Warning: Explicit stripper scene.

The tall, blonde, leggy woman stepped up from her hiding place and stood defiantly before all who could see her. Lasers flashed and she deflected them easily with a casual flick of her wrists. Then the barrage started. With a warrior's grace she dodged some of the lasers. Others bounced off of her chest and hips, highlighting them with a bright red glow. She was proud and seemingly invincible. Full breasts could be seen in the deep V-neck of her half-open U.P. Defense League jacket, almost daring anyone attracted to the woman to look at their greatness. Then the jacket caught fire. She pursed her lips and blew gently on the flame. It disappeared, leaving only a trail of smoke. The lasers stopped, and she slowly unclasped the latch that kept her jacket on her shapely body. With languorous movements designed to entice, she eased the jacket away to reveal a smooth shoulder which she arched ever so slightly to hint at the roundness of the breasts underneath. The crowd began to go wild and begged, pleaded with her to show them the rest.

Another sensual twist of the shoulder revealed one rouged nipple and then the other. Then she took off her headband which was translucent in the light and played it over her breasts to tease them and the watchers into erectness. The men and women in the audience cheered as the nipples would occasionally slip past the scarf and show themselves.

She breathed deeper now, drawing in oxygen, making those breasts and her flat belly heave. She turned around and showed the crowd her perfectly shaped rear. She thrust that perfectly round pair of buttocks out at the humans--people she knew who wanted her or the real thing. Men she knew who would never meet her price or see Laurel Gand's ass anywhere but a newscan. With a sweat slick finger she stroked the crease between her buttocks twisting in mock pleasure until she reached the clasp of the g-string and removed it. Again the watchers moaned in appreciation. Some screamed and looked like they would cream their pants already and she hadn't even turned around yet to reveal that patch of fine down that hid one of the ultimate secrets of the universe.

Not wanting her customers to feel they were not privy to such things, the dancer turned and arched her back again. With her legs spread wide, she slowly, painstakingly bent her back until she reached the floor and revealed a perfect symmetry that men would beg, steal, fight and kill for. Then she flipped herself up, took the g-string and slipped it between what ancients called the gates to paradise. She began to use it as a bow; rubbing slowly at first, twisting her head in a rhythmical motion, then making the thong strum faster and faster.

The lights accented the sweat on her body. Microphones picked up her small gasps and moans as the drumbeats quickened their pace. The audience was quiet now, imagining themselves where the small piece of material was.

Imaging themselves in the middle of the act with her.

She had them. If any of them thought about it, they would realize this was a fantasy; all of it was staged. Finally, all the other music stopped, except for the fading drumbeats. The microphone amplified her gasping. She released a low, low moan that signaled the climax of the act.

The audience cheered. A few threw flowers. A few more threw money. In a moment of class, the stripper picked up a few flowers, smelled them and tossed them back to the audience. She picked up another flower and nibbled its head. As she took her final bow, she noticed there was one man who did not approve of the act.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the announcer called. "Let's give another round of applause to Jas Myn for her famous 'Laurel Glands' dance!" The audience obeyed readily. The one watcher who disapproved, Jo Nah, did not object to the performer's profession or technique. In fact he found her performance in bed fascinating. Not fascinating enough to stop him from remembering his one true love, but enough to keep the urges of procreation abated enough to allow him to try to stop the people who were swindling most of the local population. In this interest, he met the bar's owner.

"Are you saying," the barkeep interrupted his thoughts about Jas, "that you can use yer super-powers and connections as an ex-Legionnaire to get the Silverale and bring it down to us cheap?"

"Yeah."

"All by yerself?"

"No; I've got a network."

"Oooh. Sizable network, right? And what about yer smuggling competition?"

"I've taken care of the competition," Jo answered with a small smile.

Whatever the barkeep imagined Jo did to the competition, it impressed him. Jo smiled. Taking a 15-year-old girl under his wing, even if she was Sklarian, had to be one of his better moves this year. Even if he truly doubted his decision to leave the Legion was.

"And yer saying you can do this as well?"

"Right. Consider what I'm offering you. A normal case of Silverale costs what?--eleven-seventy credits?--I'm saying that by using my resources, I can get it to you at ten-fifty. I realize that for a single case, 120 credits doesn't matter much, but you figure out how many cases you use a year..." The barkeep turned over and looked at his daughter, who was busy cleaning a glass and humming softly to herself. "Ginny, what would that be?"

"'bout 11,750 credits, Dad." she answered.

Jo looked at the girl with a new appreciation. "The kid may be slow in almost everything else, but she can do things with numbers and music that no one else can. Bet she's even better than a Coluan when it comes to numbers."

Jo chuckled softly. "That I'd have to see."

"Yeah. But you knew the best of the best didncha?"

"You could say that," Jo responded with a hint of homesickness in his voice, forgetting for a moment that Rimbor was his home. No matter how far away he went from its streets, the streets were still with him. Jas came out of the dressing room in a loose tunic and high leggings that couldn't conceal her height or her shape, but it did certainly make a being look at Laurel Glands in a much different perspective.

"So how d'ya think I did, boss?" she asked.

"You were phenomenal. Had every one creamin'."

"That's what I thought. What about you, Jo? Disapproval as always?"

Jo shook his head. "Jas, I'll be the first to admit that you are the sexiest damn thing that ever hit Rimbie stages. I just have a problem with yer choice of material."

"Meaning how little it is? Or who it is? Come on man, if she were worried about the what strippers would say about her, she would've stuck with the schoolgirl suit. Even though, that made a good act too. Besides, I think she'd understand. After all, a mother's got to feed her kid sometime, huh?" "I guess yer right. Speaking of yer kid--when are we going to tuck her in?"

"Heh. Sister's already done that. I was thinkin', you could grab that bottle over there, pay m'boss, so he won't dock me and get ready for a private kind of party."

Jo considered the offer and the apparent stalemate in the business dealings. Silas Graves was not a man who would be easily persuaded. The girl, Ginny, however seemed to have more going for her than the bland expression in the blank brown eyes would ever indicate. Maybe Silas would be more willing to make a contribution to a smuggling ring as a partner rather than an investor. "Yer thinkin' 'bout what I'm saying. Right, Silas?"

"Of course, Jo. I knew you Legionnaires wouldn't be screwing around long."

"I'm not a Legionnaire anymore," Jo said, taking up the bottle and staring at Jas. "That means I can screw around as long as I want."

Jas smiled and kissed him deeply. Then they walked towards the door.

"Hey, Jo." Ginny called. "I got some good meat for yer friend. Wanta take it for him?"

"How d'ya know Furball?"

"He hangs around my neighborhood sometimes. Guess he's got a den or sumptin'."

"He doesn't bother you or anyone, does he?"

"Ah, naw. Sometimes he walks with me back to my place. Makes me feel safer. D'ya want the meat?"

"Yeah, Gin. Thanks," he said as he took the wrapped package from the girl. (Why can't I think of her as a woman? He wondered.) Then he offered his arm to Jas and escorted the dancer out the door.

Outside it was raining. Like a gentleman, Jo wrapped his coat around the "lady".

"Thank you. Those offworlder touches you get really make a difference." Jas observed. "Of course, I like the way you touch..." Her voice trailed off as she saw the big hulking shape hover over her, and the luminous orange eyes stare at her. She choked off a scream.

Jo turned and looked at the animal. "BLOODY LIBERTY! I told you not to hang around here! Go on, Furball! Go home!"

Furball looked at Jo and the woman he was escorting. He whimpered softly to the man and growled at the woman.

"Cut that out, Furry! You're scaring her! It's not going to do anybody any good if she's scared--especially you. Go on! Go home!"

The huge, barely humanoid beast whimpered again and held out a huge clawed paw to the man. "Go ON," Jo ordered/pleaded.

The animal sighed, and turned to head to the direction Jo was pointing.

"Grife! Where did you get that thing anyway?" Jas asked.

"Something I picked up on Earth."

"That's one of the offworlder touches I wish you didn't bring back!"

"Sorry, Jas. He really doesn't mean anyone harm. He's quite friendly. In fact, I think you'd like him a lot if you'd get to know him better."

"Now yer talking like the damn thing's human!"

Jo shrugged and thought to himself: He was human once. But he still is my friend and I promised to take care of him.

They ran in the rain for a few minutes, and Jas Myn enjoyed its cold and impersonal nature, while Jo thought about how this love of rain and dislike for Brin were the only two things that Jas and his dead lover had in common. Ah, Tinya, why is it when I think of you, things just seem to go gray?

They stopped running when they reached one of Jo's apartments. As he began to enter the security sequence, Jas reached over and kissed him.

"Jo, this thing about the Silverale company... are you sure you want to get involved fighting them?"

"Jas, they're screwing everybody. Their prices for Silverale are so high even R.J. Brande couldn't afford it for long. And I don't know about this "non-addictive" claim. Have you ever noticed you can't really stop drinking the stuff? I think they're swindling and I think they're lying. I'm in a good position to bypass them... cut out the middleman, as it were. I can help keep the cost down and make sure no additives wind up in the mix. Wouldn't you say someone with my powers might be well suited for that?"

"Powers and temperament. Sorry to hear that, Jo. You know getting involved in a war like that...."

Don't worry, Jas. It won't hit you."

"You're probably right," she agreed, smiling for a moment. She offered him the bottle. "Here, I want you to try a slug of this."

"What is it?"

"A special import," she explained as she handed him the bottle.

Jo took a swallow and grimaced in distaste. "Grife! What is this battery acid?"

"A special import just for you. It's Ragurka wine."

Jo staggered as the most lethal organic compound in the universe clawed his insides. He dropped the bottle as he clutched his stomach. His knees gave way. "Why?"

"I told you. Gettin' involved in a Silverale war. Jo, they've offered me enough money to get me an' my daughter off world. Now if I can stop you going the way you were going, I'm home free. I don't have to ever worry about my kid finding out about rape gangs, drugs or being pushed into the profession I have just to make a few bucks. I'm sorry, Jo, I do like you. But I can't afford to have you around me, and the money I'm getting sure as hell makes it so I can afford to kill you."

He listened to the soft footsteps fade away forever. He put his hand against a mottled steel wall and tried to pull himself to a standing position. There were five gouges in the wall and a handful of metal and rust in his grip. "Bloody liberty," he gasped, "I'm not going to make it." Suddenly a heavy, uneven footfall alerted him to someone's arrival. He looked up and saw Furball coming towards him. "Brin... I'm... hurt," he said.

Furball smelled the stench of sickness in Jo and the evil smell of the wine. Instinctively, or perhaps from a buried intellect, he knew what had to be done. But could he convey it with no human speech?

He slapped Jo, hoping his friend would understand and then tossed him into the wall. Jo looked up, panicked and confused. Was everybody trying to kill him tonight?

Furball came closer and slashed a massive paw at him. Jo raised his hand and the swipe was incomplete. Furball studied one of his claws. It was broken to the quick and bleeding. Jo understood, he hoped. He then patted Jo on the head.

"This is crazy. You want me to be invulnerable?" Brin's head went up and down. Was he nodding? No, Brin couldn't possibly understand him.

Brin reared back and swiped again at Jo. Then Jo understood. Yes, he'd better keep his invulnerability. As gently as he could, Furball picked up his friend and carried him away from the scene. He brought his friend to a small, dismal apartment and placed him as gently as he could on stained sheets and wrapped him in a blanket.

Two hours later, Ginny walked into the drab and disintegrating apartment building where she lived. Her father wanted her to learn how to be on her own, but he kept checking on her. He was glad a territorial Furball had staked this neighborhood. Maybe the animal would make a few punks cautious of the building. The rain had stopped and both moons were close to full.

There was an eerie quiet on the streets, since people hadn't realized the rain stopped and returned to their nightly activities of dealing and selling. That was why Ginny could hear the sounds coming from the apartment that was near the entrance. She tugged out her two-wire blaster and prayed she wouldn't have to use it.

The door was ajar and she heard a moan and a choked scream of pain. Two different people were in there and hurt. They might be dying. Common sense told her to leave, but Ginny found her need to help overriding her survival instinct. "Dear God, I don't wanna die tonight," she prayed and pushed open the door.

Two men were inside. Ginny immediately recognized Jo. The other was standing in a pile of fur and blood. She saw the old blankets she gave Jo's pet and the mattress one of her neighbors threw out and Furball claimed. She began to scream.

"No!" The naked man leaped, landed beside her and covered her mouth.

"Don't scream. I won't hurt you. My name's Brin Londo. My friend's sick."

"Brin Londo?" Ginny repeated as he released her. "You're Timber Wolf.

Wh-what happened to Jo? And where's Furball?"

"Jo was poisoned tonight."

"Then we've got to get a doctor!"

"It won't do any good. The poison he swallowed has no antidote. Even Brainiac Five couldn't find one. His powers are the only hope he has."

"What can we do?" Ginny asked, her wide eyes full of fear for the hero.

Brin shrugged. "Keep him as comfortable as possible. Ginny, I need some clothes and some food. Do you think you can be a good girl and get something for me?"

"What happened to the steak I sent you?" Ginny asked softly.

"What are you talking about, girl? Have you lost your mind?"

"No, sir. I may be slow 'bout lots of things, which is why Daddy keeps a close eye on me, but I know that no one walks naked around Rimbor unless they're stupid or have fur. This is Furball's territory. He's marked it. And that's Furball's fur and he ain't wearing it. So, unless you sheared him, you're him. 'Sides, Brin Londo never heard my name, but Furball perked up when he heard it."

Brin stumbled back away from the truth. "My God, am I really an animal?" he whispered. His memories during his changeling stages were vague at best. He remembered Jo and apparently he remembered Ginny too.

"What happened to you, Londo?"

"I... don't want to remember. I--"

She put a tentative hand on his shoulder. It was softer than he would have thought and made him remember the last time a woman touched his human form. He turned from her to hide his erection. "I need some clean cloths and good water, too."

"I'll get them." Ginny responded and left to see what she had in her apartment.

Jo was barely conscious and vaguely aware of the warmth the blanket provided. However the pain that was inside of him clawing through his stomach and throat kept him from being truly aware of what was going on around him. Otherwise he would have wondered just where this place was and how did Brin know about it. He began sliding in and out of the delirium that accompanied the ragurka/alcohol poisoning. There were times where he thought he saw Brin as he was years ago, as a man with blank eyes and bushy eyebrows. And it was this Brin that was busy placing a cold cloth against a fevered face, cleaning him when he needed it and holding him so he would not choke on his own vomit. Occasionally, he heard a woman's voice.

Jo kept his invulnerability active and wondered why it wasn't working like it should. When he thought about redirecting his ultra-energy, a voice--sometimes Brin's-- sometimes his own inner voice would warn him not to change.

Finally, on a clear night with the light of two full moons streaming through the window Jo's body spasmed and spewed out the last of the poison.

"I think he'll be okay," Brin told Ginny. "His fever's broken."

"That's good. Do you think he'll remember me being here?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"Ginny... you're infatuated with him, aren't you?"

"What's 'infatuated'?"

"Smitten. Got a thing for him."

"Yeah," she answered sadly. "But he don't know."

"Ginny, don't do this to yourself."

"Why? He's the best thing around here."

"Ginny, Ever since he was sixteen, he's been in love with the same woman, and she died recently. He won't love you; he'll fuck you, but he won't love you."

"That's okay, Brin. I don't much know what love is. I'll settle for sex and being his woman."

"Oh, Ginny..." Brin shook his head.

"How--how long has it been for you... without a woman?"

"Over a year, I guess."

"Am I pretty to you, Brin?" She asked as she unzipped her pink sweatshirt.

"Ginny! You don't have to--"

"No, I don't. I saw you give everything you had for Jo. Friends do that. I thought we became friends, too. And I've seen you look at me. You need a woman... unless there are female Furballs around."

"I've always been too good at being honest." Brin grumbled. "Come here, Gin."

She was shy even though she was no virgin. He was gentle, even though he needed what she offered as badly as a stud needed the bitch in heat.

Through all of this, Jo slept, oblivious to the universe around him. When they were through, Brin made Ginny promise she'd never tell anyone his "secret identity" and sent the tired woman up to her apartment. This room was too dirty for someone to sleep in if they could help it. Besides, he was not proud of what he did.

Brin spent the time sitting in the windowsill, brooding while he waited for Jo to wake up and hoped it would be before he became that... thing... again.

Hours later, heavily lined brown eyes opened and Jo came back to reality. He looked around the one bedroom (that could laughingly be called an apartment), saw the small kitchenette and a bathroom in plain sight, and groaned. This wasn't his apartment. Where was he?

The figure in the windowsill moved. Jo tense and glanced at it. It was Brin, as a human. The figure from the past wore a tattered sweatsuit of rust and blue "Grife! It really is you!"

"Yep. And all this time you thought your guard dog was just a furball, huh?"

"You're human again. How?"

"I wish I knew. I have yet to figure it out. But don't get too excited, Jo. It comes and goes. In a few hours, I'll go back to being a walking shag rug."

"Oh, grife, Brin... there's gotta be a way to fix this. We have to contact Brainy, or--"

"NO. We're not going to contact Brainy. From what I've heard he's working closely with Imra and her family... including Ayla. Jo, I don't want their pity. I want them to think I died in the Black Dawn, or took off for Zuun, or something. I've had enough pity to last me a lifetime when I was on Medicus. And I don't want it from Ayla and Imra."

"Right. If you ever meet Imra, how are you going to hide it?"

"When are you planning to go to Winath? Even if we do, she's not the best at reading animal minds. Maybe I'll get lucky."

"Brin... I'll agree with your wishes... but it's a mistake."

"No, it isn't, Jo. Promise me you won't tell anybody."

"I promise. I owe you my life."

"I owe you my freedom. Same difference."

"If you're sure that's how you want it, Brin."

"I'm sure."

"What happened to Jas?"

"I don't know." Brin's voice grew hard. "Hopefully, she left, because I'm not going to make any promises if I cross her path again. You should be impressed with yourself, Jo. You're the first person to survive Ragurka poisoning unaided."

"Oh, I'm thrilled. This is 'survival'? Grife." Jo fell back onto the dirty mattress.

"Look, I'm going to get the kid at the bar... what's her name--Ginny?... to look after you until you're up to par again. It's going to take another couple of days."

"No, I don't want to bother her."

"Trust me on this, Jo. I don't think she'll consider it much of a bother. In fact, I'd better get her now before anything happens."

As Brin left, Jo stared at the ceiling and thought about everything. Brin was wrong. If anybody could help, it would be Brainiac Five, and Jo would risk life and limb to bring the Coluan to Rimbor, if it meant anything. But he gave his word to the intelligent aspect of his friend and when it came down to it, a person's word was all that really mattered. He would not betray Brin's secret.