A lively Saturday night was blazing around the city, but Science Police officer GiGi Cusimano could care less. Fatigue claimed her, and made her call up her current boyfriend to break the night's date. As she sludged into her living quarters, the scent of Xanthuan fire roses greeted her.

"Evening, GiGi," her roommate called.

"Hi, yourself. Roses from Jan? He's getting romantic in his old age."

"Look again, roomie, they're for you."

Surprised, she looked at the roses. Glowing white blooms were mixed with yellow buds in a red glass vase. A white flag was carefully arranged in the middle. Hanging over the edge was a gold card with her name embossed in red on it. She recognized the style.

For a moment, she was tempted to keep the roses and throw the note out. Then she wondered if they were rigged with a nasty surprise.

"Oh, GiGi, Sun Boy swore on his Legion honor that he wouldn't involve me in the dirty little war you two wage. Can I borrow your green sash?"

"Sure." So it was safe to read the card. What harm could be done in a few words? Then she remembered the gossip columnist.

"Oh, what the hell," she muttered, as she plucked the note off its string.

I want to apologize, and work out a truce.
How about it? 23:00, City Star's Lounge.
  Sun Boy

"Right, you want to meet me at the swankiest restaurant in an hour. What are you gonna do-- leave me with the check? No way am I going to get suckered."

Yet, somehow, she found herself at the City Star, being directed to her table.

Dirk Morgna, alias Sun Boy, rose slightly and flashed his famous smile. He was wearing some of his nicer clothing: A copper colored satin shirt rippled the soft lights that reflected off of it, and a pair of black pants tucked into polished leather boots. The lights were also reflected in his red-gold hair and star-blue eyes.

GiGi found it hard not to forgive him for the most humiliating event in her career; she remembered how easy it was to fall in lust with the man.

"I'm glad you came, Ms. Cusimano. It's nice to see I can still have a pleasant effect on you."

She glowered at him. "This had better be good," she warned.

"Oh, I think it is. Maybe you won't." He hesitated a while. "Would you like a drink? Some food?" After noting her glare, he snarled, "I'll pay for it!

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap. GiGi, I want a permanent truce. We're adults, occasionally, and we can be civil, right? I'm sorry I messed you up that week, but I was so mad to find out that you and the Allons set up the whole thing, that I had to get even. If you wanted to quit, Cusimano, all you had to do was say so."

"Quit? You're the one who started shopping in the middle of our relationship! You also got me assigned to the silliest mission in my life-- one that nearly got me killed-- and you're the one who sicced that gossip columnist on me-- and you're the one who secretly set me up with one of your buddies, and had him admit to me and half the city! You creep! I didn't want to quit our relationship, but you're such slime, I had to! And what you've done since--"

"No! Whoa, stop, cease, I did not set that gossip columnist on you. As for the rest of it, it was an eye for an eye. GiGi, please. I'm with someone different now, and she's a little high strung. I don't want one of our practical jokes to hurt her-- or Jan and his lady. I brought them into this tonight, and I don't want your best friend or mine to get hurt."

Her brown eyes narrowed for a moment, studying him. He was being sincere. She couldn't believe it. "Whoever she is," she observed, "she means more to you than just a tumble."

Dirk colored. "Yes, she does." He squirmed for a moment, then rose. "I've to go now. Enjoy a meal. My treat. Hey, we had some good times, didn't we? Take care of yourself."

She sat there, stunned and watched him leave. Whoever this other girl was, she had a good effect on the second biggest brat GiGi ever dated.

Salu Digby sat on her bed, tearlessly staring at a set of holograms on her desk. Teammates and friends, she thought bitterly. What kind of friends let you stay in the grips of an terrorist organization for months?

Tasmia and Tinya. They had their men nearby. But how could they have ignored the change in personality that must have occurred when the actress assumed her identity? Gim. He was a true friend, all right, almost a big brother. What did he do? Marry the cold-blooded bitch that took her place! Ord. Her love who swore he loved her. Ha! What he loved was having a cheerleader who happened to have membership in the most prestigious organization in the galaxy. When she needed his help, he went off in a huff, thinking that she had betrayed him. Love.

"Who needs it?" she laughed and toasted her ex-boyfriend's picture.

Then, she turned the holograms off, and tossed them into the disintegrator. A small "shwulp" finished the last reminder of her former life with those people who were still her comrades.

Gracelessly, she stood and stiffly walked to her bathroom. The lighted mirror automatically turned on and a stranger stared back at her. She was in her mid-twenties, with short, black hair and empty blue eyes rimmed with red. Strong fingers punched in the appropriate computer codes. A steel mask settled on her face and corrected the flaws in her face and gently highlighted her natural beauty.

To Dirk, make-up didn't matter. As long as a woman was beautiful or sexy in his eyes, she would stay that way, whether she was wearing make-up or dirt. But Salu didn't want him to know anything was wrong.

She slid to the closet, enjoying the rough pleasure of a clean rug under her feet. Inside the closet were five dresses of the same style, colors and material as each other. There was one other dress in the closet: A baby blue satin mini. Gently, she slipped the dress off the hanger and eased it over her head. On the left side, the dress had a puffed sleeve and a slash the length of the skirt. The bodice was skin tight and shimmered with every breath. The right arm was bare, the bodice ending under the arm. Carefully, she tied her silver boot sandals just under her knee, and clipped a silver belt just where her hips began to swell.

The computer beeped and announced Dirk's presence.

"Let him into the bedroom," she ordered as she reached for a necklace of five silver wires, each one longer than the other.

After she clipped it and a pair of silver earrings inlaid with mother-of-pearl, she looked back at the image and smiled with satisfaction. Yes, she was attractive. And she was with a man who could teach her about sex; a sport she found enjoyable.

A troubled shadow crossed her face. Why is it, she thought, that all I can feel now are the primal emotions?

There was a hesitant knock on the door. "Violet?"

"I'll be out in a minute, Dirk."

"Okay." Dirk turned and scanned the room. A desk, a chair and a bed with satin sheets. Except for the sheets, nothing revealed any personality. He tried to remember her old room. Pastels, flowers and stuffed animals came to mind. A little girl's room.

"Oh, I really need to buy some new decorations," Violet mentioned, barging into his thoughts. "Would you help me, Dirk?"

He savored the way she said his true name. Her accent added a slight burr to the "r" sound. Dirrk. "Sure I will. In fact here's a small contribution." In his hand was a sphere of changing light.

Violet was captivated by the combination of fibre optics, multi-colored shadows and holograms. "Oh, it's beautiful... so beautiful," she scooped it up with both hands. "Thank you."

"De nada. Now would you like to go to a new restaurant, or would you rather shop for decorations?"

"You've already wined and dined me twice this week. So unless you want me fat..."

"Say no more, we're going shopping."

And they shopped. They shopped in Paris, where they argued with gallery managers. They shopped in the European Artists' Colony and bargained with recognized greats of the generation. And they shopped in Kyoto, were they bought dinner from a street vender.

The return trip seemed anticlimactic, but somehow more pleasant. Violet chatted about the colors, textures and where she would put her finds that she trans-shifted home from Paris. Dirk listened and drank expensive champagne from a plastic cup.

"Will you help me place them, Dirk? You've set up your own museum so well."

"Salu, my friend, flattery will get you everywhere." He pulled a second cup out of the sack. "Try some of this. It's some of the best champagne produced this century."

His star-blue eyes danced as he poured the bubbling, sizzling, liquid gold into the cup. Slowly, Salu put lipstick-pink lips to the cup and sipped it. "It's different. I like it," she decided as the tube-car slowed to the Metro stop.

"Good. I was afraid I bought the second bottle for nothing."

"Oh, you," she sighed, and hugged him as they waited for the crowd to file out.

A cool breeze caressed the couple as they walked back to the gleaming silver building they called home. Violet nestled close to Dirk, and luxuriated in his warmth as she breathed in his musky scent. His touch was gentler than any Ord ever gave her as it slowly traced the shape of her spine to her rear.

She lifted her gaze as they passed under a street light that wrapped them in a copper glow. The light splashed in his red-hair, streaked his copper shirt and sprinkled across the gold on his chest. The artist is a work of art himself, she thought in a champagne glazed moment of lust.

"Violet?"

"Uh-huh?" she mumbled, as she slipped her hand into his shirt and began tracing his nipple.

"You don't want me to help you with the pictures tonight, do you?"

"Nah-uh."

"Whose quarters?"

"Mine."

"Okay." He shifted her so she would face him. He leaned towards her, eyes closing as he felt her satin tunic press against him.

"Salu! Where have you been all evening?" Tinya interrupted, glaring at Dirk.

"Out."

"Has he done anything to you?"

Dirk began to work on a verbal defense. Salu was the one who made advances to me! Yes, perhaps the truth would be enough to stop Tinya from preaching to him and thoroughly ruining this evening.

"Oh, yes," Salu answered with a smile on her face. "He bought me sculpture and pictures and champaign, and in a few minutes, I'm going to take him upstairs and show him my gratitude and whatever else he wants to see."

Tinya paled, her eyes widened with anger. "You bastard!" she yelled, "you just couldn't wait to use her, could you?"

In an expression of mock surprise, Dirk replied, "You're absolutely right!" The intruder stormed off as Violet began to shudder with laughter. "I'd love you too, Tinya!" Dirk called, and joined Salu in hysterical laughter.

"Come on, let's go inside," Violet gasped.

"I agree," Dirk squeaked, and began to laugh again.

Once inside, Violet removed her dress. Dirk stopped laughing. "You're so beautiful," he whispered.

"Oh, you say that to all your girls," she admonished as she manuevered him to the bed.

"You're right," he admitted as she began to undress him, "but none of them act like you."

In the ten days they had been lovers, Dirk taught Violet his basic theories about sex: Nothing was taboo between man and woman; and to pleasure your partner insured the pleasure being returned. He coached and coaxed her on how to unlock the body's pleasure... a steady rubbing of the breast, a tongue tracing the neck and shoulder, a stroking of the stomach and lower... and the liquid warmth that these touches incited; building, raging until it demanded release.

Violet learned quickly. She was eager to please and be pleased. Her few prior experiences were limited to the rough groping Ord fumbled with. Dirk, however, was an artist who molded a woman's sensuality with skill.

After Violet was sated enough to grant him his release, Dirk kissed her and mumbled something about how good it would be to have something to look at in her room. She agreed and shifted to her side and curled up to sleep.

A curious thing happened in her dreams. She was flying, wrapped in glorious light and sound. Then something grabbed her and began to pulled her down.

Down--

down--

--into the lukewarm wet, into the dark. Something filled her nose with wax, jammed an oxygen ball into her mouth, and shaved her hair off. It ripped off her clothes and substituted machinery for her underwear. Then it sealed the dark wet silence. It asked her questions through the telepathic circuits glued to her head and when it felt like prodding her...

"Violet! Violet, what is it?"

She woke to the sound of an animal whimper, her own, and felt tears streaming down her face. She whirled and grabbed hold of Dirk, clutching to the essence of him, fighting for sanity.

He held her. Listened to her terrified sobs. It was all he could do.

After struggling to master herself, Violet succeeded. With an effort, she lifted herself away from him. Between harsh gasps, she apologized for waking him. Still stunned by the ferocity of what happened, Dirk watched the woman, pale and drawn, wilt.

Gently, her took her back into his arms, noting the soreness that would be bruises in the morning. "Would you like to tell me about it?" he asked softly.

"No, but I think I have to."

"Not for my sake, Violet."

"No, for mine. I can't get those months out of my mind! When I'm awake, they make me angry. I can't forgive anybody anything. And when I'm asleep... they haunt me. Do you know what they-- the terrorists-- did to me?"

"I know they put you in a sensory deprivation tank."

"There was more than that. They used a telepathic net. First, they asked me questions. I tried to resist. But it was the only way to talk to someone. I knew what I was doing was wrong... that I was committing treason, but I couldn't help it! I went mad. I clung to my past, remembering every detail, knowing they were watching every scene of my life, making notes. Sometimes, sometimes, they would... stimulate me to get answers or details. They had devices strapped to me--" her voice raised a pitch, "--that-that controlled my sexual impulses. Most of the time, they had me shut off, but when they didn't... when they didn't..."

The tremor in her voice went through her body. Her eyes were frozen wide. Raging streams of tears fled down her face and onto his chest. "I learned to love the tank. It became my companion, my friend, my lover. I would do anything for it, even betray my morals and my life. And I did. When Brainy and Jan rescued me, I didn't want to leave. Everything hurt so much." She looked at him in panic. "Do you understand? Do you hate me?"

"Violet, I can't hate you. I could never hate you. Just rest. You've been through a lot just now." So have I, he thought. "Do you want some champagne? To steady yourself?"

"I just want to sleep. Please, stay with me?"

"Of course." He couldn't bring himself to smile. As she curled inside his yielding grip, he thought about what she said. He was too numb to feel. No wonder why she's changed so much, he thought dully. No wonder why she's attracted to me.

What he was holding was a fledgling, too underdeveloped to stray far without guidance. Was she ever independent? Could she be?

All speculation was useless until he could check her psychological profiles. Only one fact was clear to him: Violet was his responsibility now. She entrusted her pain and her soul to his safekeeping.

As he felt his own tears forming, he kissed her head, and prayed he wouldn't fail her.

  Epilogue

But fail her he did. When Salu Digby discovered that he had scanned her psych files, she flew into a rage. It was one more violation, and from one she felt would not care enough to pry into the records of her soul. After a time, she forgave him since he was only trying to help. They became comrades again, and perhaps even friends.