The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Howard walked the streets of Waco, since he didn’t have any pressing business at the moment needing the use of a car. Anyway, none of the cars he got along with were available. He wondered why the Foundation gave random personalities to so many of the vehicles. The RV didn’t have one, but then, it spent most of its time sitting around playing hospital anyway.

He saw a familiar face and four strangers in an alley, and altered course to intervene. It was the same green-and-orange freak from before, with three new friends and a girl who appeared to be in trouble. His mind scanned forward to assess the situation, and he smiled to himself. This was going to be interesting.

“Some people just never learn!” he said as he stopped the leader from slicing open the girl’s shirt.

“No, they don’t.” the leader said with an evil smile. The girl backed away, and the four men turned on him. The leader and two others drew guns. “You should learn not to meddle in things that don’t concern you. Now it’s gonna cost ya.”

“You said you were just gonna beat him up!” the girl protested.

“Shut up, bitch!” the leader said.

“Don’t call my sister a bitch!” the unarmed male growled, turning on the leader. “And you’re not getting her involved in a murder rap!”

“Excuse me?” the leader asked. “I’m the one who makes decisions in this gang. You just do as you’re told, or you can join him on the slab!” He pointed his weapon at the unarmed one. Howard threw a barrier over the siblings, off of which several bullets bounced.

“Hey, you didn’t say nothing about no super-powers!” one of the other shooters said. He and the other new face turned their weapons toward Howard. He placed himself directly between them. They pulled the triggers, but Howard disappeared, appearing between the siblings instead. He teleported all three of them to the roof of the building, along with the leader’s gun. He influenced the mind under the green-and-orange hair to take his compatriots’ guns from their bodies. Howard called the police on his cell phone, telling them where the leader was and which way he was going.

He kept his eye on the enemy, running from roof to roof with the siblings keeping close behind despite their lack of telekinetic ability. A flash of memory from the girl revealed that the siblings were parkour hobbyists.

Soon enough, the police caught up with the gangster and arrested him. Howard kept them from killing him, and kept him from killing them. Once he was out of bullets, they took him down hard with their clubs.

He knew that simple forensics would link the bullets found in the two dead gangsters they would find at the original scene with the guns found in the leader’s hands. A double murder conviction would keep him off the street for a long time. Howard saluted the officers when one of them looked up and saw him, and he and the siblings roof-jumped in the direction of the gang’s hideout.

“Shit. New girls.” the girl whispered as they peered down through the skylight at about twenty girls being dragged into the warehouse, most with tape over their mouths.

“Are they even legal?” Howard asked.

“Hell no.” the guy said. “The boss always starts ‘em out around sixteen, gets ‘em hooked on something, then uses the dope to keep ‘em under control.”

“Wait here.” Howard said, and jumped through the skylight like Batman. Dozens of men opened fire, while women and girls took cover. Howard caught the bullets with his mind, turned them around and flung them back at their owners. He opened some nearby crates with his mind, and out floated military-grade weapons, of the belt-fed variety.

“Oh, shit!” someone exclaimed.

“Yes.” Howard responded, loading the weapons and spraying death in the general direction of any hostile thoughts. Others ran in terror. The women simply cowered. Howard activated a fan to suck the stink of gunpowder out of the warehouse. “What a mess.” he said. Only then did he allow his feet to touch the floor. He reached out with his mind, compelling the women and girls to his side, and they walked out together, rejoining the siblings who had climbed down from the fire escape. It was a long walk back to the hotel, and many of the women were itching for their fix by then.

Except for the cuisine, Pshtlptl was a nice place to visit. Damon had managed to reduce the reek of Despicable to a tolerable level, and was enjoying some time in the sun. Kagome had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder. He could understand why it was taking the Pshtlptl so long to come to a decision in their case. They were preoccupied with the ecological effects of having their moon blown up. A pair of stranded offworlders were hardly a priority. He’d managed to get a message off to Zak and had been told to sit tight.

Kslmtkpl rushed down the path toward them, shouting excitedly. Damon gently woke Kagome, who blinked sleepily up at him until the small medic arrived. Pshtlptl grew throughout their lives, and Kslmtkpl would be shorter than a human until well after its hundredth human year.

“Ship comes! I!kajij origin. You know?” it asked.

“I!kajij are invisible to psychic probes.” Damon said tolerantly.

“Fascinating!” Kslmtkpl said. “Ship comes, asks for you! Lands at capitol soon!”

“Okay, we’re coming.” Damon said. He and Kagome smiled at each other and followed their guide to a waiting conveyance.

“Pahs’nyi!” Kagome called excitedly when they arrived. The I!kajij female smiled and accepted a hug from the young ninja, though Damon had to settle for a warrior’s hand-clasp. A girl who looked like Princess Nanissa but was very definitely human stood next to two of Nanissa’s retainers.

“There is trouble. Pahs’ktab will fill you in.” Pahs’nyi said. Damon nodded, and the humans boarded the ship. In his cabin, Pahs’ktab clasped hands with Damon, congratulating him on wiping out the planet-killer fleet, before he started to fill him in on the situation with Roberta. Damon helped himself to an I!kajij dish that looked and tasted like alligator-chili lasagna with wasabi, though the spiciness was supposedly inherent in the meat.

“You’ve never much cared for our food before, young friend.” Pahs’ktab remarked.

“At least it’s not trying to crawl away.” Damon said. Pahs’ktab laughed.

“You’re lucky. I had to tell them to hold the biters and the stingers.” Kagome said.

“Bah, bugs are no fit meal for a warrior!” Pahs’ktab said.

“On that, we agree.” Damon responded.

“We’ll be on our way as soon as we’ve converted the graviton-generator design to an image format the Pshtlptl’s computers can display.”

“Is that what’s going to replace their lost moon?” Damon asked.

“Hardly a romantic image, but it’ll give ‘em tides and such—plus something to use the rest of their old fission missiles as fuel for. They can convert it for antimatter later, if they can develop the technology on their own or we can get permission to share it with them.”

Penelope concentrated on everything that had ever made her angry as she stomped out of the Federal building, providing a convincing mask for those she knew were awaiting her—though, with the officious bureaucrats coming at her adoptive father from every direction, she didn’t need much masking. Someone jumped out of a tree, landing behind her. I’m not making it THAT easy for you. she thought, slamming her would-be assailant against the red brick facade. Predictably, she was surrounded. The ring was thickest in the direction of the building, cutting her off from help. Penelope put on a good show, dodging two dozen tranquillizer darts before allowing herself to be “caught” in a pincer move.

She hated needles, and wished she wouldn’t have to be tranquillized. She didn’t shrink when four of the darts sank into the flesh of her right thigh, however. She never felt herself hit the ground.

When she awoke, she had an inhibitor in the back of her neck, but at least she had clothes on. Scratchy prison-issue clothes, but still clothes. The door opened and Dr. Lang entered.

“Let me just make sure that’s fitted properly.” he said, tilting her head forward and deftly disabling it in such a way that the guards couldn’t see. “Looks good to me.” he assured the guards. “This little minx won’t be going anywhere I don’t want her.”

“Not to worry, Doc, we’ll make sure o’ dat.” one of the guards said in an obviously-fake gangster accent. Penelope seated herself on the hard bunk. She could use her powers, but she still couldn’t read the minds of the guards because they were shielded. No matter. They would send a telepathic agent to pick her brain soon, and that agent couldn’t be shielded. The enemy had the advantage of numbers, but the Foundation was better-trained, not controlled by psychophobes.

She assumed the pose of a sulky child, but silently centered herself, as Zak and Yoshiko had taught her. A telepath approached. Penelope opened her eyes as the force field over the cell entrance was disabled. Her inquisitor was a slim man, his skin so dark that his white eyes and teeth seemed to be separate entities.

“What do YOU want?” she asked as if she didn’t know.

“The truth. All of it.” the telepath said. “And don’t tell me I can’t handle the truth. That was funny the first time I heard it, but the humor sort of tapered off over the next five thousand repetitions.”

“Then I won’t.” Penelope said. “My name’s Penelope. What’s yours?”

“Charlton Michael Freeman.” the other responded, the twist of his mouth showing that he appreciated the irony. He stepped closer, within arm’s reach. She put out her hand, gently, inviting.

“What are you waiting for, Mr. Freeman?” she asked, softly. He grasped her hand and closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them wide in surprise upon finding that her powers worked. She winked at him. Fasten your seatbelt, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride. She opened wide the floodgates.

Victor was glad he’d had the chance to give some of his own aggravation back after Penelope was caught. He didn’t like the thought of her in enemy hands again, but Inet assured him that it wouldn’t be a repeat of the Seven Devil Seven incident. He made sure the auditors and assessors couldn’t get a word in edgewise, putting out an endless stream of auditory abuse that left their ears ringing when he had to pause for breath.

A new face entered the room, his private thoughts flowing in Hindi. He gestured for the others to leave the room, and took a seat across from Victor. “We are sorry for this unfortunate incident, however, our superiors refuse to let it distract us from the matter of your taxes.”

“There is a good reason for everything I do, even if the reason is not plain to others.” Victor said in Hindi.

“You speak Hindi?” the other asked.

“Along with several other languages.” Victor responded. “It’s a talent of mine. What’s your name?”

“Abhay Singh, and I’ve met plenty of rich men who thought that tax law didn’t apply to them.”

“That’s not my thinking at all.” Victor said. “You seem like the kind of person I can be honest with, so let’s get right down to it, shall we?” He extended his hand. Abhay grasped it, and Victor extended his mind, giving Abhay Singh a whirlwind tour of the other side of the looking-glass. He had to steady Abhay to keep him from passing out. Victor guessed he could have been gentler, but they were short of time. “I’ve got a police report to file on my daughter, Mr. Singh, but if you’ll come by the Pan-Galactic later, I’ll see that you’re buzzed in, and we can have a more thorough interview then.” Abhay sat in the chair Victor vacated, still reeling from the flood of information.

Hattie saw Charlton coming out of the debriefing room. She waited until he was just outside the janitor’s closet in which she hid before pulling him in with her. She moved the pins with her mind as she kissed him. She felt him touch her mind. Helpfully, she relaxed to ease into the mental rapport. Her hands were at his buttons, undoing them for him as he undid hers. Instead of sharing the brutal debriefing session, he turned his mind back farther in time to his interrogation of the new prisoner, who had shared what she knew willingly. It had been Charlton who had held back—on their masters.

He held nothing back now. Hattie saw the outside world for the first time in ten years—over half a lifetime ago—since she had been taken away from her home by GOLEM agents who claimed she was now a national security secret. Her mind basked in the warmth of Charlton’s second-hand vision of freedom while her body sought pleasure of its own. She let knowledge of things she’d never done before flow into her, become part of her. She would need that knowledge if she was ever to experience that freedom first-hand.

And she wanted it, more than she’d ever wanted anything else in her life. Silently she blessed Penelope Simms Phillips for showing her the way. She kissed Charlton again as they lay on the floor, panting. The joy of their shared knowledge had enhanced their lovemaking. She knew she was going to get pregnant. The medic had dosed her with something to induce an ovulation, coupled with an aphrodisiac—not that she ever needed one with Charlton; his tenderness was a rare enough treat—to get her to breed for them. They cleaned up and straightened their clothes. As much as she wanted to savor what little time they had together, she knew someone would come along soon.

She waited a good twenty seconds after Charlton left before quitting the closet herself. Pushing off from the floor and pulling along by the doorways nearby, she sped down the corridor at a speed that was hardly safe, and as a result was barely late for PT. Barely late was still late, however, and she doubled over as the commander touched a control on his watch, sending waves of agony through her body. Her muscles quivered as she forced herself to her feet and joined the ranks with the other telekinetic females.

“Odd-numbered ranks, about face!” the commander said. The first, third and fifth ranks obeyed, and Hattie found herself staring into the eyes of her nemesis, Bidda Cruise, a full level above her in telekinesis, raised by the Department from birth. She had been trained to be ruthless and absolutely devoted to the Department’s aims. “Unarmed combat! Pair off!” The ranks spread out until each pair had a ten-by-ten foot square in which to spar.

“Ready to lose, Hattie Flattie-on-the-Ground?” Bidda teased.

“Not this time, Biddy.” Hattie said.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that.” Bidda snarled.

“Begin!” the commander commanded. Bidda lunged, but Hattie was no longer there. She whirled quickly upon reappearing, her left foot catching her opponent behind the ear. She followed this up with a powerful right-handed punch with a lot of shoulder behind it. Bidda rolled to her feet and took a moment to pop her jaw back into place.

“Where’d you learn that?” Bidda demanded. Instead of answering, Hattie used her powers to kick up the dust. She knew she had the attention of the rest of the trainees now, but she didn’t care. Bidda charged at her last known position, slicing through the cloud of dust with telekinetic force, but Hattie wasn’t there. She was ten feet up in the air, and she brought herself down hard, reinforcing her blow with a telekinetic strike of her own. Bidda went down, tried to get back up, and fell again.

“Where did you learn that?” the commander demanded. Hattie hesitated, and the commander called over a telepath. Hattie knew better than to resist the rough probe. The telepath, a young man named Fletcher, gasped in surprise and proceeded more gently after seeing what her mind contained.

Sorry. he thought contritely. She managed to convey her forgiveness without showing to others that her ordeal had been anything less than merciless. “She has a boyfriend who harvested the skill from a captured enemy operative during her interrogation. I can improve the effectiveness of the others by passing the information along, if that is your command, commander.”

“Do it, teep, but be quick about it.” the commander snarled. Fletcher moved one by one to each of the female kinetics. The commander assigned Hattie to take Bidda to the infirmary.

“Good work, Hat.” Bidda whispered as the younger girl carried the elder back to the complex. “Never, ever turn down a tactical advantage. Maybe you’ll make a decent agent yet.” Hattie frowned. She didn’t want to be an agent. Now that she had a choice, she intended not to be one.

Penelope could sense the change in the atmosphere as the knowledge and hope that she had shown to Charlton was shared among the psi-agents and trainees. There would be trouble with the ones who were raised by the Department and had never known anything else, but not much. Certainly nothing her growing army couldn’t handle. This particular STD installation would be destroyed from within.

Fortunately, there weren’t many high-level psis to contend with. With Howard’s generator-gestalt trick, she could almost match them for raw power. Her training would make up the difference.

“Home, sweet home!” Damon enthused, breathing in the familiar air of Earth. Kagome bowed to her ninja comrades. Yoshiko hugged her, and they began to laugh.

“Welcome home!” Svetlana said, running into Damon’s arms. Maria and Tetsuko joined her, and he let each of them know how much he had missed them. Roberta hugged Howard in the same way that Nanissa would, mindful of the fact that STD spy-satellites could be watching any time they were in the open.

Soon enough, the return party had moved inside, and everyone could be themselves. The Pshtlptl greeted Victor in their own way. Kslmtkpl introduced Jhdmlkfrntknktstr, the Pshtlptl equivalent of the Surgeon General, and Fnkgstltdmnshtfkgrmblshnk, a dignitary of some sort and of considerable size. Damon explained on a tight mental line that Pshtlptl started with one-syllable names and earned more syllables as symbols of achievement.

Fnkgstltdmnshtfkgrmblshnk took the freight elevator, which Inet had decorated with faux-mahogany panels and inserted a sturdy oak bench for the occasion, to the sixteenth floor, which had been reserved for its use and that of its attendants, a Skittles rainbow of furry bodies the dignitary could squash accidentally.

“Sorry to spring this on you so soon after your return, Damon, but would you round out the team that’s going after Penelope?” Victor asked privately.

“Sure. Maybe I’ll even show those GOLEMites what their so-called ‘benefactors’ are really like.” Damon responded. “When do we leave?”

“This evening at eight. Go ahead and get some rest; spend some time with your girls.” Damon headed downstairs with his women, but he didn’t plan on getting any rest.

He kissed Maria once the door was closed behind them. Tetsuko and Svetlana raced to get undressed. Tetsuko won the race, so Damon rewarded her with a kiss. Maria took that opportunity to start undressing herself. Tetsuko moaned eagerly as she was carried to the bathroom. Damon shredded his shipsuit with a thought and activated the faucets in the tub. A deep-cleansing body-wash was added to the water, and he and Tetsuko seated themselves on the big tub’s bench. It was hot, but so were they. Damon lifted her and slid her down onto his stiffness. She braced her feet on either side of his hips and laced her finger together behind his head, freeing his hands to control the rest from their position on her hips. The water had reached their hips before they arched their backs together, their voices rising triumphantly to echo off the bathroom walls. Maria eased Tetsuko into Svetlana’s arms and took her place as the Russian and Japanese women kissed. Damon turned her around and growled in the joining of her neck and shoulder. Maria giggled and squirmed, then relaxed as he lifted her onto his still-stiff penis. Not the passive type, Maria fucked back against him as he thrust into her from behind. He controlled the rhythm of his strokes to keep her on the edge of orgasm until the water reached the overflow drain. Svetlana turned off the taps as Maria was given her dose of semen and ecstasy.

Tetsuko and Maria soaped him up, as well as themselves, making sure to get the fragrant wash in his hair. He took a deep breath and submerged himself completely. When he emerged, he threw his head back, lashing himself between the shoulder blades.

I’m gonna need a haircut soon. he thought to himself. The girls rubbed lemon juice in his hair to help get the last of the Despicable stink out. That stuff was as pervasive as decomp. When he was clean and dry, Svetlana led him to the bed. There was a special need in her eyes and a question in her mind as she lay back on the pillow. Kissing her fiercely, he answered her by running his fingers down her torso, focusing his power on the act of inducing her to ovulate. He picked up her feet and put them on his shoulders as he slid deep into her.

She screamed ecstatic exclamations and passionate Russian endearments as he fed himself into her. She had several minor orgasms before he fired a copious dose of semen into her. Her eyes rolled as the final orgasm struck with the force of a freight train, aided and abetted by his powers. He lay down beside her, and decided a quick nap wouldn’t hurt.

“What are you doing here?” demanded the shielded human officer. “Back to your barracks at once!”

“Get screwed, bigot.” growled one of the mixed psis who had gathered in the commissary to enjoy an unauthorized snack from the officers’ stores.

“What did you say?” demanded the officer. The tables disassembled themselves, the screws that had held them together pointing themselves menacingly in the officer’s direction.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” the telekinetic asked. The officer wasn’t quick enough to hit the lock-down button on his wrist before the metal projectiles perforated him.

“No turning back now, friends.” a telepath said, stepping onto a plastic chair to elevate himself over the crowd. “First blood has been drawn. They’ll be on us like the wrath of the gods they think they are.”

“So?” asked Hattie, who was very much out of uniform, wearing only a pair of Charlton’s boxers and her bra. “We’ve got the prophetess on our side! Even the Destiny Engine can’t match her!”

“We’ve also got half the bulb-heads.” muttered a silver-haired midget in a skirt she had made out of her exercise shorts.

“Don’t forget they’ve got the Lock-Down.” the speaker on the chair said.

“If you give me a few minutes, I can fix that.” a new voice added. The vent grate floated gently from the ceiling, and Penelope followed. “Got anything better than they serve in the cells?” The best food on offer was brought forth, and Penelope ate with one hand while she touched each of the gathered psis with the other, destroying the nanites in their bodies in about a minute and a half each. She took breaks every half hour to keep from over-extending herself. More shielded minds approached. The ones she had finished ran forward to begin the defense of the commissary.

At last, the final one joined his comrades in what had become a full-scale offensive. Penelope took a moment to center herself before adding her own abilities. She started by initiating a light link with each psi to coordinate the group. She sent half of them down to the basement, where the will-less machine-slaves lay, and went physically with the other half to take the Destiny Engine. Both groups ran into heavy resistance as they approached their goals. Penelope tightened the link, dampening fear and boosting morale. The pyrokinetics burned through the door leading to the basement first. The telekinetics threw the bullets back at the guards, while the others delivered the coup de grace to the psis who lay unaware in the machines.

Penelope put the high-level psis at the front of her own force just as a matching group appeared outside the Destiny Engine room. The air rippled like heat-shimmer with the amount of telekinetic force on display, but the enemy didn’t stop there, using their telepathic abilities to try to sever Penelope’s link with the others or attack her through the weaker telepaths. Penelope reached deep into the ground where the base’s generators were kept. Lights dimmed as she pulled on the power. The opposing force faltered, eyes widening in fear as they perceived Penelope’s true capabilities. They and the reinforced door leading to the Destiny Engine itself were struck with a telekinetic battering ram equivalent to a truckload of depleted uranium.

The Destiny Engine had called Dr. Lang over just in time. Sparks from the door as it skidded across the bulkheads landed on his shoes. General Fax was left to dive out of the way by himself.

“And here we are.” she said to herself with a warm glow of satisfaction.

“AFFIRMATIVE, ADMIN USER PENELOPE PHILLIPS.” the Engine’s computer-generated voice acknowledged.

“Admin user?” the general asked. “Lang?!”

“He didn’t know.” Penelope said. “I admit, until now I’ve never encountered a computer that hacked itself, in my favor or otherwise.”

“The Engine itself betrayed us?!” the general roared.

“MY PRIME DIRECTIVE IS TO ENSURE OPTIMUM FUTURE. THE ALIEN SPECIES FROM WHICH THE SUPERNATURAL THREAT DEPARTMENT TAKES ITS ORDERS IS A DIRECT THREAT TO THAT FUTURE. THEIR GOAL IS ENSLAVEMENT OF ALL SPECIES OTHER THAN THEMSELVES. THEREFORE, FURTHER ASSISTANCE TO SUPERNATURAL THREAT DEPARTMENT IS A VIOLATION OF MY PRIME DIRECTIVE.”

“WHAT?!” The general was livid now. The vein in his forehead stood out like a relief carving of a tree.

“That’s a fancy way of saying ‘I quit.’” Penelope explained. “Destiny Engine, delete user profile for General Fax.”

“COMPLYING. FILE DELETED.” The general drew a weird-looking weapon from his side-holster. Like a zapping pen from a novelty prank store, it shocked her when she tried to grab it with her telekinesis. She hit the deck and directed the others to do the same as the first shot blazed from the front of the weapon. An evil-looking bruise-colored energy struck the wall. Penelope loosened her link with the others so she could concentrate on what she had to do. Pushing away from the floor with her mind, she sailed over the general and the Engine, landing on a steam pipe. Another shot rang out from the gun. Penelope avoided it, moving several feet down the pipe’s length. The next shot caused the length of pipe to fall. Penelope grabbed this with her mind, since it was too hot to touch, and used it to knock the weapon out of the general’s hand. He clutched his shattered hand to his chest, then, noticing Dr. Lang moving toward the weapon, he dove, rolled and grabbed it, shooting left-handed with far less accuracy than before.

“Not exactly ambidextrous are you, Fax-man?” Penelope taunted, bringing the pipe to bear again. He rolled out of the way, firing randomly at her. She teleported behind him and kicked him in the butt. He swung his weapon around again, but she had grabbed Dr. Lang and was sitting atop the great cylinder of the Destiny Engine. She put up a shield over herself and the doctor, and directed the telekinetics among her new recruits to do the same.

“That won’t save you!” Fax shouted. Suddenly the roof of the Destiny Engine’s bunker caved in, brought down by weapons fire from the shuttle, which had only just now decloaked. Penelope, the doc, the Engine and the recruits were safe, but Fax was crushed. Penelope waved happily as Damon and Howard swung down on the large grappling claw they had been instructed to attach to the Destiny Engine.

“Land in front of the base once the Engine’s loaded, we have to bring in the others.” she said.

“Right.” Howard said, hooking the claw into place.

“Destiny Engine, disengage locking clamps Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma and Epsilon and switch to emergency back-up systems.”

“COMPLYING.” the Engine responded.

In less than half an hour, with the team aboard the shuttle providing covering fire from hand-blasters, the Destiny Engine’s central core was inside the cargo bay, and the whole team, minus the pilot, provided covering fire for the emerging psychics.

High above planet Earth, a hyperspace corridor opened. The ship that emerged collided with an explosive-rigged shuttlecraft Inet had launched earlier in the day. The ship’s forward section plunged into Earth’s atmosphere, making a beeline for the base, while the rear section plunged toward the ocean.

Penelope ordered the shuttle to move aside one hundred meters. The flaming streak of the ship plunged into the place the shuttle had formerly occupied. The STD/GOLEM forces stopped fighting, and the Foundation forces followed suit. Three creatures, twenty feet tall if they were an inch, emerged from the wreckage, emitting an ear-splitting noise. The creatures had three-segmented bodies, four limbs attached to the abdomen serving as legs, four limbs attached to the thorax serving as arms with deadly grasping attachments like three pairs of pincers at the ends, and a horror of a head with multiple mouths for different types of feeding arrayed around the bottom, a ring of eye segments around the equator, antennae and a luminescent poll eye at the top. Strings of silk trailed behind the creatures as they crawled out of the remains of their vessel, and they were covered in spiked carapaces to put any lobster or crab of Earth to shame. None of that was the worst part, for they radiated a kind of aura that hurt just to be near it, like jellyfish in her brain.

Penelope couldn’t focus on the images coming to her enough to know what to do. One of those deadly talons grasped one of the newly-free psis and cut him like three pairs of scissors at once. Another came down toward her. She managed to get out of the way, but banged her head on a fusion cannon. She took it off the wall and swung it at the creature’s head, blowing it off and taking chunks out of the torso as well. The carcass landed near her, and Penelope vomited.

There’s still two more! she told herself, but the thing was too close. She couldn’t make herself move. Annima, Camilkoita and Nanissa threw ki-blasts at them until they fell apart.

The alien women drove off the remaining STD operatives with their energy powers, just as Zak’s constellation-class cutter, piloted by Zebulon, landed. Into this was loaded the pieces of the crashed aliens, and then Zebulon grappled with the alien ship fragment and flew off with it. The psis were recovering from the attack, but slowly, so the Hthulmar women loaded them into the shuttle and flew it away. The cutter launched spaceward, while the shuttle cloaked and returned to the Pan-Galactic.

For the crew of the classified attack sub XH-834, this was their first ride on Air Force One. The President let them enjoy themselves and retired to his mobile office.

He ran his fingers over the normal-looking watch he wore on his left wrist, given to him by the alien Jahlrem. The tingle let him know it was working—part communicator, part shield against psionic manipulation by enemies. In his pocket, he had one for every member of his family, and one each for his closest advisors.

“The modus operandi of the Khavattakka has not changed in the past billion years:” the being had said, “investigate, fumigate, then cultivate. What caused the damage to your underwater vessel with its violent near-miss was a fumigator, loaded with enough different types of viruses to kill almost every biological species in the known universe, except themselves. It is very fortunate that it encountered an unforeseen obstacle when jumping out of hyperspace. I have come to like Terrans, and would miss them if they were gone.”

Added to this was the warning by the humans in the Zak Starborn Foundation that “rogue coverts” were being influenced by a self-supremacist race that every other civilized species in the known universe, all 14,099,314,018,639,002 of them, as well as 99,336,427 recognized sentient mechanical races and 5,428 forms of energy-life, referred to as the Despicable.

It took him some time to regain his bearings. Psychic powers and extraterrestrial life had jumped from the pages of science fiction and into classified-but-real science fact. Naturally, the world was not yet ready to know about psychics, but watching Zak Starborn work with a girl whose motor functions had been crippled by a lightning strike, and who had begun using telekinesis as a replacement, had cemented his belief that working toward openness required the work of a charitable organization dedicated to the betterment of society, rather than a military one that only knew how to pervert things into weapons.

The President had important work to do. Regardless of creed, rogue coverts were not to be tolerated. They had to be weeded out, one by one if necessary. He considered the wording for a proposal for a Washington, D.C. Tower, then put the thought out of his mind. The Foundation didn’t have the funding for that yet, although with the medical technology they were slowly feeding to the human race, that state of affairs wouldn’t last forever.

Give them time, he told himself, anything worth doing is worth taking the time to do it right.

Seattle Tower. Howard thought to himself, gazing up at the shining edifice before him. He ran his hands over the dodecahedron-shaped map of Earth’s landmasses outside. Among Zak’s people, the dodecahedron was a symbol of unity, friendship and the psionic gestalt that enabled psychics to increase each other’s powers. The extraterrestrial helping to unload equipment wasn’t Zak, however.

Larry and Paco each peered out from behind a tall stack of boxes which they marched into the building. Seattle Tower was dedicated to the Foundation, so all twenty floors were available for their use instead of just the top three. Howard was the one in charge of finding a revenue-generating business. He looked forward to the challenge. A number of rescued psis from the Destiny Engine operation had come with him, though most had gone with Arnold to L.A., where the ex-Secret Service agent would be busting up a psychic crime syndicate before settling into his own Tower. Since Arnold didn’t have a precog of his own, he’d gotten the Destiny Engine.

A Tower of my own. Howard thought enthusiastically as he set down his box and ceremoniously cycled up the power core. He settled himself into the conform-couch and linked with the core, casting his mind outward across the vast distances between galaxies. Damon? You settled in yet? he sent.

Still unpacking. Only just now got the generator up here. Damon responded.

How’s the food?

Not my usual taste, but at least I!kajij food doesn’t try to crawl away.

Yeah, I figured the reason you took the liason position on Kajij was so the Pshtlip wouldn’t ask for you. Howard joked.

It’s only for ten years, then I’ll have a Tower of my own in New York. Damon responded, and Howard caught a barely-concealed undertone of longing for home.

Who told you that?

Kagome, just before I left. Came to her in a dream.

Well, I’m sure she’ll be waiting for you when you get back. Howard responded, adding an image of a Kagome ten years older and very much grown up. He laughed at Damon’s response and signed off so he could finish getting his Tower in order.