PROTOTYPE 07
By Heck



Comments to heck@petermeyer.go-plus.net

CHAPTER SEVEN

She didn't sleep.

When Mike and I arrived in the common room for breakfast she was there,
watching television, still wearing her robe and looking as fresh as she had
last night.

"Good morning!" she called cheerily. "I found some fixings and made coffee.
Isn't this voice activation stuff great? I just told the machine what I
wanted, and it did it".

"Good morning to you", I said, more cheerfully than I felt. I hadn't had more
than four hours sleep myself, and I'm a man who likes his bed. I poured coffee
for Mike and me, and took a seat. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Wasn't tired. The hour I had seemed enough".

I thought it was probably because her head was full of unanswered questions,
and said so.

"Or", Rob put in as he came through the door, scratching his head and yawning.
"Or, it's another effect of the transformation. Maybe you don't need as much
sleep as the rest of us".

"That sounds a drag. What am I supposed to do with myself while everybody else
is sleeping?"

"There's five thousand channels of TV", I grinned. She wrinkled her nose at
the idea, and I went on. "Once you leave here, you'll find plenty to do. We
live in a twenty-four hour society".

"No change there, then", she smiled. "But it's not too bad. Last night, for
instance, I learned French".

"Say what now?" Mike spoke for the first time that morning. "You learned
French? What, all of it?"

"No, silly. Only what was in this phrase book I found. Attendez. Quelle heure
et il? Comment allez vous? Je m'appelle Lucy. Like that. Very basic stuff".

"But you learned it in one night? Just like that?"

"I guess so". She looked a bit uncomfortable, as if she had been caught out.

"Geez".

"Is it a problem?"

"No. Not at all, know'm'sayin'? I just didn't expect it".

"OK. What's on the agenda for today?"

"Sight and hearing tests first", I explained. "Then Mike wants to put you
through some physical stuff, see if we can't find the limits of your
abilities. After breakfast, of course".

"OK". She got up. "I should go get dressed, then".

We watched her leave. Rob stared after her a shade longer than was strictly
necessary.

"Man!" he breathed. "She is so-o-o hot! What a babe!"

"Hey!" I smacked him playfully on the cheek, surprising myself that I was only
half joking. I was a little startled at the tiny twinge of jealousy his
interest aroused in me. "Where's your scientific objectivity? You're supposed
to be observing the subject, not getting the hots for her".

"Yeah? Well, I tell you this, man. The subject is hot, hot, hot!"

I let it lie. It wouldn't do to let him know that I thought so, too. All three
of us ate our breakfast in silence. About ten minutes after we finished up,
Lucy joined us wearing a baggy, shapeless tracksuit that detracted from her
loveliness not one iota. Her silky hair was gathered in bunches, she looked
scrubbed and clean, and my belly did a little flip at the sight of her.

Steady on, boy, I told myself.

*

At the far end of the corridor, next to the lab, about a quarter of the entire
floor had been turned into a well-equipped gym with just about every kind of
apparatus you could think of. Ostensibly, it was for the use of us men, but we
saw it as an ideal venue in which to put Lucy through her paces.

Rob and I sat at a desk in a small cubicle, with a window that gave a
panoramic view of the gym. Mike stood behind us and Lucy was in the exercise
area proper, sitting quietly on a bench.

"Visual acuity is twenty-twenty", Mike was saying. "At least, that's the best
I can say. Really, it's far beyond that. You know the saying; on a clear day
you can see forever? Might have been written for our girl". He shrugged his
broad shoulders. "And her other senses? Off the scale. That girl could not
only hear a mouse fart, she could smell it, too, know'm'sayin'?"

"What we expected, man", Rob commented. "So, let's get physical, right? On
with the strength stuff, man!"

He was obviously excited by the prospect, and I could see where he was coming
from. I had never been attracted to athletic or muscular women before, but
there was something about Lucy Radovic. Under her tracksuit, which now lay
neatly folded in one corner, she wore a white spandex sports top and black
spandex shorts, leaving her flat midriff nicely exposed. She was
ultra-feminine, modestly muscular, very fit looking, and that, coupled with
the prospect of testing her strength, I have to admit, gave me a stirring in
the trouser department. Mike stepped out into the gym.

"OK, Lucy, let's start, shall we?"

I work out. I do. When I have time.

Look, let's just say, I know my way round the machinery and equipment in a
modern gym. Lat machines, crossover cables, press machines for both arms and
legs, all that. Been there, done that. And I've seen some seriously big guys,
guys you don't want to stand beside with your shirt off, shifting some pretty
serious poundages in my time. But I have never, ever, seen anybody move as
much weight in one session as Lucy did that morning.

On every machine, without fail, she built up to using the whole stack and
pumped out the reps in strict form, a legacy of her astronaut training, I
guessed. She just went on and on, churning out rep after rep until Mike, out
of desperation, told her to stop. She curled her own bodyweight for fifty
reps. Her bodyweight, not what an unenhanced woman of her size would weigh.
She pressed the same weight for five sets of twenty, and then went on to add
more. Just watching her was enough to make every muscle in my body ache, and
she didn't even raise a sweat.

The legpress machine had a maximum of seven-fifty kilos, and she hardly
noticed it. She just kept on pistoning the load up and down, even when Mike
added his own not inconsiderable bulk by sitting atop the stack.

Rob and I were supposed to be taking notes, but we just sat there with eyes
wide, pencils forgotten as we observed the spectacle of this gorgeous young
woman pitting her might against the best the implacable machines could offer.
My mouth went dry and my heart pounded; the experience of watching so much
feminine power in action was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.

At last Mike called a halt, announcing that the equipment was insufficient to
test her to the limit.

"We gotta get some free weights, know'm'sayin'?"

"Yeah. Or a truck", Rob snorted. I remained seated behind the desk. There was
a reason I didn't want to stand up, just then.

Lucy was beaming all over her face, panting very slightly and glowing with
exertion, but clearly thrilled and amazed by her own performance. Her muscles
were pumped and more defined, but she was not at all fatigued by the many
tonnes of weight she had moved in the space of a couple of hours.

"Let's break for lunch", Mike said. "Lucy, are you up for a few speed tests
this afternoon?"

"Yeah, sure". She sounded much more confident now. "I'm not tired at all. I
feel I could go on all day".

"You probably could, but I doubt we can. Just some running, and perhaps some
endurance, OK?"

After lunch, Mike stayed in the booth and I had the pleasure of standing with
Lucy while she worked out. I first introduced her to the rowing machine.

"I guess you know how to use this?" I asked. At her nod, I continued. "Just
keep a steady pace, whatever you feel comfortable with, and keep going for as
long as you can".

She hit a rhythm of one-point-two-five strokes a second. Too fast, I thought.
She'll burn herself out. After all, Olympic rowing teams rarely exceed forty
strokes a minute, and then only in short bursts.

An hour later, she was still going.

"I'm getting bored with this", she said in a voice that showed no stress or
strain. "Can we do something else now?"

I showed her the treadmill. The machine couldn't keep up, and the rubber track
split under her pace.

I showed her a static bike. The odometer hit the needle at eighty kph and she
was still accelerating. I increased the resistance, by grades, right up to the
max, and she barely noticed. I finally told her to stop when I saw smoke
drifting from the gearbox.

I showed her the BATAK wall. Her reflexes were so fast that it seemed that the
paddle was there, waiting to strike, a split second before each LED light came
on.

I had been watching closely, noting the way her muscles moved smoothly under
her skin, appreciating the sheer speed and strength, and found myself becoming
really excited. So much so, that I had to stand with my clipboard
strategically placed and knew that, in the absence of alternatives, I would
have to find solo relief in the bathroom later. My knees trembled and I could
hardly speak.

"That'll, ahem, that'll do for today, Lucy".

I turned sharply on my heel and walked away. I had to. The mere presence of
this incredible woman was almost more than I could bear. I left her looking
pleased with herself but perplexed at my sudden departure.

Glancing into the booth, I could see that Rob felt as I did. Mike looked
pleased with the results and impressed by her display, but I read nothing
sexual in his expression. He made a few notes and looked up, shaking his head.

"Off the scale", he said. "I don't know if we have adequate equipment to tax
her". He raised his voice a little. "Lucy? How do you feel?"

"Fine", she replied, strolling over to the booth. "I don't feel tired at all.
My muscles feel warm and a little tight, but not fatigued, and there's no
soreness. Lord knows how I'll feel later, though". I could see she was trying
to look cool and detached, but a tiny smile played with the corners of her
mouth. Finally, she could resist it no longer, and her teeth showed in a wide,
delighted grin as she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. "Who am I
kidding? It was fantastic! Did you see? I feel great, better than I ever
remember! I feel so powerful! Wow! I never felt so strong! What's next? I feel
like I could do this forever!"

All three of us were caught up in her enthusiasm, and grinned like cats that
not only got the cream, but stole the cow as well.

"You're, like, the uber-babe!" Rob laughed. "You're, like, totally Supergirl,
man! Cool!"

Lucy smiled at him, but looked to Mike and I for approval.

"What he said", Mike beamed. "You did way better than we expected. We're very
happy with the results but, unless we find better equipment, we may never know
your limits, know'm'sayin'?"

"Does that matter?" I wondered. "We know that our theories are looking right.
Does it matter that we don't know her limits?"

"No, I guess not", he admitted. "But I'd love to know".

"Me, too", Lucy said. "'Cos, as of right now? I don't feel like there are any.
I feel wonderful!" She spread her arms and pirouetted around the gym,
delighting in her feeling of power. There had been nothing arrogant or
conceited about her words; she was just feeling great and expressing herself
accordingly.

"C'mon", Mike said, standing up. "We've done enough for today and, like you
say, Lucy, you don't know how you're going to feel later. Let's go get some
coffee".

Lucy got back into her tracksuit and, still smiling all over our faces, we
stepped jauntily along the corridor to the common room. Rob opened the door
and bowed theatrically, ushering Lucy, Mike and I inside.

Charles Bouvier sat on one of the couches, with the sinister FBI woman at his
side.

The grins vanished from the faces of us men. Lucy continued to smile and
looked expectant, waiting to be introduced. I spoke up first.

"Lucy, these are Mr Charles Bouvier and Assistant Director Santana from the
FBI. Charles, what the hell are you doing here? We still have five days left".

Bouvier lumbered to his feet and crossed the space between us, beaming all
over his fat face.

"Miss Radovic! Delighted to meet you at last. I trust my esteemed colleagues
have been making you comfortable?"

She took his proffered hand and shook it, being careful of her grip, but her
attention was riveted on the sombre and still seated Santana.

"Yes, perfectly, thanks". She frowned, puzzled. "The FBI? What's the FBI got
to do with all this? With me?"

"Splendid, splendid!" Bouvier pointedly ignored her question, while Santana
remained silent. "Dr Cameron, a word. Professor DeLuca, would you and your
assistant excuse us for a few minutes?"

For a moment, it looked as though Mike was going to protest, but acquiesced at
a nod from me.

"C'mon, Rob. Let's go run some of those results through the computer".

"Sure, man. Later, Dudes".

"What's all this about?" I asked when they had gone.

"Assistant Director Santana is not at all pleased with you, Dr Cameron",
Bouvier said as he returned to the couch, leaving Lucy and I standing. "You
seem to have been a little, what shall I say? Indiscreet? Hmm?"

"What are you talking about?" I was momentarily perplexed, then outraged.
"Wait a minute - is this place bugged?"

"But of course". Bouvier was as affable as ever, but there was the cold glint
of ice in his gaze. "What did you expect? That we'd just leave you to your own
devices, and not keep an eye on our project? Tsk, tsk, Dr Cameron, how naïve
of you. No less than sixty listening devices and twenty-two surveillance
cameras cover this whole facility. You won't see any sign of them", he said as
I glanced nervously around. "But be assured, they are there. We have a record
of everything that has been said or done within these walls, from day one".

I was dumbfounded, although I don't know why. I should have expected it, but
for some reason it hadn't occurred to me that we'd be under surveillance. I
had thought, no, hoped that this was a genuinely scientific project.

"Now, as to your indiscretions."

"Hang on", I said, suddenly very angry. "If 'Assistant Director' Santana has a
problem with me, let her speak. Or are you just a government puppet, Charles?"

His face clouded for an instant, but he gained control almost immediately.

"Very well", he sighed. "Assistant Director, if you please?"

The woman got to her feet, and it occurred to me that this was the first time
I had seen her standing. She topped my one-eighty by a couple of centimetres.
Even in her dark, concealing suit, I could tell she had a good body, and her
breadth of shoulder and her bearing, together with the way she filled her
jacket, told me she worked out regularly. She was attractive, in a
hatchet-faced sort of way, but her thin lips and cropped hair gave her a
masculine look that did her no favours. She was an overbearing, dangerous
presence, standing very close and looking me right in the eye.

"First up", she said in her harsh voice. "Why is this woman out of the
confinement chamber?"

"Confinement chamber?" I echoed. "Since when was it a 'confinement chamber'? I
was told it was a bio-security dome, for her protection and ours. Once we
determined there was no hazard.anyway, Lucy let herself out. Or did you miss
that episode of your little soap opera?"

"Watch your mouth, mister", Santana hissed. "Don't get sarcastic with me".

I was really annoyed now, and got right in her face.

"Lucy is not a prisoner", I insisted, as much to reassure myself as anything.
"We had no right to keep her in any chamber, confinement or otherwise". A
little quirk at the corner of the woman's mouth warned me I might be mistaken,
so I repeated myself. "Lucy is not a prisoner".

She held my gaze with cold grey eyes that seemed to bore right through to the
back of my skull.

"She is what we say she is". Her voice was icy calm and level. "And that is no
concern of yours. Or mine, for the moment. What I am really concerned with is
the amount of information you let slip during your cosy chat in the early
hours of this morning. As Mr Bouvier rightly says, this is our project, and we
don't need you messing it up".

"Don't you think." I stopped myself. I was beginning to shout. That Celtic
temper of mine. "Don't you think", I continued more calmly, "that Lucy has a
right to know what's going on? What's happening to her?"

Santana just glared.

"According to official records", Bouvier chimed in, "Miss Radovic was killed
in a shuttle accident. Officially, she doesn't exist, do you see?"

"What?" I tore my eyes away from the FBI agent to stare at Bouvier in
astonishment. "You're telling me that you haven't bothered to correct the
records? What about her human rights?"

"There you have it". Santana reclaimed my attention, and I saw a self-
satisfied smirk trying to cross her lips. No humour showed in her eyes,
however. "This woman has been officially dead since two-aught-aught-four.
Strictly speaking, she has no rights".

Lucy had stood in silence while this exchange went on. She still held her
tongue, but I could feel a sudden crackle of tension radiating from her.

"How can you stand there with your face hanging out and tell me that?!" I was
yelling, now, right in the woman's stony face, and jabbed my finger into her
collarbone, emphasising every other word. "Of course she has rights! Just like
everyone else! This has gone far enough! I demand you release her! Right now!"

"Touch me with that finger just once more, little man", Santana said in a
voice that chilled me to the bone. "Just once, and I'll break it right off".

"Oh, aye?" I was past caring. My temper was getting the better of me. "Oh,
aye? You want a piece of me? Eh?"

She just smiled. Next thing I knew, I was up against the wall with my toes
just touching the carpet, pinned by her muscular hand that tightly constricted
my throat. My air supply was cut off, and I plucked feebly at her thick wrist.
Bouvier stood at her side, smiling up at me.

"Dear me, Dr Cameron. I did warn you. It doesn't do to piss off the Assistant
Director. If you want to continue with this project, if you want to continue
at all, I suggest you apologise to the lady with some alacrity. Yes?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but had no breath. Little points of light swam in
front of my eyes, and darkness clouded the periphery of my vision. I intended
to nod in desperate agreement, but never got the chance.

"Back off!"

I never saw her move, but Lucy inserted herself between Santana and me like a
wedge.

"Let him go, bitch". She peeled Santana's fingers from my throat and turned to
face the woman towering above her. I slumped to my knees, clutching my sore
neck and gasping for air. "Back off, right now! I won't stand for you treating
this man, who has showed me nothing but kindness, like this". She placed a
hand on the bigger woman's chest and began to push her backwards. The FBI
woman leaned forward and tried to push back, but was powerless against her.
Lucy pushed her right across the room and up against the opposite wall.

"And I'm sick and tired of you talking about me as if I wasn't here. You have
something to say about me, say it to me". She had Santana pinned by her hand
on the woman's chest, and the pressure compressed her lungs so much that she
couldn't take a breath. Lucy didn't need to close her pharynx to starve her of
air. "And no more threats".

"Ladies, please". Bouvier mediated from a safe distance. "This is hardly
constructive. Why don't we all sit down and discuss this like civilised
people?"

Lucy looked the bigger woman up and down with undisguised contempt. She lifted
one shoulder in a half-shrug, tacitly agreeing to Bouvier's suggestion, and
stepped away taking a pace backwards.

"You can try", she said, her hyper-acute eyesight tracking a tiny movement of
Santana's hand. "You can try to go for the gun that's under your coat. But I'm
willing to bet that I can break your arm before you've cleared the holster".

It was like a classical standoff, for a few seconds, both formidable women
staring each other down. At last, Santana gave a minute nod, and straightened
her tie. Lucy motioned her to the couch and came to help me up.

"You OK?"

"Aye", I croaked. "Thanks".

"No problem". She led the way to the couch and we sat down opposite Santana.
Bouvier took his place next to the FBI woman, and both stared at Lucy. There
was no doubt who was in charge of the room now.

"All right", Lucy said. "You want to talk? Let's talk".