112718

Aid to the Colonies

I

All three girls were over 7 feet tall … it was hard to picture them naked. They had insisted the meeting take place in their habitat, which made him nervous even though it was essential to the plan. He patted his hip–the device was still there.

II

When Global’s agent shuffled in she knew something was wrong. Smelling trouble was Charis’ specialty. He looked her up and down and she shivered--he wasn't here to negotiate the contract. She wiped her hands on her coverall in distaste.

III

Cleone reviewed the security log for Global in her mind. They had tried some pretty weird stuff in the past. However, as far as customs had been able to tell, this agent was clean. But when he looked at her she knew something was wrong. Was he scoping them out for a raid?

IV

Diana was used to men's minds--but this guy was sick. What was that thing about cattle prods anyway?! How could that turn anyone on! And there was something else. Her eyes narrowed as she sifted through his thoughts. He was not really thinking about oral sex; that was covering something else. Something to do with his body. When she caught it she had to stifle her gag reflex.

I

Something was wrong. The chick on the left knew. How? It didn't matter. He tongued the trigger. His hip exploded. The pain was so great he couldn't breathe. The room was dim and canted at a high angle. Shit! Global had lied to him. At least the three frigid bitches were doomed too--they'd already breathed the spores.

III

Cleone started to roll out of her chair a fraction of a second before the Global agent exploded. She wasn't sure what had tipped her off. Partially cooked meat spattered the walls and ceiling. She could see what was left of the guy in the far corner of the room. Diana slumped in her chair, unmoving; Charis was wiping her hands on her ass. "Decon!" she snapped, and bounced up, grabbing the nape of Diana's coverall. She hustled the other two into the lock and the Decon cycle began. The procedure proved to be almost effective.