The sleek hyperspace shuttle craft hisses and pops inside the vast hanger as heat dissipates from its ceramic and metal skin.  A door on one side of the ship opens and a tall male and female, both blond and both in outstanding physical shape slowly descend an exit ramp to the floor of the cavernous hanger.  Each is dressed in a green skin-tight suit that covers from neck to ankle.  The male wears calf-high black boots, the female wears knee-high boots.  Both also wear gloves - the male's extend to his wrist, the female's onto her forearms.  As their boots touch the deck of the Arion Command Ship, CS-1120, the pair snap their hands to their chests in a salute to Duk-em, Commander of Arion Forces in the Sol system.

"I am Hem-ra," the blond male begins, "and this is my sister, Shay-ra.  Aria High Command said you had a need for our services?"

Duk-em suppresses a laugh but can't prevent the ends of his lips from curling upward.  "Such arrogance these pretentious animals have!" he thinks to himself.  "I am Duk-em, Commander of Forces here.  Since we sent for you," the Arion Prime says, "we've discovered that the unknown meta-human is in fact a Velorian Protector."

"WHAT??" Hem-ra explodes.  "Vel . . ."

"Restrain yourself, Valkyrie," Duk-em says in a calm, level voice.  "There is no doubt of her pedigree.  An intial contact with the woman suggests she is confused about conditions here on Earth.  She expected other conditions.  Our best estimate is that she is not from Velor, per se, but is from *a* Velor - perhaps in another dimension or from another time.  But she is, or pretends to be, a Protector."

The three aliens begin walking from the cavernous hanger along wide corridors in the ship.  As they talk, the two blond Valkyries attract the stares of passing black-haired Arion Primes and Betas.  Most have never seen a Valkyrie nor did they ever expect to see one and are amazed at how closely they resemble the hated Velorians.  Valkyries, in fact, are one of Aria's greatest secrets.

As the 17th century (Earth reckoning) drew to a close, climactic struggles were being waged far away.  For centuries, Velorians and Arions had been vying with each other to control the destinies of planets.  Velorians tried to be subtle, using single, genetically-bred, enhanced females called Protectors.  Arions used their own people and allies such as the cat-like Kinzti to try to dominate young races.  Sometimes a Protector eliminated the Arion forces on her planet, sometimes a Protector fell to an overwhelming attack by her enemies.  Stalemate was the most common situation on many planets far from Earth.

The Supreme Council on Velor was surprised when a message from Aria proposed a meeting to discuss ending the conflict.  Aria invited the Velorians to an uninhabited system.  Only thirty people from each side would be permitted - Velor could send along as many Protectors as they felt they needed to feel safe.  The Supreme Council agreed to the meeting.

A sleek and deadly warship, one of the few interstellar warships Velor possessed, left hyperspace above the plane of the neutral solar system and raced toward the meeting point, a planet circling the large red sun.  The planet was just slightly smaller in size of their homeworld of Velor.  After scanning the system and planet, the ship detached a shuttle craft containing most of the Velorians which then descended to the planet's surface.  The four Velorians still on the warship manned sensors and Defense Systemry consoles, wary of an Arion trap.

On the planet, as soon as the Velorians left their shuttle craft and walked on the surface of the planet, they noticed that they felt . . . different.  Shoulders sagged slightly; vision became slightly blurry; muscles seemed to sag.  This was not a common feeling for Velorians, especially for the eight Protectors in the landing party.  The Velorians, so concerned about and focused on the coming meeting, did not immediately realize that the red sun had stripped them of much of their otherworldly power such as invulnerability, just as the planet's immense gravity replicated conditions of Velor and thus neutralized powers they had away from home such as flight and great strength.

As the peace delegation approached a tent housing the Arion delegation, small nozzles concealed in the dirt beside the path suddenly hosed the Velorians with concentrated gasses.  In seconds the potent gasses, composed of anesthetics and gold powder, disabled everyone in the Velorian party, even the Protectors.  The gas projectors stopped hissing and Arions rushed from the tent, armed with sets of thick metal shackles.

The Arions immediately rushed from the tent and split off, one to each striken Velorian.  Each was flipped onto his or her stomach.  First a belt went around each Velorian's waist.  On the belt, in the small of each person's back there was a small black box.  Conduit-like tubes snaked out from the box to four cuffs.  One cuff was immediately wrapped around a wrist or ankle.  The Velorians' knees had to be bent and the result made each captive look like he or she was hogtied.  In moments each Velorian had his or her ankles and wrists chained together.  While ordinary shackles might have been useless against the Velorians, the small energy packs poured a weak but steady stream of deadly orgone radiation into the Velorians.

As the Arions stepped back away from their captives, each Arion had an evil grin on his or her face. The red sun and near-normal gravity of this planet had weakened the Velorians.  The gas and orgone shackles rendered them powerless. The stricken Velorians writhed and moaned as the orgone energy sapped their strength and, at the same time, sexually aroused them.  None could think rationally enough to escape this trap.  Even the once-mighty Protectors were helpless as the orgone energy drained their will to resist.

Some time later, the Velorian shuttle craft left the planet and returned to the ship.  One of the Velorians, unused to the punishment and pain/pleasure inflicted by the Arions, had revealed approach and docking codes to her captors.  She cried in shame when her betrayal had no affect on her suffering.  As the ship entered the docking bay of the warship, she was quickly killed by her captors.  No longer needed.  After completing docking, fifteen Arion Primes swarmed from the shuttle.  They instantly overwhelmed and captured the two Velorians in the landing bay who were anxiously awaiting the return of their comrades.  Minutes later the raiding party had the last two Velorians secured by orgone-emitting shackles.  The entire Velorian party was taken with no losses!

A few months later, a sleek and deadly Velorian warship left hyperspace and entered the home system of Aria's allies, the Kinzti.  Without warning the ship raced toward Kinz and launched several missiles toward the planet.  Before the planet's defenses could respond, two of the missiles exploded, destroying Kinz' space-borne defenses.  Two more missiles, this time *planet-killers*, entered Kinz' upper atmosphere and exploded, spreading death around the world in moments.  Within an hour, there was nothing left alive on a planet which just minutes before had over a billion sentient beings and a thriving, complex biosphere.

The same warship tried to repeat the attack against Aria but was detected soon after it left hyperspace.  A battle of pursuit was waged high above the plane of the Arion homeworld system.  Scores of small Arion Hawk gunships pursued the invader, firing deadly tachyon blasts at the intruder.  A day later there was elation on Aria at the destruction of the deadly raiding vessel.  In fact, the Arions' defensive tactics were so thorough there was very little left after the ship was finally cornered and destroyed.  Five bodies were found.  One Velorian male and four Velorian females.

The attacks on Kinz and Aria did not go unnoticed.  The "Old Ones", an immeasureably old and powerful race, had monitored the attacks on Kinz and now against Aria.  The Old Ones did not want the Velorians or the Arions to upset the balance of growth of new races in the universe, nor did the Old Ones want either side to become too powerful.  Clearly, the Velorians had decided to change the rules by deleting their foes from the playing field.  This would not do, the Old Ones decided.  The response by the Old Ones was swift and total.

Velorian Protectors *disappeared* from every planet they occupied.  Velorian ships on missions (however peaceful) outside of Velor's home system *disappeared*.  An emmisary of the Old Ones appeared before the Velorian Supreme Council and told them to stay within the Velor system.  Or else.

And deep within caverns on a small moon in a miserable little system under Aria's control, twenty-five Velorians, the surviving crew and passengers of the Velorian ship Valkur, were turned into mindless slaves.  Breeding slaves.  Valkyries.

The current generation of Valkyries, and there are only about 500 on the small moon, are descendents of the twenty-five captives.  The surviving seventeen males bred with the eight captured Protectors; care was taken to monitor which child had which adults as parents.  All of the current Valkyries can trace ancestry back to the eight Protectors enslaved 300 years ago.  All believe that they are a lost race which had been saved by Arions from a planetary disaster caused by Velorians.  They were shown videos of the destruction of Kinz and led to believe that the barren planet was actually their home.  The blond Valkyries of today are immensely grateful and VERY loyal allies of the Arions.  However, due to the *natural* breeding method used to create them (instead of the bioengineering used to make Protectors), Valkyries are not as powerful as Velorian Protectors.  But their ability to fly and their extensive training in hand-to-hand combat make them formidable foes nonetheless.

And they have an intense hatred for the foul beings who *destroyed their home world*.  All would jump at the chance to kill a Velorian.

"From all I've read, we're probably not as strong as a Protector," Hem-ra says to Duk-em as they sit on comfortable seats in his lounge.  "But our fighting skills are finely honed.  As a team, we should be able to defeat one little girl!"

"I'm sure you can, Hem-ra," Duk-em says, smiling at his guests.  "I'd rather not have the three of you battle on the planet, though.  I believe we can convince the stupid bitch that you, too, are Velorians.  When she finds you, you must take her under your wing, so to speak.  Gain her confidence, earn her trust.

"Then get her off-planet and crush her!  I want you to bring her to me, in orgone chains and on her knees."

Both Valkyries lean forward as Duk-em describes his plan to capture the Velorian.

Harvey Paulson's noon-time radio broadcast is heard by thousands through Westland.  Westland, the eastern half of North America, was captured by the Nazis in the 1940s.  Nazis who had *discovered* new weapons and battle doctrines far beyond those of the French, British or Americans of the 1940s.  The discoveries had been provided by Arion Betas who had infiltrated the German military-industrial complex in the late '30s.

Paulson is one of the most widely-heard radio commentators in Westland.  His wry commentary about the news of the day, his candor, his familiarity with his audience make him beloved of many of his listeners.  And make him an effective tool of the Nazi's Ministry of Information.

"Page Three.  Just when you think things are going all right, my friends, reality rises up to smack us in the face.  You remember the little blond terrorist I've been telling you about?  Well, she's found some allies.  Seems a blond man and woman, dressed all in green, attacked the German army barracks on Stoessel Island in New Danzig's harbor.  Initial reports say the pair flew . . . yes, that's right, they FLEW into the barracks - not in a plane, friends, but with the same kind of anti-gravity belts stolen a few weeks ago from a Reich laboratory.  And like the little blond has done in the past, these two used fantastic energy weapons they stole from the Reich to BURN soldiers of the Reich!  The few survivors were returned to Germany for the advanced medical care they so badly need.

"Well, what are we to do about these blond terrorists?  Who are they?  The two in green have been seen quite often flying over New Danzig on their anti-grav belts.  The little blond girl hasn't been seen in weeks.  Gauleitier Messner has assured me that police and Gestapo forces, assisted by Wehrmacht and SS units, will be able to subdue these terrorists as soon as they can track them down to their hiding places.

"So, my friends, if you see where these beasts, these two-legged animals hide out, please PLEASE contact the authorities.  Do not approach them!  There's no telling what will happen to you, why even to your loved ones, should you confront them yourself.  THESE PEOPLE ARE DANGEROUS TO ALL OF US!!!

"Whaddaya say, folks?  Let's let the professionals deal with this scum?"

Hatsuharu, the capital of Lotus Blossom Land (i.e., Los Angeles, California), basks in a rare warm day - rare, that is, for January.  As the city's inhabitants go about their business, a young blond woman who appears to be in her early twenties sips tea at a small table beside one of the city's beaches.  She had arrived here from New Danzig a week ago but still hasn't found a place to live or someone to help her.  She's spent her evenings in secluded places in the hills above the city and her days lying on the beach, wearing only white shorts, a thin white bandeau, and white *tennis* shoes.

Her name is Cai Trin.  She was trained on Velor to be a Planetary Protector.  She was supposed to go to Earth but a freak accident in space above the planet shunted her ship sideways into this crazy dimension.  Here, there are no Protectors.  Germans, Italians and Japanese won World War II and now control most of the planet.  And in this time/space, Arions had infiltrated Germany and Italy before the war, provided them with advanced technologies and battle doctrines and thereby enabled the Axis powers to gain control of most of this planet.

Cai had linked up with something called the American Republican Army in New Danzig (formerly, New York) after several hair-raising escapes from Arion forces.  The ARA wanted her to help them defeat the Germans and Italians, to free the U.S. from the Nazi yoke.  When she said she couldn't take sides against human governments and nations, the ARA no longer welcomed her as an ally.  They didn't entirely believe that Arions existed.  Nazis, on the other hand, DID exist!  And if these fantastic alied DID exist, wasn't the current situation the result of their interference.  Didn't she OWE the ARA her help to restore the balance?  Cai had to think about how she would answer the ARA.

Cai had fled to Lotus Blossom Land (the western half of North America, occupied by the Japanese in the late 1940s) after another disastrous encounter with human stooges of the Nazis and Arions.  Her incredible super body was overwhelmed by an insideous alien device that forced her to pleasure herself until its energy burned off.  She barely escaped from New Danzig with her life!  The past few days have been spent recoupping her strength and discharging the last vestiges of orgone energy.

As Cai stares across the sandy beach at the rising swells of the Pacific Ocean, part of her consciousness and super hearing picks up the phrase "blond terrorist" in Paulson's broadcast, blaring from a radio on the Strand.  Cai concentrates her attention and hearing and listens to the rest of his propaganda.  "Flying blond people with super powers?" she muses.  "Velorians?"

Cai makes a decision and rises to her feet.  Cai raises her arms above her head and clasps her hands together.  As she stretches the kinks out of her muscles, they briefly swell and the slight woman displays the musculature of someone who's spent a lifetime at *Muscle Beach* working with heavy weights.  People nearby stare at the slight woman with unabashed envy as she twists and bends her torso to work out the kinks.

When Cai finishes, she resolutely stalks across the beach and into the ocean, swimming away from the beach until she's well away from the shore.  She flexes her leg muscles and slowly floats above the waves.  Hovering, she strips off her narrow white bandeau and extracts a small piece of fabric from a pocket in the garment.  She removes her shorts and shoes and compresses them and the bandeau into a thin wafer.  A flick of her wrist and the other wafer *explodes* to form the red, yellow and blue costume of a Velorian Planetary Protector.  Cai deftly slips into her costume and stuffs her *civvies* into a pocket in the belt of her costume.

Slowly, flying low to avoid radar, Suprema (as she calls herself when in this costume) flies around Hatsuharu and streaks across the western desert toward the east coast.  As she accelerates, she bends her back to raise her chest and face upright, so that she looks like the figurehead on a ship as she flies across the land.  She slowly pulls down the top of her costume, exposing her perfect breasts.  As her speed exceeds that of sound, the friction of air hitting her breasts warms them.  Warms them and feeds natural energy into the storage batteries that her breasts are.  "Mmnnnh," she moans luxuriously as the warmth gives her a slight sexual stimulation and her lovely mounds begin to glow.

High above North America, the automatic intelligence guiding an Arion satellite associates the actinic glow on a small, speeding object far below with the *signatures* in its avionics library.  A signal is immediately flashed to CS-1120:  "Object sighted, 99.9% probability identity is target *Velorian 1*, heading easterly . . ."

The signal is also heard by the crew of the Arion Hawk-class gunship Talon, hovering on patrol over the Arctic.  One of the two Arion Primes on the ship plots a course to intersect the Velorian while the other pulls the ship out of position and fires its main engines.  As the ship's speed approaches red-line, gravity 30 times Earth-normal pins the Primes into their flight couches.  Uncomfortable, but not fatal given their powerful physiques.  A few minutes later their ship is less than forty miles behind and above the Velorian and slowing slightly as it descends.

"Wait - till - nngh - we're - closer," the pilot gasps through the high-gravity pinning him to his couch.

"Almost - in - range," his gunner rasps, reaching for the trigger of the tachyon cannons.  "Almost . . . almost . . . NOW!" the gunner yells and pulls the trigger.

A second later, energies from three cannons in the nose of the pursuit craft burst forth and converge to smash into Suprema's unprotected back.  She screams like an gored pig as her body convulses from the Hellish energy.  The incredible pain makes her think that mayber her back is broken, the pain is so intense.  She almosts loses consciousness from the pain as her body cartwheels, out of control, off to one side of her flight path.  As she tumbles and falls earthward, the Arion Hawk roars past her and begins to turn to pursue her.

At the last second, just before she hits the ground, the Hawk's gunner loses sight of his prey.  "FIND HER!" the pilot shouts, "if you don't, Duk-em will kill us both!"

"FRAK!" the gunner swears, "this felgercarb is over 200 years old!  The sensor failed!  How could I help it?"

"You should have used your super vision to track the bitch, idiot!" the pilot hisses.  "You better find her before she recovers, fool!"

As the Hawk slowly turns back toward the Velorian's last known position some twenty miles south of Shiprock, New Mexico, the young heroine's body crashes into the floor of the desert, a thin plume of smoke drifting up from her back, a shallow crater surrounding her.  Her golden tresses lie at odd angles across her back and on the dirt.  There's a deep black stain on her invulnerable costume, both on her cape, just below her signature *S* emblem and on the girl's back, just above her buttocks.  She's lying face down and is blessedly unconscious.  She doesn't hear the Hawk roar overhead at Mach 1, nor does she hear it bank into a turn moments later, to return and land near her a few minutes later.

A few miles away, another attractive blonde spurs her horse over a ridge line in hopes of seeing what's crashed into the ground.  She watches the strange-looking craft settle down on the desert scree.  Without a moment's hesitation, she gently spurs the horse into a gallop toward the grounded spaceship.  "This can't be!" the woman gasps as the horse races toward the alien craft.

Near the body of the blue and red-clad woman, two Arion Primes disembark from the gunship.  As they walk toward the woman, each grins evilly at the vision of the lovely woman lying still, broken, and at their (non-existent) mercy.  "Think she's dead?" the gunner asks as he exits the Hawk gunship.

"Must be," the pilot replies, looking briefly at his companion.  "Hey . . . get back in the ship!  Keep those cannon aimed at her, just in case!"

"You aren't serious?" the gunner sneers.  "That bitch is finished!  Frak!  I left the shackles on the ship!" he mutters, spinning on one heel and turning back toward the gunship.

"We'll need those orgone cuffs," the pilot says, turning his head to look over his shoulder.  "Can't take any chances . . . <awk!>"

Slowly, painfully, the Velorian has heroically risen off the dusty desert floor, her back protesting each movement by sending sharp stabs through her nerves to her brain.  She gets onto her arms and knees and sees two men - PRIMES!  One is walking back toward the ship, the other is looking at him but walking toward her.  Neither sees her rise!  She has one chance to save herself!

Despite the pain in her back, Suprema launches herself toward the nearest Prime and extends her right fist in front of her body.  She slams into the Prime's chest and her fist digs deeply into the man's body.  As her momentum drives her fist into the Prime's chest, sounds like metal abrading metal shatters the still desert air.  The same momentum drives both of them toward the gunner and the Hawk.  In a heartbeat (no pun intended) Suprema manages to grasp the pilot's living heart in her small hand.  Slowly, inexorably, she crushes the life-sustaining organ, causing it to stop beating.

When the pilot's hit, his head turns back toward the Velorian and he's shocked to see the slim girl's hand driving into his chest!  Even as his vision blurs, he begins to hammer the girl's head with all his remaining strength.  A thin scream escapes from his lips as her hands begin to crush his heart.  He knows that he has but a few minutes left to save his own life - she's using the best method to kill an Arion Prime.  In frantic desperation, with the last of his waning strength, the Prime slams a fist onto the girl's back.

"AArrrghh!" she screams, her body bending in response to the blow.  Her grip on the Prime's heart slackens and her eyes close from the excruciating pain.  The Prime's fist seems to send electric shocks through Suprema's body when he hits her again on her back.  Crying out, Suprema loses her grip on the man's heart and they fall apart just as they slam into the gunner.  Momentum carries the three of them further until they all slam into nose of the Hawk gunship and drop to the ground beneath it.

Suprema is the first to recover, despite the grievous injury they've done to her.  She rises to her hands and knees beneath the ship, moaning from the pains in her back.  "Rao!" she gasps. She shakes her head from side to side to ease the pain and her blond tresses lash out like thin whips.  "C-can't . . . take this . . . <AAAIIIIEEEE!!>," she screams as the revived gunner pounds her back with his clenched fists.  Suprema collapses onto her belly, her legs splayed out behind her, one arm under her body, the other covering the small of her back.

She has only barely recovered from the Arion trap the previous week that bombarded her powerful body with enervating orgone energy.  Her energy reserves are still far below what she would desire.  Suprema struggles to keep her eyes open and rise to battle these Primes.  Struggles and fails.

"I've got her!" the gunner shouts as he drops to one knee and hammers the back of the blonde's neck, driving her face into the hard surface of the desert.  He quickly grabs her by her hair and by the fabric on her butt, rises and lifts her above his head, holding her overhead like some prize.  Suprema's front faces upward, her arms and legs dangle limply.  She can offer no resistence to this man's attack.  Again he drops to his knee but this time he brings the stricken girl's back down to slam against his outstretched and harder-than-steel knee.

"AAAIIIIEEEE!!" Suprema screams as her backbone crashes against the Prime's knee.  Her arms and legs flail uselessly as her brain seems unable to control her body.  A second later, the cruel Prime smashes his clenched fists once, twice, three times into the rock-hard abs of the blue-clad heroine.  Each blow sounds like two freight trains crashing together.  Each blow brings another scream from the woman as her body convulses and wraps around the man's fists, each scream weaker than the previous.

The gunner stands and lets the Velorian fall to the ground.  "I'll get the chains now," he tells the pilot. The pilot is still seated below the nose of the gunship, one hand on his chest.  He gasps deeply as a few more moments of rest are needed to restore circulation and recover from the Velorian's death-grip on his heart.

"You just sit there and rest, my friend, while I take care of this Velorian bitch!" the gunner says as he climbs into the gunship.  He disappears into the gunship and the desert is suddenly silent except for the wheezing pilot trying to recover from Suprema's punch.  Suprema is unconscious - blessedly so, given the punishment she's taken in the last few minutes.  Then the silence abruptly ends with the sounds of hoofbeats.

A blonde, maybe in her early thirties, quickly dismounts from the horse and rushes toward the landed craft.  She's wearing a white blouse, tan trousers, and brown English-style riding boots and deerskin gloves.  She reaches the side of the ship's door as the gunner leaves the ship, a bulky set of chunky-looking shackles in his hands.  Pilot can only look at her dully as he tries to rise from the dirt.  He doesn't have time or the energy to warn the gunner.  Nonetheless, he does manage to raise an arm and weakly point a finger beyond the pilot toward the newcomer.

The gunner suddenly notices the horse and turns slightly to look around when the blonde smashes him in the groin with a powerful kick - so powerful that her expensive leather boot disintegrates!  The Arion doubles over in pain from the blow to his privates and before he can react the woman's knee slams upward and hits his jaw solidly, flipping him up and backward some ten feet.  The Prime drops the two sets of shackles as he tumbles backward across the desert floor.

The blonde knows she has only one chance against these two.  She scoops up the shackles and rushes over to the gunner, who's recovering from the powerful hits he's taken.  As the man sits up, the blonde slips shackles over his ankles and flips a switch.  There is a second's pause, then a light humming sound.  Suddenly the man rocks backward onto his back and writhes on the ground as orgone energy surges up his legs into his groin.  His own energy leaches into the shackles giving them more power, and his body becomes a huge, aroused lump of man-meat.  His hands grip his growing shaft and he completely forgets the two blondes.

The blonde horsewoman races back to the shuttle as the pilot begins to rise to his feet.  His back is to her and he's unsteady, still recovering from Suprema's attack.  Suddenly, his hands are dragged behind his back and, before he can react, the second set of shackles close on his wrists.  "What the . . .?" he mutters as they hum into action.  "NNNOOOO!!" he moans as he sags to the ground and a spectacular erection forms in his groin.  Like his compatriot, he quickly succumbs to the powerful orgone energy coursing through his body but unlike his compatriot, he can't use his hands on his massive erection.  The blonde takes half a step backward and smashes his face with a powerful side kick from her unshod foot.  Again, the sound of metal on metal rings across the desert floor.  The Arion flips several times as he cartwheels away from the Hawk gunship.

"What in RAO's NAME are you doing here?" the blonde asks the unconscious Suprema.  Getting no response from the stricken Protector, the blonde lifts the woman and tosses her over a shoulder.  Grabbing the horse's reins, the blonde begins running northward toward Shiprock carrying Suprema and leading the horse.  In moments, she's travelling at forty m.p.h. and the horse is struggling to keep up with her.

"Gotta find some cover!" she says to herself as they approach Shiprock.  Near the town's southern boundry, the blonde releases the horse's reins and accelerates, racing around the west side of the town at nearly sixty m.p.h.!  "Find your way back to Jack's house!" she yells at the horse.  "Hate to borrow something, then lose it.  So much for a nice mid-winter vacation."

Outside Shiprock, the blonde carrying the unconscious Protector heads northward at nearly eighty m.p.h.  She quickly enters the canyons below Mesa Verde and finds a cave-dwelling dating back to the ancient Anasazi.  Carrying her burden inside, she moves to a flat stretch of rock on which she lays the stricken Protector.

"HOW COULD YOU LOSE HER!!" Duk-em rages at the two Primes.  A shuttle had landed less than twenty minutes after Suprema's rescue and the two Primes, lost in orgone reveries, were brought back to the Force Commander's presence.  Now the two men, still trembling and shaking from the orgone energy in their bodies, quake before his wrath.  They mutter something about another woman, a human, but make no sense.  How could a pitifully-weak human disable two Arion Primes!

Mar-vel, the First Officer of the Arion force, steps up behind the two men and plants a white-gloved hand on one man's buttock.  He jumps slightly as the tall, athletic raven-haired Prime female's touch sends electric jolts through his loins.  Mar-vel is in her off-duty uniform - a shiny black LeatherEx © body suit with white elbow-length gauntlets and white knee-high boots with three inch heels.  "Let me punish them, my Lord," she purrs at Duk-em.  "I'll make them sorry they ever left Aria!"

Mar-vel and Duk-em have had a tempestuous relationship since they arrived here over fifty years ago.  She is one of his best warriors.  In the early '40s, as the Nazi fraulein Fausta Grebels, she defeated a meta-human who wore a red and yellow bustier, star-spangled blue trunks, and red boots.  This self-styled *Wonder Woman* is still languishing in a cell down on the dark side of the moon in the Arion's main base in this system.  Since then, Duk-em has seen her pride and viciousness swell to deadly levels.  Their own love-making has become so violent that it must be done on the surface of the moon where damage can be minimized.

"Take them," he says languidly.  "I do not want to see them again on this ship.  See that they are properly disciplined and sent elsewhere, Mar-vel."

"Oh, yes, my Lord," she purrs.  She puts a hand on each man's shoulder and steers them toward the doorway.  "Come, my pretties, and let's get to know each other, eh?"  The two men twitch and wobble as they're pushed toward the doorway.  Not just her touch but their imaginations about what the woman will do to them are causing the orgone-driven waves of pleasure to surge through their bodies.  She is legendary in the small Arion force.

"Wh-whu . . . where am I?" Suprema asks, her voice slurred as she struggles to regain consciousness.  She looks up and sees the attractive blonde looking down at her with concern.  The woman appears to be in her thirties and is wearing human clothes.  "Who . . . nngh are you?" Suprema asks, her mind struggling for stability and control.  As she shifts slightly, a sharp pain stabs through her back again, reminding her of the one-sided confrontation with the Primes.  "The Primes . . ."

"Hush, now, little one," the blonde says in a soothing voice.  "We're miles away from them and you're safe here."  The blonde sits beside the Velorian and places a hand on the side of the woman's head.  Gently, tenderly the blonde caresses the younger woman and then slides her hand across the other's cheek.

"My name is Shay-ron, little one," the blonde says, "and like you, I'm a Velorian."  Suprema's eyes widen at this revelation.  "I'm not a Protector," Shay-ron continues, smiling at the Protector.  "I'm more of an observer for Velor.  I have some powers on this small planet, under its yellow sun, but nothing like those of you or an Arion Prime.  The only way I could defeat those two who attacked you was to fight dirty," she says.  A small laugh, tinkling like metal chimes, fills the cavern as she laughes at herself.

"Sh-Shay-ron?" Suprema manages to say, "I don't understand - need . . . need a second to clear my head."  Her eyes glaze over briefly as she struggles to retain consciousness.  Her body has been beaten and battered viciously on this planet during her brief time here.  Slow, ragged breaths are taken as the woman's incredible constitution continues to heal her and restore some of her strength.

"Just lie still . . . what do I call you?  I can't keep calling you *little one*!"  Shay-ron asks, smiling at the supine woman.  "You're wearing the kind of costume we used to give to a Protector but we haven't sent any off-planet in a very long time.  Did the Council change its policy . . ."

"Not from the Velor here," Suprema interrupts.  Her tongue flashes across her lips, restoring moisture to them and making them seem shiny and very red.  "My name is Cai Trin."  Suprema takes a few moments to explain her arrival here on the Earth in this time/space.  She explains how she looked for another Protector, named Aurora, but was unable to find her.  She briefly recounts her trip to New Danzig and her discovery that the planet is infested with Arions who have altered the planet's *history* (that is, the history of the planet in her own time/space)

"And you probably won't find anyone like that on this planet," Shay-ron says when the heroine finishes.  "We've - we Velorians, that is - we've been virtually prisoners on our own planet for several hundred Earth years, now.  Only in the last few years have we been able to smuggle people off-planet.  A few of us were sent out to observe certain worlds.  Velor tried to send Protectors off-world, too, but they just *disappeared* as soon as left the planet's atmosphere.  We don't know what's happened to them but it always happens to them.  We seem to be limited to sending one female non-Protector off-world at a time.  Anyone else just *disappears*.

"I arrived here about a year ago, Earth reckoning.  I set up a small photography studio in a little town northeast of this place.  We'll go there after you've had a moment to rest.  And after the sun sets!  Can you imagine the sight of us?"  Shay-ron looks down at herself.  One boot missing, her blouse torn open below her breasts and missing buttons, her bra visible, her pants torn in several places.  She knows without looking that her hair is a mess from the hectic race across the floor of the desert.  And Suprema's blue, red and yellow costume certainly doesn't blend in with the locals' normal clothing.

 A day later Shay-ron and Suprema are relaxing in the former's hot tub.  The tub is on a red wood deck outside the woman's home in the mountains north of Durango, Colorado.  From the tub one can look down onto the town and see for miles beyond.

"This feels so nice," Cai Trin says to her host, luxuriating in the 200 degree heat of the hot tub's waters.  "I almost wish I could just stay here and soak . . ."

"And watch this world destroy itself under the prodding of the Arions?" Shay-ron says, completing the Protector's sentence.  "You're the one chance these humans have to regain their rightful history."  Shay-ron slips one hand behind Cai's neck and begins to softly massage the younger woman's neck.  Cai moans slightly and leans against the hand, soaking up more of the soothing massage action.

Shay-ron stops massaging Cai's neck and deftly pulls the woman around so that the Protector's back faces her.  Shay-ron slides through the water, closer to Cai Trin, and places one hand on the girl's shoulder.  The other hand slips around the front of the Protector and gently envelopes one of her breasts.  As powerful fingers surround then squeeze Cai's nipple, she moans throatily and her head sags down onto her chest, her mouth barely above the warm water.

Shay-ron briefly massages both Cai's shoulder and breast, then releases Cai's shoulder and slips the hand around to the front of the younger woman.  Slowly, tenderly, this second hand slides down between Cai's legs and finds the right button to press.  After a minute or two of loving caresses, Cai is lost in a sexual reverie and she cries out as her body surges upward from a powerful orgasm.  Cai falls backward onto the front of Shay-ron and the two woman move up and down as one, apparently directed by Shay-ron's hands as they play across Cai's body.  Another cry rips from Cai's lips as a more powerful orgasm takes her body.  She slumps slightly in the roiling waters and softly whimpers, "nn - no more . . . Shay . . . -ron, please!  Mmmmnhh!"

"I've been alone since I left Velor, Cai," Shay-ron whispers into Cai's ear, playfully nibbling it as well.  "This is as much for you as it is for me, darling," Shay-ron says.  As Cai's body rocks from another powerful orgasm, Shay-ron turns her friend around so they face each other in the tub.  Their bodies rub against each other, breast to breast and groin to groin.  Cai's hands seem to move automatically to touch Shay-ron's breasts, cupping them and squeezing them with incredible power.  Now it is Shay-ron's turn to moan as Cai's powerful yet tender touch releases feelings long suppressed.  Shay-ron's eyes close and her body shudders from Cai's loving caresses.  The two women's lips lightly brush against each other, then move away, then rush together again.  Both women eagerly and aggressively thrust their tongues out to penetrate the other's lips.  The tongues meet between the two and briefly fence before Cai's tongue brushes past Shay-ron's and plunges into the woman's mouth.

For long moments, the waters roil as the two superior women caress each other and help each other achieve orgasmic release.  Long minutes pass before the two women fall back against the sides of the tub, exhausted, spent from their love-making.  Cai breaks the silence first, asking, "so what do you know about these two blondes over New Danzig?"
 

"N-nothing," Shay-ron gasps, not fully recovered from the love-making.  "I heard a pair of reports on the radio but nothing more.

"I've been trying for the past year to gather evidence that Arions are here and are altering this planet's natural development, but the only *facts* I've gathered about aliens is more damning of Velor than Aria - first you, then these new blondes!" Shay-ron says.

"You should be on the east coast," Cai says, "not here in the mountains.  All the Arions, I think, are on the east coast and in Europe.  All you'll find here are Asian overlords."

"Yes, I know," Shay-ron says ruefully, "but the two times I tried to get set up in German-occupied territory, I had to flee during the night because I didn't have the right papers!  Those people require a form filled out in triplicate if you want to take a dump; imagine what I had to go through to set up a photography studio!  I couldn't get the papers in order and their secret police soon began asking me questions!"

"Well," Cai asks, her hand sliding underwater to rest atop Shay-ron's thigh, then slide slowly upward.  "What are we going to do now?"

"Mmmnh," Shay-ron moans as Cai's fingers find the right button to push, and begin pushing.  "Wuh-we . . . we mmmnnhh we should figure . . . ah, figure out how to mmmnnhhh!" she says, leaning forward to plunge her tongue between Cai's waiting lips.  Slowly the two women get closer to each other an their bodies seem to melt together into one being with two backs as they slowly slide below the waves.

"I think I can help with the papers problem," Cai says a few hours later.  She and Shay-ron have finally left the hot tub and now each one, wrapped in an extra large towel, is seated before Shay-ron's fireplace, watching the sun set.  "We can go to New Danzig and find that American Republican Army.  I think they can get papers for anyone.  We set you up and then try to get evidence of Arions.  I know I saw more than I wanted to in the few weeks I've been on this wretched planet.  What will you do when you get evidence?"

"Well, my ship is hidden in a valley north of here," Shay-ron replies.  "I'll return to Velor and let the Council approach the Old Ones.  The problem is, I don't know what evidence I need or how much I need to prove the Arions interrupted this planet's normal development."

"Well, on my time line, the Germans and their allies lost this planet's second world war," Cai says, "but they won it here.  I don't remember much about the history I was given before I went to that Earth but from what the ARA people said, I think the Germans here got some help from the Arions.  That would also account for all the Arions I saw running around like they were German officials."

"I think I need to take a prisoner back with me," Shay-ron declares.  "Someone with some authority, who can tell the Old Ones what's been done to this planet."

"Maybe we can get a Beta for you to take back - one with some rank here among the Germans," Cai muses, "and who we can turn against the Primes."

"Sounds like a plan!" Shay-ron says, smiling at the young Protector.  As the sun dips below a distant mountain line, the two women slide across the floor toward each other, dropping their towels and slipping into each other's arms.  As the room darkens, sensual moans and the smell of wild flowers and honey fill the room.