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Lovers Dancing [Installment 2]

by Patch Ragswift

Note about the "vore" tag : Story includes something vore-related but probably not much to yield a proper vore-fix, nor squick anyone who doesn't like vore.

Comments welcome.

Character-Table -- (consider opening a duplicate tab or pasting into a txt-editor if you forget someone):

Lietenant: Beethoven Goyle, "Bobby", "Loot" (as in Lietenant), "Bait" - bobcat Scout1: N. Leo - white neko Scout2: Krevát Stacy-Steiglitz, "Stacy", "Steiglitz" - ram (Ovis canadensis) Scout3: Derick Stevenson, "Doug", "Dougless", "Stevens." (dogtag-abbreviation) - ? intel2: Sauda - striped tapir Boxer2: Lombardy - hare Boxer3: Cassie, "Cassidy", "Butch" - neko wetware1 intel3: Korra Kallay - neko wetware2: Ralieur Gehrtz, "Rali", "Ghost", "Raily" - possum

Part 2

'Glad to be putting it up. I had a nice moment of genius during the chat for it. I have a ton more that I'll post very soon. I just need to write a transition.

You can read on here. I've updated the reference so you can open it in notepad (*sigh* or Kate, or Joe, or TextEdit, or NotePad++...) and have your OS pin it or just alt-tab to it when you forget a name. I looked at it alot just to remind me who I had to workwith.

I've really pushed the writing style on this I hope it's legible. Again comments please however big or small.[hr][/hr] It took both Stevenson and Cassidy a moment to go attach the rest of their gear. Exercise-grounds and ranges were opposite the research-areas of the facility, meaning lockers and equipment were at the far end of the complex from where they were, however the majority of Cassidy's tech was stored in a special environment to keep all its seals and gadgets in pristine condition while not in use. She sauntered in that direction. Impressions of her 'spontaneous' decision were maintained. Stevenson, however, had brought a holdall filled with his standard loadout, which was no coincidence. He knelt and arranged a few things carefully on the floor before starting to hitch things on. The all-important Hookpoint in the middle at his waist, on the most ingenious multi-axis swivel which was calibrated to each scout. They were incredibly hard to draw for any other person even standing immediately behind the knife's owner. A durable snakeneedle which had been implanted at the site where the weapon and sheath was worn allowed the user to "unstick" the blade from the holster for someone else's removal with only a thought. Hm. More than a thought, Stevenson remarked to himself. He still always made a face at the needle pushed out of him and into its little port on the sheath. It was a recent development that no-one laughed at this anymore. He'd made the mistake of noting outloud that triggering the release-needle (which was essentially just an actuator wired up to the closest nerve) was about three neurons different from emptying his bladder. The normal procedure was to 'tap' the port briefly with the snakeneedle-implant, before allowing the full connection. The scouts had had them for almost a year, and Stevenson had thought the jeering would never stop. Goyle had eventually put an end to it, as the scouts were being referred to as "bedwetters" for this reason. Once the counter of calling a hardsuit a "diaper" - given that a Boxer was unique in being able to relieve themselves at a moment's notice with more respiration-gadgets built into the suits - the bobcat had called off the childishness as he thought it might elevate. He'd tried his best to mask that it was partly for Stevenson's sake, given the boy (as Goyle thought of him, anyway) seemed to be least comfortable with the progression of jokes. He'd eventually established a rule that no-one was allowed to rename standard equipment or field-positions. This had its own merit, as most of the team was happily utilizing new terminology, opening them up for confusion or delay if they needed to produce the objects' real names in the field. The two new vocab-words were chalked as "orange" by the system the organization used to determine whether potentially ambiguous-sounding words should be adopted or barred from use. The engine had been specially developed given the amount of communications-interference the field around Onr tended to generate. One of the resources that all Five shared was the architecture for testing terminology for possible confusion. The databank considered names of maneuvers, equipment, geographical locations and formations, and anything else that might need to be relayed across a comm-channel. They had all agreed one night over a cardgame that the Five would eventually develop their own language for military communication, if they were allowed by the government to exist for long enough. They had debated whether Five would make new recruits learn the new grammar and syntax or whether they would have invented an implant which would house all the data, and be installed on recruitment. They argued about which could be compromised more easily. Butch and Goyle had launched excitedly into details about the differences between some of the fictional obfuscation-systems which had been implemented in the "Second Great War" including the cheaply-named "Enigma Machine" and the heroic but downtrodden "Codetalkers." The point was raised that the Five would be filtering out countless numbers of good cadets simply because they stumbled in learning what would likely be a very complex new grammar or dialect, but Cass and Goyle had suggested that Five would have their own pool of child-subjects by then, who could learn the form of speech as a first-language.

Cassidy came back carrying a few things and making adjustments to her suit as she walked. The professor sent a lab-tech to hand the two volunteers a set of pills as she reached the group. Both took them begrudgingly. They were being numbed up and also doped against nervous shock; the previous (small) test-animals had shown no pain -signs on restoration, however, with increased mass to ' re-create ' or ' re-fill ' - as Sabbow slightly more accurately phrased it - the process would stretch for a few moments with a large subject rather than just a second or so. It could not be said for certain that things would be painless, although they believed with a degree of certainty it was safe.

The chamber where the process was to take place was unromantic; the plating was outwardly the same as all the other walls. The only thing that differentiated it from other rooms was its bright but inexplicit labeling: "Danger | Experimental Area | Entry-Authorization Required" along with a room-designation, a visual pattern-code, an interface port, and a small physical controlpad. The visual pattern was essentially just a reference-key to be used to access live data; by itself it was useless. Same went for the port and controlpad. The idea was that if the facility was ever taken it would not be possible to gain information without first restoring power and then breaking the encryption on the computers, which all would - given much warning at all - be wiped clean anyway. This was a precaution primarily against the legitimate concern of alien groundforces - perhaps mindcontrolled civilians - moving on the station. It also potentially served to dampen any terrorist action.

"Now, once you two have stepped in, the small diodes on the ceiling will count you down. Try to breathe normally and just remain calm during the process. You'll be back out in a few seconds." Though this was review, it was comforting. "Really, doc? No window to wave through?" Cass. "Full-spectrum shielding is necessary for the activation, yes. Visual materials might be subject to cracking. You're to keep your arms down." "For which we don't have a budget." Goyle flatly. "And let me guess, we're not even going to be mic't in there. What's the point in any of this if I don't get to say 'energize?'" Stephenson this time, only quiet when unnervous. "If we did that, Tex, you'd need some pretty precise timing, there. Bugger it and you'll end up with the wrong quantum spin. Might want to leave this one to the experts." Kallay. "Bookworm." Sauda contemptuously, though it could have come from anyone else. Kallay always put everyone else to shame on theory. She occasionally joked that the only reason she made it into the program was that her reading comprehension made up for her close-to-failing in other categories. She was used to it. Her retort came: "I just don't want to get de-soul'd just so I can steal some of the doc's thunder." The mentioned held a concerned look on his face for a few seconds at this. "At best." He noted, writing, before tapping one of the cells on the topmost chart with the lead, motioning to the shorter assistant by him... It was time.

The pair placed themselves in the room presently and eased onto the two closest tables of nine. The doc slid the door shut with a nod to them over a staid squint. The door shut, Cassidy blew a out a half-whistling breath with visible movement of her shoulders. "This is why they asked us about claustrophobia on the poly" said Stevenson. "And I thought that was just a test-question." "No such thing as a test-question. They monitor you in the waiting room once they hand you the prompts right before you go in. The machine they actually let you see is a red herring." This earned him a sour look for being a know-it-all. He continued. "I'm not sure what they do if you're absolutely deadpan, but for flesh-and-blood subjects the real test is to see which questions you do lie on, not whether you lie in general." She huffed. "I wish I'd known that before I'd taken it. Then maybe I woulda overthought, failed, and not be in this mess." After a moment: "Me too."

As the countdown completed, daunting sounds of machinery powering on started to crop up. A look of solidarity passed between the two soldiers. The way the walls shifted reminded him of one of those projected rotating 4D figures; nothing made sense; it was too confusing to be quite clear on what was going on. Then it warped (evenly) back into place. The locks on the door disengaged themselves. "Were you watching that?" "Nooo, I had my eyes closed." A lie. Cass tentatively sat up. "Maybe the doc could have made sense of that in his head." "You're trippin'." The door was slid open. There ofcourse, was the doc. He was still wearing what must've been his make-or-break -moment squint, and he blinked down at them and tried to adjust his lacking glasses. Cassie cupped her paws, "Dooown heeere!" Sabbow nodded in acknowledgement, sagely, unfrustrated by the fulsomeness. The rest all stood farther back from the door, dually towering, some craning their necks to see around, others more patient. Saddow stooped before them. Stevenson was composed but still just biologically a bit wideeyed. Butch hid it better. "Are you two both doing alright? Any pain?" They both shook their heads. "Alright, then keep me current. 'Infirmary's your heading anyway." He stepped back and produced a short two-shelved cart that had been adjusted to a height just lower than the tables, and rolled it up to each in turn. Dougless climbed over the metal lip and sat with his back to it, holding onto the tail-end of one of the other wall's bolts athwart on his left. A brace position. Butch hopped down with a clank on the thin sheetmetal and dashed to center prow, opposite the cart's handle. She'd landed in the typical way one should as a Boxer, still and all it was over-the-top. Sabbow just waited for her jaunt and then started pushing. It always got the crew how such things never rattled him. He never even quipped! It was like he was saintly. He strode down the hall with his light cargo with the rest of the team behind him, labcoat blooming behind.

It was all a little hard to believe... that they'd found a way to rotate part of a mass out into an extra space. Other than creating an opening for the shape to 'fit through' in order to reach such a position, the key was apparently to tighten the opening up again up again sufficiently that a certain angle of protrusion was preserved. The reason a downsize was energetically cheaper than an upsize was that this extra space, once entered, was slightly ' sticky ' on a mass, especially if at rest. Paired with reduced leverage from the regular plane, it became more difficult to pull mass back such that it was once more 'flush' with the regular plane. The question had ofcourse come to the doc whether it was possible to completely spin something out of its existence on the regular plane, but he'd been able to answer reasonably without really reducing the level of abstraction/simplification - "The procedure is strictly a rotation. To completely remove an object from the regular plane would require a translation, for which fairly different arrangements would be required." So there they were, with a wind through their fur which they should've hardly felt. Just as the two were beginning to enjoy it, the professor picked up the pace. Cassidy had lowered her center of gravity a bit up at the front. "Goin' a bit fast, here doc!" Without breaking pace, he held the rim of his ' glasses ' and gave her a little smile. She huffed. They were in sight of the infirmary anyway. As they reached the doors, he rounded the corner instead and started into what quickly approached a sprint. The crew behind him were speechless but not as alarmed as the two passengers. Cassie found a bolt like Stevens and got lower. Both riders kept a grimace. "Something the matter, doc?" He said nothing, a neutral look on his face. Stephenson laughed to relieve his terror. The wheels on the cart were good, and the floors were relatively smooth, if they hadn't been, the feeling of flying weightlessness would've been even worse. He made another turn at speed and both cringed. "What the hell!? I thought you were switching to sugarfree after lunchtime! Or today just forgot to treadmill!?" If he were to hit anything like this, they'd both go flying, it seemed pretty certain. "I think they cooked part of his brain with that sight-correction! He's finally snapped!" A third corner, no slower. They were back by the Downsize again. He had them coursing. Again a right turn. On the long stretch once more, the hare reached up next to Cassie and held the front edge of the table and began to skate, with a fierce thrust at the ground with one furious sprinter's paw in a rhythm against the smooth floor. Through the cart they felt the impact of the strike each push. Now they were surely going to crash. Both their hearts were racing, but all the small pair could do was hold on and watch for a sign they might need to bail. They drew up further and could see Ghertz and Lombardy standing with undecided looks at the infirmary's doorway. They were motioned out of the way by the musher. Still in motion, he produced a faub and the light above the doorway changed. The attendants inside were surprised. Without a word to them, he stopped the cart and switched on the devices. Standing again, irritated, Cassie: "Uhhmmmm." He unceremoniously scooped them both up in either paw from the cart and set them on an exam table. The device overhead hummed. The rest of the crew gradually wandered in. Some of them had followed him in his loop around part of the building, stopping or changing directions at various points or slowing. Ralieur and L had stayed put. The doc's eyes were bright as he looked at the bed's screen. Both of the subjects jumped as Goyle dropped an elbow heavily onto the far end up the surface, sending a shock through it. "You're lucky you're already rigged up for blood and stuff, or else we'd have to pull that too. Can you say, 'This might sting a bit?'" - meanly. He glanced over. "Lookin' good, doc?" "Nothing out of projected." A nod. Cassie had some words for it, now; it had been a few moments. "Couldn't you pricks have saved this for the test-animals?" Goyle shook his head, but the doc answered. "We hadn't downsized any sensitive equipment. We need to make sure it still works, and also that your signs are good against other performance-data." "Did we just forget about warning us?" Stevens. Flatly, "No," said Leo, entering back in cooly with a quite femme-fatale carriage. "You remember the scare they gave us back early?" That smile. A reveler's. Dougless put a paw to his head. "How could I forget? That was practically my first day!" The white-furred scout finished her walk to the cart by the bed, eyes stained gold alight, and leaned forward on it, licking her fangs. "And you," to Stevens, smiling, close, "just got to do it again." She was remembering, vivid. Ralieur chuckled; he'd been watching the monitor; Stevenson's vitals had shot back up. He didn't mention it. She was intense, wild. Amazonian. On top, she just had her sub-tech on. It was... revealing. It was the last thing on Stevenson's mind; her presence was massive. She might have been fooling everyone else, but to an empath it was blatant; she was barely in control, grin still locked on her face, ready to do something mad. Her hand slid straight his direction. Terror! - No one was watching! They all had eyes on the monitors! Words didn't come to him. He backed up, checking the edge of the exam bench. It was smooth; no lip, nothing to hold to. He made for Cassie. She was about to get the hardiest slap on the back ever for her (in)attention. The hand pinched behind his neck. His pack was mostly empty to save on conversion. It dragged him backwards toward Naggi. He tried to yelp, but he literally choked and his body told him to cough but he held that in. Shit! His mind scrambled. He wasn't armed; his rounds weren't hot! Except... The Hookpoint! He needed to release it to take it out. He did a few crisis-breaths and focused on that spot in his lower torso. He wanted his head screwed on! He was off the ground. Okay Doug. Draw some blood before whatever comes next. The needle gave. Knife was in hand. He gasped when he looked down. God, the spit! It was overflowing! He hadn't noticed but she'd also taken quite a number of paces before stopping by the door, and lifting him over her open muzzle. A panoply flowed inside her head, he could sense it. He couldn't read any of it, but her state was festooned, breathing, drenched, everywhere. Stevens had second thoughts. If he laid a cut, it might get even worse for him than it already could. He squirmed against her grip but couldn't move far. He steeled himself. Meanwhile Steiglitz wore a hale scowl on the far side of the table next to Cassie and was pointing in their direction. Sauda had noticed the awry first but didn't know what to make of it. When he'd motioned to Stacy, the ram immediately saw something wrong and gripped Goyle's arm firmly, motioned, wordless. The Lieutenant turned. As he did, Derick stuck the blade and latched on as the hand flipped out with sympathetic, before she could control where it was going. The bobcat strode over, and Leo was cued eyes were on her. The superego took control, but before it decided what to do again, Goyle took her victim back away. She kept her pose, though face now a vacant look. Seeing Stevenson in his hand with knife drawn, he regarded both of them, coming to the wrong conclusion. Flatly: "I don't know what the punchline is, to this joke, but we've got a schedule to keep." Goyle looked to Sabbow. "Prof, are we all set?" "If I can do superspectral now, we won't need to wait on it after. It'll only take a moment." Stevenson looked over uneasily at what event the ' after ' referred to, but it brought up another bubble of dread in him, his nightmare lobe still all helter-skelter. A calming walk back to the table. There, he looked around. Shhhit. Kallay was gone. She had been for the whole thing. Faur too much promptly then, she re-entered, handing the professor something; some of the techs had been kindly sent home for the night by the good professor. The blocking from just before had already reset itself, and attention was turned back to the machinery. There was not hint of what had almost happened. Korra was the only one who might've caught on, but alas; she was sunken in the numbers, not a chance she'd catch the vibes flowing off of her. "If you could both lie down, for me." Sabbow smirked as he pushed on the touchscreen and zoomed it for both; he'd never taken a superspec of two patients at once before, not that he really did many of them or much medicine anyway, but his genius would trickle down. Stevens was still in shock. Cassie: "So what's next, huh? A walk in the park?" "We're gunna check V-max and systems and then that's it, we're blowing you back up.* " * for a good description of V-max, http://www.johnberardi.com/articles/training/madmax.htm