrugged and extended a hand which Robert took, 
helping her to her feet. She wobbled slightly as the 
sharp heels of her shoes sank into the padded surface, 
but Robert steadied her and, hand in hand, they followed 
the little man through the gap in the wall.

Beyond was a long hallway, again every surface emitting 
a dim, shimmering white glow, that seemed to extend into 
infinity in a straight line before them. But at least 
the floor was hard and solid and Debbie was able to 
completely regain her balance. The little man set a 
brisk pace and the couple found they had to take 
surprisingly large strides to keep up. Slowly, out of 
the fog-like glow before them they were able to make out 
a shape of something in the hallway, also white on just 
about every visible surface. As they approached they 
realized it was some form of sleek-looking little cart. 
The little man paused as he reached it and turned, 
extending an arm to indicate the small, padded seat that 
faced back the way they had come.

Robert and Debbie stopped, exchanged another glance and 
another shrug and stepped over to slip onto the seat. It 
was a tight squeeze, their hips pressing hard against 
one another but it wasn't terribly uncomfortable.

The little man slid into the small operators seat, 
flipped a switch and the cart started down the hallway 
with the high, quiet whine of some sort of engine.

As surprised as they were Robert and Debbie said nothing 
during the brief journey, though they did grip each 
other's hands a bit tighter when it seemed that the 
little cart was cruising upwards to a rather harrowing 
speed down the tunnel. But the ride was smooth with no 
hint of any irregularity in the flooring. Robert once 
attempted to turn his head around, catch a glimpse of 
where they might be heading, but the tightness on the 
seat prevented this. Besides, as the hallway passed out 
behind the cart, they could see nothing that appeared to 
indicate anything like doors or openings or breaks of 
any kind in its long length. Wherever they were, this 
was one mind-bogglingly long way to get there.

Robert saw Debbie's head move out of the corner of his 
eye and he turned to find her looking at him, a warm 
smile on her face. She mouthed "I love you" and squeezed 
his hand. His own smile brightened and he nodded at her. 
"Me too" he mouthed. Then their attention drifted back 
to watch the interminable hall falling away behind them.

It seemed to them as if ten minutes had passed by the 
time they felt the little cart begin to slow, and they 
had no way of judging how rapidly they had traveled. But 
at last the vehicle drifted to a stop and the whine of 
the engine died out.

Even as Robert was turning to see what was happening, 
the little man slid from the driver's seat and extended 
an arm, indicating a small recess in the wall.

"This way, please," he said with pleasant efficiency.

Again the couple exchanged a glance, this time a sigh 
and rose from the seat, following the little man into 
the recess which turned out to be an elevator with a 
small, almost indistinguishable control panel in one 
corner. There appeared to be only two buttons. The 
little man pressed the top one. The doors slid closed 
and the couple felt the elevator begin to rise as they 
instinctively brushed and then held hands.

Perhaps it was the familiarity of the surroundings, 
perhaps it was simply that their alertness was beginning 
to return but Robert suddenly realized that he was still 
dressed only in his half-open shirt and jockey shorts. 
With a start he looked over and realized that Debbie was 
still dressed only in that mouth-watering collection of 
tight satin and lace and garters and stockings. She 
seemed to notice his sudden movement and looked at him, 
her eyes displaying concern. Robert flicked his glance 
down at her body and she instantly realized what he 
meant. Her lips curled in an impish, carefree grin and 
she shrugged, as if to say there was very little they 
could do about it at this point, and turned to look, 
casually, at the door of the elevator.

Robert was surprised by this attitude and almost began 
to become annoyed at her casualness, but then quickly 
realized that she was, indeed, correct. What could they 
do about it for now. Still, he did reach casually up 
with his free hand and absently begin buttoning the 
shirt.

The elevator rose for more than a full minute, and as 
they felt the pressure begin to build in their ears and 
then pop they exchanged another glance, sharing an 
unspoken concern about just how high they were going. At 
last they could feel the elevator slow and glide to a 
stop. The door slid open shocking them both at what lay 
on the other side. It was the deep, rich wood paneling 
of a tastefully carpeted and furnished hallway. Many 
rich paintings in ornate frames adorned the walls and as 
the little man stepped from the elevator and turned back 
to them, once again extending his hand in indication for 
them to step down the hallway to the left, they noticed 
that the furniture, small tables and lushly upholstered 
chairs was quite rich and ornate. 

As they shuffled from the elevator the little man 
stepped off once more, leading them down the hallway and 
turning to stop in front of a rather nondescript looking 
door on which he knocked. As he waited he turned to them 
with the bland smile of a minor functionary, not 
terribly interested in more than completing his current 
assignment and moving on to the next one.

The door opened a few inches and the young couple could 
make out the shadow of someone in the gap. Whoever this 
was he also, surprisingly, appeared to be quite short. A 
moment later the door opened fully and the little man 
who had led them tossed them one final smile and 
extended an arm, indicating for them to enter the room. 
As they stepped forward the little man turned and strode 
off down the hall, his task, apparently, completed.

Even before they were fully into the room Robert jerked 
to a halt, his eyes widening, mouth falling open in 
surprise. The space was odd in that it was not a box 
shape but rather a large oval. To the left of the door 
through which they'd entered were a bank of tall windows 
in front of which sat a huge, ornate desk, allowing the 
person sitting between it and the windows to look over 
at the ornate main door opposite it. But what had 
shocked Robert was the large image in the very center of 
the carpet that filled the room. It was a large circular 
seal featuring a bald eagle and ringed around the 
outside with the text "Seal of the President of the 
United States".

Behind him Debbie slipped into the room and also 
shuddered to a stop, her back stiffening in surprise as 
her eyes picked out the same images as her new husband. 
Slowly they turned to exchange a wide-eyed look of shock 
and surprise.

"Greetings!" called a high, sharp voice and both the 
couple's heads snapped toward the desk.

Stepping around the corner of it was another little man, 
this one even shorter than their original guide, a 
cotton candy fluff of white hair piled on his round 
little face as he strode toward where Robert and Debbie 
remained rooted in surprise. He too wore the gray tunic 
buttoned to the neck even as he approached them, his 
face beaming, arms extended in welcome.

"Come in, come in!" he called, waving his extended hands 
for them to move further into the room.

Robert looked around and noticed yet a third little man 
standing, half-hidden by the door through which they'd 
passed. He was completely bald, gaunt with sunken eyes 
and a sad countenance and his tunic was also the 
uniform, nondescript gray. Robert stepped uncertainly 
into the room, pulling a slightly wobbly Debbie along 
behind him and the gaunt little man pushed the door 
closed.

"No need to stand on ceremony here" the white haired 
little man was saying as he gently ushered them toward a 
large sofa standing at an angle to the desk, "we're all 
very informal. Besides, I suppose we should apologize 
for... pulling you out so unexpectedly, so to speak."

The little man chuckled and gestured for them to take 
seats on the couch which, after a sideways glance at one 
another, they did. For his part the little man waddled 
his short, round bulk to a large, wingback chair and had 
to practically scale the seat before he turned and 
settled back into it, crossing his legs which jutted 
straight out extending only a few inches over the seat's 
edge.

"Now?" he continued, suddenly all business. "I suppose 
you have quite a number of questions you would like 
answered, but we really have very little time, so allow 
me to give you the ten cent explanation if you will, 
after which I will elaborate on any additional 
curiosities. Fair enough?"

Robert and Debbie exchanged a glance and slowly nodded. 
The little man shared the nod and settled even deeper 
into the folds of the plush leather upholstery.

"Very well. Well, first of all, as you must have figured 
out by now, I am the President of the United States." As 
if to forestall their expected objections to this he 
added quickly "not the one you know, of course. . My 
name is Jubilation Gazatchorn. And it is my honor to 
meet you. You see... well, I can't think of any other 
way to put this than to just say it... The long and 
short of it is... you have been lifted out of your own 
time and brought some three hundred and sixty seven 
years, three months and fourteen days into what would be 
your future."

He paused, allowing the statement to penetrate, then 
continued briskly.

"Now I'm sure you want to know how we did this, and also 
why. I'll try to explain but you must bear in mind that 
temporal continuum physics is not my particular 
specialty. However, I will endeavor to enlighten you as 
best I can."

"This isn't happening," Robert muttered dully, staring 
open-mouthed at the rotund little man who seemed to be 
practically swallowed by the richly upholstered chair. 
"We're dreaming. Or crazy. Or... dead."

"Oh, I can assure you," the little man said with a 
patient smile "it's quite real. Believe me. After all, 
how do you feel. Doesn't it feel real?"

After a moments assessment of the sensations bombarding 
him Robert had to admit to himself that it did indeed 
feel quite real, down to the slight tingle of the hairs 
on his bare legs caused by the motion of air in the 
room. He shot a glance at Debbie and saw from her 
expression that she also had decided that this was not 
some sort of mad dream. He turned back to the little man 
who seemed to take this as a sign for him to continue. 
He nodded once and laced his fingers in front of 
himself.	

"Basically, about fifty years ago or so our scientists 
stumbled on a way to accelerate sub-atomic particles 
beyond the speed of light. In essence, they managed to 
cause these particles to reverse their temporal 
direction... to go backwards in time, so to speak. 

"After much experimentation they discovered if they 
could concentrate enough of these particles they could 
literally tear a hole in the fabric of time-space... a 
sort of worm hole, I believe they call it. And that by 
controlling the exact speed these particles achieved, as 
well as the frequency of their vibration they could tune 
them so that the other end of the worm-hole could be 
made to appear in a particular and specific time-space. 
It's sort of like tuning a..."

The little man tossed a glance at the gaunt, bald man 
who now stood, arms folded before him, solemnly, in 
front of the desk.

"Radio," the gaunt little man said in a surprisingly 
baritone voice.

"Ah yes," the President said, turning his attention back 
to the overwhelmed couple. "A radio. Only instead of 
picking up different channels, it will open in different 
times and places throughout... well, throughout 
history."

The little President smiled as if mightily pleased with 
himself, then continued.

"We, that is our scientists, conducted numerous 
experiments, always at very low power settings, you 
understand, and determined that while we would not be 
able to send anything through this wormhole, it was 
theoretically possible to bring something back. They 
conducted several small scale tests over the years and 
succeeded in retrieving a number of small items. Exactly 
one year ago they finally managed to retrieve, intact 
and perfectly healthy, a live bunny rabbit from the 
sixteenth century. Isn't that marvelous?"

The little President was beaming now as if being able to 
shoot a rabbit several hundred years into the future was 
a major accomplishment.

"Well, when that happened, we knew we had the tool we 
needed to help solve our..."

He hesitated as if catching himself just before 
revealing something best not spoken of, flicking a 
glance at the gaunt man standing before the desk.

"Our... problem," he said quietly.

"What problem," Robert said, now suddenly suspicious.

"All in good time" the little President said, then 
continued his explanation.

"That, in a nutshell, as you used to say, is how you 
were brought here. If you would like a more detailed 
explanation, I'm afraid you'd have to ask some of our 
technical people. And frankly I don't think you're 
really ever understand it all that well. But, that 
brings us to why you were brought here. And that, I'm 
afraid, is a much more complicated and delicate 
subject."

The little President pushed himself forward on the chair 
and slid down to the floor. Taking a moment to pull his 
tunic back into place where it had risen up behind him, 
he laced his fingers behind his back and strode, slowly, 
his face now turning grim, toward the high bank of 
windows behind the desk.

"A little over two hundred years ago everything in this 
city... this country... No, on this planet, would have 
been terribly familiar to you, I'm sure."

The little President moved solemnly around the desk and 
stopped, his gaze directed out the gauzy curtains at 
whatever might lay beyond.

"People were..." He paused, sighed and continued "well, 
very much as you are. Tall... strong... full of energy 
and purpose. Promise. That's what they had. The promise 
of a wonderful future. Certainly technology had 
continued at a steady pace from your day. Our systems 
became smarter, more efficient. They helped us solve 
many of the problems that were plaguing us even in your 
day."

He turned to regard them, his day almost sadly wistful.

"Even a hundred years after your time, there was no more 
hunger, no more oppression, no excess of disease. We 
were working our way, as a species, to that paradise we 
had always dreamed of. One of the things we finally, at 
long last, began to concentrate our efforts as a species 
on, was the exploration of the mysteries of the outer 
universe. We colonized Terrel Arid... you would have 
known it as..."

He tossed another glance at the gaunt little man.

"Mars," the man said.

"Yes," the little President said, turning back to the 
couple. "Mars. And we were even sending deep space 
probes flashing across the open, empty reaches of the 
universe in search of... well, anyone else who might 
have been out there."

He paused, thoughtfully and heaved a large, sad sigh, 
turning his gaze once again back to the windows.	

"And then, about two hundred years ago... we found 
them."

A deep silence settled over the room for a long moment 
as Debbie and Robert waited for the little official to 
continue. At last he drew in a deep breath, as if 
steeling himself to continue.

"They intercepted one of our probes. It contained a 
digital map on how to find our planet. If it hadn't, 
most likely they never would have even known we were 
here. But they did. Alas. And they came. At first we 
thought it was so wonderful, so thrilling, to finally 
know we are not alone in the universe. That there are 
other intelligent beings out there, perhaps our organic 
brothers and sisters. And at first, they did seem 
completely benevolent. Even helpful. When we discovered 
that wasn't the case... It was far too late to prevent 
our.... our conquest."

The little man fell silent once more, his head hung 
defeatedly as he stared at some infinitely distant spot 
on the floor. After a long moment Robert cleared his 
throat and spoke quietly.

"Who were they? Space monsters?"

The little President slowly raised his head, his 
expression hard and cold now, directed out the windows.
	

"Oh yes," he said quietly, with surprising venom in his 
tone. "Monsters. Vicious fiends."

"So," Robert said, hesitatingly "what did they do?"

The little President's head suddenly snapped around and 
he glared at Robert with a startling fury. His little 
arms shot out as if to present his diminutive form.

"This," he growled in quiet fury. "They did this."

There was a thick tension in the room for a beat, then 
the little mans hands fell limply to his sides and he 
sighed.

"Apparently it was some kind of virus. A disease they 
carried and which we caught. It was virulent and air-
borne and incurable. And over the space of only two 
generations it did this to us. Our average height shrank 
to thirty-six inches. Our proportional weight doubled. 
Our bones became brittle and puny. But worst of all..."

He tossed a tight glance at the gaunt man before 
continuing.

"Worst of all," he repeated for emphasis "it left us 
unable to... to..."

"Procreate," the gaunt little man said flatly.

"Yes!" the little President barked, a bit sharply. 
"Our... things shriveled to uselessness. Our hormones 
were drained until we became weak, little replicas of 
men, not real men at all. And it all happened within 
three generations. When we finally woke up to the fact 
that what was happening was not just some horrible 
phenomenon but an epidemic... it was already too late. 
And the most terrible thing is... they did it 
deliberately."

The little President turned and moved briskly to the 
desk, scrambling up into the chair and climbing right 
onto the desktop, walking to stand at its corner, his 
head now above that of the couple, forcing them to look 
up to him as his voice strengthened and he became more 
animated.

"It was a deliberate attack against us! An engineered 
virus designed to sap our will, drain our strength and 
make of us the helpless, ineffectual creatures you see 
before you. Of course, they didn't do it to all of us. 
Oh no! They kept a few, for purposes of their own 
amusement, to sate their own... Unholy lusts! They sank 
them into a slavery far deeper than the human mind can 
conceive. 

"For the rest of us, they simply wanted us to rendered 
powerless, so that we would never interfere with their 
monstrous plans to take over the entire galaxy. Because, 
you see, we were not the first they had conquered in 
this way. Oh no. We were but one out of many. By the 
time they arrived they had already subjugated countless 
other races, other cultures, other planets. They mean 
nothing less than to rule the universe."

The little President stood, his chest heaving, eyes wide 
and wild, arms raised. Then he seemed to come back to 
himself and slowly lowered his hands, a weak smile 
spreading over his face.

"Sorry. I sometimes get a bit carried away."

"Did this happen to everybody?" Robert asked, a small 
shudder of disgust rippling through him.

"No," the little President said with sigh. He bobbed his 
head toward Debbie. "Some of them weren't affected."

Robert was momentarily perplexed as he glanced at 
Debbie.

"Them? You mean... women?"

"Yes," the President replied. "Being genetically so 
similar to the original carriers of the disease, a small 
percentage of them escaped any effects. But those that 
did were ruthlessly indoctrinated into their ranks and 
most have left this planet long ago."

"I'm not sure I understand," Robert said, struggling to 
make sense of all he'd just heard.

"From infancy," the President said "they would be easily 
recognized in those first few generations... the ones" 
again he nodded toward Debbie "of that kind that had not 
fallen prey to the sickness. They were taken from their 
parents to be raised by... them. Now there are very few 
left. The only ones like her... or you" the President 
said, directing his nod at Robert this time "are 
visitors... tourist I think you called them. Or those 
who have been given power or authority here."

"But," Debbie said suddenly, her own curiosity rising 
"you said that you've lost the ability to... you know... 
Have babies. So how do you..."

She left the statement dangling in the air.

"Why, by what you used to call cloning," the little 
President said simply. He straightened his back as if 
posing. "I am the seventh Jubilation Gazatchorn, cloned 
from the sixth. And when my time runs short I will 
contribute my genetic material for the eighth 
Jubilation. In fact, I or rather a previous version of 
me has been President of the United States for close to 
one hundred years now."

"Wait a minute," Robert said sharply "you weren't 
elected?"

The little man tossed a sidelong glance at the gaunt 
dwarf who stood unmoving and heaved a baleful sigh.

"What would be the point? We don't have any sort of real 
authority any more. We haven't, ever since... they first 
landed. The conquerors have a Governor here that 
actually runs things. All we really do is simply keep 
the wheels greased, so to speak. Myself, the President 
of the Russian Collective, the various surviving clones 
of long dead kings and ministers. We are nothing more 
than middle managers. Our job is to shuffle papers from 
place to place and see about the distribution of the 
remaining resources we have been allowed to keep 
since... Well..."

The President lowered himself until he was sitting on 
the corner of the desk, his stubby legs dangling over 
the edge, hands folded in his lap like a properly 
obedient child.

"But," he said quietly, a sly, knowing grin spreading 
over his lips "that may prove to be all that we need to 
break this affliction that's kept us in virtual slavery 
as a race for centuries now. And with any luck, it may 
just allow us to fight back, once and for all... to 
finally make our stand to save this little blue planet 
from eventual extinction."

"And how," Robert said, "would you be able to do that."

"Well," the President said, his voice hushed but with an 
edge of excitement as he leaned forward 
conspiratorially, "we are not the only species, the only 
planet struggling to throw off the yoke of this horrible 
oppression and return to our past glories... our past 
selves. There are others, working quietly, secretly, in 
the shadows of the galaxy to rid themselves of their 
chains and return to what they once were. We have 
information that there is a species, very similar to our 
own, perhaps even our genetic twin, that has been 
working for many years to find a cure for the virus that 
did this to not only us but them as well. To reverse its 
effects. And we have learned that they have finally 
managed to work out the coding needed to build just such 
a cure. 

"Unfortunately, their planet lacks many of the basic 
resources required to build this new strain. But it so 
happens that another discontented planet has an 
environment that is rich with them."

'So why don't you just get them to send them some, or 
get them to send you or them the formula?" Robert asked.

"Ah," the President beamed with a grin "why don't we 
indeed. Because nothing can move around this galaxy... 
no object, no sub-atomic particle, no tiny broadcast 
shred of information, without first being cleared by... 
them. Anyone who attempts such things not only fails but 
is punished in ways too hideous to mention. And the 
formula, the recipe for this cure is so complex it would 
take hundreds of hours of compressed transmissions to 
send from place to place. Long before it was completed 
the signals would be interrupted and the perpetrators... 
well..."

The President rolled his eyes knowing before fixing on 
them once more.

"At any rate, control of everything that moves 
throughout the galaxy is firmly in the hands of our 
oppressors. And on top of that, every single being on 
this planet is genetically registered and marked. Our 
movements are recorded and watched constantly. And 
currently our planet is under a travel ban. None of our 
citizens are allowed to travel to other worlds, and only 
a very elite few are allowed to visit us. So you see, 
there is simply no way for us to send our distant ally 
the materials they would need to build a prototype of 
this wonderful, miraculous cure. There is, however, a 
way we can go get the formula and take it to a place 
where it can be constructed."

"How," Debbie said, her voice a fascinated whisper.

The President turned his gaze to her and smiled 
impishly.

"You," he said.

There was a long moments silence before anyone spoke.

"What," Robert said, his voice dull.

"Please, let me explain," the President said patiently. 
"When we began experimenting with the time technology, 
we did some secret experiments at very low power 
settings, moving tiny pieces of organic matter. We 
discovered we could move living tissue intact and with 
no damage. But we also discovered that even that small 
expenditure of energy was noted by those who are 
watching us. There was quite a controversy about it at 
the time. They keep close watch on things like that. 
That was when we realized that it would require a 
tremendous flash of energy in order to fulfill the plan 
we were developing."

"What plan," Robert said flatly.

"We realized," the President went on "that we would have 
one single opportunity to move something large... 
something substantial through an artificially created 
wormhole. After that there would be considerable 
attention focused on where all that energy was used. So 
a secret facility was constructed over the last fifty 
years deep beneath the earth some miles from this very 
spot, in a place that you would have known as..."

"Virginia," the gaunt man said in response to the 
Presidents tossed glance.

"Yes," the President echoed "Virginia. And a way of 
connecting it directly to this building... this office. 
Which you already know about."

"Fine," Robert said, interrupting the little man "so you 
took your best shot, yanked us through time and now you 
can't do it again for...how long...?"

"Ever," the President said, sadly. "You see, it is only 
a matter of time before one of their ships arrives to 
investigate the energy surge, and they probe the 
location where it was registered and discover the 
facility."

"And what happens then?" Debbie asked.

"Then," the President said with a sigh, "they will 
destroy it, and all those who were involved in the 
project will be... disciplined."

"How," Debbie whispered, her eyes wide.

"I don't know," the President said solemnly. "But it 
will be a small price to pay, whatever it is, if it 
means our people... our planet is finally freed from 
this tyranny."

Robert and Debbie exchanged a look, the seriousness of 
the situation slowly sinking into both their thoughts.

"Well," Robert said, turning back to the President "I 
can see what you mean. We used to feel the same way 
about our freedom... in our day."

"Indeed," the President said quietly.

"There's just one thing I still don't understand," 
Debbie said. "Why are we here?"

The President smiled at her.

"You are here," he said, "because we need your help to 
save this planet from slavery."

"Our help... how," Robert said cautiously.

"We need for you to travel off-world, meet the courier 
who will give you the codes for the cure and take them 
to where it can be constructed."

A silence fell over the room for a long moment as Robert 
and Debbie turned to look at each other.

"Why us," Robert said. "Why pick us?"

"Because," the President said quietly "there are certain 
vital criteria that had to be met if our plan is to 
succeed."

"Such as?" Robert asked.

The President gave a sharp, understanding nod and 
clasped his hands behind his back, turning to pace the 
surface of the desk.

"Such as the fact that we needed someone from before the 
disease was introduced to this world. Someone whose 
genetic code was clean. And someone who was, for all 
intents and purposes, completely free from any records. 
We needed someone invisible to all current tracking 
methods. Also, it was vital that, when we punched open 
the wormhole that we do so at the precise moment and 
location where we knew someone would be located. Someone 
who fit the profile we required. We looked through all 
the surviving records we could find from your time and a 
hundred years before and after it. We were able to track 
down many individual pieces of information that might 
have fit what we required, but one or another vital 
piece was always missing, rendering the rest utterly 
useless. Only in your single case did we know with 
absolute certainly that you would be exactly where you 
were, exactly when you were."

"How," Robert said, his voice thick with surprise.

"Oh," the President said, waving a dismissive hand "it 
was a chore but we did it. We found a fragment of a data 
file on an old computer disk from an ancient machine in 
a collapsed ruin of a building that turned out to have 
been what you would call a hotel."

"The Hilton," Robert said, his voice almost an amazed 
whisper.

"Yes," the President said. "And that data fragment, once 
cleaned and translated told us the precise day you 
arrived there, and the precise time the vehicle you 
traveled in arrived. We also managed to find the 
original blueprints for the building, so we cross-
referenced that with a topographical map and ran an 
extensive computer program to determine exactly where, 
in relative space, that room would be in relation to 
where the other end of the wormhole was being created. 
Once we had the first piece of data it took over fifteen 
years to assemble to proper program and prepare to make 
our single possible attempt. Fortunately, it was 
completely successful."

"So," Robert said slowly, trying to piece together all 
the information, "let me get this straight. You picked 
us because... we were the only people you managed to 
exactly locate at a given time on a given day in a given 
place from a time a couple of hundred years ago?"

"Precisely," the President said with a sharp nod.

Robert absorbed this, nodding slowly, thoughtfully, then 
looked the little man in the eye.

"Suppose we say we won't do it."

The little President cocked an eyebrow, threw a quick 
glance out of the corner of his eye toward the gaunt man 
and lowered his gaze, embarrassed.

"I'm afraid," he said quietly, "you don't have any 
choice."

"What do you mean," Robert said quickly, his suspicion 
returning.

"Because," the President said "we cannot return you to 
your own time."

"What/" Robert hissed, his eyes widening in surprise.

The President looked up at him, his brow now creased 
with worry.

"As I told you, it took tremendous energy to get you 
here. And we have never experimented with the process in 
reverse. By the time we finished any such experiments we 
would long since have been... prevented by... well..."

He shrugged, apologetically.

"However," he quickly added, "we can arrange to get you 
back, once the mission is completed."

"How?" Robert said, his voice flat and hard.

"The planet to which you will be taking the code. We 
have managed, over the last century, to send them, in 
tiny bits and pieces, enough data for them to build 
their own temporal generator. And we understand that 
they are working on the process necessary to return you 
to your own time, once your task is completed."

"So what you're saying," Robert said flatly, "is we have 
to do what you want, or we're stuck here for good."

The President smiled sheepishly.

"I'm afraid that is the gist of it, yes."

Robert was beginning to grow angry. He slowly rose to 
his feet so he was now at eye level to where the 
President stood before him on the surface of the desk.

"So what if we don't care," Robert said loudly, suddenly 
feeling the rage building up in him at the unfairness of 
it all. "You know what you did? We were just about to... 
to... We were... " He sputtered a moment, fighting the 
urge to reveal exactly what it was that had been 
interrupted, finally blowing out a tight, exasperated 
breath. "Well anyway, what if we say we won't do it and 
we'll just stay here from now on."

The President gave him a sad smile.

"I'm afraid," he said quietly, "that if you do that, you 
won't last very long."

"Meaning?" Robert said quietly, already dreading the 
possible answers.

"Meaning," the President continued, "you would very 
quickly be discovered to be a non-person, with no 
record, no monitoring, no history, and you would be... 
well, believe me, it would not be pleasant."

Robert glared at the little man who stood before him on 
the desktop, hands folded before him like some stubborn, 
unmoving little poodle.

"I ought to knock you on your ass," Robert growled at 
him.

"Robert, no."

Surprised at the sadness rather than shock in her tone, 
Robert turned to Debbie, his face falling open in 
surprise.

"He's right," she said quietly. "We need to do this."
	

"Why?" Robert said, his voice loud and groping.

"Because" she said, patiently, slowly "he needs our 
help. And this is our planet. Our home."

Robert clamped his jaw tight and stared at her, barely 
able to believe what he had just heard. But the look in 
her eye as she fixed on him quickly told him that she 
was absolutely right. Even if they had no other choice, 
and having that decision taken from him angered him, 
Robert suddenly realized that, despite the unfair way in 
which they had been thrust into this situation, they had 
an obligation, as humans if nothing else, to do 
something that might possibly help save their entire 
race.

The silence was deep and profound, but at last Robert's 
jaw relaxed and he slowly nodded that he understood and 
that she was absolutely correct.

"Oh all right," he said, his tone that of a sulking 
child. "What do we have to do."

The little President clapped his hands together in utter 
glee.

"I knew we could count of you," he bellowed in delight, 
hustling quickly over to hop down into the chair and 
then the floor, bustling around the desk to stand close 
by the sofa.

"It's really very simple," he said quickly, excitedly. 
"As I told you, only certain visitors are allowed to 
travel to and from our planet. Last month two of them 
arrived here. A very wealthy, very important lady and 
her man slave. Unfortunately they met with a rather 
serious... accident."

"What do you mean, accident," Robert said, his tone 
cautious.

"A fatal one, I'm afraid" the President said, a cruel 
grin spreading over his lips, which he quickly 
suppressed before continuing. "At any rate, we will slip 
you into their identities and you will then be able to 
travel to the rendezvous with the courier with no one 
being the wiser."

"I thought you said everyone was.. you know... 
monitored... Recorded" Robert said.

"Oh, all the subjugated races are" the President said 
hastily. "Not the ruling race. They wouldn't stand for 
that."

"Ruling race" Debbie repeated. "So this woman was...?"

"One of our oppressors, yes." the President said with a 
solemn nod. 

"What kind of people are these," Debbie said, slowly, 
cautiously.

The President appeared startled for a moment.

"Oh," he said. "I thought I'd made that clear. They are 
the warrior class of a militaristic, aggressive, 
xenophobic, matriarchy."

"Matriarchy," Robert said slowly.

"Yes," the President said, his expression blank. 
"Women."

To be continued?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 71