“Hello, Seventy-Two. It’s good to be inside of you again.” Scott chuckled softly when she laughed a little. It was an old joke between them. Though, it never truly felt old to either of them.
“Set time axis ratio to six-one, and then bring up standard security command center zero-zero-one,” instructed Scott.
“Wilco, setting time axis to six-one. Command center initializing.” said Seventy-Two in compliance.
The white-space began to twist and warp at several points all around Scott's center of awareness. A high-tech command center shimmered into existence. There were over one hundred monitors, each located at their own console station.
In a time of crises, or during a field test, Scott would man each of those consoles by utilizing his innate aberrant ability. No known record of his family currently existed, but his genetic structure was on file. One, or perhaps both, of his parents carried aberrant genes.
Locked within his DNA was a high natural facility for psionic Crystallim affinity. It was a rare aberration, one that automatically led to his assignment as a Drone-Sec VRC Pilot. A specific duty within the advanced field artillery tactical data system specialist MOS, such pilots were responsible for policing the city utilizing the latest in overly invasive drone technology.
If a battle broke out, those brave men and women would courageously sleep soundly in their cradles while providing critical intelligence on enemy movements and allied troop locations. In truly dire moments, they could enter battle mode and command artillery pieces that were placed throughout the city. Such a situation would only occur in truly serious engagements when man power was low. Operating a mere artillery piece was considered beneath their skill-rating, but if the situation called for it Scott could effectively command most of the city's defenses through use of the psycho-link.
Despite the shock that he felt when entering virtual space, Scott was a skilled professional at utilizing his work station. It was his last day, however. Scott chose to only generate eight copies of his mind. They were not on alert. He would not need to have a large number of his command awareness protocol clones running at the same time.
Eight identical versions of Scott’s virtual form moved forward and sat at different command stations. Each of them would operate a different drone. A nine member team was the standard staff roster for a duty shift. If the city was on alert, he would manifest up to twenty-seven different instances of himself in this virtual space. That was considered to be moderately high proficiency for someone at his level. Were he to stay in the military, it was possible that he could man the entire virtual command center after he upgraded his intellect and resonance.
He settled into his comfortable chair and watched the main monitor. He would spend twelve virtual hours in this space for his shift. Afterward, he would have a brief few minutes of waking time with Seventy-Two before he would be whisked away to complete his final out-processing paperwork. At midnight tonight, he would be a civilian.
Time passed and Scott grew bored. Twenty-six million people lived in the city of America. Unfortunately, most of them behaved in a civic minded manner.
He synchronized with his mental clones then sighed. They were never truly separate from him. Their divergence from his core thoughts was an illusion, another of many useful hallucinations. He split his attention between nine different drones, nothing more. Sometimes one of the other drones might see something interesting, but today none of them found anything worthy of note.
He focused his attention back on what he considered to be his core persona. Scott opted to have the drone that he was currently focused on operating fly around the city on a standard reconnaissance patrol. At least the scenery would change.
The massive metropolitan area gleamed brightly in the evening light. He watched the citizens as they went about their lives. The people moved six times slower than normal in his view because of the time axis.
Despite the name, time was not affected. His perception of it was six times faster. For every six seconds of time that he experienced, only one second passed in the real world.
Synchronization of the visual images that he received to his current comprehension of time was possible. However, it was normally against protocol to do so. It was better to watch people take six seconds to do something that normally took a single second, than to lose six seconds of time that might have saved a life during an emergency.
He buzzed a gleaming tower then dropped down at a rapid rate of speed and slipped through an alleyway. After checking the location, he instructed the drone to zoom off toward the shopping center. The drone flew past an advertisement, something quite expected in the area. However, this particular advertisement caught his attention. He instructed his drone to go back so that he could look it over with greater care.
Scott watched the massive endorsement on the screen for a moment, and then snorted. “Really? I thought penis augmentation commercials were not allowed until after nineteen hundred?”
“Seventy-Two, take note of what my drone found. Send it in as a possible commercial morality violation,” said Scott.
“Wilco. Is it priority one?” she asked.
“No, I’m mostly bored,” said Scott. He had no real obligation to mention the advertisement, but it was something to do.
“Understood,” she said.
He buzzed through one of the many city parks after that. The pleasant scenery caused him to smile. Happy couples were playing in the park.
A Vulf, one of the canine Crystallim breeds, chased a Frisbee. She caught it via a spectacular leap, and then ran over to her probable owner. She handed it over to the young girl immediately. The girl said something that Scott could not discern at his current distance, but the Vulf smiled happily and started to wag her tail.
He adjusted his drone's sensor array in order to hear a bit of their conversation. The tail wagging increased dramatically when the younger girl patted her on the head and praised her. "You're such a good girl, Biscuit!"
“Cute,” said Scott. He spent a moment idly wondering if the girl would one day get another Crystallim and name her Gravy.
“She seems happy. I wonder how their relationship will change when the little girl is a bit older,” said Seventy-Two.
Scott tried not to think of what the little girl and her Vulf would be doing later in life. Right now, they seemed so sweet and happy that he didn't want to ruin the image of their innocent play.
He continued stalking the city in his drone, a simple flying eyeball with a retractable arm and hook. It was designed for surveillance only. The combat drones were not allowed to enter the city except in case of emergency.
Another few hours passed before he saw a truly interesting sight. “Seventy-Two. Is the height of that rooftop above the clearance zone for the public taming regulation’s code?”
“No, master. The rooftop is not high enough to reach the minimum elevation,” said Seventy-Two.
Scott rubbed his chin and spent a moment watching the human girl on the screen roughly tame her Cat Girl, a feline Crystallim. “I hate to break up a sexy lesbian show...”
He could report them to sector security, but he did not want to get them into trouble. He approved of hot busty lesbian action, after all. The drone moved forward, and he announced his presence over the loud speaker. He made certain the voice component worked at the right speed for local time to ensure proper communication. “Greetings perverted citizens."
The girls onscreen jumped up like their perky posteriors had been set on fire. They had the decency to look embarrassed but made no effort to cover up. They did not need to, legally. Nudity was not against the law. However, some people were prudish enough not to want to see hardcore taming in the open public areas.
"You are in violation of PDT regulation eight-one-seven. Please cease your thoroughly entertaining activities, or at least put up a tent. Alternatively, you may reduce your activities and engage in softcore petting. Thank you for your cooperation in this matter.”
“
Sir, are you going to have us arrested?” asked the Crystallim owner, a pretty young woman with honey blond hair. Her lips moved slower than her words. The effect gave her the appearance of a badly dubbed actress in a foreign film. The drone's voice was synched to the local time, but the video feed was not.
“Nah, I’m just looking out for you fine upstanding citizens. Your rooftop taming session is taking place at a location that is just a little too low in elevation, and I'm trying to keep your perky asses out of trouble.” Scott instructed the eyeball to enter into zoom mode for the sake of clarity in his work. He had a much better view of the situation afterward.
The girls giggled at the perky asses remark. They did work out frequently, so compliments were appreciated. Besides that, after being caught in the act they could not legitimately claim harassment.
“We’ll put up a tent. That’s alright, isn’t it?” asked the human girl.
“I’ll be sad since I’ll miss out on the view, but it will keep you out of trouble,” admitted Scott.
The girls looked at each other for a moment then a slow grin spread across their faces. The Cat Girl spoke up. “You... could come inside the tent, too. We would feel so much safer under the watchful eye of the ADF.”
“Yes... what if a pervert showed up to harass two innocent young girls like us?” asked the human.
Scott chuckled softly. “You make a fine point, ladies. Unfortunately, I can’t stay in one area too long if there is nothing illegal or dangerous going on.”
The Cat Girl pouted at the floating eyeball. “Well, that’s too bad.”
Scott bobbed his head and the eyeball floated up and down in response. “It truly is. By the way, what kind of tattoo is that?”
The Catgirl turned around and gestured at her lower back. “This?”
Scott zoomed in again. This time he clearly viewed her beautiful ass in glorious high-definition, while also checking out her sweet tattoo. “Ah, that looks like something someone would write in the Nihon region.”
“It is! It means fiercely loyal,” said the Cat Girl while looking back at him over her shoulder. Her tail swished from one side to the other then dropped down so that he could see properly.
“Hey, no fair hogging his attention. I have a tattoo, too, you know.” The blond girl turned around and showed her own tramp stamp. This one looked like stylized bat wings.
“Ah, I had thought that your ass was divine, but now I know that it’s really wicked,” said Scott without missing a beat. The bountiful booty bared before him could be nothing but the most wicked of creations. Simply gazing upon such exceptional craftsmanship might doom a man to the fiery abyss, or marriage, some terrible thing at the least.
The girl laughed, and then wiggled her ass enticingly. The effect of the time dilation caused intriguing ripples to occur in her pert posterior. Slow motion booty shakes were good booty shakes as far as he was concerned. After he bore witness to such a natural wonder, he decided that it was more like a booty quake. It was easily an eleven on the one-to-ten scale most often used for earthquake measurements.
What a cool couple of chicks, he thought. Scott chatted with them for a while, but their chance encounter was not destined to last for long. Duty called. He did take the time to trade contact information with them, however. The human girl had just received her hunter’s license. It could be fun to compare notes and genitals later.
The glorious booty was now lost to him for a time. However, his work was not complete. Scott stalked the city with the surveillance drone. The day wore on and turned into night, but for the remainder of his shift nothing truly spectacular or interesting occurred. Eventually, it came to an end. The guardians of peace and prosperity exited their sexy slumber chamber.
Soft whispers, words of love and encouragement, flowed through the air as Scott and Seventy-Two spent their last moments together. Their sweet embrace would end all too soon. The gentle words would cease. They would be parted, possibly forever.
"It's been a pleasure, master," said Seventy-Two in a gentle way. She bit her lower lip softly and made a sniffling sound.
Scott caressed her lonely maidenhood while he kissed her tenderly on the lips. He whispered to her, "I'll come back for you, no matter how happy you are."
A soft moan escaped her lips when Scott's questing fingers lightly teased her clit. Her voice shuddered slightly as she asked, "Promise?"
He swore it to her once more, then casually pressed his fingers deeper into her sex. Her soft folds pressed around his invading fingers. Once eager defenders of her virtue, they now sought to hold his invading fingers fast within the aching walls of her silken valley.
His thumb lightly circled her clit while he kissed her softly on the side of the neck. The hot petting session ended far too soon for either of them. A warning alarm activated. It was a common signal designed to alert a soldier to the imminent arrival of a superior officer.
Sexy shenanigans would not be tolerated during official meetings. Morale boosting was to be performed in an intimate moment between professionals.
Scott sighed loudly then kissed Seventy-Two for the last time. The captain was no doubt on his way with a squad of enforcers. He did not intend to give his superior officer a reason to drag him away violently, even if he was sorely tempted to simply snatch his lover's core and make a run for it.
It was not an uncommon occurrence. Sometimes soldiers did try to steal their Crystallim partners. Those poor lovestruck fools would try to make a break for it when it came time to relinquish their lovers. The American government understood the attachment. The ADF, in particular, tried to make the separation as painless as possible. The separation would happen regardless of the desires of those involved.
A tragic story, often a true one, the lovers escaping into the night was a common psycho-drama that the public enjoyed. Few of those offerings ever told the real story. They stopped at the part of the tale where the lovers escaped the military search teams. Supposedly, they always lived happily ever after.
Despite what the psycho-dramas claimed, it never worked out for those who attempted to flee into the night in order to express their love. There were too many watchful eyes, and rogue couplings represented too great a danger.
In order to survive as a couple, the fleeing lovers would need to leave the city. They would have to go into hiding in the deeper wilds of the frontier. Cut off from civilization, it was almost inevitable that a human would die within the year.
The Crystallim left behind would rapidly regress to a Nightmare state and become a true terror for the people in the surrounding area. The rage of an angry superhuman girl coupled with military training was a dangerous combination. When a chaotic mental state was added into the mix, an entire region might need to be put on alert.
Scott and Seventy-Two disentangled themselves from each other, then tidied up the place via MISS room storage. Their uniforms were re-equipped only a scant few seconds before the final warning buzzer sounded.
Light spilled through the heavy door that barred entrance into Scott's former love nest opened. A middle aged man, easily over a hundred years old if the slight touch of grey in his hair was any indicator, walked into the room.
Scott came to attention with a smart salute, "Captain on site! Attention!"
Seventy-Two saluted smartly, though her eyes were on the verge of tears. She lived this exact moment many times over the course of the last twenty years. It was never easy for her.
"At ease, soldier," said the captain. His eyes were kind as he gazed upon the soon to be parted pair.
The two lovers shifted their stance to a more casual posture. Their hands moved behind their backs, and their legs shifted to shoulder-width apart. "Sir. Welcome to VRC Post Seventy-Two," said Scott.
The captain eyed Scott for a moment, and then looked around the room. "Everything seems to be in order."
"VRC Specialist, Scott Matthews, I hereby congratulate you for your meritorious service to the city of America." The captain saluted Sco
tt, and the soldier returned it, crisply.
"Sir. Thank you for the honor bestowed upon me. It has been a privilege to serve my nation," said Scott in a loud, clear, tone of voice.
The captain dropped the salute then said, "It was America's honor to have you serve, soldier. Re-enlist anytime."
"Sir, I will keep it under advisement," said Scott without missing a beat.
The captain's eyes fell upon Seventy-Two, briefly. He then turned away then headed toward the door. He stopped just short of leaving the room. "Technically, you have ten minutes before you need to report to Debriefing and Outprocessing."
"Sir?" asked Scott. The customary relief of duty was supposed to signal the end of his time with Seventy-Two. It was the entire point of the captain coming to call.
"Your escort will wait outside." He took a breath and then waited a moment before he continued, "Also, you should take it into consideration that your service was exemplary. Military surplus purchase rights are allotted to you."
"Thank you, sir." Scott tried to hide the smile that crept up on his lips. The captain gave him the best piece of news he'd heard all day. He was legally authorized to purchase Seventy-Two, if he could save up the money. It was a hoped for dream, previously. Now it was a guaranteed reality.
Captain and crew left the room to grant the two their last few minutes together. The fact that he allowed such a thing after his visit meant a great deal to the lovers.
"Permission to come aboard?" asked Seventy-Two quietly.
Scott opened his arms to the girl. She leapt toward him and wrapped her legs around his waist. It was not long before they began their last ten minutes together in fierce competition to see who could adore the other the most.
Outside of the room, the five soldiers on duty chatted freely while they waited. This sort of duty was the least desired among the military security officer's corps, but it had to be done.
"Man, it must be hard for the VRC guys when their tour ends," said one of the soldiers, a man in black armor who looked to be no older than his late sixties.
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