Author's notes:

This is the continuation of A Long Time from Home and if you haven't read that, I advise you to do so. The series is self-edited, so any mistakes are mine, though I now have a proofreader, that can catch missing words ect. Thanks to Jessejames932006 for doing that.

Some of the chapters will take place in the ancient past and while I have done a lot of research for that, there might be small errors here and there. If you think you found such an error in the story, please double check to be sure that you're correct and then PM me about it, so I can fix it. :)

Due to its length, I placed ALTFH under the 'Novels and Novellas' section, but as you can see, ALTFH II is placed in the 'Sci-fi and Fantasy' section, which fits it better due to the elements of magic that's in it. At least in my opinion :)

Have fun and while you're at it, please rate the chapter and leave a comment :)

About timing on uploads

Trust me, when I say that I do the best I can to upload as frequently as I can. Unfortunately, my RL is pretty hectic at the moment, and as this is a hobby and not a job, it can take a while from time to time.

About the notation:

Mental communication is denoted by a < and ends with a >, so a mental communication will look like this: "< Who are you? >"

Some warnings:

This is erotic action adventure, meaning that there will be both sex and violence, but I don't mix the two.

This story is posted on the Literotica website and the author does not give permission for it to be reposted or reprinted anywhere else without consent.

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12 - New arrivals and shopping

Sunday, October 8th, 2000

The wedding had been the focus of so many things in the last two months that the day after it felt strangely empty. Thankfully the twins just wanted a quiet morning in front of the TV, so I slept a couple of hours before we had a combined breakfast and lunch with Isabella and Sofia. Their vacation was over, so as soon as we were done eating, they said their goodbyes and left for the airport like so many other guests.

Then we visited the recovering Alejandra for an hour before we returned to Vasa Estate, where I took Cyra and Zena to the sunny garden on the far side of the house. It was the perfect spot for our impromptu math session, where I answered their questions and guided them through problem-solving techniques. The soft rustling of leaves and occasional birdsong made the lesson feel less like work and more like a calm exchange of ideas.

It also gave me the opportunity to use Ars Mentalis to examine their minds to see how far their mental skill had come. What I found amazed me. They had trained tirelessly. Their efforts were evident in the solid strength of their mind-shields and their razor-sharp focus. The Scientiam techniques (Baylon: "Knowledge") I had taught them in Malaga had become second nature to them, activated almost unconsciously. These techniques were not just tools. They were transforming how they learned, absorbed, and retrieved knowledge. I smiled, proud of their dedication, and decided to teach them some advanced detection skills and the Scientiam speed-reading technique, both of which would amplify their learning even further.

The second surprise was not of my doing but one of nature. The twins' brains, still developing like all adolescents', had formed new neural pathways. Remarkably, these fresh connections bypassed the blockages caused by the cluster responsible for their mental abilities. If this continued, in about six months their vocal cords might begin working again.

They would need to learn how to speak from scratch, but with their lightning-fast learning speed and the tools I had given them I doubted it would take long.

As nothing regarding the brain was ever guaranteed, I decided not to say anything about it. If it happened it happened and if not, I would not like to be the one that had gotten their hopes up.

Or Alice's for that matter.

I thought about the consequences of that for a while, as Petra took Cyra and Zena along to do the yoga she had promised they could join before they needed to get ready to make dinner with Chef Jens Hansen, which gave me time to have a talk with Esther and had her promise to help them with their assignments when Chloe arrived.

That was the start of a couple of quiet but intensive days of training, blending physical and mental exercises to give them as varied an experience as possible, interrupted only when they cooked with Chef Hansen, Petra taught them yoga, drove them to the hospital to visit Alejandra, and once when the Oldenburg Gendarmerie, in the form of Chief of Police Jacco de Windt and a few of his men, came to interview me about the assassination attempt at the wedding.

That part was almost an anti-climax, as he was just as polite and competent as the other times I had spoken with him. He asked the obvious questions about enemies and seemed satisfied with my answers.

The only time it became even remotely tense was when he tilted his head and remarked that I looked remarkably calm for a civilian who had just been shot at. That made me smile slightly and say, "Read about the war in Croatia, Chief de Windt. Trust me when I say that I have seen worse."

That made him nod slowly and continue with another line of questioning for a while, until they took the damaged suit as evidence and drove off again, and I returned to the garden to teach the twins.

Though I would have preferred a slower, less intensive pace, we were racing against the clock to finish before Chloe arrived and, by the end, the twins had grasped the basics of detection and had started to master the Scientiam technique of speed-reading. They had made remarkable progress even if the schedule had left little room to breathe.

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"< This has been an awesome vacation so far! >" declared Zena with sparkling eyes as we stood in the arrival hall of the airport Tuesday afternoon waiting for Chloe to arrive. As usual she signed the same as she sent.

"< Yeah >" added Cyra. "< And it's barely started. We have almost two whole weeks to go! >"

"Well, it's been a lot of work so far." I said with a chuckle. "The real vacation begins now."

"Nice," commented Delina. "Coz I really want to see the volcano up close."

That made the twins look at her, signing 'We can do that?'

"Yes." Answered Delina. "Oldenburg has an active volcano, and you can even take a hot air balloon ride to see it from the air."

I shivered slightly as I saw the look the twins sent each other. There was little doubt in my mind that we would be going and after having lived through Mount Vesuvius' eruption in 79 and seen what it did to my beautiful home in the city of Herculaneum as well as the rest of the city, I hated volcanoes.

"Adventure vacation." Commented Petra from my other side. For some reason Petra and Delina had a habit of flanking me, usually with Petra on my right side and Delina on the left. "There are tours where you fly up in a balloon, watch the volcano before you land and then return by sailing down the river on a raft. There is even some climbing and rappelling involved."

"Here's an idea." I interrupted. "Why don't the four of you sit down with Chloe when we get back and come up with a plan for some of the things you want to try? Then we can fit it in between the schoolwork." I chuckled. "Otherwise, Alice is going to be extremely displeased."

"But we can't forget some shopping." Whispered Petra, causing the twins to smile widely.

A stewardess bringing a young girl over to us interrupted the conversation.

Chloe turned out to look exactly like the mind-image Cyra and Zena had sent me with dark red curly hair, olive skin and a pair of bright blue-green eyes. She also reminded me how tall the twins were for their age, as she was almost a head shorter than they were. Clearly, they took after their mother and unless I missed my guess, they would end up being almost as tall as Alice.

"I guess this is the right place." The stewardess said with a smile as the twins and Chloe hugged.

She looked at me. "Mr. Emilian, I will need to see some ID, I'm afraid."

Nodding I showed her the required ID. "Here you go... and thank you for bringing her over."

"You're welcome." She said with a smile as she studied the ID. Then she handed it back with a "Thank you" and walked off again after saying goodbye to Chloe.

With the stewardess gone, Cyra and Zena introduced Chloe to Petra, Delina and me, adding that we all understood sign language, and I remembered one of the twins telling me that most of the students in their class were mute.

"Thanks a lot for bringing me here on vacation, Mr. Ivan." Chloe signed when the introduction was over. "My mum and I are very grateful."

"You're welcome, Chloe. I hope you'll have a great time here." I gestured in the direction of the door. "Let's get home."

Chloe nodded, took hold of her suitcase and walked along with Zena and Cyra, followed by Petra, Delina and I.

Fortunately, the Fafnir Model J, an electric version of the Duesenberg Model J, had room enough for six people along with some luggage, which meant that we all could drive in the same car.

Zena, Cyra and Chloe disappeared almost as soon as we arrived as the twins dragged their friend through the house showing her the features and signing so fast I couldn't follow their conversation.

"Kids." Said Petra with a grin. "Go relax, Ivan. Delina and I will keep an eye on them and make the list you suggested."

"Thank you." I chuckled and walked onto the patio to get a cup of tea and relax a bit.

That didn't happen as Petra came back with the phone before I even had the chance to sit down. It was Jan den Adel who called to inform me that he had found the two motor sailors we had talked about and they were up for sale by the U.S. bankruptcy court. If Dream Voyages wanted to bid, we had two days to inspect them and that meant going to the Port of Houston in Texas.

"Let me call you back, Jan." I told him and hung up before I looked at Petra. "Den Adel wants us to go look at some ships in Houston, Texas... but I don't think it's fair for the twins. What do you say?"

"Does looking at ships take all day?"

"No, but just flying there and back takes time and I have no idea what the twins and Chloe should do in Houston."

"So, Houston, we have a problem?"

From the way she said it I guessed it was a quote from somewhere but not one I recognised. "Yes?"

Smiling as she sighed and shook her head, Petra said. "The twins love space and the US Space Center is located in Houston. If you want, I could try to arrange something for them." She smiled widely. "They might even want to use it in one of their assignments."

"Right, but it has to be tomorrow or the day after. Otherwise, we'll be too late to see the ships."

"I'll arrange something." She promised and walked away as I called Jan den Adel and told him that we were going to Houston.

Almost as soon as I was done talking with den Adel, Esther showed up armed with notes about how the kids could make their school assignment and where we should go to make that happen.

I listened to her for a while and then interrupted her. "Please stop for a moment, Esther. You keep talking about what they should see." She nodded so I continued. "Could you change that way of thinking? Most people don't learn by seeing, they learn by doing or interacting. At least that is how Cyra and Zena learn, so you might want to take that approach."

She lifted her eyebrows but then nodded. "It's not really a method of learning I have much experience with, but I do know the theory."

I chuckled. "Normally I would suggest using cooking as a basis for most science, but it sounds like they're geared for some action. Take them spearfishing and teach them about the sea and fish they saw or managed to spear while they actually hold the fish in their hands. They want to go on a hot-air balloon to see volcanoes, which to me sounds like an excellent opportunity to teach them about volcanoes, air currents, the volume of a balloon and why hot air rises. When we go riding, they'll see animals they'll want to know more about." I shrugged. "Knowledge is everywhere we wonder why things are like they are."

For a long moment Esther looked at me in silence but finally nodded slowly. "You have a point. I'll change the plan."

"Good. Oh, and I'm taking them to Houston tomorrow." I said and explained about the situation and what Petra was trying to arrange.

She flashed a smile. "That sounds brilliant. I can easily structure a good assignment around that.... And I have to say that I look forward to being able to go see it myself one day."

I nodded with a smile. While the work to make Esther able to return home if she wanted to had been set in motion, it wasn't quite there yet and it would likely take a few months before she could enter the US or any other state without trouble.

"We'll get there. It just takes time."

"I know, and I'm so grateful that you're even trying." She said with a smile before drumming her fingertips against the table. "I'm a bit restless today. Can we go training?"

I nodded. "Sure."

After changing into training clothes, I met with her in the garden. Training with Esther was always interesting since she used a martial arts form called Krav Maga that reminded me a lot of the old Greek style of Pankration. Incorporating techniques from boxing and wrestling, Pankration was a style I was extremely familiar with as I had trained in it a lot. Esther's version was less based on physical strength than the original form but it was a complete and good martial arts style.

For me the main advantage of learning Krav Maga was that it was a modern martial art and thus has incorporated disarming techniques for modern weapons, but some of the other techniques were useful as well. In return Esther learned Pankration techniques and had incorporated those into her own style.

As a bonus I had discovered that training, both martial arts and roboratio (Baylon: Strength training) helped the "Peaches of Immortality" Vis Power that kept me young. Since the Power used Vis energy to keep my body in the same shape it had been in that fateful night in Lescare so long ago, training to keep my body in that shape lessened the amount of Vis energy the Power used, which in turn lessened my dependence on absorbing Vis from women.

As I hated being dependent on other people that suited me perfectly and aside from training with Esther or Dutch Kickboxing when she wasn't here I also did strength training three times a week. The last part wasn't much fun but I had got into a habit of listening to reports from Starlight while I did them, making it feel less like a waste of time.

We were almost finished when Zena, Cyra and Chloe arrived with Petra and Delina trailing them.

The three girls asked if they could join the training so I left it to Esther and Delina since Petra discreetly signalled for me to come over which I did.

"The girl needs new clothes." She said softly in Ukrainian, looking at Chloe but avoiding using her name in case the girls heard us.

From the tone of her voice I didn't doubt for a heartbeat that she meant it seriously and not as an excuse to go shopping. "That bad?"

"I watched her unpack and about half of her clothes and shoes need to be thrown out." She thought for a moment. "She's also missing clothes for any kind of serious outdoor activity, not to mention the trip tomorrow."

"Well, the girls did say that her mother was poor. Take them shopping first thing in the morning."

"Today." She insisted. "The twins want to go riding and she doesn't have clothes or shoes for that. She could also use a new bathing suit, sunglasses, and countless other things."

That made sense so I nodded. "Okay, let's go shopping and eat dinner at a restaurant when we're done training. However, you need to figure out how to give the young girl the clothes without insulting her or causing any friction between her and the twins... by the way did you get something arranged with the Space Center?"

"They weren't sure there was a guide free, but they'll try their best." She told me and looked over at Esther raising her voice. "Esther, are you game for some shopping?"

"No, thank you." The middle eastern woman said without taking her eyes off Cyra who was doing a kick. "I got everything I need."

"Okay." Petra looked at me with a smile. "I'll be ready when you're ready."

When Esther was satisfied with the training, I called the girls over. "Girls, I have a couple of things to talk with you about. First of all, when you've showered and changed clothes we're going to town for some shopping." That caused the twins to smile widely while Chloe looked somewhat embarrassed. I thought for a moment and then added. "Petra here insists on having the right equipment for riding and other activities so that's some of the things you're shopping for. However, and this is important, you're my guests and I pay for this as well as anything else Petra comes up with." I looked over at the beautiful Ukrainian. "Within reason."

She smiled innocently and nodded. "No problem."

"Good." I looked at the girls again. "Second, we have a change of plans for tomorrow. I have to go look at some ships in Houston. It's the last chance to see them so I can't really postpone it. So, you have a choice. Either you come along and look at those ships or you can stay here with Petra, Delina and Esther. However, if you come along we'll visit the Space Center afterward."

Both Cyra and Zena looked wide-eyed at me, smiles starting to form on their faces, while Chloe giggled and nodded eagerly.

'Space Center.' They all signed.

"Right." I smiled at them. "Oh... and if you know a restaurant in the Galveston or the Houston area that you want to try, tell Petra. Now it's time to shower and change. Then we're going shopping."

They ran off so fast that both Petra and I chuckled.

"Kids." Petra smiled. "I'll go get Delina and the car."

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The shopping trip was actually good as Petra and Delina took the girls through a lot of shops starting with a shop that sold equipment for all kinds of outdoor activities from climbing and rappelling to hunting and camping.

So, each of the three girls got a set of everything Petra thought they needed. Helmets, clothes and boots for horse riding, diving equipment, back-packs and so on.

In addition, I discovered that the shop sold bows so after a short try-out to find the right draw weight for the girls I bought three recurve bows, making sure to pick a model that could be taken apart for easy transport. As an afterthought I even bought one for myself, selecting a short but powerful bow that resembled the one I had used for centuries.

After that I had enough of shopping so while Petra, Delina and the girls continued their shopping spree I used the time to go visit the headquarters to fetch a jacket I had left there. Houston was colder than Oldenburg Island and while I did have other jackets at the estate this one happened to be my favourite.

However, when I walked through the door the middle-aged receptionist sent me a smile. "Hello Mr. Ivan. Good to see you alive and well. Mrs. Rodriquez would like a word when you have the time."

With a slight sigh I surrendered to the inevitable. "Thank you, Rosa. Is she in?"

"Yes, sir," replied Rosa. "She's in the strategy room. I'll call and tell her you're on your way."

"Thank you."

The strategy room was a fancy name for what was essentially a small, cosy living room with big chairs where the CEOs from various departments could come together and talk about their plans in informal surroundings.

As Rosa had told me Sandra Rodriquez was indeed there sitting in a chair sipping tea and looking relaxed while the other chairs were occupied by Nikolas Holtman of Starlight Technologies, Jens Hansen of Atlas Industries, Theodora Padovan of Starlight Research, Stacie Cannon from Starlight Motors and Dietrich Voss of Shark Naval Tech.

"Hello," I greeted as I entered the room trying to ignore the feeling of anticipation that met my senses.

The Chief Financial Officer looked up with a warm smile. "Hello, Mr. Ivan... Sorry to interrupt your days off."

Having a feeling that the constant reminders about the assassination attempt would grow old really quick, I chuckled and dropped into the chair opposite her. "I'll live. My guests are getting their shopping done so I have some time."

Stacie Cannon gave a slight smile. "Yes, that may take a while."

"Yes. So, what's up?"

They were silent for a moment looking at each other but finally Dietrich Voss of Shark Naval Tech took the initiative, his German accent reminding me of Captain Wolf. "I was talking with the South Koreans at the wedding, and I think that an opportunity has shown itself." He smiled thinly. "An opportunity that will outshine the projects you asked us to finish a month ago."

I nodded slightly. I had asked to finish their old projects and set aside 20 billion so they could do that and as far as I knew from the reports at least two of these projects had failed to produce any results. "Sounds interesting. Do continue."

He nodded and looked over at Sandra who nodded slightly and said, "The Asian Financial Crisis in 1997 forced many companies to make questionable moves and Daewoo Group, the Korean chaebol, is collapsing under almost fifty billion U.S. dollars in debt and because of that the Korean government is breaking it apart to see if their individual divisions can be saved, but the problem is that the company has obligations to pay twenty to thirty billion dollars in pensions and retirements."

That made me blink a few times. You didn't have to be a financial wizard to figure out that a company with that amount of debt and obligations was in trouble, and I wondered who messed up that badly.

Theodora Padovan took over. "The same is the case with Hynix. Good products, solid manufacturing, bad finance and six billion in debt."

"However," continued Sandra with a little smile. "If we buy individual divisions instead of buying the company we will not be left with the debt... just the obligations, and those are usually paid off as people retire over the next ten to fifteen years, which is much easier to handle than a fifty-billion-dollar debt."

I nodded slowly. "Is it worth it?"

"That depends on what we can get and what we have to pay," she said with a chuckle and gestured to the rest. "I'll let the others explain the rest of the idea."

Jens Hansen of Atlas Industries nodded. "Daewoo Heavy Industries and its machine works are among the best in the world and to be honest not even our facilities in Brazil can match them. We could build the factories, but it would take a decade and cost billions of dollars so simply buying Daewoo's factories makes a lot of sense."

That statement made Dietrich Voss nod. "The same here. Shark Naval Tech is at a bottleneck when it comes to building ships. We can sell the Galtung corvette and the Ruyter and Schild-class frigates but without room at the shipyards we simply cannot build them fast enough." He shrugged. "There is such a thing as too much success and the shipyards in Oldenburg, India and South Africa are filled to capacity for the next four years... we have even outsourced some of the Ruyter-class to be built in Odense in Denmark just to keep up but it's not enough. Daewoo Shipbuilding & Marine Engineering owns Okpo shipyard, which happens to be one of the largest shipyards in the world. Not only could that remove the bottleneck, but the yard itself has orders for billions of dollars except that Daewoo, due to its debt, doesn't have the money to keep it open for long enough to fulfil those orders."

"That is unfortunate." I told him with a nod and sensing that he had said his piece turned my attention to Stacie Cannon of Starlight Motors. "Mrs. Cannon?"

She smiled. "Daewoo Motors have been making cars for a long time. They're cheap but good and their dealer network spans Asia and Europe. It's a ready-made channel for our own cars while keeping the Daewoo badge alive. Don't get me wrong. Not many are sold in the US, but they do sell a lot in Europe and Asia. We could make a very good deal acquiring that division."

Before I could comment on that Nikolas Holtman of Starlight Technologies took over. "I know Starlight Merchant Group doesn't really deal in consumer electronics but Daewoo Electronics make some very good ones. Their engineers are inventive, their factories modern." He thought for a moment. "The technology would benefit every other subdivision we have up to and including the electronics in the Raptors and Svalinn Defence's radars." He smiled a little. "And that is just a side effect. Without the burden of the debt, Daewoo Electronics will turn a profit almost immediately."

Theodora Padovan spread her hands. "The same can be said about Hynix. They produce the kind of chips we use in our aircraft, ships, and missiles so if we buy those factories our supply line will be secure. Not to mention that their fabs in Icheon and Cheongju are among the most modern in Asia." She gestured at Holtman. "If we folded them into Daewoo Electronics, I'm sure the Korean government would agree to a deal."

It all sounded very good. In fact, it sounded too good to be true, so I looked at Sandra. "If this deal is so good why hasn't anybody taken it yet... beside the obvious obligations I mean."

"The Korean government and the creditors have just recently started dismantling the group and selling off subsidiaries." She hesitated for a moment but then continued. "The government is also worried about the political fall-out from this. More than one hundred thousand workers... sorry... a hundred and twenty with Hynix... and retirees are tied to these four divisions and without intervention they will lose their jobs, their income, and their pensions."

The figure struck harder than any balance sheet. One hundred and twenty thousand workers were a lot of people and families that could potentially be in trouble if we didn't act.

"Right. Give me a price."

"Six billion for Daewoo's four divisions, another billion for each of Hynix's two fabs." Sandra told me adding. "We could easily buy those divisions even without the 20 billion you set aside to finish old projects."

I nodded absently. Starlight had accumulated an enormous amount of money over the years so the problem wasn't really the money but what had caused Daewoo to crash like this in the first place, but I had my suspicions. Chaebol were family companies and with that came a certain amount of nepotism just like nobility in ancient times, and like nobility they suffered from the problem that not everyone in a family was brilliant and not everyone was satisfied that someone else got promoted due to family connections instead of skill and hard work. In short, some would be incompetent, and some would be corrupt and they needed to go.

"It's cheap," continued Sandra Rodriquez when I didn't say anything. "Those divisions are easily worth five or six times as much."

"You think it's a good idea." I stated looking at her.

Sandra nodded. "Yes. We won't get such an opportunity again for years... if ever."

I leaned back steepling my fingers as I thought it over. If four CEOs and Sandra Rodriquez thought it was a good deal it probably was and it gave me a chance to do something good with all the wealth Parker had acquired. Like securing more than a hundred thousand jobs and making sure those workers got the pension and retirement.

Activating my memory, I looked through the information Parker had on the Kia deal but found it severely lacking. He had stopped caring about business deals at that point and had left the deal to Sandra Rodriquez, Manuel Estevez and Stacie Cannon from Starlight Motors but there was one thing that caught my attention. Kia had the same obligations as Daewoo and the solution was simple if expensive.

Taking a decision, I looked around the room at Holtman, Hansen, Cannon, Voss, and Sandra. All were waiting patiently but I could sense their excitement about the deal mixed with the happiness of working for a company like Starlight where such acquisitions were possible.

"Alright people, you've made a good case and I'll give the go-ahead on this with a few conditions."

Wide smiles broke out on the faces of the four CEOs. Smiling back, I turned towards the Chief Financial Officer again.

"Mrs. Rodriquez, we're going to do the same as we did with Kia but at a greater scale. Set aside fourteen billion with six being invested in Korean state-guaranteed bonds. The interest will cover the pensions and retirements until the divisions can pay for it themselves."

Sandra Rodriquez looked surprised for a moment but then nodded with a smile. "Good idea, sir."

"It should be because it's yours." I said dryly and held up two fingers. "Second, failures like Daewoo happen for a reason. We need to make a thorough investigation of the companies and weed out nepotism, incompetence, and corruption. Otherwise, those companies will never be successful." They were still smiling as they nodded in agreement, so I added another finger. "Third, this is really a rescue mission for the workers. I know companies that take over others usually fire a bunch of people to slim those companies down, but I want you to retain at least ninety-five percent of the workforce. Not only is it the right thing to do but if the government is as worried as Mrs. Rodriquez says that will be a major factor in this deal."

A ripple of satisfaction went through the room.

"Thank you, sir." Said Dietrich Voss with a short nod.

"You're welcome but you all have to move as fast as possible. I want the factories, yards, and showrooms to stay open so these people can get their salaries."

Nikolas Holtman lifted an eyebrow. "That will require us to push the Korean government. Like most other governments, they're slow to make decisions."

Stacie Cannon nodded. "It took them nine months to make the Kia deal two years ago and from the start that deal was as good as they could possibly hope to get. I doubt they have gotten any faster." She thought for a moment. "This could drag on for years. Ford walked away because of the pension burden. Our partners at Hyundai are still busy with Kia and everybody else is either not interested or doesn't have the financial capacity to make such a big commitment right now."

"That won't do this time," said Dietrich Voss as he corrected his steel-rimmed glasses. "According to our analysts they only have money for two or three months. Then they'll have to close down."

"Push the government." I determined. "But make sure they know we're doing this to avoid Daewoo closing down."

"Yes, sir." Voss stood from the chair. "Now we have work to do."

Sandra Rodriquez, Theodora Padovan and I remained seated while the CEOs walked out and when the door had closed behind them Sandra looked at me with a smile. "I've said it before, Mr. Ivan, and I'll say it again. You're very fast at making a decision once you think you have all the facts you need. Most young people freeze as soon as they hear the word 'billion'. You don't."

That made me chuckle. "To be honest it's mostly because it's impossible to imagine that amount of money. It's just numbers so it boils down to a few questions: Can we afford it, will it turn a profit, and is it the right thing to do?" I thought for a moment. "This time the answer to all of the questions was a yes so there was no reason not to do it."

Sandra tilted her head slightly, her smile still slightly surprised but there was respect in her voice as she said. "That might be, but you still remembered details from the Kia deal that I had forgotten." She paused and then added. "Good work."

"Thank you." I looked over at Theodora Padovan. "I assume that you have something more, Miss Padovan."

She nodded smiling slightly. "Yes, I do. In order to make the supply line complete we need two more companies and they're never going to be cheaper than they are now... The dot-com bubble really hit them hard."

"Like most tech companies." I said with a nod. "Do continue but please do not go into technical details."

"Yes, sir. Infineon Technologies DRAM is selling their production facility in Dresden, Germany. It's state of the art but Infineon is bleeding cash and wants to get rid of it." She told me. "The other is National Semiconductor's factory in the UK. They make analogue and mixed-signal chips... Perfect for power management, signal conversion, and interface controllers." She shrugged lightly. "We use them in just about everything we produce and while they're not as 'sexy' as DRAM or full digital chips they're vital for our industry."

"And due to the dot-com bubble they're cheap right now." Added Rodriquez. "We can buy the production facilities for under a billion dollars and get six times that in value... but it needs to be done now while they're under pressure." She thought for a moment and added, "Though it would be smarter to make a new company to handle the semiconductor production."

I thought for a moment. I didn't understand the details of all this technology, but it didn't really matter. A supply line was a supply line and has been so for thousands of years. They were also just as vital now as they had been in the past if not more.

"Right. Get Cedric Kerr from Starlight Finance in on this and go buy those factories if you can get them as cheap as you say. CFO Rodriquez here can sign off the financial part."

The slightly stern look on her face split into a smile. "Thank you, sir."

I bowed slightly in my seat. "No problem, Miss Padovan. Go secure our supply line."

With a grin she stood and walked to the door walking just as briskly as the others had done.

For a moment Sandra and I sat together in silence, the sound of the city faint through the glass walls. I could feel the echo of the others' excitement fading down the corridor as they dispersed to begin their work.

I rose at last. "Well, I'd better get back to the girls. But let's move quickly, Sandra. If we're to keep those factories and yards alive we cannot give Seoul the time to hesitate."

"Yes, sir." She sent me a smile that made her look like a grandmother. "Give them my regards."

"I'll do that."

I left the strategy room, fetched the jacket I had come for and walked to Ziggy's where we had agreed to meet for dinner, thoughts spinning in my mind. This had started as a quick visit to the office but had ended with a business rescue mission that would decide the fate of one hundred thousand lives, and it still felt completely unreal that so many people's lives could be altered by a short meeting and a willingness to use money.

Granted it was a lot of money, but it wasn't charity. Given the competence of Starlight's CEOs I had no doubt that once freed from the debt burden the parts of Daewoo we were going to bid on would turn a profit within a year.

I chuckled to myself. Going from debating a fourteen billion deal that saved more than a hundred thousand families to having a dinner at Ziggy's felt surreal but apparently that was my life now.

------------------------------------------

To heal or not to heal

Wednesday, October 11th, 2000, Oldenburg Island

The morning air was wonderfully cool against my skin as I sat down in a chair under the garden gazebo with a cup of tea and thoughtfully looked out over the lush green forest.

Yesterday's shopping trip had been fun, and it wasn't the cause of my thoughtfulness. That was due to a mental scan I had done on Chloe on the way back to Vasa Estate. Mostly out of curiosity, because I wanted to know the difference between her muteness and the one the twins had.

It didn't take me long to discover that her muteness was caused by something completely different, as she had an inflamed lesion in the area of the brain that controlled speech. The inflammation had damaged both the neural connections and the flow of energy in her brain, causing the muteness. Since it was an injury, it was something I could actually heal and given the limited area it affected, I could even do it with minimal use of energy and very little time.

However, that went against my decision about keeping a low profile, unless I could somehow explain the healing in a way modern people could accept, which in most cases meant either some form of medicine or invasive surgery.

The problem was more the inflammation than the actual lesion, because if the inflammation went away, there was a good chance the affected area could heal naturally. Unfortunately, that was one area where medicine had trouble. I had asked a doctor at the hospital and while he listed several drugs that could be used, he admitted that inflammation in the brain was notoriously difficult to do anything about, and any drug used might or might not work.

Traditional medicine wasn't much better, since the rest of the body tended to absorb the medicine before it reached the brain. Consequently, the only real way to treat it using traditional methods was to put the patient on a diet, overloading the body with anti-inflammatory foods.

In ancient times that wouldn't have been too much of a problem, but most of the foods forbidden in the diet were exactly the kind of food most modern people adored, like sugar, most vegetable oils, fried food, refined flour, smoked meats, and some cheeses. A collection of foods which in my mind sounded like the shopping list for a cheeseburger without salad or the mac'n'cheese dish the twins insisted that I should try at some point.

To make it even worse, it was expensive to live healthy in the US, at least according to the twins, and keeping that diet would most likely cost more money than Chloe's mother had planned on using on food. Of course, I could just give her the money for it, but there was also the mother's pride to consider. No person who worked two jobs to support a family would like someone else to just give them money.

I was still pondering how to do that when I realised I had a blind spot in my knowledge. The doctors could give me advice on modern medicine, and I had an extensive knowledge of Traditional Chinese Medicine, but I knew next to nothing about the local traditional medicine, which might have a cure for inflammation. So, my next step should be talking with a local healer. Either here on Oldenburg or in Costa Rica.

If nothing else, there might be something I could use as a cover while healing Chloe with Vis.

My thoughts were disturbed as Zena entered the garden gazebo, sat down in the chair opposite mine and placed a glass of juice on the table.

I automatically glanced behind her to see if Cyra was there as well, but for once it seemed like the twins had split up.

"Good morning." I said with a smile.

Zena smiled back and didn't bother to sign as she sent "< 'Morning and before you ask, Cyra and Chloe are still sleeping... Cyra decided to stay up late to study a cookbook. >"

That made me chuckle. "Well, the two of you did talk about wanting to be private chefs."

Zena nodded and drank from her glass of juice. "< And if we don't want to be private chefs? >"

That piqued my curiosity. The girls were always so obsessed with food and cooking that I had taken for granted that was the direction they were going. Since Zena wasn't using signs, I switched to mental communication. Two people not saying anything looked less weird than one person having half a conversation. "< In that case you'll become something else. Got anything special in mind? >"

"< Inquisitor... or an investigator like the two Interpol agents from Malaga >"

"< That's a noble cause, but doesn't the US have their own 'Interpol'... The FBI, I mean >"

"< Yes, but traveling is fun and as far as I know, FBI only operates in the US.>"

"< Good point >" I didn't doubt for a second that Interpol would be more than happy to accept an investigator with mental powers. There couldn't be many of those around and judging from what little I knew from Sheena Rao, they were highly valued. "< However, it's not like you have to make a decision right now and to be honest, I have no clue what it takes to become an Interpol or FBI-type investigator >"

"< For FBI, it's a bachelor's degree in a related field with two years of related work experience, 23 years of age and physically fit. It helps to be fluent in languages such as Arabic, Farsi, Chinese, Korean, and Russian >" Zena recited from memory, and I smiled to myself as I heard the result of their memory training paying off. She continued. "< We had 'Career day' at school and I heard about it there >"

"< Is this something you're really serious about? >"

Laughter filled my head. "< Ivan, I've wanted to become an Inquisitor since you told the story in Malaga. Cooking is fun, but I'm not sure that I want to do it for the rest of my life >" She looked at me. "< Why do you ask? >"

"< Because learning Mental skills takes time. The ones you have learned so far are really just the start and if you're aiming towards being an Investigator, it would be a good idea to focus on those tricks that're most useful for investigation >"

"< Oh... good point >"

"< Yes, but there's another point I would like you to consider, which is why you want to be an Inquisitor >" I sent. "< Is it because you want to stop crime, or do you just want to be like the inquisitors in the story? >"

"< Because being kidnapped wasn't fun and I would like to stop others from having that experience >" She looked thoughtful. "< The normal police can't stop kidnappers with mind powers, so I need to be an Inquisitor... or the modern version at least >"

I nodded slowly. That was a perfectly understandable goal, based on her experiences. "< Good answer... and we can work towards that >"

"< Good >" She was silent for a moment as she leaned back in the chair, drinking from her glass and looking around. "< You know, if I wasn't sure I would miss my mum, I would ask if we could stay here. It's so beautiful and we could train a lot >"

"< Well, the idea is good >" I sent back. "< Unfortunately, when you and Cyra have left, I'm going to be very busy, if I'm to be finished before Christmas, so I can go to Los Angeles as I promised you >" I thought it over and then added. "< Here's an idea. Continue as you do now with your schoolwork and cooking, then we can train the Mental and physical skills that will be useful as an investigator on the side, if you still want to go that route in some years >"

Zena sent some amusement over the link. "< You sound like Mum. Always have something to fall back on, in case everything else fails. >"

"< Well, it's a good idea, but more to the point, according to everyone I've talked with, investigation will become more and more dependent on technology and science in the future, so you need that knowledge >"

"< You might be right >" She admitted.

I grinned. "< There's no 'might be' about it. I talked with a bounty hunter and they use a lot of technology to find their targets. I'm not saying that you need to be a tech expert, but you need to know about it, so you can ask the experts the right questions >"

"< Oh >" To my amusement, she sent a mental sigh. "< I guess you're right >" She drank some of her juice. "< Oh, by the way... When're we going to Houston? >"

Glancing at my watch, I said. "We leave in an hour, so I guess you'd better wake up the others."

"< What about breakfast? >"

"Will be served on the plane, but if you're really hungry, take some fruit."

"< I will >" She said with a silent grin and stood. "< I'll go wake up Cyra and Chloe >"

"< Oh... how did Chloe take it yesterday? >" I asked as she walked towards their rooms.

"< Totally overwhelmed, but Petra and Delina were sooooo smooth and made buying all that seem like the most natural thing in the world. >" Zena paused for a moment. "< If they hadn't been there, Chloe would never have accepted all that stuff >" There was a mental laugh. "< Petra had to show her a message from her mother before she stopped protesting >"

That made me chuckle. Petra had handled most of the communication with Chloe's mother Jane and that had included a permission to give Chloe 'clothes and other things needed for a vacation on a tropical island.'

"< But I'm going to close the conversation now... Chloe is a heavy sleeper and will take some work to get up >" Zena sent, amusement colouring her mental voice and then the link dissolved.

---------------

Wondering why Petra wasn't awake, I stood from the chair and walked to her room to find her sleeping soundly.

She was also an extremely tempting sight, as she had kicked off the covers during the night and lay naked on her back, snoring lightly.

I let my eyes glide over her voluptuous body. The perky breasts, the flat stomach and the slim waist that flared out to wide hips and long powerful legs.

My dick stiffened at the sight, but we didn't have time for sex, as Petra hated being rushed and usually liked to have at least an hour in the morning to take a quick swim and get everything ready, which meant that we were already late.

With a smile I wetted the two middle fingers in my mouth and with a brief moment of concentration removed the widening of the energy lanes that allowed Vis to run smoothly through my body. I could feel the energy pick up speed as the lanes contracted. Everybody I touched now would feel the energy as a pleasant tingling sensation.

Reaching out, I ran my left hand over her breasts, causing the nipples to harden immediately, while the other hand caressed the inside of her leg, as I enjoyed the feel of her soft skin against mine.

Petra's eyes snapped open as she woke with a moan.

"Good morning, Babochka." I whispered with a smile. "This is your wake-up call."

"Oh God." She moaned, arching her back slightly to press her breasts against my hands. "Best alarm clock ever!"

"It'll get better in a moment." I promised as my free hand found her pussy. I stroked the lips, running my fingers up and down on them.

"Fuck!" Petra groaned and spread her legs more to give me room to move. "It feels like... you're using... a magical vibrator."

I found her clitoris and drew circles around it, massaging it gently, while listening to Petra's moans and moving my fingers a little down once in a while to test how wet she was. It didn't take long before her juices were flowing freely, and my middle fingers slid effortlessly into her.

"Yeah... Mmmm..." Petra mumbled as her hips started to rock back and forth, making my fingers slide slowly in and out of her slick opening, inner muscles contracting pleasantly around my fingers.

"Shit!" Hissed Petra and shivered.

Curling my fingers a little, I found her pleasure zone and started to steadily massage it, while the palm of my hand glided over her clitoris with each move. Just to add to her pleasure, I used my other hand to fondle her breasts, catching a hard nipple between my fingers.

"Are you ready to come?" I asked in a whisper.

"Oh yeah." She groaned, her eyes closed as shivers ran through her body.

"Good." Instead of the gentle massage on her inner pleasure point, I began finger-fucking her hard and fast, the hand a blur as it moved in and out of her, with the fingertips rubbing against her pleasure zone and the palm slapping against the clitoris.

Petra's eyes popped open, and she looked at me with an expression of stunned pleasure on her beautiful face. Then she shrieked wordlessly as she exploded in an orgasm, jerking her hips wildly as she lost control of them and flooded my hand with her juices.

I continued moving my hand in slow, lazy circles until she had come down from the high again.

Then I gently removed my hands from her. "Are you awake now?"

She laughed. "Ivan, if I ever come so hard sleeping, take me to the doctor." She reached out for me. "Now come fuck me!"

Smiling, I shook my head. "Sorry, honey... but you overslept, and we need to be at the airport in..." I glanced at the watch. "Forty-five minutes."

She bolted upright in the bed, looking over at the alarm clock. "Shit!"

"No worries." I chuckled. "Zena is making sure the girls are awake, so just get yourself ready... and relax. The plane isn't leaving without us."

Petra jumped out of the bed, breasts jiggling pleasantly. "No, but Captain Wolf, Jan den Adel, and Frederik Hansen are coming along as well, and I don't want to keep them waiting!"

I nodded slightly. Hansen was a high-ranking engineer from Starlight's prototype department, Shadow Forge, and one of the brightest minds in the world, according to just about everybody at Starlight. He had begun his career as a ship engineer at Shark Naval Tech, but his visionary approach soon earned him a coveted position at their experimental think tank, Nova Division. However, as the Nova Division became responsible for finishing the light carrier Queen Wilhelmina in the early 1990s, Hansen became obsessed with planes, flying and naval aviation, and wasted no time in becoming an Aerospace engineer while still working in the Nova Division. That earned him a few years in Titan Aerospace's experimental department Acadia until Parker handpicked him for Shadow Forge.

There, he became renowned for seeing potential where others saw limitations, and he had been and was involved in so many projects that Parker had used the Loyalty Codex on him just to be sure that Hansen wouldn't find employment elsewhere. Not that there was much chance of that, since Frederik Hansen already had the job of his dreams, a very generous salary, a house, and a wife and two children on Oldenburg.

Jan den Adel had requested that Hansen came along to Houston, since the engineer was an expert in unconventional designs. An area in which the motor sailors we were about to see certainly qualified.

The presence of Captain Wolf was my doing, as I had insisted on bringing her along. Both Jan den Adel and Frederik Hansen were experts in their fields, but Captain Wolf was an experienced captain, and in my experience, getting the opinion of the people who were used to living on a ship was priceless.

Petra gave me a quick kiss. "Now get out. I need to take a bath and dress and you're disturbing my mind with your sexiness."

"Yes, ma'am." I chuckled and walked out.

------------------------------------------

Shipshopping

Wednesday, October 11th, 2000

An hour later, Petra, Chloe, the twins, and I boarded the private plane along with Captain Wolf, Jan den Adel, and Frederik Hansen.

Like most people on Oldenburg, Hansen was tall, had dark blond hair, blue eyes and lightly golden-brown skin that looked like a tan, but wasn't, as it was the result of mixing light-skinned Scandinavian and Dutch people with the darker people of the Caribbean Islands. Aside from that, he was almost painfully ordinary looking with nothing that really stood out.

Chloe stuck close to the twins, her small travel bag slung over her shoulder.

The moment we stepped inside the plane, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her hands shot up, signing quickly, 'Where are the rows? It doesn't even feel like a plane.'

I felt the same way. I had read every specification sheet and knew that the plane had a 46 m² (around 500 square feet) flat floor area separated into three sections for the passengers but seeing it in person was different, as the width of the design allowed the room to widen suddenly, opening into a room that looked nothing like the interior of an aircraft. It was more like the open spaces on a large yacht like Dream Cat.

The section I was looking at now was called the CEO Lounge area by the designers, and here five leather armchairs sat in a square around a low walnut table, the seats broad and deep, finished in cream with dark piping. Each one could recline almost flat, enough to sleep in if you wanted.

Along the wall ran a polished wood credenza with brass fittings, its surface clear except for a satellite phone cradle and a compact fax and printer unit. A slim magazine rack held a few neatly arranged reports and journals. Small brass-rimmed lamps were built into the partition walls, throwing warm light that softened the edges of the space.

The ceiling was so high I could stand upright, which I knew was a demand from Parker, who had been tired of small planes with limited height. Consequently, all the Pegasus business jets boasted a cabin height of at least 6'5" (195 cm) since that had allowed him, and now me, to walk around without having to duck.

The walls were upholstered in a soft sand-coloured fabric that seemed to glow under the ambient lighting, broken by panels of honeyed oak that curved with the fuselage. The effect was less "airplane" and more like stepping into an exclusive salon tucked away in some quiet corner of Oldenburg City. The carpet underfoot had a subtle wave pattern in silver and blue, like ripples on a calm sea, and it cushioned every step with an indulgent spring.

Zena grinned soundlessly as she answered in the same language, her fingers flashing. 'We told you.' While Cyra added, 'wait 'til you see the rest.' Before she grabbed one of Chloe's hands and together the twins pulled their friend down the aisle towards the salon area. The wide leather chairs and polished wood table in the lounge area barely got a glance as they passed them on the way to the salon.

I shrugged slightly and followed them through the sliding door in the partitioning wall to see what the twins had planned and to experience the rest of the aircraft.

It was like moving into a different cabin altogether. The space opened up again, and for a moment I could have sworn we were aboard one of the big yachts instead of an aircraft.

The salon stretched the full width of the jet, laid out more like a private lounge on a vessel than anything designed to fly. On the port side, a long divan ran beneath the windows, its cream leather cushions inviting and soft. Opposite it were two deep recliner chairs set at a slight angle, leaving the centre open and uncluttered, just as on a yacht where space was measured in comfort, not efficiency.

At the far end, the bulkhead carried a wide screen framed in polished wood, with a cabinet below that doubled as a bar and entertainment console. The air carried a faint scent of leather and cedar, the lighting warm and deliberate, casting soft glows across brass fittings and the wave-pattern carpet underfoot.

Zena went straight for the cabinet, crouching to slide it open. The glossy black PlayStation sat waiting inside, along with a neat row of game cases. Cyra signed something quick to Chloe, who covered her mouth with both hands in silent laughter before dropping onto the divan. Her hands flashed again: 'It's like a movie theatre. On a plane.'

The twins handed her a controller and began arguing, half in signs and half in their own silent shorthand, about which game to start. Within a minute the three of them were shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, their eyes fixed on the screen as the console came to life.

I lingered just inside the doorway. The salon felt self-contained, cut off from the lounge by the partition wall, and that separation only added to the impression that each section of the Phoenix was its own room. The carpet was thick, the brass fittings gleamed, and the faint hum of the engines was so low it felt like background silence.

From where I was standing, I could see the next partition wall a few steps further aft. It was finished in the same pale oak and brass trim as the rest of the cabin, but what caught my eye were the two doors set into it. One led into the soundproofed private bedroom and the other into the enlarged lavatory with its standing shower.

The twins and Chloe were already lost in their game, their fingers flashing in rapid signs as they played. I smiled at the sight and turned around to walk over to one of the big leather chairs, joining Petra, Frederik Hansen, Jan den Adel, and Captain Wolf, who were talking about how much the interior reminded them of a yacht. At least I wasn't the only one who had that feeling.

"It's not a coincidence." said Frederik Hansen with a smile as he looked around. "The interior is designed by the same people who made the yachts and then handed over to the aerospace engineers, so they could build it in lighter materials suitable for a plane."

"Smart move," commented Jan den Adel with a chuckle. "This is a lot better than even the PA-18."

"And much more comfortable." declared Petra. "The flight from LA to Paris took almost eleven hours and being able to walk around in this space made it feel like a much shorter trip."

Captain Wolf nodded with a slight sigh. "Normally, I would pick a yacht over a plane every time, but this..." She gestured at the wide cabin. "... blurs the line between the two."

I nodded just as the sliding door between the Lounge and the Galley opened and a good-looking young female flight attendant rolled in a table filled with breakfast items.

"Excuse me, sirs, but your breakfast is ready." She said with a smile, her voice displaying the same accent as Captain Wolf.

Almost by itself, my mind searched for, and found, what Parker had known about her. A German national by the name of Anna Richter, she was trained at Lufthansa before joining Air Oldenburg. Her athletic build and good looks had made Parker notice her and after discovering that she was fluent in four languages and a very good flight attendant, he had selected her for the VIP program.

True to form, he had also used mind control on her and taken her to bed, though thankfully the form of mind control he had used was much lighter than the ones he had used on most other people. Mostly because Anna Richter had proven to be adventurous when it came to sex and had thought it was a huge turn-on to have sex on a plane. Like he had done with Petra and the rest of the women from the warehouse in Malaga, Parker had also boosted her sex drive somewhat. The boost in sex drive was still one of the most restrained uses of Power I had seen from Parker. It was just enough to make them willing partners in bed and not so much that they couldn't control it.

My thoughts drifted to Estevez and Ayanna. While she had controlled her needs for months while they were dating, I strongly suspected that Estevez had been pleasantly surprised on what had been unleashed on their wedding night.

I shook my head slightly to get the thoughts out of my mind. Now was not the time to think about sex. That thought lasted just a few heartbeats as I happened to look over at Petra, who had apparently seen me looking at the flight attendant, because she wetted her lips before sending me a lusty smile.

Returning the smile, I focussed on the food Anna Richter was placing on the table. It was clearly of the same quality as at a hotel and smelled deliciously.

--------------

The flight to the US went exactly according to plan as we had a delicious breakfast on the plane and rather than landing at Houston's vast international airport, we touched down at the smaller Scholes International Airport in Galveston, conveniently close to the harbour.

At the harbour, the motor sailors awaited us, moored against the backdrop of the glistening water. Seeing the ship in pictures hadn't prepared me for the sheer scale of it. Standing on the pier, I stared up at the towering vessel. A colossal 187 metres (614 feet) long and 58 metres (190 feet) tall. Its five masts rose like giants against the horizon, their shadows stretching far across the dock.

"That is a big sailing ship." Commented Captain Wolf as she studied the five masts for a moment, before looking at Jan den Adel. "Computer controlled sails?"

Jan nodded, his smile widening. "Seven of them, to be precise. It can accommodate 386 passengers and 200 crew. Perfect for the Asian market."

I nodded thoughtfully. Dream Voyages had carved out its niche by using ships with sails, offering something unique that stood apart from the large cruise lines like Carnival Cruises or Royal Caribbean. This vessel, though intimidating in scale, fit right into our vision.

"What do you think, girls?" I asked, glancing at Chloe and the twins, who were gazing up at the ship with wide-eyed wonder.

Cyra tore her eyes away from the towering masts and signed, 'Are you going to buy that?'

"Well," I said, smiling, "Jan thinks we should place a bid. Even with a conservative budget, he estimates it'll pay for itself in seven years."

They all nodded slowly and looked at the ship again.

"Shall we take a tour?" Jan asked, gesturing toward the auction house representative waiting nearby.

"Might as well," I replied, turning to the girls. "I have a job for you girls."

'Do tell' Zena signed with a smile.

"Everybody here, except the three of you, are used to being on ships and yachts. You're not, so I'd like your impressions of the ship. You're the closest thing we have to a guest, so I would like to know how it looks and feels from your perspective."

'We can do that,' Cyra signed, her expression breaking into a grin, while both Chloe and Zena nodded.

Petra chuckled. "I'll keep an eye on them."

The twins rolled their eyes, but the smile on their faces told me they didn't really mean it.

The interior of the ship was as breathtaking as its towering exterior, a testament to thoughtful design and craftsmanship. The warm glow of polished wood greeted us at every turn, giving the space an aura of elegance. As the representative led us through, he explained how the ship's design aimed to evoke the nostalgia of the grand age of wooden ships, luxury with a touch of timeless romance. The illusion worked; most of the time, I felt like I was aboard an old-world masterpiece rather than a vessel crafted from steel and aluminium.

Jan den Adel, however, seemed less captivated, offering occasional comments that revealed his more pragmatic view. To him, much of it was "fairly standard," though he gave credit where it was due.

Meanwhile, Chloe, Cyra, and Zena were enchanted. They darted from detail to detail, pointing out intricately carved panels, brass fittings, and other charming touches that might escape the casual observer. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself nodding in agreement. It was a beautiful ship.

As we strolled across the sprawling top deck, I turned to Jan. "What's your ballpark guess on the price?"

He sighed, shaking his head with a slight frown. "Hard to say. They cost around $100 million to build, but with bankruptcy court sales, it's a toss-up. Sometimes they just want a quick sale, other times they hold out for a good price. There's no telling." A faint smile played at the corner of his lips as he added, "Does that mean we're bidding?"

"There's no reason not to," I replied, shrugging. "We could use the ships, but we don't need them. That's the best position to be in when making a bid. How much do you think the court needs to cover their losses?"

He took a small computer from his pocket, typed a few things and said, "33 million dollars according to my calculations, but it's unlikely we're gonna get them that cheap. A more realistic price would be somewhere between 45 and 50... which is still a bargain for ships this new."

I considered it for a moment. With people losing money on the dot-com bubble, there were fewer customers in the cruise industry and with fewer customers came less profit. Something that was even more true for a niche cruise line specialising in sailing cruises, which was what had caused Argo to go bankrupt in the first place. That also meant fewer buyers for the ships themselves and lower prices for the ships.

"How about 41 million for each ship, 85 million if we get them both?" I suggested.

Jan nodded. "That's on the low side, but I get your gamble... There aren't many buyers and those who are there are a bit strapped for cash at the moment... except the big lines, who don't want motor sailing yachts anyway." He looked thoughtful. "May I suggest 45 million for each and 92 if we get them both? I feel that is slightly more realistic."

"Good idea. Do that."

His smile nearly took his ears, as he exclaimed a muted "Yes!", causing both Captain Wolf and Frederik Hansen to chuckle. I smiled as well. Jan den Adel was not only highly competent, but he genuinely loved what he did, and it showed.

Then I discovered Chloe, Cyra, and Zena looking at me with shock painted on their faces.

Grinning, I leaned closer and whispered, "Relax. It's not my money."

'But 92 million!' signed Zena.

"These are big ships, and they cost a lot to build," I explained calmly. "Did you like what you've seen so far?"

They nodded in unison and Cyra signed. 'I would love a cruise on such a ship.'

'Especially with the sails on.' Added Chloe, for once not looking shy. 'That has to look so cool.'

"Oh, I agree." I said, "Which is why I agree with Jan den Adel, that it is a good investment."

Their shock melted into tentative smiles, and I was about to head down the stairs when something caught my eye. My steps faltered as I turned toward the adjacent pier. There, moored next to this ship, was something extraordinary, unlike anything I'd ever seen.

The yacht was massive, futuristic, and utterly mesmerising. Its sleek, arrow-shaped hull stretched impossibly long and wide, dwarfing even Dream Cat's. Two enormous masts jutted skyward, but instead of traditional sails, they were rigged with multiple spreaders, hinting at a complex array of smaller, computer-controlled sails. The dark grey hull gleamed in the sunlight, its elegant lines flowing from the sharp bow to the broad stern.

I realised that the width was due to it being a multihull ship, a trimaran to be exact. A combination of a catamaran and a single-hull boat, trimaran yachts had a slim centre hull, supported by two smaller outriggers, connected by sweeping wings that created a striking arrow-like profile.

Whoever had designed this one was brilliant, because the design was both functional and breathtakingly beautiful. Despite their seemingly slimness, the height of the wings before they curved down to the outriggers was big enough to extend the level almost to the entire beam and I guessed that there was plenty of room inside. Especially since there was another, smaller, level on top of that.

While that was a fairly standard arrangement for yachts, the designers had managed to create the illusion of a smooth hull and it was only because I was standing on an even taller ship, that I could see the open decks on both levels.

I pointed in the direction of the yacht. "What is that?"

"That is the Raven." Said Frederik Hansen with certainty in his voice as he looked at the ship. "It's one of the largest trimaran yachts in the world and the only trimaran motor sailor I know of. I didn't know it was up for sale."

Captain Wolf nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's the Raven. It's the only large trimaran yacht in the world to use a DynaRig. It's been featured in several yacht magazines and I read about it earlier this year."

I had no idea what a DynaRig was, since it hadn't been part of any lecture I had received, but it had to be something special, since Captain Wolf seemed impressed.

The representative from the auction house glanced over at the ship. "You're right, that is the Raven. If you're interested, I represent her as well."

"I wouldn't say 'interested', but at least curious." I said and gestured for him to continue.

The representative smiled, launching into an explanation. Built by the renowned German shipyard Lürssen for an eccentric multimillionaire, the Raven was a hybrid between a motor yacht and a sailing ship. It boasted a cruising speed of 18 knots on engines alone and could hit 30 knots at full throttle. Under sails, it could manage up to 16 knots, while a hybrid engine-sail setup saved up to 40% on fuel. Its range was impressive with 5,000 nautical miles on engines alone, or up to 7,000 miles with wind assist.

The yacht wasn't just fast, it was also luxurious. The superstructure housed a pool, jacuzzi, gym, media room, private conference room, and even a helicopter pad with a lift hangar.

It had ten normal cabins, two VIP cabins and an owner's cabin, which gave room for 22 to 26 guests. Not that it had been used much, as Simon Green went bankrupt just before Christmas last year, which was why it was here.

Captain Wolf and Jan den Adel were experienced operators and asked a lot of questions about the ship's construction and performance, but as far as I could figure, the yacht had only two downsides. It was so big it couldn't enter small marinas and it took a crew of thirty to keep it running.

"It's a stunning ship," Jan said, though his tone was measured. "But 30 crew for 26 guests? That's... steep. Not ideal for a cruise line."

The representative's cheerful mask slipped slightly, but he quickly recovered. "If you're interested, I'd be happy to give you a tour after this one."

"Please do," I said, curiosity piqued.

"Excuse me," said Frederik Hansen in his pleasant voice. "The figures for the range... Are they calculated or based on real-world trials?"

"A mix." Said the representative, flipping through his notes. "The Raven hasn't sailed that far yet, so the numbers are calculated from real-world sailing data."

Frederik smiled politely. "Thank you."

The rep nodded and walked down the stairs, followed by Jan and Captain Wolf, but Frederik Hansen still stood at the deck a few metres from Petra and the trio of girls, looking thoughtfully at Raven, causing me to walk closer to him and ask, "What're you thinking, Mr. Hansen?"

He glanced at me and there was a gleam in his eyes that reminded me of Heron of Alexandria, one of the smartest and most creative people I had ever met. "I know the Raven's construction well, Mr. Ivan. Starlight Alloys supplied the SAM steel for the hull, an advanced steel-aluminium-magnesium alloy. Light, durable, and almost as strong as titanium. It's a top-tier material, ideal for a ship like this." His eyes traced the contours of the sleek vessel. "The broad, aerodynamic decks and outriggers are perfect for solar panels, and the gas turbine-electric engines can run on biogas."

Scratching his chin, he continued. "Not to mention that trimarans use about 45% less fuel than a monohull, due to their limited draft and slim hulls, and if the eco package from Dream Cat is installed, she could be an awesome ship." He smiled at the ship. "If we can make Raven run more ecological and use even less fuel, the same goes for many of the high-speed trimarans, especially ferries, out there. Thus, it's a sellable concept and fits the company profile very well."

I nodded, trying to keep up with all the information he was giving me.

"Last, but not least, the speed, size, low draft and long range of that ship combined with the ability to carry a helicopter in a hangar, makes it perfect as a base for both a small Anti-missile Craft and a large ocean-going patrol craft." Continued Hansen, his voice quickened with excitement. "It's not far off from the RV Triton, a trimaran the British Royal Navy acquired this year to test as a customs ship. The Raven is faster than most corvettes and if we pitch the hybrid sail-engine system as a low-cost solution for naval applications, we could develop a profitable, highly sought-after class of ships. Particularly for island nations with tight budgets." He thought for a moment and looked at the yacht as a smile spread on his face. "I bet we could even remove the masts and run it on engines alone."

As he spoke, I could feel my eyebrows rise. Apparently, whomever said that Frederik Hansen excelled in thinking outside the box had been completely right. "That's a lot of different jobs for one type of ship."

He chuckled. "Modern vessels this size are highly adaptable. The lightweight steel hull is already ideal for such uses." He paused, then added, "Simon Green wasn't just eccentric, he was paranoid and like most small naval vessels, the Raven was built to withstand small arms fire." He paused to think for a moment and then continued. "With a couple of Rheinmetall Oerlikon CIWS units and our Trident Defense System like Queen Wilhelmina has, it could double as an offshore patrol vessel. Add some composite armour plating and a control suite for radar and weapons, and you're looking at a multi-role ship. And since the Raven is an explorer yacht, it wouldn't even take six months to convert it."

I was out of my depth with all this talk of weapons systems, but I knew enough about explorer yachts to follow the general idea. They were built tough, designed for long voyages to remote locations, and loaded with redundant systems for reliability, since nobody wanted to be stuck with broken equipment in the ass-end of nowhere. "So, what's your suggestion?"

"We buy this and use it to test the concept. It'll cost some millions to rebuild, but if it works out, we contact Lürssen Yards and either enter a cooperation with them or buy the blueprints and production rights." Looking around, he added. "I'm not suggesting that this exact design should be used, but as a proof-of-concept, it's excellent."

I nodded and having made his point, Hansen walked down the stairs, while I looked over at Petra, Chloe, and the Twins, who were standing at the railing, admiring the Raven.

"That's an awesome looking ship!" Declared Petra with a grin when she discovered I was looking at her. "It looks like a spaceship with sails... At least from this direction."

"Well, let's go take a closer look at it then."

They nodded and followed me down the stairs.

Down on the pier, the trimaran structure of the Raven was much clearer than from on top of the cruise ship and I took a moment to admire the slim central hull and the way it flared out into wings and then the outriggers.

I looked at the representative. "Before we walk inside, I would like to know the price."

He hesitated for a moment and said, "The listed price is eighty-two million dollars."

That caused Jan den Adel to laugh, while the representative looked slightly offended.

"Let me guess," said Jan, still chuckling. "It's been for sale a while now."

"Some months, yes."

I got the sense that his 'some months' was more like eight or nine than two or three, which was good news since it meant nobody wanted the ship, thus lowering the price.

"You won't get that much," Jan said bluntly. "Motor-assisted sailing trimarans are rare, the design is polarizing, and if the interior matches the exterior, it'll need a costly redesign."

Leaning closer to Frederik Hansen, I whispered. "What would a new hull of this design cost?"

"The steel alloy used is very good, but also expensive, so about ninety million dollars for the hull alone." He told me in a low voice. "I don't know how much the rigging cost, but otherwise the ship is perfect for what we talked about, and it can easily be converted back into a yacht or a small cruise ship, when we're done with it." He paused to think for a moment and then added. "However, you could build a similar ship using a normal steel hull with an aluminium superstructure for half the price of this and for most people, the new steel alloy is not worth the price, so it'll be hard to sell at the original price."

With a nod, I turned towards Jan den Adel as I asked, "Jan, what's the maximum price if Dream Escapes were to operate the Raven with a profit as a charter yacht."

For a moment, he looked surprised but picked up his calculator again and punched in some numbers, before looking at me. "Fifty-two, not counting the millions needed for an interior refit."

"How much for the refit?"

"My guess is four million for a yacht this size... if it's purely decorative." He hesitated for a moment but then added. "And please bear in mind, that middle size yachts are more profitable than large ones."

"Thanks." I was about to turn back to the rep, when Hansen made a quick gesture and switched to Dutch as he said. "Go higher, it'll be worth it." in a voice so low that I almost couldn't hear him.

I nodded slightly to him. It might be too much for a pleasure yacht, but that wasn't what Hansen had in mind and all things considered, buying the ship was cheaper than doing the research ourselves.

Turning back towards the rep, I said, "Before we see the yacht, call your boss and tell him, you have an offer of sixty-five million dollars for Raven. Then they can think about it, while we tour the ship. As you heard, we're running a business and sixty-five million is already too much, but I like how it looks."

His eyes widened at that, but then he nodded and walked away from us, taking a phone from a pocket as he walked.

Captain Wolf turned toward me, an eyebrow raised. "Getting tired of Dream Cat already?"

"Not at all," I replied with a shrug. "But Mr. Hansen made some strong points earlier, and sixty-five million is still a lot cheaper than building something like this from scratch." I gestured toward Hansen, who stepped forward, ready to elaborate.

He launched into the same detailed explanation about the yacht's unique design, durable alloy, and the potential for turning it into an ecological or defensive powerhouse. As he spoke, Captain Wolf and Jan both nodded, clearly impressed.

Since I'd already heard the pitch, I let my attention wander back to the yacht. There was something magnetic about it, a mix of futuristic charm and raw potential. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it stirred something in me. My train of thought was interrupted when Captain Wolf joined me at the railing.

"You know," she said, her tone light but amused, "this is the first time I've ever seen someone make a bid on a sixty-five-million-dollar yacht like they're haggling over a used car. But I have to admit, you've got a point." She looked at the ship with a small smile. "It's something else, isn't it?"

"It is," I agreed. "Did the articles mention anything about its backstory?"

"A lot, actually," she chuckled. "Are you familiar with Star Trek?"

"Not really," I admitted. "All I know is it's a science fiction show. Petra and the twins are the sci-fi experts, not me."

Her chuckle turned into a grin. "Star Trek is a series of TV shows about a spaceship and its crew traveling through the universe, discovering new things every episode. Many people saw one of these shows as kids and Simon Green, the builder of the Raven, was one of them. When he made his fortune, he decided to turn his dream of commanding a spaceship into reality... by building it as a yacht."

"Hmmm, I guess that makes sense. He had a dream and enough money to make it come true." I nodded in the direction of the outriggers. "Why a trimaran? I've seen some of the spaceships in Star Wars and they don't look like this at all."

"Star Trek and Star Wars are two very different things," said Captain Wolf with a grin. "In Star Trek, most ships have two nacelles, one on each side of the ship, that houses the warp engines that allows them to travel through space. The trimaran hull mimics that configuration if you don't hide the outriggers." She nodded in the direction of the Raven. "These outriggers are larger than normal for a trimaran yacht and if you see the ship from above, it looks somewhat like a ship from Star Trek." She shrugged slightly. "According to the article it's more on the inside than the outside. Most of the other human ships in Star Trek have a huge round section that looks like a giant saucer, which would have been impractical on a seagoing vessel."

Now it was my turn to chuckle. "You seem to know more about Star Trek than what you have read from an article about the Raven."

"Good guess. I watched it as a kid, and it was one of the reasons that I joined the navy." She gestured towards the sea. "As the name says, Star Wars is about war, but Star Trek is about going places and discovering new things, and I wanted to do that." She looked at the huge masts. "Simon Green wanted the same. The Raven is built as a luxury explorer yacht, designed to go anywhere, and endure anything, while the owner and passengers enjoy the view." Her eyes returned to me. "That's why I agree with Mr. Hansen, that it could be an awesome patrol craft."

"Good to know." I said as the rep came back. "Let's go see it."

As we walked up the gangway, the rep glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Just a slight warning: the ship's interior is designed to feel as much like a Star Trek ship as possible. The designer really leaned into the theme."

As we stepped off the gangway, the change was immediate. The corridors were all glossy white surfaces broken by strips of blue light, giving everything a clinical, almost hospital-like atmosphere. The walls curved inward in strange ways, as if the architect had been more concerned with appearing futuristic than with how people actually moved or lived inside. I guessed it was done to simulate the huge round section Captain Wolf had been talking about.

Doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing cabins lined with moulded plastic and brushed metal. Furniture looked more like equipment than something you might rest on, angular pieces that seemed designed for display rather than comfort. Even the lighting felt wrong -- cold, sterile beams that made skin look pale and flat, more like an operating theatre than a home at sea.

The only spaces with any warmth were the baths and pools. For unknown reasons, the bathrooms, steam baths, indoor pools and jacuzzi were made in black and white marble, that actually had a kind of weight and elegance to it, even if it seemed to belong to an entirely different vessel.

Hansen eyed the marble thoughtfully. "How much marble is in this ship?"

The rep consulted his notes. "Twenty-one tons of Italian marble."

Nodding, Hansen looked thoughtful yet again and as the rep continued the tour, I softly asked. "What's on your mind this time?"

"Oh, I was worried about the weight of the weapon and radar systems, but just by replacing the marble with a lighter material it should pretty much even out." He answered in a soft voice. "If we need more, we can always eliminate the pool, which would save another eighteen tons. For once, crew size for a patrol ship is not a problem: As a luxury yacht, the ship is designed to have a large crew to guest ratio, so there's plenty of room."

"Good," I said with a faint smile. "And don't worry, if we get this yacht, the current interior design is the first thing to go."

Hansen smiled a bit. "Fair enough. The bridge will be the deciding factor then. We need room for control systems."

I returned the smile. "On to the bridge then."

After having seen the rest of the ship, I hadn't expected much of the bridge, but it turned out to be a lot better than I had feared.

A broad sweep of windows curved across the entire front of the room, giving the bridge a commanding view forward and to both sides. The harbour lay open beyond the glass in a wide arc of grey-blue light, and for the first time since stepping aboard, the ship's obsession with drama felt justified. The two forward stations stood nearest the windows, low and practical, clearly meant for the officers actually handling the vessel.

Behind them, raised a step above the rest of the deck and set apart by a low railing, was the real command area. Two larger seats stood there among their own consoles, placed so whoever occupied them could look over the helmsmen and out across the water while still keeping the rest of the bridge in view. Around this elevated section, the other stations curved along the outer bulkheads in a broad ring of screens and panels, all arranged to support the centre.

It was theatrical, undeniably so, but unlike the corridors and cabins, the theatrics here had been shaped by someone who understood command spaces. Everything had been composed to make the room feel important, yet the arrangement still respected sightlines, movement, and control. For the first time since stepping aboard, Simon Green's fantasy and practical function seemed to be working together instead of fighting each other.

The girls gestured in the direction of the two chairs and signed 'Can we try them.'

"Go ahead," I said and watched them climb onto the chairs, before I looked over at Captain Wolf, who walked around the bridge, checking out each station. When she came near us again, I quietly asked. "What do you think, Captain?"

"Well, it looks like someone took a spaceship bridge from Star Trek and made it functional as well as practical," she said quietly after glancing around once more, "but whoever designed this part knew what they were doing. Helm forward, command raised behind it, support stations around the edges, excellent visibility, and proper spacing throughout." Her mouth twitched slightly. "Everything's up to the newest regulations and... "She lowered her voice. "I actually think it's pretty sweet. At least this part of the ship doesn't need a redesign." She glanced over at Hansen. "At least not a complete one."

I looked at Hansen. "Do you think there's room enough?"

He nodded. "Yes, this is much better than expected. It looks like a cross between a warship, a superyacht and a spaceship, but it works." He looked around and then nodded toward the back of the bridge. "As far as I could see, there're VIP suites just behind the bridge, which would be perfect for a CIC."

I raised my eyebrows and Hansen explained that while the bridge handled navigation and ship-handling, the CIC was where information was gathered, processed, and decisions made. Every radar track, sonar contact, or satellite feed would flow into it, and officers there would filter noise from fact, turning raw data into a clear picture of the battlespace. From there, they could assign targets, coordinate escorts, direct aircraft, and keep the captain informed without overloading the bridge crew.

In practice, it was the ship's nerve centre. The bridge might command the vessel in the most visible sense, but the CIC would be where the fight was organised. It reminded me of how ancient armies worked. A king might sit tall on a horse for his men to see and give orders, but he was guided from the command tent behind the lines, where scouts brought reports, scribes marked maps, and aides carried orders out to the field. The bridge was the king, but the CIC would be the command tent from where the battle was actually organised and fought. Of course, there were exceptions to this, but in most cases that was how it was.

Another thing was the enthusiasm in Hansen's voice. I had no doubt that he was already rebuilding the ship in his head. "I guess you still think buying the yacht is a good idea?"

"Yes."

"Let's hope they accept the offer then."

With perfect timing, the representative's phone started to ring, and he walked away from us to answer it.

We didn't have to wait long as he came back almost immediately, looking slightly embarrassed as he said, "I'm sorry, sir. I know you didn't want a counteroffer, but the lawyer instructed me to give you an offer of seventy-five million... providing that the price remains undisclosed to the public."

Something about that statement didn't seem quite truthful, and for a moment I was tempted to read his mind just to see what was going on but decided against it, as it was too risky.

However, there weren't that many things that could be untruthful in his sentence and after thinking about it for a moment, I concluded that it wasn't the lawyer that had instructed him to give the counteroffer, which meant that he for some reason had done it on his own initiative.

"No thanks." I said with a shrug. "But you can call back and tell the lawyer, that if they won't accept a private bid, we will give an official bid later today and then there's no way the owners can keep the price undisclosed to the public."

The representative paled slightly before nodding and stepping away to make another call.

Jan den Adel leaned closer, his voice low. "What was that about?"

"It's a hunch. I think he tried to raise the price to get a bigger commission."

"That would be unusual," said den Adel with a grimace. "But not unheard of."

The representative returned a moment later, looking slightly irritated as he said, "sir, the lawyer is willing to accept your offer of sixty-five million dollars... still provided that the price remains undisclosed to the public."

I nodded. "Inform them they have a deal." Turning to den Adel, I added, "Jan, would you handle the paperwork and practicalities?"

He nodded, amusement clear on his face. "Certainly, Mr. Ivan. I'll do that while placing our bids on the other ships. Our engineers have to go over the other ships anyway, so they might as well look at this while they're at it... Hmmm... Should I ask Mrs. Rodriquez to place Raven under Starlight Research?"

Considering it for a moment, I shook my head. "It belongs somewhere in Shark Naval Tech, but I can't just overrule their budgets by sixty-five million dollars on a whim. Tell her to place it in Gyldenstjerne Holding and then we can fix the details later. The refit will be a joint project led by Shadow Forge and if they're going to use the ship as a test model, they can pay for the redecoration and everything else."

He nodded with a smile. Gyldenstjerne (Danish: "Golden Star") Holding was the holding company where Parker had placed many of his private things, like his helicopter, the PA-10 Phoenix, cars, and now, apparently, a spaceship-inspired yacht. For the time being, it meant the Raven was effectively mine.

As we stepped off the yacht, I turned to Captain Wolf. "Captain, earlier, you called the sail plan a DynaRig. Can you tell me more about that?"

Captain Wolf's lips curved into a knowing smile. "The DynaRig is a brilliant piece of German engineering from the 1970s. Unlike traditional sails, the masts are free-standing, and instead of adjusting individual sails, you rotate the entire mast to control their angle. When fully deployed, the sails create an unbroken surface, like a window blind, making them incredibly efficient at harnessing the wind. And, thanks to computer automation, it's so easy to handle that one person can operate it."

I raised an eyebrow. "If it's so efficient, why isn't it more common?"

Her smile turned wry. "Cost. It's significantly more expensive than traditional rigs. Plus, the advanced materials that make it truly effective have only been developed in the last few years. As of now, the only company producing them is Dykstra Naval Architects out of the Netherlands."

I was still processing that, when Wolf glanced back at the yacht with a gleam of admiration. "Honestly, Mr. Ivan, this was a steal. It's a Superyacht built by Lürssen Yachts with a sail plan from Dykstra, which are some of the best companies in the business. Den Adel is an expert with cruise ships, but this is a private yacht and despite what he said, this yacht is worth twice as much as you paid for it and I think that's the reason that they want the price to remain a secret." She hesitated but then added. "Sir, if you're going to use this as your private yacht, I'll be more than happy to captain it. It's longer and wider than the Fregatte Hesse Karl and I were trained on, but it could be fun to captain a ship that size again."

Her candid offer caught me off guard, but I nodded in appreciation. "I didn't realise you and Karl trained together."

A nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. "We did. It was one of the first mixed-crew experiments in the German Navy. Relationships among the crew were forbidden, of course, but rules don't always stop the inevitable. The Navy didn't allow couples to serve together, so when our contracts ended, we left for the private sector."

"Their loss," I said sincerely. "I'd be thrilled to have both of you on board. But first, Shadow Forge gets to tinker with it, which means a trip to their shipyard in Oldenburg. And I still need to figure out what to do with the interior. The current design is too futuristic and ugly for me."

With a chuckle, Captain Wolf said. "Do as everybody else does: Pick something you like and let a design team handle it, while the rest is installed. It costs a bit, but you can afford it." She added with a sly grin, "Oh, and while you're at it, think about reducing the number of cabins or at least beds. Den Adel's focus is cruise ships, so he's used to cramming as many passengers as possible onto a vessel. But this is a yacht, not a floating hotel. Convert some of those cabins into something else, and you'll need fewer interior crew. Plus, if you limit it to twelve passengers, you'll dodge a lot of expensive regulations."

I nodded. Once a ship carried more than twelve passengers, it was classified as a passenger vessel, which came with a mountain of costly requirements. "Good advice. Thank you, Captain."

"You're insane," said Petra with a chuckle as Captain Wolf and I joined her and the three girls at the pier, where they were looking at the ship. "Sixty-five million for a yacht?"

I grinned. "Well, according to Captain Wolf here, the average price of a superyacht is at least a million dollars per metre as soon as the length exceeds fifty metres, so it's not bad."

"Cheap or not, it's still a lot of money."

"It is," Captain Wolf agreed, her tone even, "but consider this: Frederik Hansen wants to turn it into a patrol ship and a patrol ship this size, with a flight deck and hangar for a helicopter, would cost at least two hundred million dollars. The German Braunschweig-class corvettes run close to two-hundred and twenty million dollars." She thought for a moment. "Not to mention the Dutch M-class, which is even more expensive at three hundred million dollars."

Put in that light, Hansen's suggestions made more sense. "Thanks for explaining that, Captain. I did not know that." I turned to the twins, "Girls. Do me a favour and make a description of how you would like a cabin to look like, so that the designers have something to work with. Petra, please do the same."

"Or just your favourite colours," inserted Captain Wolf with a smile. "That's usually enough."

'We will do that.' Signed Cyra. 'Now can we get something to eat? I'm hungry.'

I laughed. "Yes, it's about time for an early lunch. Do you have any suggestions?"

'Oh yes.' She signed with a grin.

------------------------------------------

Unit X - Information

Wednesday, October 11th, 2000, Oldenburg

Sheena sat in a comfortable chair with her bare feet resting on a soft footstool, once more wrapped in the fluffy white bathrobe for comfort, a cup of tea cradled in her hands.

So many things had happened in such a short span of time that it was easy to drown in details that had nothing to do with the case itself. The new Raptor jet. Zarita's arrival. The wedding. The shopping. The strange mixture of luxury, secrecy, and danger that seemed to follow Ivan Emilian everywhere.

However, once she stripped those layers away, one thing still bothered her.

From Angie's reading, they knew it was highly likely that Ivan had been the Unknown Psychic in Malaga. It was simply too improbable that two psychics with the same powers had been operating in the same area at the same time.

On the other hand, they could not be certain. There was no proof. She had not detected anything during her time here and, unless she found a way to get closer to Ivan, chances were that she never would. Without proof, or at least some kind of direct personal experience, there was not much she could do.

There was no law against being undetectable, so she could not even give him the standard warning about not using powers on other people. Not to mention that trying to recruit him, or following Angie's suggestion and having him train some of the new psychics, was completely out of the question.

Drinking some of the tea, she sighed.

The attack on him also bothered her, especially if the would-be assassin really turned out to be mind-controlled. Not only did that introduce an unknown player into the mix, but she had no doubt that it would make the security around Ivan even tighter, which in turn would make her mission harder.

She stiffened, the teacup halfway to the table.

When she, Angie, and Zarita had dinner at the gorgeous seaside restaurant, Angie had suggested that Zarita might be bait, sent to provoke an attack on Emilian. But what if Zarita had not been bait at all? What if she had been a witness instead?

An attack on a psychic would normally provoke some kind of psychic response as the target tried to protect him- or herself, and that kind of response was often extremely easy to detect.

The more she thought about it, the more far-fetched that scenario seemed, and yet the more likely it became. Especially since her boss had told them that Zarita's superior had received the report from Malaga at least five days before Zarita left for Oldenburg.

Assuming there had been no leaks anywhere, that also ruled out the Russians and the Chinese, for the simple reason that they did not know Ivan's name, making Unit X the most likely possibility.

Unfortunately, that also made Zarita's boss an asshole of the worst kind. Perhaps even a criminal, though Sheena was not entirely sure what kind of moves he was actually allowed to make.

She realised that she was still holding the teacup and took another sip, the familiar taste calming her a little.

If, and admittedly that was a very big if, Zarita's boss had arranged the assassination attempt, then many other things suddenly started to make sense. A professional hit would have been carried out at long range, giving the shooter a real chance to escape. But if the point had not truly been to kill Ivan, then the skill of the shooter hardly mattered, and a ruthless planner would not care whether his mind-controlled pawn survived or not. He might even prefer her dead.

Unfortunately, the lack of any real escape plan also suggested that the would-be assassin, Dragana Kovac, knew nothing that could be used as evidence or even point toward the person behind it.

Ivan's decision to hand Kovac over to Interpol had puzzled her, but his reason for doing so was plausible and, with the attack having been caught on security cameras, the security forces could hardly keep the woman locked away forever. As insane as the scene with the shooting had been, Ivan's movements to avoid being hit had still remained within the limits of what a human body could do without the use of obvious psychic powers.

Then a thought struck her, and a small smile touched her lips.

The incident had one clear advantage. It would make a request for an interview with Ivan about the assassination attempt seem like perfectly normal police work.

Still smiling, she rose from the chair. It was time to report to Mr. Newport and request an interview, so he could send it through the proper channels. However, her theory about who might be behind the attack would have to remain unspoken for now. She was probably wrong, and accusing the head of a foreign agency without evidence was not merely reckless. It was stupid.

----------

Half an hour later Sheena finished the call and placed the phone on the nightstand. She stood from the bed, stretched, and switched off the jamming equipment.

Now she had to wait for the interview request to go through, but at least she had a plan.

With a smile, she walked out of her room and headed for the bathroom. A morning shower before breakfast sounded very good right now.

The talk with Mr. Newport was still playing in her head when she opened the door to the bathroom and stepped inside, but the sight that met her made that disappear instantly.

Angie was standing in front of the mirror, doing something with her hair. That in itself was quite normal, but Angie was completely naked. Sheena felt a rush of arousal run through her as she took in the sight: the pretty face, the full, heavy breasts, soft and round with pale pink nipples, the gentle curve of her stomach, the wide hips, long legs, solid thighs, and slim calves.

All in all, she was an extremely tempting woman, and Sheena felt a fresh surge of lust. They hadn't had time to build on the sex they had started on the plane to Oldenburg, and it had been way too long since Sheena had had an orgasm that wasn't caused by her own hands.

"Sorry," Angie said, her voice carrying clear surprise. "I thought I had locked the door."

Sheena returned her eyes to Angie's face and smiled. "With a sight like that, you don't need to apologise." She untied the belt of her bathrobe and let it fall open. With a small shrug of her shoulders the robe slid down her body and pooled at her feet, leaving her completely naked. "Especially not after what we did on the plane."

Angie's eyes widened slightly, but a smile spread on her lips as she took in Sheena's bare form, her gaze moving slowly over Sheena's breasts, narrow waist, and smooth hips. Then she took a step forward. "Likewise."

Sheena closed the distance between them without another word. Their bodies met, skin brushing skin. Angie's hands slid up Sheena's sides as Sheena cupped one of Angie's heavy breasts, her thumb brushing lightly over the stiff nipple. A quiet moan escaped Angie's lips.

The kiss that followed was slow and hungry, making Sheena's body tingle.

"I think both the shower and hair can wait," she mumbled between two kisses. "Let's take it to the bed."

"Agreed," Angie breathed as her hands found and groped Sheena's arse for a short moment before letting go. "Come."

"Oh, I intend to do that several times," smiled Sheena as they walked out of the bathroom. "Last time you were the only one that got off. This time will be different."

-----------------------

Two hours later, Sheena felt much more at peace as she sat at the table with her laptop in front of her.

The sex had been good, starting in the bedroom and ending in the shower for a second round, and the breakfast that had followed had been of the usual high quality.

Most of the unrest she had felt in her body earlier was gone and she could actually focus on writing the report Mr. Newport had requested.

Sheena was halfway through the third paragraph when a laughing Angie walked back into the room, saying "Right. See you later." into her phone before hanging up.

Angie was still chuckling as she placed her phone on the table, causing Sheena to look up from her laptop and glance over at her. "That sounded like Zarita."

"It was. She was telling me how much she hates trying to keep an eye on rich people with private planes," answered the blonde as she leaned back in the seat. "According to their systems, Ivan Emilian, Zena and Cyra Baker, Petra Moroz and several others landed at Scholes International Airport in Galveston near Houston, Texas, an hour ago and went through customs there."

That made Sheena blink in surprise. "What're they doing in the US?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Angie with a slight shrug. "So, Zarita will be spending the day trying to figure out a way to meet the Baker twins once they come back to Oldenburg, which will happen this evening. At least that's what the flight plan says."

"Well, at least that gives us time to finish the report," commented Sheena, gesturing at the screen.

The blonde nodded and looked at her own laptop. They had been working on a report on what had happened during the wedding, so both had their laptops in the room.

A knock on the door made both agents glance in that direction. "Come."

The door swung open, and John Summers walked inside with a "Hello."

"Welcome back, John. Have a seat," greeted Sheena with a smile. "I trust that everything went well."

"It did," he confirmed as he closed the door behind him and walked over to an empty chair. "Dragana Kovac is safely in London, and the experts are looking at her now." He looked questioningly at Angie, who nodded slightly and pointed at the box with the green LEDs.

He nodded back and continued. "However, they're slightly baffled, as Kovac has an incredibly strong mental shield and, last I heard, they weren't sure they could break through it or sneak past it to discover what happened."

Angie made a face. "Not good... but then again, according to the instructors, every shield can be broken through given enough time."

"True," agreed Summers with a quick nod and reached into a pocket for a USB stick, which he handed to Sheena. "Here you go, Sheena. From Luis to you."

Sheena took the stick and inserted it into the computer, while Angie asked, "You need something to drink, John?"

He shook his head. "Thanks, but no." He paused, a spark of curiosity lighting up his eyes. "So... anything interesting happen while I was off playing delivery boy?"

Angie snorted. "Not really. Most of the wedding guests have returned home and, in return, a lot of high-ranking military people have shown up. It seems like everybody wants a piece of the Draak stealth fighter."

"And the investigation into the attack?" asked Summers as he sat down in a chair.

"Quiet," Angie admitted. "The Oldenburg side has locked it down tight, and Starlight is saying nothing. With Kovac already in London, there isn't much for the locals to work with, so most people are pretending nothing happened. Which is probably why the military crowd feels safe enough to keep coming."

Summers leaned back in the seat, running a hand thoughtfully through his dark hair. "I can't say I blame them, though I fail to see the haste. It's not like the world is on the brink of war right now." He lifted a hand. "Yes, there's a lot of terrorism and the like, but as far as I know, the superpowers are reasonably dormant."

Angie chuckled. "Yes, but it takes years to produce such a fighter in any significant number, so who knows how the world will look in five years."

Sheena, who had been absorbed in her screen, let out a low whistle. "This is nuts." She looked up. "You guys ready for some intel on Petra Moroz?"

"Oh yeah," Angie said. "Do tell."

Sheena's tone shifted as she slid into briefing mode. "According to what Luis got from the fingerprints on the business card, she was born as Milla Sabitov in Mykolaiv, Ukraine, in 1976. She has two older brothers and a younger sister. The father is from Ukraine and is a Major in the Army. The mother is Russian, and Miss Moroz speaks both languages, as well as English."

She paused, scanning the screen. "The Sabitov family has a long history of serving in the armed forces and both her elder brothers serve in the Armed Forces of Ukraine after graduating from Mykolaiv Military High School. However, females are not allowed in the Military High School, so in 1992 Miss Moroz moved to Russia to live with her maternal grandfather in the city of Ivanovo, where she could attend the Military High School there."

Summers held up a hand. "Wait a minute... Is that Ryazan Guards Higher Airborne Command School we're talking about here?"

Angie gave him a curious look. He sent her a smile. "Before I joined Interpol, I was Army Intelligence with a specialty in Eastern Europe."

She gave a small nod. As was evident by the hints of grey in Summers' otherwise dark hair, he was at least ten years older than her and Sheena. "So, you speak Russian?"

He grinned. "Yes. And Croatian, Ukrainian, and Polish."

Sheena blinked. "Impressive."

"Not in this company." John Summers chuckled. "As far as I remember, Angie speaks Dutch, German, Danish, and English, which is just as impressive... And I bet that you know just as many."

"Now that's a bet you'll lose," stated Sheena. "English and Hindi, that's it. And my Hindi's rusty. Now, can we get back to Moroz?"

"Please," said Summers with a smirk.

"Right." Sheena tapped a key. "Yes, Airborne Command School. They have a junior department for people related to the teachers there. Miss Moroz's grandfather, Viktor Drozdov, is a shooting instructor." She paused, glancing up at Summers. "By the way, John. With your background, you're bound to know more about this than we do, so feel free to comment or add to anything."

"Then let me start by saying that Airborne Command School is roughly the equivalent of Sandhurst in the UK or West Point in the USA, but for airborne forces. It's one of the best military schools in the world."

Sheena looked impressed and glanced at her screen again. "Apparently Miss Moroz took to the military training like a fish to water, because she graduated with honours in the summer of '96 and moved back to Ukraine."

John gestured, making her pause. "You can assume that the Sabitov family pulled some strings or paid somebody off at the school. Normally women are only allowed in the junior programs there." He thought for a moment and then added, "On the other hand, after the fall of the Soviet Union, it became a lot easier to bribe people."

Angie frowned slightly, her arms crossed. "So was the education real or pro forma?"

"Oh, it was real," Sheena replied, her tone steady. "Listen to this. Later in 1996, she joined the prestigious 1st Airmobile Division's 95th Airmobile Brigade as an administrative member, but because of her talent and possibly because her father was a Major there, she was later assigned to the security forces within that brigade."

Summers whistled softly. "That's the Ukrainian equivalent of the Military Police. They're extremely well-trained and there's a lot of prestige in being a member of that."

"Good info. I did not know that." Sheena admitted. "Anyway, the years Miss Moroz spent with her grandfather at the Airborne Command School were not wasted. She is a First-Class Specialist with both handguns and rifles and has won the brigade-wide shooting competition two years in a row."

"Damn," Angie muttered, her brows raised. "Okay, now I'm impressed."

"So am I," Summers added with a lopsided grin. "The lady's got both skills and looks."

Sheena nodded. "Yes, and because of that, she worked as a... eh..." She squinted at the screen. "...denshchik? Not sure what that is."

John Summers chuckled. "That's the Russian and Ukrainian version of an orderly or personal assistant in the army, who doubles as a driver and bodyguard."

"Aha," said Sheena, clicking again. "Well, normally women are not allowed as combat troops in Ukraine, but as a denshchik, Miss Moroz worked for Colonel Kinzerskiy, the commanding officer of the 95th Airmobile Brigade, and she was with him on peacekeeping missions in Sierra Leone, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and Liberia, and was involved in combat there." She paused, reading more. "Apparently, her organizational skills are top-notch too. She was promoted to Lieutenant."

"That explains it!" Summers blurted, making the others look up. He raised both hands apologetically. "Sorry, but it bothered me why an officer would hold a job as a denshchik, which is typically a job for non-officers, but it's a clever way to circumvent the rules about women in combat." He looked at Sheena. "Sorry for the interruption."

"No worries," Sheena said, smiling. "I figured you'd catch something like that." She turned back to her laptop. "A few months later, Milla, or Petra, abruptly quit the army and disappeared without a trace. At the time she was dating a high-ranking police officer, one Captain Stas Gleba, who of course investigated her disappearance and found she had sold off army materials worth half a million dollars on the black market."

"Oof." Summers winced. "Yeah, that wouldn't go over well with the brass."

"It didn't, which is why she was wanted," agreed Sheena. "However, something wasn't quite right about it and, pressed by Colonel Kinzerskiy as well as the Sabitov family and their friends, the army launched a new investigation, conducted by the armed forces this time. That investigation revealed Captain Gleba as the one who had dealings with the black market and that he had orchestrated her 'resignation' and disappearance to keep her quiet."

"What an ass," snorted Angie.

Sheena nodded. "Yes, but with surprising speed for a military court, Gleba was convicted, and she was acquitted. Captain Gleba tried to cut a deal by turning on his old friends but was killed in jail before he could give evidence." She leaned back, tapping a nail against the desk, thoughtful. "That's the end of the file, so there's no explanation for how she ended up with Emilian."

Angie laughed softly. "That has to be a record for going from disappeared and wanted criminal to the personal assistant and girlfriend of the Chairman of a billion-dollar company."

"Here's how she looked about a year ago." Sheena turned the screen, so the others could see an official picture of Milla Sabitov, later Petra Moroz, in the deep olive-green dress uniform of the Airmobile Brigade and with a maroon beret on her head. Three rows of coloured ribbons sat over the left pocket and several insignias and badges adorned the uniform.

"Can you zoom in on the ribbons?" Summers asked, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing in focus.

"Sure." Sheena tapped a few keys and zoomed in on the cluster of medals and ribbons.

Summers raised his brows as the details sharpened. "Okaaaay. Moroz is clearly not someone you should mess with. The top row is 'For Courage -- 3rd Class', which is given for personal bravery. The second row starts with the medal 'For Military Service to Ukraine', which is awarded for excellent service, discipline, and combat readiness. The next is 'Defender of the Motherland', normally granted to soldiers doing peacekeeping missions, which also fits with the bottom row, which is the Ukrainian Peacekeeping Service Medal, followed by medals for UN missions to Croatia, Macedonia, and Sierra Leone."

"Busy woman," commented Angie as she looked at the picture. "Do you know what the badges are for?"

"Oh, yes," Summers replied with a half-smile and a note of grim respect in his voice. "Those badges are Parachutist Badge, 1st Class. Airmobile Assault Badge. First-Class Marksman for pistol and First-Class Marksman for rifle. And that little pin on the lower left chest is a Shooting Champion pin for pistol." He chuckled as he shook his head. "That means she didn't just qualify. She outshot everyone in her brigade." He looked at Sheena. "Do you have her full military papers? I would really like to know how she got that 'For Courage' order."

"Yes, but as I don't read Ukrainian, I only read the translator's summary," Sheena admitted. "Do you want to look through them?"

"Oh yes." Summers smiled. "This is fascinating."

They changed places, so Summers could sit with the laptop at the desk, while Sheena sat down on the sofa.

"Well," chuckled Angie, shaking her head. "At least Zarita can be sure that the Baker twins are in safe hands."

Sheena nodded slowly, her expression shifting to something more thoughtful. "Yes. Petra Moroz turned out to be an elite soldier of sorts... or at least a very good one... but I don't think she's the only one. My gut says she's one of four or five."

Angie's eyes widened. "Ahhh... so what about the others?"

"Exactly. Let's get the pictures of the bridesmaids to Luis and see what he can find." She paused for a moment and then added, "But nothing official. If one or more of these women have been kidnapped, I don't want to endanger them, which might be the case if they can witness against anyone." She saw the expression on Angie's face and explained. "I think Parker had them, but I doubt he went out and kidnapped them personally. Those women look like they come from different countries, which means an organization capable of taking and trafficking women, which means global and definitely dangerous."

"They usually are," remarked Summers from his place at the laptop. "And speaking of danger, I found the reason behind the 'For Courage' order. Listen to this: While serving with the 95th Airmobile Brigade under UNAMSIL Sector 3B, Lt. Moroz demonstrated exceptional tactical judgment, personal courage, and battlefield leadership during an ambush near Kabala. Under direct fire, she extracted a wounded commanding officer, provided suppressive fire, coordinated emergency comms, and administered life-saving aid until medical evacuation arrived. Her conduct prevented further loss of life and ensured mission continuity. He looked up. "That's the official statement. The wounded officer was none other than Colonel Volodymyr Kinzerskiy, the Commanding Officer of the 95th Airmobile Brigade."

Sheena's eyes widened. "The same guy who pushed for the second investigation?"

"Exactly," Summers nodded. "No wonder he didn't buy into Gleba's little story. That man owed her his life." He thought for a moment. "I think there's a good chance that Moroz and the other bridesmaids are still under some form of mind control."

"Please explain that."

Summers tapped the edge of the laptop. "Petra Moroz reads like a textbook career officer. Brave, decorated, loyal. Once the charges against her were dropped and Gleba was exposed, her first move should've been to return to the brigade, so she could resume her career. But she didn't."

He held up a hand. "And don't say she might not know. Moroz is clearly smart, capable, and well-connected. If she were thinking clearly, she would've found out."

Sheena folded her arms, nodding slowly. "Good point. Though... maybe she stayed by choice. She's got a dream job, a rich, ridiculously attractive boyfriend, and a rank in Starlight Security. That's practically a private army."

Angie added, "And being a bodyguard, assistant, and organiser is not too different from what she did in the Ukrainian army."

"I know, but it's still something we need to take into account," Summers said softly. "And please remember that being mind-controlled into something isn't the same as disliking it. It just means the choice was never truly yours." His tone grew serious. "At some point in the future we need to check those women to see if that is the case."

"I'll make a note of it," promised Sheena. "And let's get those pictures to Luis as soon as possible. I'm really curious about what we'll find."

------------------------------------------

Space Center Houston

Wednesday, October 11th, 2000

The place the three girls wanted to try was called Gaido's and was one of the oldest restaurants in the Galveston area. Despite it being fall break, we managed to get a table large enough to seat us all and settled down to eat. As we settled in, Cyra and Zena recommended the seafood, claiming that the restaurant was famous for it, and when the food arrived, I could see why: it really was very good, even compared to the excellent seafood restaurants on Oldenburg.

We were halfway through an impressive shellfish tower when Captain Wolf broke the lull. "Excuse me, Mr. Ivan, but when do we fly back to Oldenburg?"

I gestured for her to continue as I savoured a piece of succulent blue crab.

"Well, one of my old friends works in the marina here. I wondered if I'd have time to visit her while den Adel finishes up the paperwork."

Swallowing, I gave her a smile. "Petra has planned a trip to Houston Space Center after dinner, so yes, you have time." She smiled at that, and I looked over at Jan den Adel and Frederik Hansen. "What about you two?"

Jan thought for a moment. "I'll need at least three hours for the paperwork on the cruise ships... and another two or three hours for the Raven. I'll need to set up a bank transfer with Mrs. Rodriquez and arrange for a crew to sail the ship to Oldenburg."

I nodded and turned to the engineer. "And you, Mr. Hansen? How about your plans?"

Hansen chuckled lightly. "Oh, I can easily fill the time. There's a lot I want to plan for the Raven, but I'll start by reviewing the reports so they're ready when the crew comes in."

"Perfect." I looked back at Captain Wolf. "We've got the rest of the day here. Go ahead and visit your friend. We'll meet up somewhere for dinner."

"Thank you," she said with a small, appreciative smile.

Turning to Petra, I asked, "Did the Space Center ever call you back?"

She shook her head with a grin. "No, but I have a cunning plan."

Jan den Adel chuckled. "Not to doubt your skills, Petra, but how exactly are you going to pull that off during fall break? The Space Center's bound to be packed."

Petra pulled out her phone and stood, her expression turning determined. "With the unbeatable combination of charm, diplomacy, and a little financial persuasion. Please excuse me for a moment."

"That..." said Jan den Adel with a smile, as Petra walked away from the table, "... is one formidable woman. I think she's one of the best Executive Assistants I've ever met."

Captain Wolf opened her mouth as if to say something but then closed it again with a grin as she shook her head. "Sorry, Jan. I was about to say that the fact that she's drop-dead gorgeous doesn't hurt either, but I guess that doesn't apply to you."

Den Adel chuckled. "Just because I'm homosexual doesn't mean I can't appreciate the aesthetic of beauty when I see it and Petra is by all means a beautiful woman." He paused for a moment. "However, if she was nothing more than a gorgeous face and a well-shaped body, she would just be one of many pretty women and not really material for an Executive Assistant. Fortunately, Petra has the brains and skills to go with her looks."

Captain Wolf nodded. "I'm betting she not only gets you in there, but she'll arrange something special as well."

Frederik Hansen raised his eyebrows. "With no warning during the American fall break? I bet you ten that she'll just manage to get tickets."

Jan den Adel looked at me. "Are you in on it, Mr. Ivan?"

I shook my head with a grin. "I'd rather not take easy money from the people responsible for handling a company yacht later. I'd hate for it to mysteriously sink a hundred miles offshore."

Both Captain Wolf and den Adel chuckled at that, but Cyra raised a hand and when she had everybody's attention, she quickly signed. 'I'll take that bet.'

'Me too', signed Zena a heartbeat later and glanced sideways. 'And so is Chloe.'

Chloe looked wide-eyed at the twins, but when they nodded to her, she looked at Hansen and nodded as well.

I translated the sign language for the rest, adding. "Good. Now let's eat while we wait for the result."

It took most of the dinner for Petra to prove the twins' faith in her. She left the table to use her phone several times during the meal and when she was done, she had not only got us tickets to Houston Space Center, but the exclusive VIP treatment, complete with a private guided tour and a light meal with an astronaut who could use sign language.

"Do I even want to know how you did that? Or how much money it cost?" I asked with a smile.

Petra returned my smile with an air of nonchalance. "Less than you think, Mr. Ivan. I have your J.P. Morgan Chase Palladium Card and your American Express black card, both of which, like your Elite Card from Bank of Oldenburg, come with 24/7 concierge services and VIP access to numerous sites, especially in the US. So, I called them first, told them what I needed and had them arrange things with the Space Center, while I had dinner like a civilised person. When they had organised it, I called the Space Center to confirm it and arranged for it to be a bit more private... oh... and while I was at it, I paid for the dinner and arranged transportation. The limo arrives in five minutes."

Captain Wolf and den Adel laughed at that and with a wry smile, Hansen handed the girls a ten-dollar bill each. "Here you go, girls. Have fun at the Space Center."

Smiling widely, the three girls accepted their winnings with small dances of joy.

Petra glanced between them, puzzled. I leaned closer and whispered, "I'll explain later."

"Good." She smirked and winked at the girls. "Good thing you brought your cameras. This is going to be epic."

--------------------------------

Space Center Houston was nothing short of impressive even to my limited knowledge of the technology behind it. The giant rockets at the entrance were an awesome sight and reminded me that even without Powers, humans should not be underestimated. At their best, they were clever, inventive, creative and were able to achieve the seemingly impossible with a determination that few Baylons could match.

Once inside, we were met by a young woman dressed in the NASA uniform. At first sight, she was average and with that I mean that her height was average, her long hair was the light brown colour so many other people had, and her clothes were the standard shirt-and-skirt uniform. As we came nearer, I could see that she was actually pretty, but there was a tension in her face and body that didn't become her.

On the plus side, she lit up in a smile as soon as she discovered that we were the people she had been waiting for and using both voice and sign language, she introduced herself as Rebecca Vega and told the girls to call her 'Becky'.

She also suggested that we started with the starship gallery and then sat down to talk afterwards over a light meal.

We did as she suggested and I stayed a little in the background as we walked through the huge gallery, studying Apollo, Mercury and Gemini space modules, while Rebecca Vega explained about the various attractions and answered questions. It was fun to watch as it had only taken a few moments for her to figure out that the three girls were mute and not deaf, so she mainly looked at them, reading their signed questions and answering verbally.

The trio must have had space exploration in school, because from their questions, it was clear that they knew what most of the things were and the awe they displayed came from seeing stuff they had only read about.

After we had marvelled at the Skylab Trainer and touched an actual stone from the moon, it was time for the promised light meal and Rebecca Vega took us into a small room, where we could sit and enjoy the meal, while she explained about the American space program as well as the astronaut training.

At least that was the plan, but before we even got started, the trio asked if they could use some of the time for an interview for a school project instead.

Vega was delighted at the suggestion and since they didn't need a translator, Petra and I could relax and enjoy the food while the girls conducted the interview.

They started out with asking how to become an astronaut and with a chuckle, Vega explained that you had to be a US citizen, have a master's degree in a relevant field and be able to pass a physical. Using herself as an example, she had a master's degree in aerospace engineering and kept in shape by scuba diving and swimming.

"She wants you." Petra whispered into my ear, tearing my focus away from the interview.

"What?" I managed to whisper back, making Petra chuckle softly, as she switched to Ukrainian. "I saw the way she looked at you, when you were focused on the moon stones. Trust me, she wants you... badly."

Instead of answering, I looked at Vega, using my natural ability to read emotions, since there was no way I would use Ars Mentalis here.

I felt her good mood and a feeling that being a private tour guide here had gone much better than she had expected, when she got the assignment... and as Petra suspected, there was an underlying sense of unfulfilled sexual desires. However, as she was focused on the interview, I couldn't really tell anything specific about them.

With a slight shrug of my shoulder, I whispered, "Not right now, but thanks for enlightening me."

"Oh, you're welcome... and if you can't detect it now, try later."

When the interview was over, Vega delivered her prepared explanation and since that took the rest of the meal, we walked over to the astronaut gallery, where they were ready with a show-and-tell about the science behind rockets. Unfortunately, they started the show with a film of a rocket taking off and it was so loud, I excused myself to the rest and left the room, before my ears started to hurt.

Outside there was almost silence, a tribute to the engineers that had made the room soundproof, and I sat down on a nearby bench to enjoy it, but it didn't take long before Rebecca Vega came out to see where I had gone.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Emilian." She said as she sat down beside me. "Your wife told me that you're sensitive to loud noises."

For a moment I was surprised but then started to laugh. "My wife? Did she say that?"

Vega looked embarrassed. "No, I just assumed that you were a family."

Still chuckling, I shook my head. "No, I don't have a wife or even a girlfriend. Petra's my personal assistant and the twins are daughters of a friend, while Chloe is a friend of theirs from school. They're visiting me for fall break."

"Sorry about that, sir." She said and I could feel her embarrassment even without trying.

"No worries, Miss Vega. You couldn't have known that we aren't related." I said, as I got my amusement under control.

A faint smile started to show on her lips. "Well, now that I think about it, the girls are using American Sign Language, but Miss Moroz sounds eastern European, and you don't sound American either."

"Oh, I'm not." I chuckled. "I live in the Caribbean."

"Ahh... Nice when the weather behaves." The smile grew larger. "I like scuba diving and the Caribbean has some fantastic diving sites."

"Yes, Miss Moroz keeps telling me that." I admitted. "She scuba dives as well."

That got her interest. "Oh? Where if I may ask?"

"Mostly at home." I explained with a slight shrug. "Clear water, volcanic reefs and southern enough to not have to worry about hurricanes too much."

Her head tilted slightly. "Volcanic and south of the hurricane belt..." She was silent for a moment. "That has to be Oldenburg Island."

I nodded. "Yes. We live there, so the ocean is conveniently nearby. Basically, right outside the door."

She laughed softly. "Nice... Oh... Do you know Pegasus Aerospace? Because I have to admit that I'm a big fan of their Blended Wing Body planes. They're just gorgeous!"

I sent her a smile. "I don't think it's possible to live on Oldenburg and not know about Pegasus Aerospace. The island is not that big."

"True that." She chuckled and then became serious. "Do you have any idea how they managed to produce those so fast? I mean, it felt like they pulled them out of a hat."

"I'm not any kind of expert," I told her. "But rumours are that Titan Aerospace started the research back in the early 1980s and as the commercial airliner was certified in 1998, with the business jet following in 1999, that's nearly twenty years of development." I chuckled. "Not exactly what I would call 'pulled from a hat.'"

"You have a point." She admitted and sighed. "That's the problem with Titan Aerospace being a private company. Boeing and Lockheed are publicly traded, so they like to come up with plans and models to make the stockholders and governments happy long before their planes are ready. Private companies like Titan Aerospace don't need to do that. As far as I remember, they have never announced a new model before it could fly."

I shrugged lightly. "Then you know more about it than I do."

"Then I guess you don't know much about the Iridium system either," she said with a sigh.

That I actually did know something about. Iridium was the name of a mesh of satellites that Motorola had invented and launched a few years ago. Being purely satellite based, it allowed their users to connect from almost anywhere on the planet.

While the system was, according to the experts, technologically sound and worked exactly like it was supposed to, they had vastly overestimated the number of users. While they were designing and launching satellites, the ground-based network for cell phones had spread all over the world, making the cheaper cell phones the better choice for most people. With too few subscribers and costs bleeding out every month, the project collapsed, and Motorola eventually walked away from it.

Then some bright mind at Titan Aerospace had realised that the network could be used for more than talking. It could connect Starlight's many ships, planes, power plants and factories in a network that was totally independent of anything else.

So, Titan Aerospace had bought the whole thing for thirty million dollars, provided they kept the system alive and covered the twenty-million-dollar yearly upkeep for the system. Spread over dozens of companies and subdivisions, that cost was almost invisible. It stopped being an expense and became the communications backbone of the company.

I laughed softly. "What's the big mystery? You guys know everything there is to know about satellites."

She smiled as she shrugged. "For the technical part, yes. I'm just curious as to how Titan is going to make it profitable when Motorola couldn't."

"I'm hardly an expert on satellite economics, Miss Vega," I said with a smile. "But from what little I've heard, Titan didn't try to sell phones to private people. There're a lot of different sectors that can benefit from this. Take transport as an example. With satellite communications, the shipping companies on Oldenburg will have communication that works in the middle of the ocean, and the same goes for planes." I shrugged. "If you switch your thinking from private communication to commercial, I'm pretty sure the people here can come up with more and better examples than I can."

Vega sat still for a moment, and I could almost see her brain shift gears as she looked into the air. "That... is indeed a..."

"Excuse me," said a male voice in French before she had a chance to finish the sentence. "But do you speak French?"

Looking over, I discovered an elderly man looking at me. Behind him stood an aged lady, looking somewhat uncomfortable. Switching to French, I said. "Yes, I do. How can I help you?"

He held up a map of the facility. "Could you please tell us where we are?"

"Sure... or at least the lovely lady here can point it out for you." I turned towards Rebecca Vega, switching to English. "This gentleman needs to know where he is on the map."

"Ah." Smiling at the elderly man, she pointed at the map. "Here."

"Merci." He said, took an extra look at the map and hurriedly led the woman down a corridor.

"Well, that was strange." I mumbled, causing Vega to laugh softly. "No, the toilets are in that direction and the woman looked like she needed one. They must have taken the wrong map by accident, because we do have maps in French as well."

"Not so strange then." I admitted with a smile and looked over at the door to the astronaut gallery. "How long does this segment take?"

"That depends on their choices." Said Vega. "This segment normally takes about forty-five minutes, but as special VIP guests, they can choose to try the simulator, where they're astronauts during a launch. That takes another forty-five minutes and then we finish off with seeing the STS-92 launch from the VIP Observation lounge at the Mission Control Center." She chuckled. "To be honest, you couldn't have picked a better day to watch a launch. STS-92 is the 100th Space Shuttle Mission, which makes it special."

"Good... they're gonna love that." I paused for a moment. "But if it's the same simulator you pointed out earlier, it's going to involve suffering loud noises while locked in a metal box."

A faint smile spread on her lips as she nodded. "You would be right about that."

"I thought so." I said drily. "So, do you have any suggestions as to what I can do instead for the next one-and-a-half hour or so?"

To my surprise, there was a sudden spike of lust coming from her, proving that Petra had been right. It didn't matter much though. People have sexual thoughts all the time without acting on them and the spike lessened as her professionalism took over. "That will depend on what you're interested in seeing here."

"Not much." I said with a chuckle. "Miss Moroz and the three girls are the science fiction fans, not me. I'm more into ancient history, sailing and people."

That made her lift an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I know what you mean with 'people'."

"People are in general more interesting than things." I explained as I gestured around. "All these incredible achievements that are on display here wouldn't have happened if there weren't some equally incredible people working on making all this possible."

A thought hit me and made me chuckle. "Not to mention those insanely brave people, who have been willing to strap themselves into what is essentially a flying fuel tank, so that they can get shot into the most inhospitable environment imaginable without a chance of rescue if anything goes wrong."

A smile was starting to show on her face as I said, 'flying fuel tank'.

I inclined my head to her. "Astronauts have to be some of the bravest people on the planet... have an unshakeable trust in the science and engineering behind these crafts... so while the others are pretending to be shot off the planet can we take the tour again... and this time I would really like to know the story of the people instead of the machines."

The smile had been growing while I was speaking and when I was done, it was out in full force. "Most certainly, Mr. Emilian."

I stood and bowed as I made a sweeping gesture. "After you, Lady Astronaut."

So, while Petra, Chloe and the Twins tried the simulator, Rebecca Vega took me for a new tour this time talking about the many men and women who had made a trip to space possible and those who went there. Robert Goddard, who apparently was the 'father of modern rocketry'. Yuri Gagarin as the first human in space. Wernher von Braun who had engineered much of the Saturn V rocket that took people to the moon and Neil Armstrong as the first human on the moon.

Rebecca also made sure to include Valentina Tereshkova, the first woman in space, and noted that the United States had sent several African American astronauts into orbit, starting with Guion Bluford in 1983.

It was really interesting and a lot better than standing around listening to someone talking about technical details I didn't really get anyway.

It also filled up the time nicely, and I was surprised when Rebecca gently said, "We should head back now. The others should be finishing the simulator soon."

As it turned out, they had been done for a while, and true to form, Petra had taken the three girls shopping in the gift shop, so when we found them again, all four of them were wearing official looking blue NASA windbreakers, with the NASA logo proudly embroidered on the left chest.

The smiles on their faces nearly took their ears, and the girls looked very proud as they turned around so I could see the logo on the back as well.

'What do you say?' signed Cyra. 'Isn't it cool?'

I nodded. "It looks really good... Remind me that we need to take a picture of the three of you later."

'Four' signed Zena with a determined look on her face and pointed at Petra.

"The four of us for you," chuckled Petra. "And the three of you for the school assignment."

They considered that for a moment and agreed.

Rebecca Vega coughed politely to get our attention. "Not to break up the fun, but we need to go if we're to catch the launch."

"Right... Lead the way, Lady Astronaut."

The three girls were the first to follow Rebecca Vega and they had her full attention, as they signed several questions while we walked.

Petra leaned closer to me and switched to Ukrainian as she whispered. "What did you do to her? She looked at you like she could eat you raw when we were talking about the pictures." She smiled. "In the best possible way, I mean."

"I don't know," I answered in the same language. "I just told her that I didn't give a crap about the machines. I would rather hear about the people." I gestured in the direction of the exhibitions. "I mean, without people those things would be rather pointless."

That caused a soft laughter. "Well, that explains it. I bet she's not used to anyone wanting to hear about the people." She shook her head in amusement. "Not to mention that she doesn't know how good your memory is, so I bet she's convinced you paid attention to every word she said."

"I did. It was a lot more interesting than the rockets." I told her with a smile. "Oh... Good idea with the windbreakers by the way. They looked really proud about them... and so do you for that matter."

To my amusement, she blushed a little. "Ivan, the chances of any Ukrainian coming here isn't that big. So, thank you. I've had a very good day... and it's going to get even better now." She nodded to indicate that Rebecca Vega had stopped outside a set of doors. Over them a sign said, 'Mission Control.'

As soon as we caught up to them, Rebecca Vega opened the glass doors and led us into the quiet observation lounge that overlooked Mission Control. The room was dimly lit, with several rows of consoles visible below us where engineers and flight controllers worked.

The three girls stepped inside and immediately geeked out. Their eyes went wide and they leaned forward, staring at the large front screens that showed Discovery standing tall on the launch pad under a bright blue Florida sky. The countdown clock ticked steadily in the corner while telemetry numbers updated across the monitors.

Cyra signed quickly, 'This is amazing! It feels like we are inside a movie!'

Rebecca caught the signs and chuckled softly. "Movies wish they could capture this kind of real tension. Every person in this room has been working toward this moment for months."

Chloe signed, 'What is the mission?'

"This flight is delivering important pieces to the International Space Station," Rebecca explained, keeping her voice low. "A new truss segment and a set of control moment gyroscopes that will help stabilize the station. And because it is the 100th Shuttle launch, it is a pretty big milestone."

Petra moved quietly around the girls, taking photos of them as they watched the screens, their faces full of wonder against the background of busy controllers and glowing telemetry displays.

As the countdown approached T-minus ten minutes, the room grew even more focused. Soft voices called out status checks.

"Propulsion is go."

"Range safety is go."

Rebecca quietly narrated each step while Petra continued snapping pictures.

When the announcer's voice began the final countdown, Petra gently touched Cyra's shoulder and whispered, "Girls, get your cameras ready. The final countdown is starting."

The three girls nodded and quickly got their cameras ready.

"Ten... nine... eight..."

"Main engine start," Rebecca whispered.

"Three... two... one... liftoff."

The room erupted in quiet but heartfelt cheers as the live feed showed Discovery's engines ignite in a brilliant burst of flame and smoke. The shuttle rose slowly at first, then accelerated, climbing away from the pad on a pillar of fire. The girls kept their eyes on the screen, following the shuttle as it climbed higher and higher until it became a bright speck trailing a long white smoke plume.

The girls grinned from ear to ear. Petra's smile was enormous as she captured the moment. The perfect images for the school assignment.

"Welcome to history," Rebecca said softly, looking at the three of them.

They beamed back and carefully packed their cameras away before signing enthusiastic thanks once the immediate moment had passed.

As the shuttle vanished into the upper atmosphere, leaving behind a fading trail of white smoke, Rebecca turned to Petra and me. "We will give the team a few minutes to focus on the early ascent phase. After that, feel free to take all the photos you want and ask any questions."

After the launch feed quieted down, Petra had the three girls pose together inside the observation lounge with the big screens and consoles in the background. Then she took more pictures of them with Rebecca. Once we stepped outside the lounge, Petra made them pose again in the hallway and near the exit doors, so she could get shots of all three girls together and then the three girls with her. The girls were still buzzing with excitement and kept smiling for every photo.

As they were doing that, I walked over to Rebecca Vega. "We will be leaving soon, but I wanted to thank you for a truly unique and interesting experience, and I hope we meet again at some point."

The spike of lust I had felt from her before returned in full force as she smiled at me. "That is not impossible. From what I've heard, Oldenburg is an awesome place for diving."

I considered that for a moment. "Tell you what, next time you want to go diving, give me a call. I have a guest room and a yacht with a diving center you can use. I'm sure Petra and the rest of her diving buddies will be delighted to have you onboard."

Rebecca's smile widened, warm and genuine, though the undercurrent of desire was still clearly there. "I might just take you up on that, Mr. Emilian."

I returned the smile. "Good... oh... And you would be my guest, of course, so you would only have to pay for the flight to Oldenburg and back. I'll take care of the rest."

She blinked, clearly surprised, and let out a soft, slightly flustered laugh. "That's... incredibly generous. Are you sure? I mean, a guest room and access to a yacht with a diving center... that sounds like a dream trip for someone like me."

That made me chuckle. "Calling it incredibly generous is somewhat of a stretch. As I said, Petra is already using the yacht for diving, and the guest room is already there." I sent her a grin. "Even with the prices these VIP tours cost here, I think I can survive paying for food for a week or two."

Rebecca let out a soft, genuine laugh as she tilted her head slightly, studying me for a moment as if trying to decide how serious I was.

"You make it sound so casual," she said, sounding genuinely appreciative of the offer. "Most people don't just offer their yacht and a guest room to someone they met a few hours ago."

I snorted. "If NASA trusts you enough to put you in a billion-dollar rocket, I think I can trust you not to scratch the paint on a yacht while diving."

Rebecca laughed, a warm, surprised sound that made her eyes crinkle. She shook her head, clearly amused, but there was a soft flush on her cheeks that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"Fair point," she admitted, still smiling. "I will consider your offer."

"Good." I signalled to Petra, who was watching the girls doing a photo session. She came over immediately. "Yes, sir?"

"Petra, could you please hand a card to Miss Vega here," I asked. "She's a diver and I've invited her to Oldenburg for a dive at some point."

Petra lit up in a smile. "Oh, a fellow diver. Nice." She looked over at Rebecca Vega and started asking her diving questions, so I walked over to the girls. "You better wrap this up, girls."

Before they could protest, I held up a hand. "It's getting late, and we still need to drive back to the airport and fly home."

"Okay, but we're doing it under protest," signed Cyra, smiling as she said it.

"That is fair, but we still have to go. The limo should be here in about five minutes."

They nodded and began packing their cameras, so I walked back to Petra and Rebecca, watching them carefully as I came nearer. Rebecca had a card in her hand and was telling Petra something that made the Ukrainian smile and nod.

Rebecca finished her story just as I joined them, and Petra looked over at me. "Five minutes, sir."

I nodded and said my goodbyes to Rebecca. Petra did the same, and a moment later the girls joined us to say their own goodbye, before we walked towards the parking area, the girls waving goodbye to Rebecca Vega most of the way.

Petra glanced at me and switched to Ukrainian as she lowered her voice. "Do you think she likes girls?"

I shook my head slightly. "I knew you would ask, so I looked, but I'll have to say no." I shrugged slightly. "But she's a professional, so it might be different if she accepts the invitation and can relax on Oldenburg."

I didn't add that there was only about a one-in-ten chance of it. Reality had already shown me that there was a huge difference between global statistics and the people we tended to run into.

------------------------------------------

Flying home

Wednesday October 11th, 2000, The Phoenix

After the whirlwind of a day, I wasn't the least bit surprised when Chloe, Cyra, and Zena dozed off on the sofa in the salon, the soft hum of the jet's engines lulling them into sleep. The cabin lights were dimmed, casting a warm golden glow over their relaxed faces.

"Excuse me, sir," the stewardess, Anna Richter, asked. "But do you want me to tuck the girls in?"

I smiled and nodded to her. "That would be nice."

"Very well, Mr. Ivan." She took some soft blankets from an overhead locker and carefully draped one of them over Zena, tucking her in before proceeding to the next girl.

With a slight smile, I turned around and walked back to my chair. Jan den Adel had fallen asleep in his chair and Frederik Hansen was shuffling through some papers, but Petra sat elegantly in her seat, phone pressed to her ear as she jotted down notes with practiced efficiency. Her brow furrowed slightly, lips pursed in concentration, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes.

I waited until she ended the call with a shake of her head and a quiet chuckle, and then said, "Yes?"

Her expression shifted into something half-exasperated, half-entertained.

"The Raptor 35 Draak is making waves... big ones," she declared, twirling her pen between her fingers. "The Turkish Air Force decided that since the Draak was now official, they could use it in Operation Northern Watch over Iraq, instead of risking their RA-30s. So, they sent a couple of Draaks in to take out the Iraqi anti-air batteries, giving the RA-30s a clear path to take out a radar installation." She smiled widely. "That went exactly as it should. The Iraqi anti-air radars went dark, and a minute later the whole site lit up like a bonfire. The follow-on strike from the RA-30 went in clean. Not a single missile fired in return."

"Good," said Frederik Hansen, looking like a proud father. "Exactly what they were built for."

"Yes," agreed Petra. "But the word spread like wildfire and now European defense officials are practically lining up for a meeting with Titan Aerospace. The same goes for India, South Korea, Japan and, of course, an American diplomat. That's why van Koppen wants to know if you're available for a meeting tomorrow morning."

I exhaled slowly, rolling the information over in my mind, before I nodded to her. "Yes, and if they ask for more meetings, fit them into times when Esther is teaching, they're visiting Alejandra at the hospital or when you're all busy with the twins... yoga, martial arts, whatever it is you're doing with them. I didn't invite them here just to vanish into meetings all day."

Rubbing my forehead, I determined to say as little as possible during that meeting. Eric van Koppen had years of experience with the subject, an experience I couldn't match no matter how fast I read or how good my memory was. The only reason I had to be there was that Parker's Loyalty Codex specified that he had to be present for major deals and with the shift in loyalty to me, I had to be present.

Petra's lips curled into a small, approving smile. "Understood. I'll coordinate with Eric van Koppen and the rest to get everything lined up."

"Good." I turned my attention to Frederik Hansen, who had looked up from his papers and was quietly observing the exchange. "Mr. Hansen, I know this isn't exactly your field, but based on your experience, how long would it take to set up full-scale production plants for the Draak in other countries?"

That made Hansen lift his eyebrows. "In Brazil, Turkey, India and Oldenburg one of the assembly lines was converted to the 35 Draak a year ago and started production in May, which is why Turkey already had their first batch of Draaks." He leaned back in the seat, looking amused. "So do India and Brazil, since those contracts were finalized a year ago. In addition, the lines in India and Brazil that are currently making RA-29s and RA-30s are done with the current orders in a few months and will then be converted to the RA-35 as well." He shrugged lightly. "With the lack of speed most countries have when it comes to military procurement, we'll stay ahead of the curve for years. Especially if South Korea takes the deal we offered them. When the additional lines there are ready in a couple of years, it'll be more than sufficient."

That made Petra cough. "Are you saying that Raptor started making the Draak before we even have a single order?"

Hansen nodded with a smile. "Aside from the Turkish, Indian, and Brazilian test orders, that's a yes. I know it sounds risky, but we're making really good planes, and we have done that with the other models as well."

Petra asked another question, but I wasn't paying attention, as I was looking through the memories I had acquired from Parker and discovered that Hansen was completely right. Not only had Parker used his mind-controlling ability to ensure that the Pegasus series gained a foothold in a commercial market dominated by Boeing and Airbus, but his precognitive abilities had given Raptor Aerospace an unparalleled edge, allowing them to make bold moves others wouldn't dare attempt when it came to fighter jets.

Not only had the ability allowed him to pick the right planes to develop, but with several key people in Brazil, India, and the Middle East under his influence, the Raptor series of fighter jets were certain to be an overwhelming success. Not only because they were good planes, but also because the fall of the Soviet Union had created a window of opportunity where nobody was really sure if there was a support system for their Soviet-era planes in the future.

To make it even better, Raptor had started producing new planes at a time when many older planes needed replacement and Raptor was the only producer that could deliver planes without nations having to align themselves with any of the established powers.

The first fighter jet, the RA-27, had allowed Raptor Aerospace to gain a foothold in the market and as the RA-29 and RA-30 came along even more nations became interested. That's when Raptor Aerospace started building planes about half a year before they were even introduced to the market. That meant that when someone like Qatar or Jordan ordered twelve fighter jets, the simulators along with the Czech-made trainer jets were delivered within weeks, while the real fighter jets along with their spare parts would be delivered within months instead of years. The latter being the norm for the fighter jet industry.

Unfortunately, it also wasn't an approach I would recommend to anyone else unless they had precognition as well, because without the ability to glimpse into the future, a failed bet could cost the company billions of dollars. However, in this situation it worked and made setting up production lines a lot faster along with the modular build Raptor Aerospace used.

Most of the parts coming from subcontractors were designed as modules, drastically reducing assembly time, enabling even the small manufacturing plant on Oldenburg to produce five of each type per month. The trade-off was slightly higher component costs, which cut into profits, but according to Eric van Koppen, the CEO of Titan Aerospace, the speed and adaptability of the production line were worth the price.

It was also an important factor in the readiness of the aircraft, as a damaged module could be changed relatively quickly and the plug-and-play system lessened the need for highly specialized mechanics in the field.

I snapped out of Parker's memories in time to catch Hansen deliver the last part of the official explanation for the rapid delivery to Petra, who was listening as she looked relaxed.

"To be honest we have also been extremely lucky," Hansen said. "Turkey, Greece, and the Czech Republic had just cleared their RA-27 for active operations when they were asked to help with NATO's operations over Bosnia. And when the RA-29 came online in '96, they were able to deploy those as well. By the time the Kosovo crisis escalated, their squadrons were flying regular patrols and strike escorts, giving the alliance both reach and flexibility it badly needed."

That made Petra's eyebrows raise. "Nice. Then I might have seen and heard some of them overhead."

"Oh... you were there?" Hansen said, clearly surprised.

Petra just nodded. "Yes, I was there as a lieutenant in the Ukrainian Airmobile Forces." She thought for a moment. "You might be more familiar with the term Airborne Infantry from all the American films."

Hansen gave a small smile. "Then you might be interested to know the Oldenburg Sea Guard was there too. The Netherlands had asked for their support, and the Queen Wilhelmina was on her first voyage home from India along with the rest of the group through the Suez. So, to help the Netherlands, she stopped in the Adriatic and fell under NATO command for some months until an Italian carrier took over."

Petra tilted her head, clearly intrigued. "Oldenburg has a carrier group?"

"Not even close to the scale of the Americans or British," Hansen admitted. "It's just the Wilhelmina, a pair of new Schild-class frigates, and a Ruyter-class escort. Small, but the air wing carried Raptor jets and Dragonfly helicopters, plus the first carrier-borne PA-12 AEW aircraft. For NATO, it was more than symbolic: they flew Combat Air Patrols, embargo patrols, even practiced strike packages under AWACS control."

I smiled to myself as I listened to them. Hearing Frederik Hansen explaining things was better than reading a dozen boring reports, so I grabbed my cup of tea and leaned back in the seat.

"But how can a small island state even afford that?" Petra asked with a frown. "A carrier group, not even a small one, isn't pocket change."

Hansen gave her a wry smile. "They don't. Not in the traditional sense. The ships themselves are financed and maintained by Starlight Merchant Group. The Sea Guard operates them, Oldenburg pays their salary and they fly Oldenburg's flag, but technically they're corporate property."

Petra's eyes narrowed. "So, a company owns a carrier and warships, and just... lends them to the state? How is that even legal?"

Hansen folded his hands. "Under Oldenburg law, civilian-owned vessels can be armed and placed at the disposal of the state for defence, as long as there's a serving naval or Coast Guard officer aboard. It's the same legal paragraph that used to authorize privateers centuries ago. Oldenburg never struck it from the books."

Petra raised her brows. "So, the Queen Wilhelmina is a kind of... state-sanctioned privateer?"

"Without the plundering," Hansen said with a faint chuckle. "The modern term is a private security contractor under military supervision. The legal department in The Hague tolerates it, NATO accepts it, and in practice everyone gets what they need: Oldenburg has credible defences, NATO gets another deck when it's short on carriers, and SMG gets live operational data on its systems."

Petra tilted her head, her lips curling in something halfway between a smirk and a frown. "Are you telling me Oldenburg runs its defence policy on a loophole left over from the age of privateers?"

Hansen spread his hands. "Call it a loophole, call it creative continuity. It works."

She leaned back in her chair, studying Hansen with a sharp, measuring look. "Still, it's dangerous, mixing corporate money and national security. What happens when the company's interest isn't the same as the state's?"

For the first time Hansen didn't answer immediately but glanced over at me.

I did a quick search of the memories I had taken from Parker and shrugged lightly. "As per law, national security has top priority. If there's ever a conflict of interest, the vessels revert fully to government control. It's written into the statutes and into every contract. Oldenburg may let Shark Naval Tech pay for the hardware, but the Sea Guard has the last word when it comes to defence."

Still looking sceptical, Petra nodded slightly. "I guess that'll work." She gave a small, incredulous smile. "Though I still think sponsoring a carrier group, no matter how small, is... unusual for a company."

Hansen blinked a few times, then allowed himself a quiet laugh. "Unusual, yes, but there's a reason behind that. The Queen Wilhelmina is already in her last year under Oldenburg colours, as she has been sold to Brazil, with handover set for next year. In the meantime, she costs us nothing, as we have extra Brazilian officers on board. The Brazilians pay for the training their embarked crew receive, while Oldenburg pays the regular salaries of the Sea Guard crew who would be serving anyway. And between rotations she still moves aircraft to airshows as usual." The amusement was still on his face as he continued. "Every ship, jet and helicopter in the group is for sale, and while they're waiting to be sold, they're used to test new equipment and as training sites for crews from the navies that have bought our hardware. That way, the crew will be ready at the same time as the new ships are delivered. Not to mention, that Shark Naval Tech can deliver a new frigate, corvette or even carrier a lot faster than anybody else."

Petra leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite herself. "So, it's not a vanity project... More like a floating advertisement."

"Precisely," Hansen said with an approving nod.

"And what happens when Brazil takes over?" asked Petra curiously.

Now Hansen was grinning. "Queen Juliana will be finished a few months before Brazil takes over, so we'll transfer the crew and airwing to her and continue as usual. With most systems having been produced in-house, the cost of a new Queen Wilhelmina-class carrier, built from SAM alloy and with newer systems, is covered by what Brazil gives for the first one."

Petra's brows arched slightly. "So, you sell one, roll the money straight into the next, and keep the flag flying without interruption?"

"Exactly," Hansen said, clearly pleased with her summary. "It means Brazil gets a proven ship with a trained cadre, and we move forward with a platform that's lighter, more efficient, and fully tailored for the systems we're fielding now, though it'll need testing."

She considered that, then gave a small nod. "Efficient, but it still sounds like a balancing act. I mean, one misstep and you'd have a carrier-shaped hole in the budget."

"That is the risk of doing business, but it works," Hansen admitted and explained that back in 1992, Shark Naval Tech had acquired not one, but two unfinished Soviet hulls from Ukraine at 20 million dollars apiece and an extra 10 million for the blueprints. The smaller 15-thousand-ton Project 1142 that became Queen Wilhelmina, and a much larger 55-thousand-ton Kuznetsov-class sister ship, laid up at Mykolaiv with no engines or weapons.

Petra frowned, her voice low. "That sounds like Ukraine was being cheated on that deal. We should just have scrapped them."

"Scrapping those hulls would have cost Ukraine twenty, maybe thirty million more, and you still would have had to find a buyer for all that steel," Hansen replied evenly. "For us, twenty million apiece and ten for the blueprints wasn't bad. For Kyiv, it was hard currency and a way to unload liabilities, basically turning dead weight into dollars." He tilted his head, meeting her eyes. "Basically, it was a sixty-million-dollar net gain for Ukraine."

Petra considered that for a moment and then nodded. "You have a point. Please continue."

"The Wilhelmina was finished in 1996 and proved herself better than anyone expected. By the late '90s, India was actively searching for a new carrier. The Russians were offering them the carrier Admiral Gorshkov, but that ship had boiler problems and the cost for the expected refit was extremely high. Meanwhile, we had the sistership's hull sitting in storage, seventy-five percent complete. Once the Wilhelmina had demonstrated what Shark's diesel-electric drive, Svalinn's radar, and the Trident missile suite could do, India stopped looking at Moscow and started looking at us."

He spread his hands slightly, his smile thin but satisfied. "The large hull was redesigned from the keel up and the cruiser missile batteries were stripped away, so it was no longer a heavy cruiser with a token air wing, but a real 55-thousand-ton STOBAR carrier. Last year India signed for the first Unity-class, as we called the redesign, at about 2.3 billion dollars and if that is successful, they had expressed a wish for a sistership in the future."

The price tag made Petra blink in surprise, while I almost snorted as I once again could see Parker's precognition at work. The advantage it had given him, and thus Starlight Merchant Group, was truly insane, as it had allowed him to move the pieces years before anyone else realized a new game was being played.

There were also a few things Hansen hadn't mentioned. Like the fact that the Unity-class was being built in Tebma, an Indian shipyard Shark Naval Tech had bought and expanded in the 1990s and used for Queen Wilhelmina. Alongside the carrier hull, Shark Naval Tech was building more Schild-class frigates and even a support ship converted from a double-hull tanker.

In truth, the Indian Navy hadn't simply bought a single carrier. What they had purchased was a carrier group, inspired by Queen Wilhelmina's efficiency in general and her deployment in the Adriatic, and the way her Raptors, Dragonflies, and escorts had fused into one combat network.

In other words, the 'advertisement' had worked and had more than justified the expense of running a carrier, though the experts agreed that it was unlikely that more large carriers would be sold. It was a limited market and the only prospects at the moment were Indonesia and Malaysia, who might need one to have better control over the thousands of islands and vital shipping lanes in their area.

"Thank you for the explanation, Mr. Hansen, but enough military talk for now," said Petra with a smile, interrupting my thoughts. "Ivan, what do we do with the sleeping girls when we land?"

"Nothing," I said with a chuckle. "It makes more sense to let them sleep here tonight, instead of waking them up to drive them to Vasa Estate to put them to bed. The two of us can sleep in the plane as well and be ready tomorrow morning. Then you can take them to the beauty salon you have been talking about, while I'm at the meeting. If the meeting drags on, you can take them to Esther, so she can help them write the assignment about the Space Center."

"Good idea, sir," she said thoughtfully, nodding to herself. "No worries, sir. I'll have it arranged."

"Thank you." I said and yawned as I stood. "And with that, I need to go sleep." Looking at Hansen, I said, "You better get some sleep as well, Hansen. The next days are going to be busy."

"Yes, sir," he answered and carefully placed his notes on the table.

Seeing the effect of Parker's mind control once more, I shook my head and walked to the restroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

When I left the bathroom again, Hansen had leaned his seat back to horizontal and was snoring lightly. Petra must have gone to bed already, because she was nowhere to be seen.

------------------------------------------

A mile high

Wednesday October 11th, 2000, The Phoenix

The sight that met me when I entered the bedroom was not what I expected. The design was tasteful, the bed looked like a real bed, but what I hadn't anticipated was the sight of two naked women on the bed, casually caressing each other while looking at me as I entered the room.

Petra looked just as gorgeous as usual, while Anna Richter, the mind-controlled stewardess that loved having sex on planes, was an equally pretty sight. Slim without being thin, she had the lean, athletic build of a fit Northern European. Long legs, narrow hips, and a flat stomach with just the faintest hint of muscle definition. Her small, firm breasts sat high on her chest, nipples already stiff and pink against her pale skin. Between her legs she was neatly trimmed with a thin strip of dark-blonde hair that matched the color on her head.

Petra was lying on her back, one leg bent, while Anna knelt beside her, slowly running her hand over Petra's breasts and down her stomach. Petra's hand rested on Anna's thigh, fingers lazily stroking the smooth skin. Both women looked at me with open hunger.

"You took your time," Petra said, her voice low. "I got bored waiting, so I started without you."

Anna gave a small, shy smile, but her eyes were dark with lust. "She told me you wouldn't mind if I joined."

I closed the thick door behind me, making sure the girls couldn't hear anything.

"Petra, if I ever complain about finding two beautiful naked women in my bed," I told her as I started unbuttoning my shirt, "take your gun and shoot me in the leg... because that would clearly be an imposter and not me."

That made Petra laugh, but interestingly it also caused a spike of lust from Anna as she looked at the naked Ukrainian. "You have a gun?"

Petra shrugged lightly, making her breasts wriggle pleasantly. "Well, I'm also his bodyguard, so yes I have a gun."

The answer made Anna's arousal even higher and despite the situation, I could feel my brain speed up as I looked at her and judged her reaction. Anna Richter wasn't just adventurous when it came to sex, she liked to bed dangerous people.

"Petra is a decorated former officer in an elite military unit," I continued as the last buttons came free. "And can bullseye six targets in four seconds..." I dropped the shirt on a chair and moved on to my belt and pants. "...at twenty meters."

Anna's eyes widened as her arousal soared. Her nipples visibly tightened and a fresh flush spread across her chest and throat. Her hand on Petra's stomach stilled for a second, then pressed down harder, fingers digging into the soft skin as her breathing quickened.

Petra lifted her eyebrows, but then reached out, took hold of Anna's neck and dragged her into a kiss. At first it looked like Anna was resisting just to test Petra, but she was no match for the well-trained Ukrainian and as the rest of my clothes followed the shirt, the two women met in a passionate kiss.

Considering how turned on Anna Richter seemed to be, I reached out with my mind and quickly erected a dome of mental energy around us, effectively blocking any sound from entering or leaving the area. The bedroom might be soundproof, but now I was sure that the girls wouldn't hear anything in case it wasn't as soundproof as I thought it was.

Petra broke the kiss and gently pushed Anna onto her back. She moved between the stewardess's legs, spreading them wider with careful hands, then positioned herself on all fours so her ass rose high and perfectly presented for me, the smooth curves of her cheeks framing her wet pussy and tight pink anus. Lowering her head, she began licking Anna's pussy with slow, deliberate strokes, her tongue sliding visibly between the glistening wet lips and circling the clitoris in unhurried patterns.

I moved behind Petra and knelt down, leaning in so I could lick her from behind. I ran my tongue slowly along her wet pussy lips, tasting her familiar sweetness, then moved higher and gave her pink anus a long, wet lick. The smooth, tight ring pulsed under my tongue, warm and responsive.

Petra shook with excitement and pushed back against my face, her body trembling with need, offering me an even clearer view of her spread cheeks and the way her pussy glistened with arousal. I took my time, spreading her wider with my hands and running the tip of my tongue in small, lazy circles around her anus, feeling it tighten and relax under the wet pressure. Only then did I work my way back down to her pussy, savoring every inch of her.

That made her spread her legs even more as she groaned softly into Anna's pussy, the sound low and throaty. Moving a hand down from her ass, I started playing with her soaked pussy, running my fingers between the slick lips and brushing a gentle finger over her clitoris. Returning my tongue to her anus, I pushed two fingers into her pussy, feeling the warm, slippery walls grip me tightly. My thumb found the base of her clitoris, giving it a light, steady rub.

Petra tensed, and I could already feel the orgasm building inside her. The slippery flesh around my fingers spasmed slightly as she wriggled her hips, trying to pull the fingers deeper. I curved them downward to press against that sensitive spot inside her, moving my whole hand in a slow, gentle circle while my thumb continued making firm circles on her clitoris and the tip of my tongue kept licking her anus in soft, wet strokes.

Anna's moans grew faster and more intense, her breath catching in short, desperate gasps and her slim body starting to tremble beneath Petra.

I picked up the pace just a little, making Petra groan louder, her shivers growing stronger, though she still managed to keep licking Anna with steady strokes of her tongue.

Then Anna gave a soft, muffled scream as she came, her heels hammering into the bed. I doubled my speed, fingers sliding effortlessly in and out of Petra's pussy while my thumb made firm circles on top of her clitoris, working perfectly in concert with my tongue on her anus.

The result was perfect. Just as Anna's scream of pleasure faded into a whimpering moan, Petra came with a deep, shuddering groan. Her entire body trembled as the wave of pleasure rolled through her, her pussy spasming hard around my fingers and her anus pulsing rhythmically against my tongue.

I continued to lick and finger Petra through her climax, feeling every flutter and squeeze of her inner walls around my fingers, the warm, slippery contractions gripping me tightly as I savored the sight and sensation. Only when her tremors began to slowly subside did I ease my fingers out and position myself behind her.

"Oh no you don't," Petra declared as she turned around. "I need that in my mouth first."

Without waiting for an answer, Petra grabbed my cock and gave the tip a few slow licks before she took me into her mouth. Her lips stretched tight around the head as she pushed forward, the warm, wet heat enveloping me in a smooth, delicious slide.

She took me deeper for a moment, then pulled back and looked over her shoulder at Anna with a small, satisfied smile. She waved the stewardess closer. "Come here. Let's do this together."

Anna crawled closer without hesitation, her eyes bright with excitement, her slim athletic body flushed and glistening. The two women positioned themselves on either side of me, their faces close together. Petra held my cock steady and offered it to Anna first. Anna leaned in and ran her tongue along the underside, tracing the vein slowly from base to tip. Petra watched for a moment, then joined her, licking the other side with long, unhurried strokes.

They took their time, licking and kissing every inch of my shaft and head without any rush to make me finish. Their tongues felt warm and wet, sliding smoothly over the sensitive skin. The contrast between Anna's gentler, almost hesitant licks and Petra's firmer, more confident ones sent steady waves of pleasure through me. Every time their tongues met around the head or brushed against each other; a small spark of heat ran down my spine.

I rested one hand lightly on Petra's hair and the other on Anna's shoulder, simply enjoying the feel of their lips and tongues against my cock. They took their time playing with me, their licks turning into kisses when their lips met over the head only to go back down my cock a few heartbeats later.

Eventually Petra moved away and settled on the bed beside us, leaning back against the pillows. "Go on," she said softly, her voice low and full of lust. "Fuck her. I want to watch."

Anna looked at me with flushed cheeks and parted lips. Without saying anything, she lay back on the bed and spread her legs, her pussy glinting from Petra's licking and her recent orgasm, the thin strip of dark-blonde hair framing the wet, swollen lips.

Sending her a smile, I took hold of her legs and pulled her towards me, so her ass was on the edge of the bed. The head of my dick slid in between the lips of her pussy almost by itself and for a few heartbeats, I just stood there, enjoying the feel of her wet heat against my cock.

Apparently, that was too long, because she mumbled, "Release my legs."

I did and without hesitation, she encircled my hips with them, locking her ankles behind me and pressed me forward, pushing my dick into her. She was incredibly tight, and I could feel her impatience as it didn't go as easy as she had wanted. Her legs tightened their grip around my hips and her ass lifted from the bed as she moved her hips in circles to make it go faster.

I stood still, letting her take the initiative as I watched her slim body work. The closed eyes, the happy smile on her face, the way her tits shook, the undulation on her stomach and the sight of her stretched lips around my cock. The warm walls of her pussy gripped my dick as I slid into her. The heat inside her was intense, enveloping me completely in a soft, wet pressure that made my breath catch.

Every so often, when the head of my cock pressed against a particularly sensitive spot inside her, Anna would shiver hard. Her whole body would tremble for a moment, a low, breathy groan escaping her lips as her inner muscles clenched tightly around me. Then she would catch herself, bite her lower lip, and keep working her hips in those determined circles, taking me even deeper.

Another shiver ran through her when I hit that spot again. This time her groan was a little louder, softer and more helpless, her legs tightening around my waist as her ass lifted higher off the bed. Her small breasts quivered with the movement, and I could see the faint ripples across her stomach each time she pushed herself onto me.

It was a fantastic sight and felt incredible, so I remained still, letting her set the pace, simply enjoying the sight of her slim body straining and shaking with pleasure, the warm, slick grip of her pussy pulling me into her, and the quiet, needy groans that slipped from her whenever my cock rubbed that sensitive place deep inside her.

Petra watched intently, her eyes dark with desire, a small satisfied smile on her lips. She reached out and began to caress Anna's breasts, rolling the stiff pink nipples between her fingers. Her other hand caressed Anna's flat stomach, then along her sides and thighs, touching her everywhere with slow, affectionate caresses.

The effect was immediate, as I could feel her pleasure build up even faster and when Petra leaned down and gave Anna a long sensual kiss, the stewardess grabbed her head and held it. At the same time her legs pushed against my ass, making my dick slide in even further until the head bumped against the bottom of her pussy.

The feeling set her off and she screamed her orgasm into Petra's mouth, her whole slim body shaking violently beneath us. Her pussy spasmed in powerful, rhythmic waves around my cock, squeezing and milking me as her hips jerked uncontrollably while her legs locked even tighter around me. Her small breasts trembled with every shudder, her flat stomach rippling as wave after wave rolled through her. I could feel every contraction, every flutter, the intense wet heat gripping me tightly as she rode the long, powerful climax.

Petra kept kissing her through it, holding Anna's head gently while the stewardess trembled and moaned into her mouth, her body quivering with aftershocks for several long moments.

Reaching down I gently took hold of her legs, and she relaxed her grip immediately, allowing me to lift them off my hips.

Petra felt the movement and broke the kiss to send me a knowing smile. I returned the smile and nodded. Petra had been at the receiving end of this often enough to know what came next.

With a grin she turned back to Anna and gave her a quick kiss before she leaned close to Anna's ear, speaking just loud enough for me to hear. "Feel how deep he is inside you? He's going to fuck you just like this until you can't think straight... and I'm going to watch every second of it."

Anna shivered hard at the words, her pussy squeezing around my cock in another sudden, wet pulse, her athletic body trembling visibly beneath us.

Then the beautiful Ukrainian got up, took a pillow and handed it to Anna with the words, "Here. You're going to need this." Before she swung one leg over Anna and settled herself with one knee on each side of the stewardess, facing me. She smiled at me as she reached down and took hold of Anna's legs, holding them open and steady, giving me a perfect view of Anna's spread pussy stretched around my cock.

Leaning slightly forward, I took hold of Petra's neck with one hand and pulled her a little closer so I could kiss those tempting lips. The other hand found her breasts and started caressing them, squeezing gently, feeling their weight and warmth in my palm as I kissed her deeply.

Still kissing Petra, I pulled almost all the way out of Anna and then went back into that tight quivering pussy until I hit the bottom again.

"Shit!" groaned Anna from behind Petra's back. "This is too good."

With a little laugh Petra broke our kiss. "We haven't even started yet, honey."

"Fuck," Anna mumbled, as Petra started kissing me again.

Taking the cue, I began sliding my cock in and out of her in long deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out each time before I reversed the movement and went back in, savoring the feel as the wet walls of her pussy gave way for my cock, massaging it as it went all the way to the bottom again.

It became a slow rhythm. My cock moved steadily inside Anna's wet heat while my hands explored Petra's breasts and my tongue moved with hers. The combination of sensations was intense and deeply satisfying, the tight, slippery grip below mixing with the soft, heavy feel of Petra's breasts in my hands and the warm taste of her mouth.

It didn't take long before Anna's breathing turned into short, desperate gasps.

"Gonna... come..." she breathed, her hips starting to buck.

She suddenly grabbed a pillow and pressed it hard over her face. Her whole body tensed, then she came in a powerful orgasm. Her pussy spasmed hard around me, rhythmic waves squeezing and pulsing as she screamed into the pillow, the sound muffled but still intense. Her legs shook against my arm and Petra's hands while the orgasm rolled through her in long, trembling surges, her slim athletic body arching and quivering beneath us.

But she didn't get any rest.

Petra stayed right where she was, holding Anna's legs open, and I kept the same slow, deep rhythm. Anna's second orgasm hit only moments later. Her body jerked violently under Petra, another muffled scream escaping into the pillow as her pussy clenched and fluttered around my cock in fresh, powerful waves. I could see her stomach muscles rippling, her small breasts quivering with every shudder.

She barely had time to catch her breath before the third one started building. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her hips bucking weakly against my steady thrusts. Petra's weight kept her pinned in place, giving her no chance to pull away or close her legs. Anna came again, harder this time, her whole body shaking as the orgasm crashed through her without mercy. Muffled cries and whimpers poured into the pillow while her pussy spasmed rhythmically around me, the wet heat pulsing in long, helpless waves.

I started to become concerned about how much she could take, but connected as we were, I could feel her satisfaction at being unable to move, held down by Petra's gentle but solid weight on her chest, while being fucked to orgasm after orgasm. Her only worry was if she would be able to walk straight afterwards.

Smiling against Petra's lips, I continued to move, but a stray thought hit me. Petra... lustful, skilled, beautiful, and competent Petra had gone from being one of the rescued women in Malaga to someone I trusted completely, someone who knew exactly what I needed and gave it without hesitation.

Strange as it was considering that I was balls deep in another woman, I realized in that moment how much she had become part of my life, how naturally she fit, and how much I relied on her, not just as an assistant or a lover, but as someone who simply belonged at my side.

The feeling of Anna's clenching pussy around my dick brought me back to reality, as she came again, and then once more, each orgasm leaving her body trembling harder beneath Petra. Her slim athletic frame shook with every wave, her small breasts quivering, her stomach rippling as the pleasure rolled through her without pause. Petra stayed seated on her face, rocking gently while Anna licked between her own climaxes, her tongue moving with desperate eagerness even as her legs continued to tremble against my arms.

After several more orgasms I could sense that Anna was reaching her limit. Her body was growing limp between the peaks, her breathing ragged, and the waves of pleasure were starting to blur together. I leaned close to Petra and spoke softly in Ukrainian so only she would understand.

"Play with her clitoris. She is close to her limit."

Petra smiled widely, gave a small nod and reached down between Anna's legs while I carefully picked up the speed, making sure not to hit the bottom of Anna's pussy too hard.

The effect was immediate. Petra's fingers found Anna's clitoris and started rubbing it in firm, steady circles. Anna's whole body tensed at once. Her legs shook violently against my arms and Petra's hands, as a wild, drawn-out orgasm tore through her. She screamed into Petra's pussy, the muffled cry vibrating strongly against Petra's pussy.

That sent Petra over the edge as well. Petra's thighs tightened around Anna's head, her back arched, and she let out a deep, throaty moan as her own orgasm hit. Her full breasts rose and fell rapidly while her hips rocked against Anna's mouth.

I slowed my movements gradually as Anna slowly came down from her orgasmic high. Her body continued to twitch and shiver with aftershocks, the tremors running through her slim frame in long, lingering waves. When the last strong pulses finally eased, I gently pulled out of her. Petra lifted herself away from Anna's face and moved to the side, ending up with her backside towards me.

Anna turned over onto her side, curling up slightly. Her whole body was still shaking from the intense pleasure, small tremors running through her legs and stomach as she tried to catch her breath. Her flushed skin glistened with sweat, and her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

"My turn," said Petra, her voice thick with lust as she looked at me over her shoulder.

I took a moment to admire her. Petra's back was beautifully arched, her waist narrow, and her firm, round ass presented perfectly toward me. The smooth curves of her cheeks looked soft yet strong, the kind of ass that invited a firm grip. Her skin glowed with a light sheen of sweat, and I could see the faint tremble in her thighs from everything that had already happened.

Moving behind her, I took a firm hold of her hips and made sure the head of my cock was nestled between the wet lips of her pussy. Then I slammed all the way into her in one powerful thrust.

Petra groaned a deep, satisfied "Yes!" as I filled her completely.

I fucked her hard and fast, enjoying the tight, clenching grip of her pussy around my cock and the way her round ass bounced against me with every deep stroke. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room as I drove into her again and again. Her firm cheeks rippled each time my hips met her ass, and the heat and slickness of her pussy felt incredible.

Petra came a few times, each orgasm making her pussy squeeze and flutter around me while her body shook. I could feel her getting wetter with every climax, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

I could feel myself getting closer too, the pressure building deep in my groin. Before I reached the edge I pulled out, turned Petra around onto her back, and moved between her spread legs for missionary position.

First she looked at me in surprise, but then a smile spread on her lips as she understood. "Close?"

"Yes," I growled and crawled onto the bed as Petra spread her arms and legs, her smile growing even bigger. "Good."

The moment I slid back inside her I felt her arms and legs wrap around me. Her soft but firm breasts pressed warmly against my chest, her hard nipples rubbing against my skin with every thrust. The feeling of being held so tightly by her, surrounded by her warmth, was deeply satisfying.

Moaning, she started grinding her hips up against me every chance she got, meeting my thrusts with eager movements of her own.

That sent both of us over the edge. Petra came first, her pussy clamping down hard around me as she moaned loudly into my shoulder. The intense contractions pushed me over too. I buried myself deep inside her and came with a low groan, pulsing strongly as I emptied myself in her.

We held each other tightly through the shared climax, kissing passionately as her body trembled beneath me.

Finally, we broke the kiss, and I rolled off her, ending up between her and Anna. The stewardess sent me a weak smile, but didn't say anything, while Petra snuggled up against me. Satisfaction running through her body.

I smiled to myself and then blinked in surprise, as I once again noticed the affection I held for Petra. As I had been thinking when I saw her leaving Phoenix on the tarmac a week before, something must have changed in me during the two thousand years of meditation, because like all Baylons, I had always taken years in forming a close bond with people, but after the long meditation, it was happening much faster than before.

It had taken me ten years to form the same feelings for Verina as the ones I felt for Petra now... and it hurt. Mostly because as an immortal, I was cursed to watch her grow old while I remained the same age as I was now.

On the positive side, there was a good chance that I might leave for Baylon before that happened. It wasn't a great comfort, but it was a comfort.

"A dollar for your thoughts," whispered Petra in Ukrainian.

I was silent for a moment, trying to sort my thoughts, and then said, "Only if you promise not to panic."

That made her look up at me. "That's never a good way to start."

"Depends on how you look at it," I said with a grin. "And it's a very strange thought."

She poked me with a finger. "You're stalling. Get to the point."

"Well, as I was fucking the lovely lady to my other side, while kissing you, I realized that back when we sailed from Malaga, I might have said that I don't want a girlfriend... but you actually are."

Petra went very still. For a long heartbeat she just looked at me, her dark eyes wide and searching. Then a soft, surprised little laugh escaped her.

"Oh, Ivan..." she murmured, shaking her head slowly. Her voice was quiet, a little unsteady. "You really do know how to pick your moments."

She shifted closer, her hand sliding up to rest against my chest. Her thumb brushed lightly over my skin as she studied my face.

"To be honest... I've been thinking of you as my boyfriend too," she confessed softly, almost shyly. "When I'm not working, I mean. When it's just us. I didn't want to say it first because you said you didn't want a girlfriend, but... yeah. I've been thinking of you that way for a while now."

A small, genuine smile formed on her lips as she leaned in and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug, pressing her body against mine. She held me for a moment, then tilted her head up and kissed me, soft at first, then deeper, slower, full of quiet affection.

When she finally pulled back just enough to speak, her forehead rested against mine and her voice was barely above a whisper.

"But if you ever stop taking other women to bed, I will hurt you. Because I really, really like that part." She gave a soft, playful chuckle. "Remember what you told me back then? You like women, plural, a lot, and you're not monogamous. I liked that about you from the beginning. So don't you dare change now."

I chuckled quietly and pulled her closer, kissing her again. "I won't. Promise."

We stayed like that for a moment, just holding each other, until I felt a small flicker of loneliness from Anna beside us. She was lying there quietly, watching us with a soft, slightly wistful expression.

Without thinking, I reached out with my free arm and gently dragged her closer until she was pressed against my other side. Anna let out a surprised little sound, but then relaxed and nestled in, her head resting on my shoulder.

"Better?" I asked softly.

She nodded against me, a small smile forming on her lips. "Much better."

Petra shifted slightly so she could reach over and stroke Anna's hair with gentle fingers. "No one gets left out tonight," she murmured, her voice warm.

Anna's hand found mine and squeezed it lightly. For a while we just lay there together, the three of us tangled in a quiet, comfortable pile, the low hum of the jet's engines the only sound around us.

---------------- To be continued --------------------------

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