Broads into Plowshares
by Autolycus, maynlinz@earthlink.net
Three genetically altered women engage in a brutal battle.


This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons is only a figment of
your imaginations. Let's face it, we all wish these babes were real! Anyway,
they're not, so go take a nice cold shower.

BABES IN SPYLAND II:

BROADS INTO PLOWSHARES

(c) 1997 Autolycus

Here's the deal: This is the story of a genetically altered female who is not
only a perfect physical specimen, but also has psychic abilities. She was
created by the US government to be the ultimate espionage agent, although her
creator/father, the late Dr. Smitrovich, didn't know that at the time. She was
seized by an ultra-secret anti-terrorist government agency, the Aegis Group,
and (ultimately, but against her will) trained in martial arts and other forms
of combat, although she refuses to kill anybody, which drives the head of the
AG, General Armitage Winsome, absolutely nuts. By the way, her name is Jessica
Chance and this is her encounter with a Russian counterpart named Velika
Ravnovyesiye.

She paused, pressing her body into the cool sand of the Libyan desert, and
listened, not only with her ears, but with another sense which most humans
lack. Most humans, but not the woman you've come all this way to find, she
grimly reminded herself. As the sounds of a celebration, music, laughter, the
clinking of metal goblets, the heavy-breathing of couples who have found a
secluded corner, drift across the still night air, she recalls the file on the
Soviet's version of the project which created her, Project Smyert (Death).

Like the US's Project Angel, the Soviets had begun experimenting with genetics
in the late 1960's, also without much luck. Then, shortly after Dr.
Smitrovich's breakthrough, the Russian's (for the Soviet Union had since
collapsed) made a similar discovery. However, unlike Dr. Smitorvich and the
Angel team, the Smyert team had created Velika for the sole purpose of
counter-espionage/ assassination and had trained her from the beginning in all
manner of deadly combat techniques.

Jessica frowned to think of the little girl who was given guns, knives, and
bombs to play with, instead of dolls, tea sets, and plastic ponies, and
mourned both of their lost childhoods for a moment.

After the total breakdown of the Russian economy, Smyert was of course
abandoned and Velika disappeared, along with the scientists who had created
her. While the scientists themselves were never heard from again, Velika began
hiring herself out as a mercenary to any foreign power with enough money to
afford her expensive fee.

But, however much they spent, the rebels, dictators, tyrants, and would-be
rulers definitely got their money's worth as Velika, and a small band of other
outcasts she recruited somewhere along the way, quickly decimated whatever
forces she was sent up against, easily penetrating any defenses and
mercilessly destroying the leaders of the opposition. Thus far, she had been
responsible for the reigns of a dozen ruthless governments, but, as all of
them were too small to be any real threat to the US, the Aegis Group, the
masters for whom Jessica unwillingly worked, had taken little notice. Then,
General Winsome received reports that Velika was in Libya and he began to
track down whatever information he could on her.

Even with the death of General Muammar el-Qaddafi in 2003, Libya had continued
to be a haven for terrorists, encouraged by Qaddafi's successor, Brigadier
General Hassan el-Fassir, who had been Qaddafi's right hand man in the years
before his death. If anything, Fassir actually expanded Libya's involvement in
terrorist activities, openly refusing UN forces access to his country and
ignoring requests from the West for the extradition of known criminals, even
when presented with incontrovertible proof that they were within Libya's
borders.

Were it not for the fact that Qaddafi and Fassir had spent the past several
years amassing weapons and troops, imported mostly from the crumbling Russian
states, and the fact that no type of nuclear strike could be launched without
endangering Libya's neighbors, who were still Western allies, the Western
powers would have wiped the country off the face of the Earth when Qaddafi
died. As it was, they had tried unsuccessfully, an embarrassing number of
times, truth be told, to assassinate Fassir. But the man was so paranoid about
attempts on his life that no one could get within 10 miles of him without his
knowing exactly who they were.

And now this megalomanical tyrant was about to begin negotiations with the
most effective assassin of the 21st century, one last acquisition from the
defunct Russian empire. In desperation, President Hemdale himself had asked
Winsome to send Jessica in to deal with this delicate situation.

Grudgingly, and against his better judgement, the General had agreed.

Jessica smiled to herself at the memory of the General's visit. He had been so
uncomfortable as they sat in her apartment, forcing the words to leave his
throat had clearly been quite a struggle for him. Naturally, he had demanded
that Velika ideally should be turned and brought back to the US, specifically
back to the Aegis Group. She shuddered to think what Winsome would do with the
woman, no doubt use her against Jessica as he had tried to do with her 'little
sister,' Melanie. If she was unable to turn Velika, he made it very clear that
she would have to be eliminated, i.e., killed. She hadn't bothered to remind
him that she would never kill another living person, since he was all too
aware of that fact. Still, she was unsure just what she was going to do about
Velika, since the woman obviously had to be neutralized one way or another
before she was responsible for any more deaths, and before she became a real
threat to the US.

Further musings about her dilemma were cut short as she realized with a start
that she was not alone. Another person was creeping quietly over the sand,
toward the tent which housed the mercenary and her party. She probed gently
with her heightened mental powers and discovered, not too surprisingly, that
it was another counter-espionage agent like herself. He was from Great Britain
and his name was Trevor Willowgate, and he was clearly out of his league.

Or so she thought until he suddenly paused and turned his face to look
directly where she lay concealed in the shadow of the dune and then winked at
her. She let out a little gasp. He could read her mind, or at least sense her
presence. Then, probing a bit deeper, she discovered that he couldn't, not
really. At least, not on his own like she could. He was wearing a device which
the British government had developed which gave the user extremely limited
psychic abilities, and, more importantly, provided some defense against
psychic attacks.

She stealthily made her way over to him and smiled, holding out her hand. "I'm
Jessica," she whispered, her voice hot and sultry like the dessert itself.

"A Yank," he remarked, casually shaking the hand. "You're going to get hurt if
you stick around here, m'dear."

Jessi's face reddened slightly. "You, Commander Willowgate, are the one who is
in danger here," she replied cooly. "Even with your amusing little bonnet,
you're no match for Velika."

Trevor scowled and then bit his lip thoughtfully. "Jessica," he said brightly.
"Of course! Jessica Chance, the American's 'wonder woman.' I should have
guessed they'd send you. Fight fire with fire has always been the Yanks'
favorite way of dealing with things."

"Oh?" Jessi questioned, a bit annoyed to hear him talk so disparagingly about
her country. "And just what do ... Oh, no!" she gasped, reading his intentions
clearly. "You can't just blow her up like she was a piece of machinery!"

Trevor was only momentarily taken aback by her ability to read his thoughts.
"But, that's just what she is, m'dear. She's no different than a tank or a
warship. She has no feelings, no pity, no remorse. I know, I've seen her
handiwork before. Have you?" he asked.

"Only photos," she confessed, the horribly mutilated bodies of her victims
dancing vividly in her mind for a second.

"I've seen them in person," he stated coldly, "and I can promise you that the
photographs couldn't begin to depict the absolute brutality this monster is
capable of."

"She's a human being," Jessica said somewhat desperately.

"Is she? I'm not so sure. Maybe those Russian bastards bred the humanity out
of her, just as they bred her unholy powers ..." he stopped, letting the words
die in his throat as he looked up at her. "Sorry."

Jessica ignored the comment. "If she's no longer human, it's because of
training and indoctrination, not genetic manipulation," she stated. "And if
she can be trained to be ruthless, she can be un-trained as well."

"Oh, so our dear old Uncle Sam isn't satisfied with just one wonder dolly, he
wants this one, too, eh?" Trevor sneered.

Jessica glared at the man and for the first time since meeting him noticed how
attractive he was. Even in his camouflage fatigues, with that ridiculous green
and black paint smeared over his face, his rugged features were still visible,
especially his iron grey eyes which twinkled mischievously when he glanced at
her. And the outfit certainly couldn't hide his powerful frame, especially his
biceps, which bulged beckoningly through the green and brown fabric. "Yes,"
she admitted. "But, not officially, of course."

"Of course," Trevor nodded sarcastically. He took the opportunity to appraise
his rival and found her quite fetching. She was about 5' 10", a bit on the
tallish side for his tastes, and had shoulder length russet hair which was
draped over her head in soft curls. Her eyes were the bright green of an
English field in Summertime, and even in the pitch blackness of the desert
they reflected the twinkling stars almost hypnotically. She was wearing a
skin-tight black bodysuit which, if anything, made her body look even more
alluring, especially the way it seemed to melt around her conical, perfect
breasts, causing the nipples and surrounding areolae to stand out in high
relief. "Hemdale's much too slippery for that."

"No, that's not what I meant," she corrected. "The Aegis Group wants her,
specifically General Winsome. But, I can't let her fall into his hands."

Trevor looked at her with those steel eyes and she found herself telling him
all about her suspicion that Winsome himself had been responsible for the
terrorist attacks which swept across America eight years ago, leaving the
Aegis Group more powerful than ever, and her under their control after they
shut down Project Angel, but how she hadn't been able to find any evidence
which would prove it. How she was forced to continue working for the General
to protect the remaining members of the Angel team, whom he had threatened to
kill should she refuse. And, how she had recently met and captured another
woman with powers like herself who had claimed to be the result of some secret
continuation of Project Angel, but under the direct control of the General.

"So, you see, I have to at least try to reason with that part of her which is
still human, to give her the chance that she never got, that Melanie never
got, that I never got, to live a life without being under someone's control,"
she finished, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Jess," he said softly, turning her face toward him with his left hand, "I'm
really, really sorry about this!" She opened her eyes just in time to see his
right fist flashing toward her jaw.

"N-" was all she could blurt out before the fist struck and she blacked out.

* * * * *

She came to with a start, screams of agony tearing into her mind, and she
realized that she was still in contact with Trevor's brain. And that he was in
incredible pain. She quickly got up and sprinted through the sand, toward the
mercenary's camp.

Suddenly, her foot struck something hard and she was sent sprawling,
face-first into the sand. Looking back, she discovered the area was littered
with metallic debris. Examining the pieces more closely, she was able to
deduce that they were all that was left of a handheld rocket-launcher, the
weapon that Trevor had planned on using to destroy Velika. But the device had
been literally ripped to shreds.

Jessica had no time to ponder the implications of that unsettling bit of news,
however, because she saw a half-dozen armed men and women rushing from one of
the smaller tents directly toward her.

She had just enough time to throw herself to the ground as the bullets from
their Uzi's tore into the sand all around her, some of them ricocheting off
the pieces of metal, filling the air with soft pings as well as tiny dust
clouds.

"Surrender, American bitch, or you will be killed immediately!" shouted one of
the male soldiers.

The obvious implication being that even if she surrendered she would still be
killed, just not immediately.

Still, Jessi thought as she stood up, arms raised, what better way to get in
and see Velika, and hopefully disturb her torture of Trevor.

The man who had shouted to her, accompanied by a stocky woman with a dirty
face, came up and carefully patted her down, surprised, and confused, when
they discovered no weapons.

"What are you doing here, crazy bitch?" demanded the man, jabbing the muzzle
of his gun into her ribs.

"I will only talk to your leader," Jessi replied calmly.

The woman suddenly slapped her hard across the mouth. "When Carlos asks you a
question, Western cow, you will answer it!" she snarled.

Noting that the other soldiers had wandered back to the tent, Jessi suddenly
reached out and grabbed the woman by the front of her uniform and, before
either she or Carlos had time to react, swung her around, driving her head
into Carlos' gut, and then upward, striking his chin with her head. Carlos
fell to his back, the tip of his tongue lying on his chest, and Jessi, still
holding onto the woman's collar, lifted her off the ground. She then brought
the woman's face close to her own and whispered, "I did answer him." Jessi
then drew back her fist and delivered a crushing uppercut which tore the
woman's uniform from her grasp and sent her flying into Carlos, who had just
started to stand up.

Jessi leaped astride the woman's middle, knocking what little air was left out
of Carlos' lungs, and KO'd him with a well-placed karate chop to the neck.
When the woman beneath her stirred slightly, she administered a similar blow
to her as well.

Then, as she was standing up, a scream cut through the still night air and she
realized that this time it wasn't just in her mind.

Throwing caution to the wind, she raced across the sand and burst into the
main tent, hurling the two guards in front of it away with a mental blast that
also left them too stunned to be any threat for a while.

She stopped, horrified at the scene before her.

A giant of a woman, easily dwarfing her own 5'10" frame by a foot and a half
or more, stood in the middle of the tent. She had a sort of rugged beauty to
her, not beautiful, but far from ugly, with long blonde hair, currently tied
up in a long braided bun, and piercing blue eyes. Her body was like one giant
muscle, with all the curves and bulges appropriate to the female form thrown
in for good measure. She was wearing a camouflage green sports bra that seemed
on the verge of tearing away under the pressure from what Jessi guessed must
have been at least 44 DD breasts, and very tight-fitting camouflage pants,
which hugged her rippling thighs as if they had been painted on. Shiny black,
steel-toed boots completed her ensemble, marred only by recent bloodstains. A
nasty looking whip was coiled and hung from her belt and she was holding a
scimitar, whose tip was white-hot from the pan of burning embers which was
heating next to her on a three-legged stand.

Sitting on a pile of pillows off to one side was another woman. Not as tall or
as muscular as the blonde giantess, but obviously in excellent physical
condition. She was wearing nothing but lavender G-string bikini bottoms and a
flimsy robe made of ultra-sheer material, which lay thrown open, revealing her
own set of firm, round breasts and a tummy that looked more like a washboard.
She had dark, reddish-brown hair and cat-like yellow-orange eyes. Her mouth
opened in surprise and then quickly turned up in a disconcerting smile.

The final occupant of the large tent was Trevor himself. The man had been
stripped naked and suspended between two of the tent's support poles by what
looked to be corrugated wire from the way it had cut into his wrists. He had
several dozen lash marks across his chest and a couple of fresh burns, which
were still smoking. His genitalia were crushed and bruised, blood dripping
from somewhere beneath his dark brown pubic hair onto the blonde's boots.

"You monstrous bitch!" Jessi screamed, sending out a mental blast which tossed
the blonde across the tent and into a table which had the remnants of a feast
still waiting to be cleared away on it. She was surprised at how easily she
had been able to penetrate Velika's psychic defenses, but then, as she reached
up to untie Trevor's wrists, she found invisible hands suddenly choking her.
As the ghostly force tightened inexorably around her throat, she glanced over
and saw the dark haired woman still smiling and suddenly realized that she was
Velika, she was the real threat, for all the blonde's physical attributes were
as nothing compared to the mental prowess of the Russian.

"Not just yet, darling," purred the mercenary in a perfect English accent,
grinning balefully as something slapped Jessi's hands away. "I prefer the
commander right where he is, for the time being." Jessica suddenly felt the
hands withdraw from her neck and she greedily sucked in air. "Besides, little
one, you will have your hands quite full dealing with Zuleika."

Jessica was suddenly lifted off her feet as the blonde's fist hammered into
her kidney, catching her lowest rib and nearly snapping it in two. Then,
another great paw-like fist slammed into her gut as her feet touched the
ground, once more lifting her into the air. Jessi landed uncertainly, her
knees wobbly and gasping desperately for breath.

But the blonde reached down and thrust one great hand between the redhead's
legs and clamped the other tightly around her throat and then lifted her over
her head. As Zuleika held her aloft, staring cruelly into her blackening face
with a grin born of pure malice, she began to tighten her grip with both
hands, one set of fingers clawing into her windpipe while the other set forced
themselves into her pussy, tearing the crotch out of Jessica's bodysuit in the
process. Panic welled up in the redhead as she realized that the Russian was
preventing her from launching any kind of psychic counter-attack against the
blonde. In desperation, Jessica clapped her hands over the giantess' ears as
hard as she could several times in rapid succession.

With a howl of rage and pain, Zuleika hurled Jessica across the tent and held
her hands over her ringing ears. The redhead crashed into a free-standing
divider made of the finest Persian silk and struck her head roughly against a
large trunk. She slowly propped herself up on her elbows and glanced over to
see Velika still lounging on the pillows, still smiling at her sadistically.

"She is mine!" the blonde roared, tossing aside the remnants of the divider
and reaching down for Jessica.

But the redhead grabbed the outstretched arm and, twisting it savagely, pulled
down, causing the already off-balance blonde to topple over, striking her own
head sharply on the lid of the trunk. Still holding onto her arm, and keeping
it painfully twisted almost to the point of breaking, Jessica suddenly kicked
up with both of her booted feet, thrusting them deep into Zuleika's gut, and
putting even more of a strain on her extended arm. With a soft pop Jessica
felt the arm go free of the shoulder socket and the blonde giantess screamed
in renewed agony.

Jessica released the useless arm and, bracing herself against the trunk,
kicked out with both feet again, this time catching the blonde directly in her
massive breasts and hurling her backwards and into the debris of the table.
The redhead stood up and watched with amazement as the blonde rose from the
wreckage, her left arm dangling uselessly at her side, and then, grimacing so
intensely that the veins on her neck looked as if they were about to burst,
reached over with her right arm and snap-jerked her left arm back into its
socket.

"Who in the hell is this woman?" Jessica said quietly.

Surprisingly, the woman seated on the pillows answered her. "She is the
representative from Brigadier General Fassir," the Russian stated, the same
smile still playing about her full lips. "She's the result of the Libyan's
genetic manipulation experiments. They didn't bother with the mind, but, as
you can plainly see, went directly to the body, enhancing it in ways more
terrible than you can imagine. The Libyan government claims she's the ultimate
soldier. In her own words, she lives only to please Fassir and cause pain in
others. I wouldn't suggest breaking any of her bones, if I were you, as that
only tends to make her even angrier."

"Fine, just stop protecting her and I'll put her to sleep nice and neatly so
that we can get down to business," Jessica frowned.

"I think not," smiled the Russian, shaking her head. "Oops, it looks like
round two is about to begin. Good luck."

Jessica sneered and nodded her head sarcastically. "Thanks."

Then, instead of simply charging her, Zuleika reached down and removed the
metal-tipped whip from her belt and cracked it ominously.

The blonde reared back and then suddenly snapped her arm forward, the metal
tip hurtling through the air straight at Jessica's face.

But it never touched her. Instead, it shot backwards, leaving a bright red cut
on Zuleika's cheek. Before the blonde could even reach up or cry out in alarm,
the whip snaked itself around her arms, pinning them to her sides as it
wrapped around her massive form. With a bellow of defiance, however, she
flexed her mighty forearms and the whip exploded into tiny fragments.
Suddenly, the carpet beneath her feet shot out from under her, dropping her on
her shapely ass, and then proceeded to roll itself around her as she tried to
stand up, until she was trapped within its silky coils, her arms pressed
tightly to her sides, with only her neck and head rising above the carpet's
edge.

Satisfied that the blonde giantess was indeed helpless, Jessica casually
walked over and then delivered a stunning right hook to her jaw, followed by a
left cross, and then another right, another left, continuing to snap the
woman's head back and forth with each successive blow until she paused to
catch her breath and noticed that Zuleika was unconscious, blood flowing
freely from between her puffy, black and blue lips. Jessica was about to knock
her over when the blonde began to sway uncertainly and then fell face-first
onto the ground.

Hearing applause, she looked up and saw Velika, still seated on the pillows,
clapping with obvious sarcasm.

"Well done. I was wondering when you would figure out that there wasn't much I
could do to prevent you from using your abilities on inanimate objects,"
Velika added reproachingly. "And, I do think you overdid it a bit once poor
Zuleika was helpless. Not too sporting, Ms. Chance."

"I didn't want to take any chances, and besides, I was pretty angry for the
beating she gave poor Trevor," Jessica frowned, sitting down on the prostrate
giantess. "May I release him now?"

The Russian shook her head. "Not quite yet. Besides, he doesn't mind it a bit
at the moment. Trust me."

Jessi attempted to probe his mind but found that she couldn't. Not because he
was unconscious, for she could read the mind of the alert as well of those of
the sleeping, but because Velika was preventing her from doing so. She looked
straight into the dark haired woman's eyes and her frown became a grimace.

"Because it pleases me," the other woman said aloud to Jessi's silent
question.

"It pleases you to torment a man's mind, even after his body has been tortured
to the point of near-death?" she asked incredulously.

"His pain is nothing to the pain I have felt," she replied, her eyes growing
hard and cold.

Visions of Velika as a young girl suddenly flooded Jessica's mind. Scenes of
her brutal military training, living a life at 5 years old that most 20 year
old men would balk at, and her sexual abuse at the hands of her creators, then
her instructors, and finally her supervisors. Image after image of the most
sadistic sexual acts Jessica had ever seen, and could never have imagined in
her wildest nightmares, exploded into her mind and she was forced to
experience, in some small way, the absolute horror that Velika had lived,
first as a child and then as a young woman. Just when Jessica had begun to
feel some genuine sympathy for her, new pictures replaced those of the rapes.
Now, she saw the ravaged bodies, and somehow the even more traumatized minds,
of those who had felt Velika's wrath. Some who had deserved punishment--But
nothing like this! Jessica reminded herself--and some who were simply
unfortunate enough to be enemies of those with enough money to afford the
Russian's services.

Finally, the dizzying, sickening images ceased, and Jessica realized that she
was gasping for breath, as if she had run a marathon, swam the English
Channel, and completed a triathalon all without rest. One hand caught at her
throat while the other leaned back, resting against the inert form of the
slumbering blonde, and she looked around as if to assure herself that she was
indeed in a tent in the Libyan desert, and not in some remote laboratory in
Russia or some presidential residence in Central America.

"You understand now. Yes?" inquired the Russian casually.

"No!" screamed Jessica, while simultaneously leaping up and charging the
seated woman and lashing out at her mind with the most powerful psychic attack
she could muster.

Startled by the unexpected response, Velika reacted too slowly to both
assaults. Jessica barreled into her rock-hard belly headfirst, bringing a
surprised "Ooommphhh!" from the Russian as she was driven deep into the
pillows, and then pulled back and connected solidly with her right fist on the
side of the dark haired woman's jaw. Meanwhile, her mind established a link
with Velika's and quickly did whatever it could to disrupt the woman's neural
pathways.

Jessica leaped up, ready to continue the battle on both fronts, but there was
no need. Velika lay sprawled across the pillows, a line of bloody drool
running from one corner of her slack mouth.

Satisfied that she was unconscious, Jessica rushed over and quickly released
Trevor from his bindings, soothing his mind at the same time, forcing the
images which the Russian had placed there out and replacing them with
comforting ones.

* * * * *

Trevor came to slowly and the first thing he was aware of was the jerking
motion. Opening his eyes, he discovered that he was in the back of what
appeared to be a military transport vehicle. Jessica was seated next to him,
fondly stroking his wet hair. Velika and Zuleika were sitting at the far end
of the canopy-enclosed truck bed, their backs resting against the cab of the
vehicle.

Looking a bit more closely at the Russian, he realized that she was wearing
the mind-enhancing device. He looked up at Jessica questioningly.

"I did a bit of rewiring and the device now negates any psychic activity," she
explained. "And, with both of their wrists bound behind their backs by that
nasty wire they used on you, neither of them will cause us any further
trouble."

"Who's driving this thing?" he asked curiously, cautiously sitting up and then
deciding that it would be best if he didn't for a while.

"I came to an understanding with Velika's troops," Jessica grinned. "They help
us get out of the country and I won't wipe their brains and leave them to
Fassir's not-so-tender mercies for allowing his pet killer to get captured by
the West."

"Can you do that?" Trevor asked skeptically.

"No," she smiled. "But they don't know that, and besides, they were in a
pretty big hurry to get out of Libya themselves once it became clear that
Velika was finished." She let her fingers glide slowly down to the corners of
his usually stern mouth.

"I can imagine. And what about those two? Taking both of them back to the
States?" he inquired, playfully nibbling at her fingers.

"Just Zuleika. I think she'll make a fine bargaining chip to get Fassir to be
a little more reasonable about allowing the UN in and extraditing known
criminals," she explained, bringing her other hand over and resting it on his
thigh. "If not, once I've extracted everything she knows about Fassir's
operations, she can spend the rest of her life in prison for her crimes
against humanity."

"She might prefer that to going back and facing whatever Fassir does to those
who disappoint him," he stated, reaching up and taking hold of the hand at his
mouth. "And Velika?"

"She goes back to England with you. Convince your people to work with her,
Trevor," she suddenly implored. "She's been through a lot and has a great deal
of rage inside her for the whole human race, but she's still human. And she
can still choose a different path. Please, for my sake, give her the chance."

Trevor scowled thoughtfully. "Hmmm, she would be a powerful ally," he
admitted. "I'll do what I can, but, Jessi, I don't have that much pull, so I
can't make any promises."

"You just get her safely to England, and I've no doubt that your government
will do the rest," Jessi smiled, squeezing both his hand and his thigh at the
same time. "She's too potentially valuable to destroy."

Trevor nodded and then blinked slowly, as if recalling something important.
"Did we...?" he said softly.

"Not really," Jessi confessed. "But, I had to erase those horrible images
Velika planted in your mind and replace them with something."

"And us making love was the only thing that you could think of?" he teased,
gazing into her eyes.

"At the time," she laughed.

"When I'm fully healed-" he began.

"You'll be back in England and I'll be back in America," she finished, smiling
ruefully. "Enjoy the memory, Trevor. I know I will."

He nodded and they continued to talk quietly as the truck bounced across the
Libyan desert.

The End

(For now)

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