Sleeping Beauty

Author’s Note: My editor and I weren’t sure if this series would be called Sleeping Beauties or Bedtime Stories. Since I needed an eighth story to put on the list—yes, I know it’s placed as number five in the book; just go with it—I decided to toss this one in to be on the safe side. Once again, I’m going to flip this over to the science-fiction side of things, because it’s fun to do this tale in sci-fi. And, being a rabid equalist at heart, I’ve decided to flip the story a second time, too. Enjoy!

THE computer controlling the derelict laboratory and its defenses was not actually mad. Leo Castanides patiently reminded herself of this fact yet again as the projections from her headset showed a surrealist’s fusion of security codes and bramble vines. It’s not insane. It’s merely under the mental control of one of the greatest electrokinetics to ever come out of a Gengin lab . . . or rather, to never leave that lab.

Lifting her gloved hands, she tried prying two of the bramble vines apart. Once again, the vines writhed and sprouted wicked thorns, trying to scratch and pierce her electronic intrusion, cutting into her code. She reached again, but the protection protocols thickened under the instincts of the dreamer she had been hired to awaken. Beyond the three-dimensional projection overlaying her view of reality, she could see the defensive turrets of the lab’s security lasers swiveling her way, and backed off physically as well as electronically.

. . . Which means I am completely outclassed. I’m only half the electrokinetic this guy was rumored to be, at my very best. Hiding behind the corner of her last secured safe-point, Leo paused to take a drink from the flask at her hip. It contained water only; she never drank while she was on the job. Liquor dulled the wits and the reflexes, inevitably leading the drinker into greater peril. Just because the Raider Clan hired me to free this man from his stasis prison doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to risk my life heedlessly. They’re not paying me enough for that.

Then again, she couldn’t just drop this quest; not everyone had her particular combination of talents. Leo was just barely good enough in reflexes and combat training to have qualified as a Minutemaid by her homeworld’s strict standards. If she took on the normal sort of body-guarding and one-man-army mercenary contracts most Minutemen and Minutemaids took, she probably wouldn’t survive long enough to go back home at the age of thirty-five and breed the next generation. Assuming she wanted to go back, which she didn’t.

What she was really good at were the old computer languages. Ancient tech fascinated her; it was a hobby she had turned into something of a career, raiding archaic tech sites on war-torn worlds and in abandoned spaceyards, places laced with unstable, deteriorating security measures and decay-worn traps. This, the Borgite Project, was the epitome of what she loved. Except this wasn’t some moldering, hundred-year-old piece of abandoned technology. This was a self-sufficient, still functioning piece of hundred-year-old, lethally guarded research lab.

Not all the Gengin research programs had ended when the original subjects of the Genetic Engineering Project had rebelled against their captor-creators centuries ago. Enough of the various projects had been segregated in isolated pockets on different worlds to ensure that some of these programs would continue for hundreds of years more. But as each of those projects was discovered, the Gengins targeted the research labs, freeing the captives wherever possible and inciting those inside to rebel if they couldn’t be freed directly.

It had caused a lot of tech to be crippled, abandoned, and lost, with the outer edges of the known galaxy locked in constant pockets of warfare. Only in the Core Worlds was there a long history of peace and stability . . . but in the Core Worlds, there weren’t many Gengins living among the Normals. Differences often meant unfamiliarities, and that led to fear and distrust. As much as even the Normals deplored the Gengin Projects, the average Core citizen didn’t go out of his or her way to help look for hidden, illegal genetic manipulations.

Sometimes, the Gengins had spontaneously rebelled, and sometimes they had succeeded. The Borgite Project was one such internal rebellion. The researchers’ mistake had been to put one of their own creations in control of the security measures. Leo had already seen the evidence in the outer edges of the complex that it had been a fatal mistake for many.

Shen Codah was the name of the man she was looking for, the man with the mind controlling this entire facility. According to the historical records from the escapees, he had wired himself fully into the facility’s systems to ensure that his fellow Gengins could escape, but only at the cost of being trapped in the machinery. Some of the researchers and their security personnel had tried to converge on his integration chamber while the others escaped, only to be locked out of his particular lab. Others had tried to pursue the escaping victims of the Borgite Project, or had tried to flee for their lives, only to be locked in.

Only the Gengins had gotten out. Almost all of them save for Shen, and whoever might have died during the escape.

A brave and honorable act on his part, but a damn foolish one, too. He shouldn’t have acted until he had constructed a means of his own escape, too. Now he’s stuck in this bizarre, programmed dreamscape, metaphors merged with machinery. Until I came along, no one had the right combination of talents to get even this far . . . and I’m not even halfway to rescuing him.

She had some electrokinetic abilities as well as an affinity for old programming languages. Just not the strength of this man’s mental might. Still, an analysis by the Raider Clan had proven it would take a combination of physical and mental dexterity to breach Shen’s defenses, and she was their best shot. Possibly the only one who could do it. Considering the pool of talents the Raider Clan had at their command, it was something of a compliment. Maybe.

She had the strength and the speed to dodge some of the physical traps, and the skills to avoid being destroyed by the independently patrolling robots, but even the best of Minutemaids couldn’t dodge a dozen simultaneously firing lasers. If she tried to press forward, that was what she would have to face. Lasers which were far more than the original, rough tally cited by the escapees in their accounts of what the place had been like. Which left her with trying to get through the coded defenses, since the physical ones were able to thwart her.

Psychic abilities were rare, though the Psians had been the first of the Gengins to successfully break free of their genetic breeding programs. Like many victims of the various projects, they had retreated to a fringe colonyworld of their choosing, and had kept to themselves. But some had been interbred with other project strains in the early days, in the hopes of broadening the gene pool of psychic abilities. Some of that interbreeding had included the Minuteman Project. For that reason alone, Leo’s services came with a very high fee, despite her comparatively mediocre physical skills as a Minutemaid.

Half up front for trying, and half at the end for succeeding. Enough creds to buy myself a small planetoid if I want . . . plus the ultimate prize, political asylum. If I didn’t trust the Raider Clan’s intentions toward all free-roaming Psians, I’d question why they’d be so willing to pay so much for this particular one.

Checking her chrono, Leo synched up with the less sensitive lab systems, the ones that weren’t as likely to kill her. Ears straining for any noise that might come from a patrolling sentry bot, she reviewed the list of places she could get into. Supplies lists, entertainment library, researcher personnel files . . . though not the files detailing the genetic experiments that were done. Not that I blame him for locking out any information on how he and the others were made.

A glance around the corner showed the turrets still actively sweeping and the illusionary bramble vines still firmly in place. She eased back before they could flag her as an intruder, and wished she could just wave a truce flag at the security sensors built into the walls. Turrets and brambles and flags, oh my . . .

Wait . . . turrets, pennons, brambles, entertainment files . . . She scrolled quickly through the file lists, checking the status of the latter-most. Yes! He’s dreaming right now, and he’s still connected to the security systems as well as the entertainment files. I’m seeing actual activity patterns, and recent ones at that. Now the only question is, can I hack into his dreams via those files? Oh, please, let it be so . . .

It wasn’t an overly complex system compared to modern entertainment programs, but it did include full stimuli programs. It also made sense that he would be using the files to keep his mind stimulated and occupied. He’s probably living the ultimate fantasy life, plugged into these entertainment files like a holovid addict. He’s not going to welcome me into his sanctum . . . unless . . . Yessss, there it is! There’s the holoprogram I want.

He’s trapped and he knows he’s trapped, or he did know it at one point. The only way he’s going to let me in is if I join in one of his virtual dreams and ride to his rescue like a legendary hero. All I have to do . . . is program . . . some suitable weaponry and armor out of this old code . . . borrowing from this story, and this one . . . integrate it into this file over here . . . and lure him into playing it. And survive the occasional automated patrol, she added silently, hearing a faint hum approaching her position. Supply files, come to my rescue . . . yes! There.

One of the doors in the hall slid quietly open. Moving near-silently on soft-padded slippers, Leo ducked into what had once been an office and tucked herself into the closet at the back. Shutting the door behind her, she settled cross-legged on the floor of the tiny space and continued her reprogramming.

I’ll need some helper programs, in case I get into trouble. I can’t tie those directly into the security system, but I can program them to prompt Sleeping Beauty in there to give them access anyway, as a subplot of the story line. Ah, good, as I suspected, he does have a random selector program set up to offer him story suggestions from time to time. If this works, he’ll be helping me to rescue him, without being the wiser. And I know he likes this file; he’s accessed it several times over the decades, though I don’t think he’ll be expecting the role-reversal I’m about to pull, let alone like it.

Of course, if this doesn’t work, I won’t stay alive long enough to uncover his opinion on the matter . . . I’d better hurry; it looks like he’s three-quarters of the way through the current accessed file. I’d hop into that one and try to contact him that way if I didn’t think his personal security programs would fry me on the spot. Far safer to integrate myself into a dormant program before he accesses it, and just go along for the ride . . .

SHEN Codah stared at his face in the mirror with just one thought running through his mind. I’m running out of time.

The list of supplies needed to keep his sealed existence going was running dangerously low. He had three years’ worth of nutrients in the dwindling storage bays. The power source that supplied energy to the research lab had maybe five years left. The suspension gel hosting his body, that was down to just two years, maybe three if the recycling system didn’t break down again. He didn’t trust the backups. It didn’t matter that he had another seven hundred years’ worth of regenerative medicines to keep his body young and fit; the aging of an adult human body could only be slowed by so much.

Here in the Administration Hall—which was nothing more than a simulated projection—he had long ago programmed the system to display his body as it actually was. His short-cropped hair was salted with gray among the stark black, and there were more fine lines beginning to form around his eyes and mouth than he could recall from his last self-examination. As always, his legs, arms, and chest were banded with metal from the sensor probes. Visible reminder of his self-incarceration.

His muscles were still in good condition, since his body did move at least somewhat in response to the scenarios playing through his mind, and the gel provided a decent amount of resistance, keeping his muscles reasonably strong. But while he still felt young enough, he looked middle-aged. Shen wasn’t quite sure how many years had passed. He remembered giving up counting somewhere around fifty-six or fifty-seven.

And how many bodies lie dead all around? You couldn’t count them, either . . .

Turning away from the mirror, Shen snapped his fingers, summoning up the Realm List. It hung in the air, a familiar holographic projection. He wanted something fantasy this time. Scrolling down through the hovering list, one of the filenames caught his eye; it seemed different, maybe a little bolder in its colors. Not sure if he wanted to enact a fantasy romance right after living through a western scenario, Shen continued down the list . . . and found the same filename coming up again.

That’s odd . . . Maybe I just scrolled the wrong way. Again, the colors for the scenario’s advertisement looked a little brighter and more lively than the rest. He stared at it, then shrugged. Why not? I’ve usually enjoyed this one, with its bit of swordplay and some decent lovemaking. But I’ll opt for some extra random variability this time. I know all of these programs too well by now on their normal settings.

Opening up the file, he flicked his hands, tapping hovering check boxes and shifting holographic sliders almost randomly. Slapping the start lever, Shen watched as the marble and glass hallways of the Administration Hall swirled and dissolved. But instead of the green meadow he usually appeared in, he found himself standing in a castle bedchamber—the castle bedchamber, in the highest room of the tallest tower, where the sleeping princess usually lay.

Frowning, Shen turned around, examining his surroundings. The fanciful canopied bed was over there, neatly made with crisp white sheets and a blue velvet coverlet. The chests of gowns and jewels sat neatly against the walls, which bore brightly woven tapestries, and in one of the window alcoves sat a spinning wheel, waiting for the princess to prick her finger upon it. Only he couldn’t see the princess.

A glance down at his body showed it neatly clothed in the ancient garments that went with this setting, a red and gold doublet and matching striped hose. Red leather slippers protected his feet, and his waist was girded with a gold belt. But he wasn’t wearing armor, and he wasn’t carrying a sword.

“Computer! How am I supposed to rescue the princess like this? What role am I playing?”

Even the voice of the computer was different, feminine instead of masculine. “You are playing the role of the Sleeping Beauty. Your rescuer will enter gameplay once you prick your finger and lie upon the bed.”

“And wait a hundred years? No, thank you,” Shen muttered. “But at least this version is different . . . Computer, override any protocols which would automatically put me to sleep as the main character, Sleeping Beauty. Plus any protocols which would try to make me play out the hundred years of enchanted sleep in real-time. I’m doing enough of that on my own.”

“Acknowledged.”

Glancing at his fingers, he shrugged and crossed to the windowed alcove. Touching the distaff needle with the smallest of his fingers, he felt the mild sting. Virtually, he could see and feel the little bead of blood welling up, but he knew that nothing much had happened to his real body, other than that it had probably moved a bit in the pale blue goo supporting him physically.

One day, it might be interesting to feel real pain again . . . and I probably will when my supplies run out. Peering out the window, he saw nothing but the courtyard of the castle, some landscaped gardens, and trees in the distance. Time to lie upon the bed, I guess.

It was a comfortable bed, at least. In previous versions when he had been the prince, he had spent several enjoyable hours seducing and deflowering the real Sleeping Beauty. Stretching out on the velvet bedspread, Shen tucked his arms behind his head. “Computer. Tell me when my rescuer has entered gameplay.”

“Understood. Princess Leo has now entered the game.”

“Do I have to stay on the bed while she fights her way to the castle?” If he did, he would be utterly bored. I never really thought of how passive the female’s role is, in this particular scenario . . . and what kind of a name for a Princess Charming is Princess Leo, anyway? How far did I throw the normal scenario parameters out of whack, randomizing everything?

“Consulting . . .”

That was an odd thing for the computer to say. Shen frowned, but it didn’t take long for the systems monitoring the entertainment matrix to speak again.

“You are permitted to move around within the royal suite. You may watch the action from the windows. When your rescuer is within one minute of arrival, you will be given a warning to return to the bed and assume the correct position for your role. You will not be released from your prison until you cooperate.”

That was a very odd thing for the computer to say. Rising from the bed, Shen crossed to the window. In the minute or so since pricking his finger and lying down, a massive wall of brambles had grown up between the castle walls and the forest beyond. He remembered previous versions of this game, the strain of his muscles as he hacked and hewed his way through the enchanted hedge, struggling with the cruel, barbed vines which “magically” slithered and regrew, attempting to thwart any entry. How good it felt to bash and slash, venting his frustrations with this self-chosen solitary existence.

How odd it is that I’m now the Sleeping Beauty. How very realistic, too.

BZZZZAPP!

The windows rattled with the force of the explosion.

What the—?

A huge chunk of thorn-sprouting greenery was now missing, and the edges of the gaping hole were on fire. BZZZZABOOM! Another chunk vanished, this time along with a section of outer wall. The windows rattled again and Shen swayed with the force of the explosion.

Staring, he watched the debris fall and the dust settle, revealing a strangely dressed woman. Instead of the armor and tabard of a medieval warrior, she was clad in black leather pants, matching vest, and a ruffled white shirt. Her hair had been pulled into a long blonde braid fastened with a black bow at her nape, and the top of her head bore an odd, triangular hat. In her left hand, she hefted a large canister of some kind, probably a power pack, and in her right, a cone-tipped cross between a small rifle and a handgun.

With the stock of the mini rifle braced between elbow and ribs, she spun to the side and shot the nearest patch of regrowing, enchanted vines, disintegrating them before they could grab and tear into her flesh.

Science-fiction meets fantasy? What random parameters did I flip?

As he watched, dumbfounded, she leaped with athletic grace over the rubbled remains of the courtyard wall. Once she was inside the castle boundaries, the brambles subsided as they were programmed to do. Dumbfounded, Shen watched her tuck the gun into a clip on the side of the canister and set it down. Stepping back, she snapped her fingers. Gun and energy canister dissolved, vanishing like a discarded game parameter.

She then tilted her tricorn hat back, shading her eyes peering up the length of the castle. Though he couldn’t see her eyes over the distance between them, Shen knew the moment she spotted him at the window. He knew it because she grinned and lifted her black-clad fist, thumb poking up in ancient greeting. Stunned, he stayed at the window as she walked up the steps and entered the castle.

An interactive rescuer?

“This is your one-minute warning. Please lie on the bed and close your eyes so that the next scene may progress.”

Bemused, Shen turned to do so. He caught sight of himself in the cheval mirror standing across the room and detoured abruptly. Up close, he could see the gray hairs stippled along his temples in his reflected image. Gray hairs he had seen just minutes before in the mirror in the Administration Halls simulation. This isn’t right . . . I shouldn’t look like my real self. I always look young and handsome in these stories, not middle-aged and, well, like me . . .

The computer spoke up. “This is your thirty-second warning. Please lie on the bed and close your eyes so that the next scene may progress.”

“Computer, adjust my apparent physical age to about twenty-seven years old.”

“Consulting . . . Negative. Your appearance is to remain true to reality. Please lie on the bed and close your eyes so that the next scene may progress.”

What? Shen stared at his image, his brown eyes opened wide enough in shock that he could see their whites all the way around. Something is seriously wrong—

A knock startled him further. As did the voice, feminine and unfamiliar, calling through the stout oak door. “Hello in there! Could you please lie down on the bed and close your eyes, so I can come in? This door is not going to open until you do, you know . . .”

“You think so? Computer, end program!” Shen ordered. He didn’t like the way this entertainment simulation was going.

“Consulting . . .”

“What the—? Computer, end program!”

“Player Two does not concur. Please lie on the bed and close your eyes so that the next scene may progress.”

Something was very wrong. “Computer! Emergency override, code—”

“F.G. number three, execute!”

Shen tumbled backwards under the force of that feminine command before he could complete his own. He thumped onto the bed, arms and legs pulled out by the bonds that abruptly appeared. Before he could regain his breath, a leather strap wrapped around his mouth and a velvet sash covered his eyes, leaving him blindfolded and gagged.

He knew this scenario, but not from this side of things. He didn’t arrange for it often, and Shen knew he hadn’t tapped anything remotely like this on the options panels, because he hadn’t accessed the subfolders for kinky sex scenarios. Even as he tugged futilely at the bonds holding his now shirtless body to the bed, he heard the door open.

“Thank you for your cooperation. I apologize for the forceful-ness of my entry, but the circumstances have rendered it absolutely necessary.”

“Comffufer! Wha fe heff if goih om?” Frustrated, Shen yanked at his bonds, but was unable to budge his arms more than a few centimeters. He tried spitting out the leather strap, but that didn’t work, either.

The mattress on his left dipped. Fingers touched his face, making him flinch. They didn’t harm him, just gently eased the blindfold up over his head. Greenish eyes and a warm smile met his furious glare. She wasn’t the prettiest woman the entertainment simulations had ever generated for him, but she was reasonably good-looking for a blonde.

“I’ll remove the gag and the other bonds once you’ve calmed down. In the meantime, you have my word of honor that I don’t intend to harm you. Not that I could; this is only a simulation, after all,” his rescuer-turned-captor offered wryly. “Allow me to introduce myself. Leo Castanides, Minutemaid and rescuer-for-hire.”

“Wha?” None of this was making sense. Not unless his program had been hacked. The last attempt of that, however, had been over . . . Shen didn’t know, exactly, just that too many years had passed. “Who ah hyu? Ah hyu reah?”

She frowned a little in concentration, then smoothed her expression and nodded, comprehending his question. “Yes, I’m very real. If you were to ask the computer how many people are playing in this simulation, it would tell you that there are two of us in here. Well, technically you’re in the master control room and I’m hidden in a safe spot roughly halfway into the complex, because that’s as close to you as I can physically get without getting killed by the defense mechanisms,” the woman Leo added dryly. “But I’m very real, and very much interested in rescuing you. A real rescue, not a simulated one.

“I am here to unhook you from this forgotten machinery you’ve been protecting, pull you out of the suspension fluid you’re floating in, and ensure you get physically back in touch with reality.”

Shen stared at her, trying to comprehend her words. Either I’ve gone mad . . . or the system is finally breaking down . . . or . . . she really is real, and here to rescue me . . . or she’s here as a trick of the geneticists.

That last one didn’t ring very true. No one had tried to get at him for far too many years. Shen stared up at her, this youngish woman, confused.

She leaned over him, and he felt her lips pressing gently against his forehead. That felt . . . real. Very real. Only an actual kiss could have felt that good . . . or the simulated touch of another electrokinetic. A long, long time ago, he had interacted with others with similar gifts, geniuses at programming computers to do what they wanted because their minds could literally manipulate the electrons of the various programs. It had been so long, he had forgotten what it felt like.

Leo blushed as she spoke, sitting upright again. “See? I’m not going to harm you.”

She has to be real, Shen thought, staring up at her. She has too many contradictions to be a stable program. The no-nonsense approach, the sudden kiss . . . unless she’s a symptom of the system crashing . . . and if it is, I have to fix it, fast. If this program crashes while I’m in it . . . !

“Let me give you a brief synopsis of the last one hundred and two years. After you sealed yourself into—”

Closing his eyes, Shen concentrated and snapped his fingers, activating the inbuilt, wordless escape program. Three short, three long, three . . .

“F.G. number thirteen, execute!”

Shen oofed as she dropped on top of him, wrapping her arms tightly around his ribs while the bed and its bonds dissolved.

I can’t believe I kissed him! Why in the stars’ names did I kiss him? Most of her brain was devoted to wrapping her mental presence into a skin-tight package around the retreating electrokinetic in her metaphysical arms, but a corner of Leo’s mind kept repeating that question as virtual existence stabilized around them. There was no need for me to kiss him, so why did I do it?

Unscrunching her eyes, aware of a long, lobby-like corridor lined with doors now surrounding them, Leo peered up at Shen Codah’s face. He looked stunned that she was still with him—thanks to the coding of her Fairy Godmother program and the way she still had a bit of a death grip on his virtual body—but he was . . . well . . . in a word, handsome. Quite handsome. Quite fit, too; she could tell from his programming that this was a projection of his real body in her virtual arms.

“How did you . . . ?”

“I can explain!” Leo quickly asserted. Her virtual skin was beginning to buzz, a warning that his security programs were trying to lock onto her unauthorized presence. “Just don’t shoot me! Pause your virtual security protocols, and I’ll tell you everything.”

He narrowed his eyes, thinking it over. Leo felt the security programs charging up and whirled them around. He stumbled in her arms, but their sudden change in position confused the intruder targeting systems.

“Call them off, Shen! The last thing either of us need is me dying in here,” she ordered.

“If you’re an intruder—” he warned.

“—I am your rescuer,” she countered, jerking them around again as a metaphorical bolt of laser light shot past her waist. “Call them off, and I’ll explain! I won’t go anywhere or touch anything, I promise!”

Not that she could; her ability to be in this corridor, this deep into his systems, depended entirely upon her retaining tight virtual contact with his electrokinetic self-projection. The moment she let go, the moment she tried to look at anything else in this corridor, it would be a race to see which would happen first: her virtual presence being kicked out automatically by the system, or the defense grid vaporizing her mind.

Lifting his hand, Shen stayed the defenses. “Who are you? Who sent you? How did you get in here?”

She relaxed some of her wariness as the buzzing of her skin eased, but she didn’t relax her grip. “Like I said, my name is Leo Castanides, and I’m here on behalf of the Raider Clan—they’re a group of free Gengins of broad diversity. They’ve formed a coalition where our kind can live in peace. No Projects, no breeding programs, and no internal wars for superiority. Just fellow human beings cooperating and getting along. Some of them are the descendants of Gengins you yourself freed. As soon as the Raider Clan realized this facility was still active, they hired me to break in, find, and rescue you.”

“You?” he challenged, shifting in her arms.

Leo didn’t let him pull back very far; she had to maintain close contact to maintain this direct link. She tried not to let the projected, firm warmth of his muscles distract her. “I’m an electrokinetic, like you. I’ve made a hobby of studying archaic tech, and combined with my electrokinesis and my Minutemaid skills, it’s allowed me to get into old labs like this one to rescue many of the things we’ve forgotten or lost over the decades.”

Shen frowned. His next question wasn’t expected. “How long has it been?”

“Since you locked yourself in here?” Leo asked. “One hundred two years, six months, three days . . . or maybe four by now. I’m getting rather hungry and thirsty, and I haven’t had a chance to use a bathroom for several hours. I’d appreciate it if you’d make up your mind to trust me, at least long enough so I can.”

“You’re definitely not a malfunctioning program.” He stared at her a moment, then glanced down at the tight way she was holding him, still clad in her black-and-white clothes, her breasts pressed to his sternum.

His naked sternum, she realized belatedly. They were too closely pressed together, with her arms wrapped around his bare, steel-banded back, to tell if he was wearing pants or not, but his upper half was definitely shirtless.

“Do you have to hold me so tightly?” Shen asked her.

“It’s the nature of my piggyback program. The moment I let go of you, I snap back out of the system . . . and given the sheer strength of the security protocols I’ve just slipped past, I might be knocked unconscious if I have to do it in a hurry. You have a few too many defense robots patrolling the physical corridors of this place for me to risk losing consciousness.

“I know you don’t have reason to trust me,” Leo added candidly, “and I wouldn’t if I were you, having endured all that you have . . . but part of that lack of trust is your own fault. You destroyed all of the external relays that could have connected you with the outside universe. To use the metaphor of that entertainment program we were just in, you were your own evil fairy godmother, and grew your own barricade of briar thorns to keep everyone out.”

“I did it so no one could override my mind and reopen this facility. I didn’t . . .” He broke off and looked past her shoulder. She could tell he wasn’t looking at their virtual surroundings.

“You didn’t want the sadistic bastards in charge of the Borgite Project getting out and recapturing your fellow Gengins,” she stated. He stared at her again. Leo nodded. “Well, you’re not the only one who had to kill his creators in order to escape. Or to let others escape.”

“So you’re really here to rescue a murderer?”

“The first obligation of all prisoners is to seek a means to escape, and that includes by any means necessary. You weren’t imprisoned because you broke the law. You were imprisoned because you were enslaved . You are a human being, Shen Codah, just like everyone else in this galaxy. You have the same right as anyone else to defend yourself, and to defend those around you. You have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—I should know; I’m a Minutemaid,” she reminded him dryly. “My progenitors’ Project was based on the ancient Earth belief of being ready to fight for one’s freedoms and rights on a moment’s notice. You fought to give others their freedom, as you had every right to do. Now I’m here to fight for yours.

“But I can’t do it without your help,” she stressed. “Yes, I broke into the entertainment files. And I just about gave myself a headache doing so. I’m surprised I don’t have a nosebleed. But this is as far as I can get. From here on in, the physical and virtual security systems are under your active control. From what I uncovered in the reports of the fleeing Borgite Project survivors, whatever you did to hook yourself up fully to this complex, it has to be physically unhooked by a second person. But you also sealed yourself in your inner sanctum so that only you can unseal the place.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” he challenged her, lifting his chin.

“Because I came alone. There were three attempts to get to you, roughly a hundred years ago. The records hold the speculation that the first two failed because you thought both groups were infiltration forces sent from the people backing the Borgite Project. The first two were sent by the Gengins you rescued. The third one . . . that group was backed by the Project managers, but civil war broke out on this colonyworld, and this corner of the continent was torched and abandoned. All three times, large groups were sent in to get you, and you treated them like hostile invasion forces.

“In the intervening decades, there were five more known attempts at getting into this facility. Most of them were tech treasure hunters. The only ones who got in past the first layers of security were solitary hunters. They didn’t get very far, but it was far enough to know you’re still expecting a large force to try to retake control of this place. I took a chance that a single visitor wouldn’t trigger a massive counterattack . . . and it’s finally paid off. Provided you don’t trigger the system to actively hunt me down and kill me.”

“I still might. How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Shen demanded. He tried pushing her away again, but she clung stubbornly.

Leo kept her eyes locked with his. “Send a robot to sector B, level five, in the southwest room off the junction of corridors five and G. You will find a hardstate scholastic comm unit, one of the old Jayvisi 47s, sitting on one of the desks. I picked the Jayvisi 47 scholastic model because all it can do is transmit and receive signals from the hypercomm info channels.

“Pick it up, and do a remote search on all information pertaining to either ‘Raider Clan’ or ‘Enalia System,’ which is where the Raider Clan is based . . . or you can even do a search on ‘Borgite Project’ or the history of this colonyworld. There’s no government left on this colonyworld strong enough and rich enough to spend its resources on reclaiming this place. It’s a safe method of checking up on all of these things because there’s no way the Jayvisi could threaten your control of this facility either; all it does is send and retrieve static information. But . . . do me a favor, and don’t break it. Please,” she added as he frowned at her. “I only have two of the 47s left in my functioning tech collection.”

He gazed off over her head for a long moment, lifting his hand and gesturing with his fingers, then nodded. “I’ve sent a robot to pick it up. But I can’t examine the truthfulness of your claim while you’re clinging to me. If you’re an electrokinetic like me, you could be trying to distort my perceptions of reality versus virtuality.”

“That’s easily fixed,” Leo promised. “Take us back to the Sleeping Beauty program. It’s a far less sensitive subsection of the system. I can safely let go of you once we’re there, and from there, I can make my way back to my body with no problem—and you do want me to get back to my body with no problem for one very important reason: if I’m telling the truth, then I am here to rescue you . . . and somehow I don’t think that’s a chance you’ll want to throw away. Not when you’re the man who saved three hundred and fourteen fellow Gengins so they could have a chance at freedom. Now it’s your turn, and you do deserve your freedom.”

Shen didn’t say anything. Lifting his hand, he flicked his fingers. The long corridor they were in dissolved again, and again Leo clung tightly to him . . . until her arms were dragged free by the force of his programming. They were back in the Sleeping Beauty entertainment program, but she was the one now tied to the bed. Fully clothed, but bound hand and foot to the four posts of the canopied bed and gagged with a leather strap.

He was definitely the better electrokinetic; she hadn’t even sensed him reversing their positions in the programming. Then again, after more than a hundred years, he probably knows everything there is to know about how to program this place on the fly.

“You will stay here until I have examined the veracity of your claims,” he ordered.

His hand swept through the air over her body, making her skin tingle from the invisible layers of security he was adding. Her heart skipped a beat, speeding up with adrenaline-tinged fear. Not a lot of fear; she was fairly sure Shen Codah was taking her invasion and her claims seriously enough to investigate in full rather than just mindlessly terminate. But he was definitely the better electrokinetic.

The sight of him stepping back from the side of the bed prompted her to speak. “Heh! Ar’ hyu gomma fiff me?”

Shen frowned, confused. “What?”

Leo winced. Oh, dear stars in heaven, why did I try to say that? She wanted to berate her subconscious, but he was patently waiting for a reply. As she tried to think of a way to tell him “never mind” without the leather gag muffling it beyond all recognition, he leaned over and tugged the strap out of her mouth.

“What did you say?” he repeated.

The tingle of the security measures was still there. Licking her lips, Leo gave in and repeated herself. “I said, ‘Hey! Aren’t you going to kiss me?’ ”

The befuddled look he gave her was rather cute. “Aren’t I going to . . . ? Why would you ask that?”

“Well . . . here I am, in a romantic entertainment program, tied spread-eagle to your bed. I’m lying here at the mercy of a handsome man, prepped and ready for you to do all manner of kinky things to me . . . and all you’re planning on doing is leaving me here alone,” she stated as boldly as she could. In for a processor, in for a program, and all . . . “It’s probably just the setting stirring up the mood, but . . . well, I’m feeling a bit disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Shen repeated skeptically.

“Yes. Disappointed. When I had you tied to this bed, bound and at my mercy, I kissed you. I was just . . . you know . . . Just because I was hired to rescue you doesn’t mean I don’t find you, the person, attractive,” she pointed out. Then she shrugged as best she could, given her tied-down status. “Because I do. I am human, as well as a Gengin.”

He surprised her by kneeling on the bed and bracing his arms on either side of her head. “Tell me, Leo Castanides . . . how much are you being paid to ‘rescue’ me?”

The question made her smile. It was a lopsided smile, but mostly because she didn’t know if he’d believe her or not. “Aside from enough to cover my operating costs? The same thing they pay a lot of the other Gengins who work for them. A priceless treasure beyond compare. There’s the sundry fees for itemized expenses, of course, plus hazardous duty and potential medical coverage . . . but the bulk of what I’m being paid, no one else can afford to give me.”

“And that is?” he prompted, lowering his head close enough to block out some of the virtual sunlight slanting in through the castle windows.

“A home.”

He blinked, visibly confused. Leo took pity on him and clarified her meaning.

“The Raider Clan has offered me amnesty and political asylum. Like a distressing number of Gengin settled worlds, my homeworld has turned a bit insular . . . and rather Project-like in its regards as to who can breed and even when. I’m just genetically ‘superior’ enough to qualify for Minutemaid status, and I’m expected to go out and be a Minutemaid, a mercenary-for-hire . . . but as a Minutemaid, I’m not allowed to breed until I’ve proven I can survive to my thirty-fifth year. Plus, once I do, if I do . . . I’m supposed to breed only with a Minuteman. While I’m sure any number of my fellow Minutemen are worthy enough individuals, I don’t like being told I can or cannot do something as intimate as . . . well, intimacy itself.

“There’s not a single government outside of the Core Worlds which could offer me a better deal than my freedom to choose my own life . . . and the Core Worlds don’t like dealing with Gengins. Particularly not ones who were bred for violent purposes . . . though at least if you look like a Normal, they’re a little more tolerant.”

“It sounds like the universe hasn’t changed much in the last hundred years,” he muttered.

“Some places are worse. Some places are better.” Leo shrugged. “But it’s reality . . . and reality will always be more interesting than virtuality. Living in a virtual world is safer than reality but it’s not actually living, is it?”

He stared at her, his short-cropped hair stained gray with middle age at his temples, his expression shuttered, inscrutable . . . and leaned down, touching his mouth to hers. Slanted it over hers, claiming the kiss she had offered. Leo lifted her chin, parting her lips and returning every nip and taste. Holographic or not, he was a talented electrokinetic, putting every sense into full play in his kiss. Touch, taste, scent, sound, and sight—for all that Leo knew she was only seeing and feeling these things inside her mind.

Breaking off the kiss, he backed off the bed, stood, and vanished. Left on the bed, tied and bound, Leo gauged her programming ability versus the tingling pressure of the security programs keeping a close eye on her virtual location. In the end, she stayed where she was. It was likely that once she left, she would have a very hard time getting back in again. But that wasn’t the reason she stayed.

She stayed because she didn’t want to break his trust. Breaking into the entertainment subsystems had been a risky move. Hacking his defenses so that he had taken her with him into the main access command zone had been very risky. But he was searching for her Jayvisi comm set . . . and he had left the gag out of her mouth.

And he is one heck of a kisser. At least in virtuality, she acknowledged. I hope he believes me, because I’d love to know if the real Shen Codah can kiss like that, too.

It wasn’t as if she had anything else to think of, bound as she was to a bed in virtuality and crouched in a closet in reality.

SHE was telling the truth.

Shen remembered being educated on a Jayvisi 49 model; they were popular with educators because all they did was access information, ensuring that their users studied, and only studied. They were boring for students, because they couldn’t be used to communicate. But the scholastic units did connect to the archived files of hundreds of worlds in a vast, redundant library of information. The Jayvisi 47 was old and slow, but it did what it was supposed to do: collect and collate data.

The history of his colonyworld was turbulent. There were now five separate governments, none of them claiming territory within a thousand kilometers of his location, and only three of them strong enough to have reestablished interstellar trade with the other worlds out there. More worlds than he remembered . . . and many of them shattered by civil wars, including his own. The Borgite Gengins had abandoned this world shortly after his self-imposed isolation, but because he had destroyed all means of anyone gaining remote access to his systems, he hadn’t known that the old government and its Gengin Project funding had completely collapsed within the first five years.

It was a sobering thought. All this time . . . all this time I’ve been barricaded behind my briar thorn walls, sleeping my way through virtual worlds . . . and I could have been free . . .

Given the layers of security he had cocooned himself in, it would have taken a fellow electrokinetic to reach him. With the other Borgite Gengins offworld and the rest of the planet rocked by strife, no one had made a concerted effort to come back for him, beyond the three group attempts she had listed. That was in the history files, dispassionately collated by the archival programs of the Core Worlds, which even a model as archaic as the Jayvisi 47 could still access. He could even tell who had accessed and collated all that information, and from where, since that was part of the scholastic archive’s information gathering parameters.

Who was Leonida Castanides? Where was Prism Station in the Enalia System? Why . . . was not listed. But he did find a number of footnotes when searching for the “Raider Clan” she mentioned. Some rather interesting history files of their own.

She was telling the truth . . . as far as he could tell.

The question now is, what am I going to do about this information? Do I stay where I am . . . safe but running out of supplies and thus out of time? Or do I take the chance that what I’ve read is real, and risk returning to reality?

Returning to the real world meant disconnecting himself from the facility. After literally more than a century, Shen feared it would be like trying to amputate his own legs. More than that, disconnecting himself didn’t mean just freedom; it meant abandoning his sense of safety and familiarity for the unknown.

It wasn’t an easy choice to make. I can’t make it blindly. I need to know what awaits me, if I do choose to disconnect. I need something more—a lot more—than an abstract like “freedom.” I need . . .

Snapping his fingers, he rematerialized in the entertainment program. Leonida Castanides still lay on the bed where he had bound her, though she stared up at the canopy with a glazed, unseeing expression.

“Leo?”

She blinked, focus returning to her gaze. Twisting her head, she peered at him. “Ah . . . you’ve returned—you believe me, too.”

“What makes you think that?” he asked warily.

“You’re too integrated into these programs not to project your feelings; it’s the blessing and the curse of a really good electrokinetic holoprogrammer. Now that you do believe me, could you please deactivate all the security systems and robots in sector C? Just sector C,” she added quickly.

“Why?” he asked. There wasn’t much in sector C beyond some offices, though he did realize there were a lot of remote access sensors in those offices. That’s how she’s accessing my virtual zones, isn’t it?

Her answer was fervent. “Because I really have to pee, I don’t want to do it in a corner, and I’m not suspended in a self-cleaning biomaintenance tank like you are. And I’d really rather not be shot while running for the nearest facilities.”

Shen chuckled. He couldn’t help it; none of his former captors had plea-bargained for bathroom access. Bargained and threatened for other things, but not for that. Lifting his hands, he summoned the security task panels into the entertainment subprogram. “As you wish. Sector C . . . is now in safe mode. You’re free to move about the corridors. But only sector C.”

“Thank you!”

Her reply was so forceful, he almost expected her to leap off the bed in spite of her bonds, but she didn’t move beyond a few twitches of her muscles. Curious, Shen tipped his head, accessing the cameras in that sector. It took him a few moments to find her in reality, but there she was. A black-and-white-clad woman with an actual ancient three-pointed hat on her head, her blonde hair caught back in a braid, all but sprinting down the hall toward a door marked Women.

She did so, he noticed with a twinge of shame, by leaping over a trio of mummified corpses left long ago on the hallway floor, fallen where the security robots had slaughtered them under his control.

I killed all of those people. It was long ago, and it was for a good cause, or so I believed. But . . . I still killed them. Do I deserve my freedom? Do I deserve to live in reality?

Did the real Prince Charming—if there ever was one—ever ask himself if the sleeping princess deserved to be awakened? On the surface, of course she deserved to be awakened; the princess hadn’t murdered anyone. His had been a deliberate slaying of hundreds of research workers and guards. Not to mention, the whole royal court had been put to sleep alongside her, not slaughtered, so that she would awaken surrounded by familiar faces. I don’t have that option. Everyone I know is most likely long dead.

Leo drew in a deep breath, recapturing his attention. She let it out in a long, happy sigh and blinked, refocusing her gaze on him. “Thank you. Your civility and courtesy are deeply appreciated. Now. How do we go about freeing you? I know you have to have someone else physically disconnect you, and that only you can let that person into your inner sanctum to do so, but beyond that, the details I researched were rather sketchy.”

Shen was somewhat surprised; he had expected her to ask to be released from her bonds first. Folding his arms across his chest, he didn’t answer her question. He still had a few of his own.

“First, you tell me what is supposed to happen to me after I’ve been disconnected from this facility. You say you’re here to free me, but what then?”

“That’s easy. I’m authorized to offer you amnesty and political asylum in the Enalia System, under the governance of the Raider Clan. You’ll have a six-month trial citizenship, to include housing, feeding, and rehabilitation services—strictly in the educational sense,” Leo clarified quickly. “While the various civil wars have made certain advances in technology sporadic at best as governments collapsed and formed and collapsed all over again, you have been out of the loop for slightly more than one hundred years.”

“And how do I pay for this housing and feeding and reeducation program?”

“Well . . . the Raider Clan would like access to the tech of this place,” Leo admitted. “Anything deemed commercially revivable, they’d like to market on your behalf at an even fifty-fifty ratio of the profits above production costs. Plus you’d get free housing beyond the initial six months of your adjustment period, which is how long they calculated it would take you to adapt to the future. If you don’t want to accept their offer, either of amnesty or of tech rights and split residuals . . . I’m offered to set you up with an official identity as a worldless free-spacer under whatever name you like, arrange for an account in that name filled with ten thousand Core creds—which is the maximum allowable untaxable gift by Core World law, or half a year’s minimum wage salary—and give you a lift wherever you want to go, whether on this world or to any other.”

“That’s it?” Shen asked, taken aback by the offer. “If I don’t want to work with this Raider Clan . . . I go free? With money and an identity?”

Leo shrugged. “You don’t know how the modern world works, so turning you lose isn’t exactly doing you a favor, but you’re not being kicked out the door, either. I wouldn’t advise trying to stick around here. Once you get outside the complex, the local region is a war-torn wasteland. There aren’t any farms within six or seven hundred kilometers of here, let alone towns and cities. At least with ten thousand Core creds in your pocket and a free ride elsewhere, you’d have enough money to get yourself established somewhere, with enough time to start figuring out what you want to do to make a living. The Raider Clan isn’t heartless, and they aren’t thoughtless. They give these options to all the Gengins they help set free.

“Oh—I almost forgot, I’m also authorized to offer the services of the Raider fleet in destroying this facility, if you decide you’d rather see it obliterated than allow any of its tech or information to fall into other hands. But only at your command,” she emphasized. “It’s not meant to be a threat in any way, shape, or form, just an offer of assistance if you’d like to see this place blown off the map once you’re free of it.”

If her previous words hadn’t rocked him to the core, Shen might have indeed taken the thought of blowing up this place a lot more like a threat. But her words did disturb him all the same. To start figuring out what you want to do . . . to make a living. But . . . I haven’t been living . . .

Needing to think, he sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the tapestry-covered wall across from him.

“Shen?” the woman lying next to him prompted after several moments had passed. “Hey, if you’re going to sit and think for a while, can you at least untie me? I know I’m only bound in virtuality and all, but if you’re not going to do kinky things to me anytime soon, I really don’t think there’s a point in keeping me tied up like this. I’d rather not break your programming or myself in trying to get free, so there’s no reason. You’ve only turned off the security measures in one sector out there in reality. You haven’t done anything to the security measures here in virtuality.”

Shen turned to look at her. An idea formed in his mind. “You say all these things are being offered by this Raider Clan . . . but the only person I know from the current era is you. What are you going to promise me, to hold as a bond that all these things you’re offering are true?”

She blinked, considering his words. “Well . . . lessons in modern tech, I suppose. As a fellow electrokinetic, I can teach you what you need to know in ways that a non-Psian couldn’t.”

Bracing his hand on the other side of the mattress, he leaned over her. “What about tangible benefits? You offered me an opportunity for ‘kinky things’ in virtuality. Would you be willing to try them out there in reality, once I’m free?”

Her brows rose at his suggestion, but it didn’t take more than a moment for her to smile. “Well, if I get to do kinky things to you in return, out in reality, then I think that could be arranged.”

Another thought crossed his mind. “What about that offer to explore all the ‘archaic tech’ of this place? Would you be one of the people working on it?”

“I suppose, if the Raider Clan extends my contract.”

He wanted to kiss her again . . . but a virtual kiss was nothing compared to a kiss in reality. A kiss and much, much more.

“Tell them to extend your contract. I’ll accept the offer of amnesty and six months of rehabilitation. They can have access to the physical tech of this place, but not the research files. Not that it would do them any good. I destroyed most of it long ago, physical and virtual,” Shen stated, lifting his chin a little.

“I would’ve been surprised if you hadn’t. Most Project escapees tended to destroy or steal away their creators’ research notes. Now, are you going to unbind me and help me get safely to your inner sanctum out there in the real world?” Leo asked him, smiling slightly. “Or are you going to take advantage of my virtual vulnerability and do some preliminary kinky things with me?”

Tempting as her offer was, the thought of doing kinky things to her in reality was too compelling. A simple sweep of his hand dissolved her bonds. Shen shifted back to the edge of the bed so she could have the room to sit up now that she was free. “It’ll take me over half a day to disable the security measures between sector C and my location. If you’re still in that bathroom, go out the door, turn right, and enter the second room on the right; there’s a couch large enough to sleep on and a sink with still potable water. You’re out of luck for edible food, but otherwise you should be comfortable.”

“I brought nutribars. They probably taste as old as the age-powdered packets of food that used to be in the staff vending machines I’ve seen, but they’ll keep me going. And I can always head outside and go back to my ship if necessary. Sector C has an emergency exit tunnel that emerges not far from where my shuttle is parked.”

Curling her legs to the side, Leo leaned forward, braced her palm against his thigh, and swayed almost close enough to kiss him. But she didn’t. Shen frowned in disappointment.

Pulling back, she grinned at him. “Oh, no. I still need to motivate you. You’ll have to wait for a real kiss, with real lips. Go on. You’ve got a lot of work to do. I can’t rescue you without your help on the inside; I’m good, but I’m nowhere near as good an electrokinetic programmer as you.”

Her smile was too tempting. To hell with it. I want something to tide me over while I wait for that rescue. My Princess Charming will just have to deal with it.

Cupping the back of her head, almost dislodging her tricorn hat, Shen pulled her close enough for a very thorough kiss. It wasn’t completely satisfying, but it was enough for now. Releasing her, he stood up and vanished, taking himself back to the main corridor of the research facility’s virtual systems.

Now, where the hell did I put those release codes?

HE was, more or less, the same physical age he had projected in virtuality. There were quite a few more wrinkles on his hide than his virtual self bore, but that could easily be attributed to fluid retention, also known as the bathtub effect. And his face was seamed around the edges by what by now was probably a permanent imprint of the breather mask and headset goggles he had worn. But he had the muscles, and the eyes, and the gray-tinged black hair.

The only thing she still couldn’t tell if it was the same or not was his smile. He was too busy coughing from having to breathe dusty, unfiltered air and grimacing at the pale blue goo clinging to his fluid-wrinkled skin to bother. Smiles weren’t on his immediate agenda.

Switching to a clean towel and rubbing at another section of his body, scrubbing off the blue goo, she waited for his coughing to ease. There wasn’t much she could do to stop it, not when real air was just something his lungs would have to get used to breathing.

Besides, she thought, rubbing the age-worn fabric over his legs, he’s damnably sexy in person. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t want to get her hands all over a man like him? Well, presuming she doesn’t mind older men. Which I don’t.

That thought made her smile. He might look like he was forty-seven to her twenty-seven, but according to his file, he was closer to one hundred thirty-three. That stuff he was being injected with, the anti-aging agents . . . that’s an old tech we’ve lost. It’ll be worth a fortune if it can be redeveloped. If we want it redeveloped. The problem is, it’d be worth a fortune and a massive interstellar war.

I’ll have to warn the Raider Clan how effective the stuff is. They weren’t sure if I’d be rescuing a wizened old gnome of a man or maybe just a virtual ghost running all these machines. But if it really works to slow down aging—as it seems to—and word gets out that the tech is still viable . . . well, it won’t be the first time I’ve destroyed a bit of technology I didn’t think was safe to let loose in someone else’s hands. Even the Raider Clan’s . . .

“Hey.” His voice was rough, gravelly. Rusty with disuse, though he had undoubtedly used it in the same intermittent way his muscles had used the resistance of the fluid for a source of exercise as well as support, keeping himself more or less in shape.

“Yes?” Leo asked, curious.

“I’m waiting . . .” He gave her an expectant look. When she only returned it with a blank, noncomprehending one, Shen sighed and sagged back on the floor of the platform next to the rim of his control tank. A moment later, a strangled snort escaped him. It was followed by a second one.

Oh! She bit her lip to keep from giggling, but couldn’t stop her smile as he snorked a third time. “Don’t even bother, Shen. You may have been ‘asleep’ for a hundred years, but you fail miserably at snoring.”

Leaning down over him, she kissed him on his lips. It was soft, sweet, and he tasted vaguely of plexi, suspension goo, and recycled air. Nor did his lips move as smoothly in reality as they had in his virtual world; he still had most of the muscles of his virtual self-projection, but he wasn’t used to consciously using them in reality yet, which made his responses a bit awkward.

She wasn’t going to hold any of it against him. Practice does make perfect, after all.

Shen smiled, letting his head drop gently back to the floor. “I’m free. I’m really, truly free . . . Ow.”

“Ow?” she repeated, confused.

He frowned, but not at her. “I think I bruised my arm on the edge of the tank when you hauled me out. And my thigh . . . and this platform is disturbingly hard. And, as much as it pains me to admit it,” Shen added, his voice still somewhat rough, “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk all the way out of here. I have muscles, but . . . not the memory of how to move them.”

“I guessed as much. The reality-is-stranger-than-virtuality syndrome. I get that way if I spend more than eight or so hours at a time inside a virtual program, and holoprogram addicts suffer for it when they spend weeks and months in virtuality. Luckily, it’s nothing that a few weeks of physical therapy won’t cure. Come on, on your feet,” Leo coaxed. “I found a hoverchair in the medical wing to give you a ride out to the ship, and some sheets and blankets to preserve your dignity, but that’s all down on the main floor. We have a set of steps to navigate, first.”

Nodding, Shen looped one arm around her shoulders, letting her reposition herself at his side. He kissed her cheek while she was shuffling into a sturdy squat. “For good luck,” he told her when she glanced at him. “And as the first down payment on a thank-you. I . . . would have run out of supplies in just a few more years, if you hadn’t come along.” He grimaced wryly. “I also don’t think I’ll be ready for anything more vigorous until I’ve been looked at by modern medical techs. I know I’m fine in virtuality, but . . . I have no idea if, you know, everything still works in reality.”

She smiled, and carefully did not look at his groin. “Then I’ll just wait and take the rest of those installments after you’ve had some physical therapy and regained your equilibrium. Of course, the sooner we get you out to my shuttle, the sooner the Raider pilot who brought me here can fly both of us back to the Enalia System.”

“These Raider Clan people had better be all that you’ve promised,” Shen muttered.

“They will be. If not, you can take me captive and do kinky things to me in reality—feel free to do so anyway, once you’re feeling better,” she joked. “It was quite arousing. Now, I’ll pull you to your feet on three. I can support most of your weight since I’m bred to be stronger than I look, but all that tech welded to your flesh makes you heavier than you look. So you’ll have to do some of the walking, too. We’ll just take it slow and easy, since we have all the time in the world, now that you’re free.

“Ready? On one . . . two . . .”

THE first thing Leo Castanides saw when she opened the door of her home was a plexi sword. A cheap, child-sized plexi sword, as light as a datapad and no sharper along its edge than the side of a pencil. It dangled from a string hung from the ceiling of her entryway. Next to it was an equally child-sized shield, both of them painted in fake silver and gold.

After a long day of cataloguing yet another fraction of the tech they had literally stripped out of the Borgite Project stronghold, leaving nothing behind but bare concrete walls, unlocked doors, and a note painted on a couple walls to contact the Raider Clan in the Enalia System if anyone had any further inquiries . . . a cheap toy sword and shield were not what she’d expected to see.

Pushing her tricorn hat back on her head—she loved her Minutemaid hat, even though she was firmly an Enalian citizen these days—Leo reached up and plucked the sword and shield free. The strings were easily snapped, being little more than threads. Beyond them, she saw more threads holding up more objects. Long strips of crepe and tissue paper, crudely colored in shades of brown and green and scribbled with crude approximations of leaves and thorns.

Comprehension dawned.

Grinning, Leo adjusted her hat firmly on her head, gripped the shield in her left hand and the sword in her right, and “hacked” her way through the makeshift walls of mock briar thorns. As suspected, the display of suspended barriers led through the living room, past the door to the kitchen, and down the back hall to the bedroom. Her bedroom, not his. Another telling point in this mock dramatization.

Batting aside a last bit of paper vine, she pushed the button for her bedroom door. It slid back quietly, revealing a brand-new, archaic-styled canopy bed in place of her older, simpler one. A bigger bed, she noted. A bed occupied by the recumbent form of a middle-aged man.

Three things caught her attention in the glow of the setting sun visible beyond the gauzy bedroom curtains; two of them had grown familiar over the last six weeks since his rescue. His gray-streaked black hair was somewhat longer than it had been, though still quite short by local fashion standards. His calves, thighs, forearms, and biceps were banded with fading scars where the old metal bands used to reside; more body-friendly organic transceiver nodes had been transplanted in their place, similar to the ones in her own limbs, which boosted her electrokinetic abilities.

And he was quite, quite naked, with not a trace of pale blue goo, bathtub wrinkles, or metal implants to be found. That was a new twist on the man she had come to know and love.

The warmth of the Enalian summer night at the latitude where they lived was enough to keep him comfortable as he rested on what should have been her original bed. The fact that it wasn’t her bed anymore didn’t upset her. Rather the opposite. In fact, the mere thought of all this effort on his part was doing a very good job of arousing her.

If he’s in here, re-creating how we first met, that means he’s finally been given the all-clear by his therapists for lovemaking. Good! Excellent, in fact.

Stepping quietly into the bedroom, Leo poked the toy sword at the controls, shutting the door. She set her weapon and shield on top of her dresser, then removed her hat and hung it on its wall hook by the door frame. Another glance at the bed showed what could have been a flickering eyelid, but she couldn’t be sure.

Leo toed off her cuffed, ankle-length boots and untied the laces of her vest as she stepped out of them. It looked like his eyelids flickered again at the soft flump of the leather hitting the floor, but otherwise he didn’t respond. He also didn’t try to fake a snore while she finished approaching the new bed, for which she was grateful. As much as she was pleased he was ready and willing to take this next step with her, she didn’t think giggling would be appropriate. Not after all the trouble he’d gone to, creating that fake paper briar patch and finding those silly toys . . .

It was really quite sweet of him. Loosening the ties at her wrists and throat, she sank onto the side of the bed. This close, she could see a faint shiver cross his skin at her proximity, and the tightening of his dusky nipples. Not to mention the slight twitch of his not quite flaccid shaft. A lift of her hand and a bit of concentration was all it took to tap into his organic transceivers. Shivers rippled across his muscles as she dusted his limbs with phantom caresses. With her hand ghosting several centimeters above his skin, she touched him with just her mind, preparing him for the reality ahead.

A glance at his face showed his eyes still shut, but his lower lip was caught in his teeth. A second glance at his loins showed his flesh thickening in tiny but visible jerks, tied to the blood pumping in time with the beating of his heart. Not wanting to torment him too much, she lowered her hand to the bed on his far side, leaned down over that handsome pair of lips, and kissed him.

This time, he tasted of mouthwash and man. This time, his lips parted and pressed with a lot more skill. This time, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to pull her down closer, rather than lift himself higher. Satisfied that he was very much awake and willing, Leo kissed him hungrily.

Shen returned it greedily, until kissing wasn’t enough. Impatient fingers tugged at her shirt, pulling it up over her head. That broke their kiss, since she was forced to detangle herself from the fabric. As soon as he flung her top to the floor, he cupped her breasts in his palms. The skill he used to rub and stimulate her nipples with his thumbs surprised her a little, until she remembered just how many of those entertainment files had included romantic interludes in their programming. Grinning, Leo pushed her breasts into his hands, encouraging him.

The sight of his eyelids still shut made her frown a moment later. She could have sworn she’d kissed him thoroughly enough to wake him. A glance at his loins showed his shaft arcing up over his lower abdomen in an inviting curve the length of her hand. Well, if kissing him on the lips doesn’t open his eyes . . .

Shifting free of his grasp, she bent over his hips and bestowed a tender kiss on the turgid tip of his shaft. His sharp inhale made her slant her gaze at his face. Grinning at the sight of his blinking brown eyes, she licked around the little head and sucked him deep into her mouth.

That snapped his eyes wide. Body tense, hands clutching at her head, Shen arched into her bobbing, inhaling, enthusiastic nether-kiss. He groaned when she swirled her tongue, and choked out her name when she rapidly flicked his tip. “Leo!”

Leo released him with a chuckle. He groaned again, this time in disappointment, but she avoided his hands. Rather than letting him drag her back down, she moved off the bed completely and unfastened her pants.

Pushing up onto one elbow, Shen watched her strip off the last of her clothes. Moving his other hand to his groin, he caressed himself lightly as she peeled off her socks and underwear. To Leo, the sight of him touching himself was erotic. So was the way he reached up and circled one finger around her breasts, then slid it down between her thighs, boldly proclaiming his right to touch her flesh. Head tipping back, eyes drifting shut, Leo rocked into his gentle, stimulating strokes.

A moment later her own eyes snapped open from the sudden spark of energy crawling like tiny nibbling mouths across her skin. His wicked grin told her she wasn’t the only one capable of invading a fellow electrokinetic’s transceiver nodes for pleasurable stimulation. Probing deep with two fingers, he hooked them in her body and gently tugged her close, sitting up so that he could meet her approaching breasts with hungry, lustful nips from his real mouth, letting the phantom ones he was projecting electrokinetically caress other, more peripheral parts.

Clutching his shoulders, Leo caressed his skin, then pushed him down. He murmured a protest, clinging to her with his free arm and lips, his right hand still occupied with a very skillful exploration of her flesh. Still, she persisted until he was lying on his back again, though it meant she half-straddled him in his wordless, insistent demand to keep her close.

A few moments later found him pressing her onto her back, when all she did was shift so they could continue their kiss. Complying, Leo groaned; his suckling kisses wandered from her mouth to her throat, turning into teasing nips. The controlled scrape of his teeth was undeniably erotic, but also a little alarming. She gasped, startled, when he bit and suckled at the same time, accompanying the act with a deep growl.

“Easy!” she hissed, alarmed by his increasingly feral touch. He released her flesh with a wet pop, peering up at her. She smiled wryly at him. “Hey. I thought this was supposed to be the tale of Sleeping Beauty, not Beauty and the Beast.”

He grinned and licked her breast. “We can always explore that one later . . . but you’re right. Ours is definitely a Sleeping Beauty story.”

“Good. Now . . . having rescued the handsome, slumbering prince,” Leo purred, coaxing him higher on her body with a gentle caress of her finger under his jaw, “I would like to claim my reward.”

Shifting a little higher, settling between her thighs as she parted them, Shen braced his elbows on the bed to either side. “Anything I have is now yours.”

“Good.” She smiled. “I want it all.” To make sure he got at least some of her point, she shifted her hips, lifting her knees so she could tip her pelvis into his.

His brown eyes darkened and he flexed his own hips, sliding his shaft against her damp flesh. “All of me?”

She shuddered, enjoying his firm, gliding touch. “All of you.”

Shen stilled. Despite the now dim glow from the tail end of sunset outside, she could see the teasing look in his eyes fade, replaced by something much more serious.

“Is that . . . a proposal?” he asked.

Leo stilled as well, holding her breath as she thought about it. Thought about him. Shen. A man who looked twice her age and had lived five times it, though not as freely as she had. A man who was bright, caring, and completely one of a kind. Her kind.

She didn’t stop the smile that spread her lips. “Shen Codah, will you marry me?”

Emotion gleamed in his eyes. Cupping her head, Shen captured her mouth; he devoured her with a deep kiss, his hips moving in time with his tongue, rubbing himself sensually against her.

Enjoying the gliding tease of his erection, it didn’t take long for her to grow impatient for more. Squirming a little, she reached between them, capturing his shaft with her hand. He groaned into her mouth, then shifted, helping her find the right angle to prod him into her depths. That made both of them groan, and he bucked a little, sinking deeper.

Leo sucked in another breath at the sting of being stretched; it had been a while since her last lover. But it was the pain on her new lover’s face that concerned her. The lines deepened on Shen’s brow as he grimaced, making her wonder if this attempt at intimacy was too soon in his recovery. Teeth bared, he pushed a little deeper, muscles straining in what looked like an internal war between forging forward and holding back.

“I . . . I can’t . . .” His abdomen spasmed, followed by the rest of his body. Driving deep, he nipped and licked at her mouth, her throat, her shoulder, sucking strongly on the skin at the base of her neck. He took her roughly, fiercely, claiming everything she had just given him, rocking the bed until the canopy fringe swayed.

For a moment, it seemed inevitable that he would leave her behind, his passion had boiled over so fast, so furiously. Leo didn’t care; even without those half-lost rejuvenation medicines, the physicians who had examined him after his rescue had promised both of them that he still had a good sixty or more years left to live. He could make it up to her another time; right now, she just wanted to give him as much pleasure as he could stand, because he deserved it. Reopening her transceivers, Leo caressed him electrokinetically.

Tearing his mouth from her throat, Shen gasped. “Stars! Oh, yes—let me in!”

Guessing what he meant, she pulled down her inner walls, the part of her that guarded her against intrusion, whether from a random electromagnetic fluctuation or from another soul with Psian genetic engineering in his veins. To Shen, she opened herself up—and bucked herself as raw sensation flooded her nerves.

For a moment, he and she were one; his lust, his passion, his love were now hers. She was him, hard and aching, driving into soft, clinging heat over and over again. He was her, wet with acceptance, clenching around him with need. Passion crested, climaxed, crescendoed in an actual, physical spark between their bodies, flaring blue white in the indigo darkness of the bedroom. If that spark sizzled, neither of them heard; her cries mixed too strongly with his groans, accompanied by the wooden creaking of the old-fashioned, canopy-draped bed.

He didn’t collapse on her, so much as slump slowly by degrees. Clinging to him, her own mouth nibbling on his throat, Leo accepted his weight. Without all the cumbersome metallic implants, he wasn’t as heavy as when she had rescued him. He was solid, pinning her to their new bed as surely as if she were still bound by his virtual programming, but not a burden. Of any kind.

For a moment, she let memory color her perceptions in electrokinetic detail, conjuring up a virtual replica of that room in Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Shen grunted and shook his head, dispelling the shared vision.

“No,” he ordered gruffly, lifting some of his weight back onto one elbow. “No more dreams. No more programs. I want nothing but reality with you.”

Sighing, Leo nodded. “All right . . . but that does mean actually getting up and trying to find something suitable with which to tie me to the bed.”

Shen groaned, dropping his forehead to hers. Physically, he was still soft with satisfaction, but she could feel the mental undercurrents of his reaction to her suggestion. They were still linked electrokinetically, still sharing their arousal, and more. Reaching up and out with her mind, since her arms were occupied in the important task of holding him, she sparked the bedside lamp to life.

The sideways glow highlighted the silver strands at his temple and the wrinkles at the corner of his eye. Leo shifted her left hand from the sweat-damp skin of his back. Cupping his cheek, she guided his mouth down to hers for a gentle, loving kiss. She didn’t quite invoke true virtuality between them, but she did link and share her pleasure. Shen accepted it, as he accepted her into the inner sanctum of his mind . . .

A long while later, Leo woke from a vivid, disjointed dream of roving hands and roaming lips to find it wasn’t a dream. Her lover was caressing her, kissing her in the dim gray light of dawn. Smiling sleepily, she wrapped her arms around him and returned the favor, tangling her tongue happily with his.

It didn’t actually matter which one of them was the other’s Prince or Princess Charming. It only mattered that they were both awake.