SHADAIR Airfield
The next day, 11:30 a.m. GMT
In the cockpit of SHADAIR Seagull Charlie-Papa-Tango (the callsign of the Commander's Personal Transport), Kelly took the pilot's seat next to a vibrantly excited Sophie, newly recruited as his co-pilot; she looked simultaneously cute and professional wearing the pilot's cap she'd gotten somewhere. "Ready, Co-Pilot?"
"Ready, Captain!" she returned eagerly, and he smiled fondly. So did Jennifer, in the passenger section; she was happy and in fact proud to see that Sophie was far too thrilled to be nervous about her very first flight. Her first, taken at about Sophie's age, was terrifying for her; she'd wanted to cling like a limpet to her father, until they actually completed the takeoff and she began to relax and enjoy the experience (he'd complained mildly that his hand, which she'd clutched in a death grip, might never be the same again...).
"Okay, just as I taught you, Sophie," Kelly instructed once he'd completed preflight checks, donning his headset.
"Yes, sir," Sophie responded keenly, and keyed her own headset. "SHADAIR Control Tower, this is Seagull Charlie-Papa-Tango requesting takeoff clearance, over."
SHADAIR Control Tower, Control Room
On hearing the voice of someone who was obviously a young girl and not Commander McAllister, Flight Controller Eleanor Brand smiled fondly. It had to be the daughter of the Commander's girlfriend/lover, and clearly he was playing the part of a loving father indulging her by letting her play co-pilot.
Then again, why not? Still smiling, she opened the mike and spoke in a brisk, professional voice. "SHADAIR Control Tower to..."
"...Charlie-Papa-Tango: roger, reading you five-by-five. Your airspace is clear; you are cleared for takeoff on Runway 15, One-Fiver. Wind speed is ten knots, south by south-west; weather report is good, over."
"Charlie-Papa-Tango copies, Tower - taxiing to Runway One-Fiver now."
Kelly nodded and manoeuvred the aircraft to the designated runway. Oddly she seemed a tad sluggish, but on glancing out of the cockpit he noticed a windsock showing there was a stiff breeze blowing; doubtless that accounted for it. Once in position he waited until the light changed to green, then disengaged airbrakes and glanced at Sophie. "Brakes..."
"Off," she confirmed, seeing the relevant indicator light. He opened up the throttle.
Sophie watched the airspeed indicator closely as they accelerated, the pitch of her voice climbing as her excitement mounted, though she was trying hard to maintain a professional demeanour to impress her Dad. "Airspeed building...one-twenty...one-forty...one-sixty - V1...VR...rotate!"
Kelly pulled back the steering column to pitch the aircraft's nose up and the Seagull readily responded, taking to the air with all the grace and power of a swan, though again he perceived a very slight sluggishness - but not enough to be a concern, he judged. He couldn't help chuckling at Sophie's squeal of "Wheeee!"
She regained her aplomb (not without effort...) and intoned, "SHADAIR Tower, Charlie-Papa-Tango airborne, over."
SHADAIR Control Tower, Control Room
Eleanor had heard Sophie's excited squeal, and grinned fondly at the contrast between that and the girl's entirely serious mien. She's cute, and she's doing a good job of acting co-pilot, too. She returned to the important business of flight control, while acknowledging the merry grins of her colleagues who'd also overheard. "Roger, Charlie-Papa-Tango, you are clear to ascend to 20,000 feet on course One-Two-Zero true at Mach Zero-Point-Eight, over."
"Roger, Tower - ascending to Angels Two-Zero on One-Two-Zero true at Mach Zero-Point-Eight, prior to ascent to Angels Seven-Five at Mach Four once over the English Channel, over," Co-Pilot Harrison responded.
"Charlie-Papa-Tango, flight plan confirmed and cleared. Have a good flight, over."
"Thank you, Tower; Charlie-Papa-Tango over and out." She closed the channel and grinned at Kelly. "How was that?"
He chuckled fondly and leaned over to kiss the end of her pert nose. "Beautifully done, sweetheart," he told her warmly; she'd got everything spot on. She flushed with pleasure and pride, and Jennifer's heart melted on seeing it; she loved to see those two interacting as father and daughter.
Aw, he just loves indulging her, without overdoing it. He really engages with her, just as a Dad should. He'll make a wonderful father if we can ever find the time for me to talk him into it...
JFK Airport, New York
8 a.m. New York time
Kelly hailed a cab; the driver, an Italian-American who reminded them vividly of Danny DeVito (albeit taller), leaned out and asked merrily, "Where to, Mac?"
As a traditionalist himself, he couldn't help chuckling at the traditional cabbie's address to a fare. He turned to Jennifer, sobered and said, "Jen, I'm glad you picked New York, actually - there's something personal I'd like to do before we start, if that's okay."
"Sure," she readily agreed, and smiled fondly at Sophie, who was taking photo after photo on her phone - including selfies she was so going to post on Facebook!
Kelly turned back to the cabbie and solemnly requested, "Ground Zero, please."
The man also sobered. "You got it, Mac."
"I thought they weren't calling it that any more?" Jennifer wondered as they got in and set off. Meanwhile Sophie was merrily updating her status page on Facebook to read: GOING SHOPPING WITH MUM AND DAD AT VERSACE IN NEW YORK!
The cabbie overheard and answered, "Don't you believe it, ma'am. Oh, sure, back in '11 Mayor Bloomberg said not to, y'know, movin' on an' stuff, but I don't think New Yorkers'll ever call it anythin' else. Don't see why we should," he shrugged. "It's more memorable than 'The World Trade Centre and the National September 11th Memorial an' Museum', an' we ain't ever gonna forget."
"Of course not, no-one should," Jennifer agreed. "I was supposed to go there on that day, actually; a school friend's father bought our tickets for a trip to the Centre as part of our Economics class, but I had to cancel at the last moment - I had a minor blockage in my tubes and needed surgery. When I heard, I couldn't stop crying for my friends." She briefly paused, remembering. "We lost almost our entire class."
"I never knew that, Mum," Sophie whispered, hugging her. "I'm so sorry."
"Thanks, love, it's okay."
"I was there," the cabbie went on, "right as it happened."
"So was I," Kelly told them quietly, to his family's surprise. "I was lucky, too - I was supposed to be in the Centre for a company meeting," at which Jennifer heard 'SHADO business', "but I got held up in traffic...go figure. I was still trying to get there when I saw the first plane hit. I ended up working in one of the civilian aid parties, I don't remember getting any sleep for two days. I've never seen so many people crying..."
Ground Zero, New York City
Half an hour later
For long minutes Kelly just stood and looked around. "It all looks so different now."
An old man passing him inquired sharply, "Were you there?"
Kelly turned, and nodded. "Yes, I was. I helped out where I could."
"Mmm. That's all right, then. Thought you were some damn tourist makin' fun or somethin'. Hate 'em." He looked sad. "My son died goin' up the stairs."
"You know, wherever you go in the world, whatever language you speak...if you mention 'the men who died going up the stairs', everyone just knows what you mean. You don't need to explain which men or which stairs. They just know. I think that counts for something." He smiled gently at the old man. "I take it he was a firefighter?"
He nodded. "Volunteer - his very first shift. I'm proud of my boy."
"You should be, sir," Kelly told him firmly. "What they did was beyond courage, on a par with Armstrong and Aldrin. They knew what was going to happen...but they went in anyway. It was their duty. They couldn't not go and still call themselves firefighters, because there was still a chance they could get people out." He looked around again and raised his voice as he stridently declared, "They thought they could bring down New York with hate and fear. They were wrong! My experience of New Yorkers tells me that can't be done!"
"Well said, young fella!" the old man - and several bystanders, including a middle-aged cop - applauded him, and then moved on.
Kelly looked at his lover and her - their - daughter, and barely held back tears as he vividly recalled the horror and despair of the event. SHADO had had operatives stationed in the World Trade Centre, tasked with keeping a careful eye on the global economy in case the Aliens tried to destabilise it, and lost several good people that day - two of whom were his friends. One had made the terrible choice to dive out of a window, to fall hundreds of feet to her certain but instant death, rather than be burned alive to die more slowly and in searing agony, knowing all too well that rescue was surely impossible given the situation.
He would've done the same. Fire was surely the most horrible way to die.
"I promised myself I'd come back one day, for the sake of the people from our firm whom we lost." His voice broke as the grief and the memories overwhelmed him and it all came flooding back. "I never meant for it to take twenty-two years..."
As one, Jennifer and Sophie hugged him, and the little family cried together.
After a while they dried each other's tears and Kelly, recovered now after this long-overdue catharsis, suggested brightly, "Hey, how about some genuine New York hotdogs?"
Sophie couldn't help quipping, "They're 'the Cyberman of food', you once said."
"Ooh, but they're tasty, as the Doctor said," he grinned back. They approached the stand and ordered four, one for their cabbie, who Kelly had paid to retain his services for the day. Since he'd offered more than Felix diCaprio usually earned in a week, the cabbie happily accepted. If the fare wanted to pay over the odds, hey, it was a free country, so a guy could do whatever he liked long as it didn't break any laws.
Wasn't no law against overpayin' a cabbie!
"So," Felix inquired as they ate, "what brings a nice Brit family to the Big Apple? Not that you ain't perfectly welcome, no siree!" He doffed his hat to Jennifer and Sophie, and the latter giggled.
"They say you shouldn't combine business and pleasure, but that's just what I'm doing," Kelly grinned. "My partner and I are going to a really swanky work thing, so she needs a killer outfit. Sophie," he smiled at her and received a happy beam in return, "is here to fulfil a lifetime dream of venturing out of the UK for the first time ever to go shopping in New York, and she'll be helping her Mum pick out stuff for the thing. Me," he grinned again, "I'm just paying the fare and enjoying time with my family."
"Aw, he's getting soppy on us, Sophie," Jennifer quipped.
"It's Saturday in New York, Mum," Sophie shrugged nonchalantly, "I suppose we can let it go."
They both laughed and hugged Kelly. Felix smiled indulgently. Family. Can't beat it, man.
Versace, 647 5th Avenue, New York 10022
"Here we are," Felix announced. "Should I stick around for you?"
"Dealer's choice," Kelly shrugged, "but if I know women, and I do, we'll be here for hours." They exchanged a man-to-man, 'Women!' look; Sophie caught it, understood it and giggled. "We've got your number, so just come and pick us up when we call, okay?"
"You got it, Mac," the cabbie agreed cheerily. Now this was the kinda fair-minded tourist New York needed - he'd already paid way over the odds, and now Felix could earn more by takin' other fares in the meantime! Guy must be rich, I guess - then again his lady's shoppin' at Versace, so, yeah. Still, 's his nickel, an' he's the most polite fare I've had in years, he ain't stuck-up like most rich folk - musta started out as a regular workin' class guy, gotten his break an' earned his money, an' good for him.
It was only then that a thought occurred to Felix: if the fare was rich enough to be shoppin' at Versace, then why was he takin' a cab and not drivin' his own (doubtless pricey) car?
He wasn't to know, of course, that the reason was quite simple:
Even in such an affluent city as New York, expensive cars draw attention. Taxi cabs do not.
Felix mentally shrugged; none of his business, he decided. A fare was a fare, an' this one deserved good treatment 'cause he was polite, he treated his family with respect an' on top of all that he was payin' way over the odds. I'll be comin' right back when you call, buddy!
They entered Versace, to be greeted by one Gabrielle Delacroix, who'd been briefed in advance to expect them and a makeover team (they had arrived an hour ago). She'd been astonished and delighted to read some of the fashion world's most prominent names in the brief - whoever the backer was, s/he clearly had tremendous influence...and money. "Monsieur McAllister and family?"
"That's us," Kelly smiled.
"Oh, enchantée! Welcome to Versace New York! Now, who's first?" she asked, smiling indulgently at la Mademoiselle charmant taking photos. What a lovely girl. They must be so proud of her.
Fitting room
Two minutes later
"Madame has a full, healthy figure," Gabrielle complimented Jennifer while taking detailed measurements (the brief she'd received stated in no uncertain terms that the dress must fit the client to perfection, nothing less would suffice), "but so trim and toned - I see signs of good workouts, n'est ce pas?"
"Oui, certainement," Jennifer replied in French, just for the fun of it, and ruefully remembered the gruelling but so necessary Moonbase regimen. Kelly had been right; she'd only ached for a couple of days while her body readjusted to full gee, and it was nothing she couldn't cope with.
Out of pure mischief she'd asked Denise for details of Kelly's cadet tour, and spent a merry couple of days teasing him unmercifully about it - and accepted her spanking with good grace when he decided he'd had enough!
"Workouts you wouldn't believe," and in a place you definitely wouldn't believe, "but it's worth it."
"And Monsieur Kelly appreciates the effort, oui?" Gabrielle quipped saucily.
"Oh, he'd better," Jennifer laughed, and her companions joined in. It was minor payback for the 'Women!' thing, i.e. 'Men!'
Half an hour later
"I have to say, this material we were sent...it is very...strange," Gabrielle remarked thoughtfully, running a bolt of it through her fingers and delighting in the sensuality of it; as yet it was plain white, but she'd been supplied with several unusual rapid-setting dyes specially formulated for the material, in a variety of colours which could be mixed to produce any shade. Of course only emerald or, peut-être, a subtly light shade of forest green, would work on a natural redhead, which she knew Madame was...even before she'd stripped at Gabrielle's polite request, for underwear was out of the question with the design her team had in mind.
Mon Dieu, elle est magnifique, très bonne! Such daring, not to shave her underarms! And her scent, mmm, c'est delicieux, so sensual and sexy! Monsieur, tu es très chanceux! If she was not a client and I was une lesbienne..!
Anyway, VPL was so déclassé, completely unacceptable - besides, the brief had said, "Be daring," and so they'd decided to go without even a bra, too; her breasts were full and firm, not so large she couldn't get away with it, and the material itself was easily strong enough to provide support if properly tailored - which, bien sûr, it would be.
Plus a touch of nipple showing could be sexy and classy all at once - naturellement, Madame would be consulted as to the extent of that (and in fact, when Gabrielle inquired, Jennifer merely laughed merrily, "Oh, we want it to be sexy, so just let 'em show!").
"It is like nothing I have ever seen before; it shimmers. So light, so easily worked, and so soft...yet so strong," she marvelled. "My team tell me its tensile strength is incroyable." She chuckled. "They had to use the special scissors provided to cut it at all; le plus remarquable."
Gabrielle and her team weren't to know, of course, that those scissors were made of a chrome-titanium alloy and possessed monomolecular diamond edges; nothing else would suffice to cut such a material, and even then it wasn't easy. As in a layer of graphite, the nanotubes' carbon-carbon bonds were actually shorter than those in diamond and hence slightly stronger, making the tubes harder. Creating a monomolecular diamond edge was difficult and hence expensive, but nothing less would serve.
The scissors, in fact, cost well into five figures, nearly as much as the dress was expected to. The sewing needles were also chrome-titanium and diamond-tipped; the sewing thread was of the same material as the dress.
"It's a new development by Kelly's firm," Jennifer confided while the team worked busily around her with the fabric. "They're hoping to release it soon to several fashion houses, including Versace."
"It will be a hit, certainement," Gabrielle enthused. "It's like the very finest silk." She smiled brightly at Jennifer. "I believe we can create something beyond compare pour Madame!"
"That's what we want," Jennifer grinned.
And that was exactly what they got.
Waiting area
"How's it going?" Henderson inquired over a radio masquerading as an MP3 player (though it could in fact play music files, to further facilitate its imposture). Kelly was wearing wireless noise-cancelling headphones, so no-one passing by would hear Henderson's side of the conversation.
Kelly chuckled. "By now they'll be oohing and ahing over the preliminary designs, I imagine. But according to our agent in the fabrication room it'll be ready today, for definite. He'll make sure all the material's accounted for, including scraps." This was to ensure that details of the material weren't leaked prematurely; another party pre-empting SHADO by patenting it as 'their' development would deprive SHADO, or rather Shadow Enterprises, Inc., of profit. A legal battle was best avoided as it would attract too much attention.
Not that they wouldn't win it, of course...
"Good," Henderson approved. "You seen anyone yet?"
"Please," Kelly snorted, "these guys are all rank amateurs by our standards. Just as I expected, we were tailed en route from JFK - Shimaka's stooge, I think - and I've seen watchers from every player. Except Ivánovna," he suddenly realised, concerned.
"That's odd. Either you just haven't seen him - unlikely, I admit - or..."
"...she hasn't sent one," Kelly mused darkly. "I don't like that. I don't like that at all."
"Mmm," Henderson agreed, knowing what Kelly meant - namely that it implied Ivánovna was so confident she didn't need to learn anything about him or the other players. "Be careful."
"Copy that," Kelly acknowledged. Then a thought struck him. "Um, General..."
"Yeah?"
"Is, uh, is there any reason Sophie can't do a little shopping here, too...?"
"Don't want her to feel left out, huh?" Henderson commented knowingly. "Aw, I don't blame you, she's a sweet kid. Mmm...come to think of it, if tagging along was all she did it'd probably blow your cover. I mean, someone takes a teenage girl to Versace New York an' then doesn't let her get anything? Hell, who'd believe that?"
They both chuckled at the thought.
"Besides, we're lookin' to make billions here, so what's a few thousand gonna matter? Naw, the hell with it - indulge the kid," he decided. "God knows she deserves it after all she's been through, even if she doesn't remember some of it. Get her, oh, two outfits - somethin' for everyday and one for best." Kelly could hear his grin. "That's how women think...took me twenty years to learn it, though."
"She'll love it. Thank you, James," Kelly said quietly. He very seldom addressed the General by his given name, out of respect for his rank and position...and when he did use it, his intent was generally to convey even greater respect.
"You're welcome, Kelly."
Now Kelly grinned. "I'll do my best to get a photo of her expression when I tell her, and send it to you."
Henderson chuckled appreciatively. "You do that. Henderson out."
Fitting room
Some time later
"Ready?" Jennifer called.
"Mum, we're dying of suspense out here!" Sophie pleaded.
"Mmm, can't have that. Okay..."
As Jennifer glided from behind the partition, really feeling for the first time in years the confidence Stephanie, her beloved schoolfriend (and first female lover), had tried to instil in her, Sophie and Gabrielle gasped. There was applause from the design & makeover team. "Oh, Mum...!"
"Mon Dieu," Gabrielle breathed ecstatically, "c'est magnifique, c'est très magnifique, mes mervellieux amis! Je suis enchantée! Oh, Jean-Claude," she hugged the beaming chief designer, "truly toujour you and your fellows have excelled yourselves! And Madame, you wear it so well! Such style," she gushed, nearly in tears, "such poise, such élan! Mon Dieu, ou est le photographe?! Pierre, Pierre, a snap for the collection, maintenant! Let this moment never be lost! Oh, cherie, tu es très, très belle!"
Jennifer was genuinely flattered; she could tell Gabrielle lived for her work, that her fondest desire was to do her best for her clients by making them look fabulous - and she and her team definitely had.
My God, I do look terrific! Jennifer thought delightedly as she saw herself in the full-length mirror. Vain or not, it was all she could do not to preen; Stephanie, she thought, would've loved it. Hairstyle, make-up, jewels and accessories, shoes, and the dress - oh, the drrrresssss! - all were absolutely spot on, coordinated to perfection. Dear Lord, I'll never look this good again! He's gonna die when he sees this! If any of the players are old it might finish 'em off!
Then again, what a way to go...!
Waiting area
A few minutes later
Kelly was listening to Joyride (track 7, Watercolours In The Rain, a song he liked to chill out to) when Jennifer and Sophie came out of the fitting area laden with bags and with a large flat box under Jennifer's arm, presumably The Dress. She looked radiantly happy. He rose to meet and kiss her. "It's done?"
"It's beautiful, Kelly, you'll love it, I swear!"
"That's great," he grinned, "I'm looking forward to seeing it. Now, before I go and get kitted out myself with a tuxedo, I have a new bit of good news for Sophie."
"Ooh, sounds nice, Dad," she giggled, "what is it?"
He smiled very gently. "Your turn, sweetheart."
"My -?" she gasped, not daring to believe what she'd just heard. Jennifer smiled fondly at her daughter's dumbfounded look, while hiding her considerable surprise at this news. How'd he swing that? But she'll be even happier now, oh, bless you, Kelly!
"Yeah, I've cleared it with my boss. What, you thought we were going to bring you over 3,200 miles just to sightsee, take selfies and help your mum accessorise? What kind of a dad would I be if I left it at that, eh? We're in Versace New York - go for it, Sophie!"
He did manage to snap her expression; it seemed Sophie was trying to decide whether to faint, cry or squeal with joy.
In the end, the squeal won. Mature for her age though she was, Sophie Jane Harrison was still in many respects a typical teenage girl. The thought of wearing Versace originals, to say nothing of the street cred she'd have with her incredulous schoolfriends...!
"Gabrielle?" Jennifer called merrily as Sophie threw her arms around her Dad's neck and hugged him as if it were the last time she would ever see him.
"Oui, Madame?"
"Could we see about a couple of outfits for our daughter, s'il vous plaît? One for everyday, one for best?"
(Nailed it, General, Kelly thought wryly.)
"But of course," Gabrielle beamed, delighted at the prospect of pleasing still another client (and, by the bye, making another sale; she was chosen to head the design team precisely because she truly lived for her art and to please her clients, and regarded the pursuit of profit as incidental, albeit necessary), "pas de problème! Mademoiselle, right this way...!"
Before following them, Jennifer kissed Kelly with enthusiasm, the full French treatment (supposedly PDAs made people very uncomfortable, but that didn't seem to be the case in Versace; there were cheers and merry chuckles). "Thank you for this. Thank you so much, Kelly. There's nothing in the world I like to see more than a happy Sophie!"
"I know, love," he told her gently, smiling, "it's a real pleasure to be able to do that for her." And I love that you said our daughter, cover or no...
"Blowjob on the way home, I swear," she vowed breathily with sensual promise, kissing him again.
"Works for me," he grinned. A blowjob from Jennifer was definitely something to look forward to...!
It didn't quite work out that way (though in Kelly's experience it was nothing new for things not to work out as planned...). As they were heading happily back to their hotel to grab a quick meal before doing a little sightseeing and then setting off for home, while he was admiring a photo of Sophie on his mobile, looking years older and so sophisticated in a beautiful, classy outfit her boyfriend Isaac was surely going to love, Kelly received a call over a secure line. "Hello?" he inquired, frowning as he wasn't expecting any calls.
Hopefully it wasn't SHADO calling about something going down. Commander or no, dedicated SHADO professional or no, he was having a really good day for once and, dammit, he just wasn't in the mood. Bloody Aliens can go fuck 'emselves for once!
"Hi, sir, Freddie Marks here, SHADAIR Maintenance Chief at JFK - sorry to bother you, sir, but Charlie-Papa-Tango's developed a bit of a hydraulic problem."
Oh, good, something routine. Hmm, I thought I felt something was off..."Yeah, I noticed something wasn't quite right when we took off, and again when we landed," Kelly mused, "she felt a bit sluggish. Define 'problem', though."
"Uh, it looks like Maintenance slipped up slightly on her last overhaul - a worn valve that should've been replaced wasn't, and as a result we've got an air bubble somewhere; that's why she was sluggish - lowered pressure," Freddie told him sheepishly. "We're gonna have to bleed the entire system, sir - gonna take all night. No way we can speed up a hydraulic bleed, I'm afraid; if we tried we might get more air bubbles -"
"Yeah, I know that," Kelly acknowledged resignedly; he was in fact familiar with the procedure, having once assisted Paul with it during his flight training - more than twelve boring but utterly unavoidable hours for completion thereof. "Okay, no worries; these things happen, and we're not exactly stuck in the middle of nowhere. Just let Base know we won't be back tonight." 'Base', of course, meant SHADO HQ.
"Copy that, sir. Sorry 'bout this."
"Not your fault, Freddie," Kelly readily assured him. "Even a Seagull has problems now and again. Call me tomorrow once she's up and running." He hung up and sighed. "Girls, I have good or bad news, depending on your point of view. Our jet's developed a mechanical problem and it'll take all night to sort it out, so basically we're stuck here overnight."
(On hearing this Felix mentally whistled - yep, the guy had to be loaded if he had his own jet!)
Jennifer glanced at Sophie - who, she could immediately tell from the girl's expression, was Up To Something - and replied lightly, "Well, I can think of much worse places than New York to be stranded in overnight! It's not as though there's nowhere to go to get a meal and/or keep ourselves entertained - I'm sure Felix can help with that -" she smiled at him in the rear-view mirror and he grinned in confirmation, doffing his cap again, "we're not homeless or destitute, and what precisely is on your mind, young lady? I know that look."
"Well, since we're in New York and we'll be here all night," Sophie ventured innocently, "would Breakfast At Tiffany's be out of the question?"
All three adults burst out laughing. Sophie gave her Mum her best impish smile, and got an Eskimo nose rub in return; she giggled merrily.
And that night, after a slap-up meal, sightseeing courtesy of Felix and his encyclopedic knowledge of New York's best spots, a movie and (once Sophie had gone to bed a few hours later than usual) a couple of nightclubs, Kelly received rather more than just a blowjob (though that, too)...
SHADO HQ, Commander's Office
Early evening, the next day
"Breakfast At Tiffany's, indeed," Kelly chuckled fondly; unlike Sophie, who had only ever heard the movie title and never seen the actual movie, he'd known the phrase referred to Holly Golightly's fantasy world, and that Tiffany & Co. was actually a jeweller's - they'd ended up in Starbucks next door...though they did get a good breakfast there. Near enough, as Sophie said.
"She did look a bit like Audrey Hepburn in that new outfit with her hair up like that," Jennifer quipped. Her face softened. "Thanks again, Kelly. I'm amazed the general went along with that. She's absolutely delighted - you're in her good books pretty much forever now..."
"It was Henderson's idea, actually," Kelly confided.
"Really? Oh, do thank him for me," Jennifer smiled, "very generous of him."
"Oh, he just included it in the budget under the heading of 'mission expenditure' - after all, Sophie was part of the mission, even if she was just serving as part of our cover," Kelly shrugged. "He said it'd blow that cover if we took a teenage girl to Versace and she didn't come out with an outfit or two, because that'd look decidedly odd. Besides," he grinned, "a few thousand here and there won't even register when we come back from Montenegro with billions in the bank, as he also pointed out."
"How's that going, by the way?"
"We're pretty much ready; all the admin details were sorted out while we were in New York, and I've secured a loan from the UN for the stake money. In fact there's really only one more thing to do, although, uh, we'll need your written permission to do it."
"My permission? Ooh, I don't like the sound of that..."
"It's just an outpatient procedure...we need to implant miniature flechètte projectors into your forefingers."
"You want to do WHAT?!" she cried, leaping out of her chair in shock.
"We can't carry standard firearms, even undetectable ones, because they'll have scanners and searches at the entrance - remember, we're dealing with the ultra-rich here. Some of them have survived assassination attempts, so naturally they're careful. But I can't take you there unarmed. So this was what we came up with." He sighed. "Even though we've got the outfit for you - which cost well into six figures and wasn't too far off seven, by the way - even at this late stage, you can still refuse the mission. You can still tell me to 'go fuck myself'," he finished ruefully.
"Well - well, I'll need a few details first, at least - you shouldn't go around springing things like that on people," she rebuked him.
"Goes with the territory," he shrugged, grinning nonchalantly. He rose from his chair. "With me, Cadet."
She threw him a very sloppy salute and wisecracked, "Yes, sir, Commander, sir."
"You're one small step from a spanking, young lady." He shook his head in exasperation...a habit he'd developed only since they'd started dating. "One of these days I swear I'm gonna rewrite the regs to make the spanking of uppity young female operatives permissible - if not compulsory!"
She only giggled. That'd be one regulation she wouldn't object to in the slightest - Roger Wilco, indeed...!
SHADO HQ, Research & Development (Weapons Division)
He showed her a tiny cylinder, less than an inch long. Oh, that doesn't look too bad, she thought. "The unit's organic, fabricated using your DNA so it won't be rejected by your body - in fact it'll start breaking down after a few days to be absorbed as nutrient. It'll be coated in a protein sheath to protect it until you don't need it any more.
"This is the firing chamber," he explained, "it'll be implanted into your fingertip; the ammo clip holder will be sited in the middle section of the forefinger, connected by a thin tube. The flechèttes are really tiny, so the clip holds a hundred of them - but be sure to count your shots anyway if we get into a firefight," he warned. "I hope it won't come to that, but -"
"- with Them, you never know," she finished knowingly, and he nodded grimly. She frowned. "If they're so small, how much use - or danger - can they be?"
"How small is a virus, and how dangerous can those be?" he countered, vividly recalling the ravages of Covid-19. "Size isn't necessarily an indicator of threat potential - look at whale sharks; they're the largest fish in the world, but totally harmless - even playful with divers when they're juveniles."
"Hmm, good point," Jennifer readily conceded, and quoted, quipping, "Judge me by my size, do you? Mmm?" He didn't react to the quip, but she saw the laughter in his cobalt-blue eyes.
"Your right forefinger will be loaded with anaesthetic flechèttes - extremely potent. Aim for any area of bare skin; the flechètte will penetrate it and dissolve in the bloodstream - your target will be unconscious in less than two seconds. Less than one if you get him in the neck."
"Wow," she breathed, impressed. "Hang on - what about the left one?"
"I was getting to that," he chided with studied patience, and she laughed. "Highly potent enzyme inhibitors...like cyanide, only worse."
That pulled her up short. For a long minute she just stared at him, groping for words. Finally she managed, "Kelly...you surely don't expect me to...to kill anyone...?"
"As a serving SHADO operative," he stated flatly, "I expect you to defend yourself if necessary, cadet or no. But sometimes non-lethal weapons simply aren't enough. Remember that lad Sylvia was forced to kill, because she couldn't stop him with non-lethal wounds after the Aliens juiced him up with some strength-enhancing chemical or other?"
She remembered too well ("I begged them to wipe my memory..." Sylvia had sobbed). "But...I've never -"
He stroked her cheek. "And I hope you won't have to, love. But I can't assume it'll never come to that. I can't. In fact SHADO regulations require at least one team member on a potentially dangerous mission to be equipped with a lethal weapon, on safety grounds. It's the good old condom principle: better to have it and not need it..."
"...than need it and not have it," she finished, and sighed. "Okay, I understand that."
"Only as a last resort, Jen," he added firmly. "I don't want you going around killing people any more than you want to. In theory, as a STAND operative you wouldn't normally be expected to handle weapons anyway."
"So why is firearms training a mandatory requirement?" she countered, recalling that Denise had told her and her fellow cadets that on their first day.
"Suppose the Aliens managed to invade HQ en masse?" he asked quietly. "Remember what I told you about the bullets they have, and what they did to me...and Katniss Dobson? We ran simulations, exercises, six years ago, with the 'Aliens' equipped with airguns; all operatives were ordered to drop and do the 'dying fly' if they were hit. To add verisimilitude, randomly-selected operatives - several of them female - were covertly instructed, before we began, to scream if they went down, and to keep screaming." He paused. "Even though they were just simulations...God, it was horrendous."
"It brought back too many memories, didn't it?" she sympathised gently, hugging him. A couple of technicians working nearby very carefully declined to notice.
"Thanks, Jen," he smiled gratefully, and then sobered. "The simulations showed we'd likely lose over half our effectives, dead or disabled by pain, in the first two minutes. So we'd need everyone for defence, literally everyone, even the clerical staff and the cleaners...and the STAND personnel. Again, it's a condom: better they have the training and never need it, than need it in an invasion and not have it. That's why there's a weapons cache in every room in HQ - the red box, next to the First Aid kit. You never know."
"I can't argue with that," Jennifer admitted. "You really like to think ahead, don't you?" She help up a hand to forestall the mildly exasperated reply she knew was coming. "I know, I know, you have to, but still. Hmm, I'd wondered what that box was for..." she reflected.
"Okay, the ammo clip holder," it was a slightly longer cylinder with a slot, "goes into the intermediate phalange - that's the section after the fingertip," he elaborated on seeing her puzzled expression. She nodded in understanding. "You fire it by the simple action of straightening your forefinger - the nerve impulse from your brain which tells the forefinger to straighten will be detected by the chip in the gun."
"Point and shoot?" she couldn't help giggling.
He smiled indulgently. "Pretty much, yes."
"Is this going to be declassified, too?" she asked curiously.
He paused briefly before telling her, "Well, we're considering it. As with the sonic baffle, there's lots of potential for misuse...but in the right hands the tech could be helpful. We'll see." He cleared his throat. "Once they're in and you've had a little recovery time, we'll go to the firing range. You'll need to calibrate the guns and practice with them."
"Okay," she nodded, and belatedly added, "sir."
He couldn't help grinning.