Chapter Fourteen
Imaginary Numbers

The bedraggled women in Mike’s briefs were beginning to tire of the location’s novelty.

They had, at least, finally made it to the base of the shaft, and into the protective cover of his pubes. But said pubes were currently soaking wet and growing wetter, as Mike shook his hips to the music. What’s worse, their world would shift often now, as Mike rearranged his semi-erect phallus, either on his own or by grinding on his wife.

“You know,” Ráichéal said, “I’m growing to dislike penises.”

“I’m really only tired of this particular one,” Lil said. “I – whoop! – bloody hair, too slick. Anyhow, I’m really just hoping these two will call it an evening soon.”

“Aren’t they just going to leap into bed?” Ráichéal asked.

“Well…yes. But that’s not the end of the world.”

“I should think it would be quite a bit worse than this,” Ráichéal said.

“Actually,” Lil said, then stopped. “Never mind.”

“You have experience with that?” Ráichéal said, eyes widening in the dim briefs. “Well! So it’s not that bad?”

“Oh, it’s dangerous,” Lil said, “but it has its moments.”

* * *

Sarah paced in her office, spitting fire.

By the time she and Teri had reached Society headquarters, the story the Germans were feeding had changed. Now Susi and Ráichéal were “missing,” persons of interest in an ongoing investigation into something or other – the German secret police was still playing coy. And so Sarah paced, waiting for the call she’d directed. No sense playing with underlings any more.

The phone on her desk chirped.

“Madame Chair, I have the Chancellor on the line.”

“Send her through,” Sarah said, picking up the receiver. “Madame Bundeskanzlerin, thank you for getting back to me so swiftly, especially at this late time of night.”

“Of course, Madame Chairwoman” came the Chancellor’s logy reply. “I understand your sister is caught up in the event in Heidelberg, I’m just being brought up to speed myself, so please…at any rate, you must be worried. How can I help?”

“Well, Madam Bundeskanzlerin, for one thing, you can let your internal security folks know that they should be working with us on this. We still don’t have access to the site, and it’s been eleven hours since the initial reading. Unless you’re invoking national security, we need that access, and frankly, if you are invoking national security, I’d want to hear from you why that is.”

There was a pause, longer than just the satellite delay. “I’m not sure I understand,” the Chancellor said. “Why hasn’t der Bundesamt allowed you access?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to find out,” Sarah said. “This has never been a problem before. We put our European headquarters in Berlin precisely because your government has been helpful in all cases before. I’d hate to think that I need to be concerned.”

“This is most troubling,” the Chancellor said. “We are not declaring a national security exemption, let me make that clear. Who has been blocking your access?”

“A Herr von Karajan.”

“Stasi Dreckskerl,” muttered the Chancellor. “I know him too well. I will make this right, Madame Chairwoman, you have my word.”

Sarah sighed in relief. She and the Chancellor didn’t agree on everything, but she was glad to hear that didn’t extend to matters of importance. “Thank you so much, Madame Bundeskanzlerin. Say hello to Jochen for me, will you?”

“Of course, and you give my regards to Scott. We hope to see you both for the dedication ceremony in November, eh?”

“Barring calamity, we’ll be there,” Sarah said, resisting the urge to note that calamity had already befallen them. Instead, she gave a hearty, “Tschüß!”

“Take care, and let me know if the situation does not improve. Bis später.”

Sarah hung up, and dialed Ops.

“Ops, Titania,” she said. “The Chancellor sounds annoyed with this von Karajan character. Direct Taran to go in there ASAP. We need as much information as we can get.”

Sarah finally sat down. She stared at the computer a minute, trying to decide if she could delay by calling Karen first. No, no, this was her responsibility. She picked up the phone, and dialed the number she’d known since childhood.

“Hi, Mom,” she said. “Susi’s in trouble.”

* * *

Blessedly, the music faded, the world cooled, just a bit, and for a brief time, the travelers could relax in their undergarment purgatory.

Just for a bit.

Soon enough, Mike and Erica arrived at their hotel room. They were both tired, both ready for sleep. But Erica, at least, had never been too tired for a little action, and Mike…well, even if he was, he was usually happy to oblige his wife.

They stripped down to their underwear, and Erica came up behind Mike, reached around him and grabbed him by the balls.

“Well,” he said, as she began to massage him. “I guess I know what you want.”

“I know you probably aren’t up for the grand tour, lover,” she breathed into his ear, “but I figured we could do a little bit before bed.”

“I’m always up for at least a little bit,” Mike said.

“Yes, I can tell,” Erica said, kissing him on the neck. She slid her hand up, and into his briefs. “You’re definitely up for it.”

The light came as a bit of a surprise, but the hand really shocked Lil and Ráichéal. “Sweet Jesus,” Ráichéal said. “She’s going to give him an Allied Irish.”

“A what?”

“A wank. Great, another one I’m going to have to school in Irish slang. You don’t have an excuse, you only live an island away.”

“Sorry,” Lil said, “my bonus slang is all Hindi. I’d teach you what jhaant ke pissu means, but frankly, we resemble it a bit too much for comfort.”

“Fair enough. But I’m not sure we’re in good shape here. She could crush us in mid-stroke, you know.”

“Kahe ko kha raha hai chut ki chapati aur lund ka beja?” Lil muttered.

“What?”

“We should be okay, as long as she doesn’t decide to….”

But the hand abruptly moved, and suddenly tugged the briefs away. And quickly, too quickly to be believed, the beautiful round face of Erica was in front of them, staring ravenously at the monstrous cock.

“Okay,” Lil said. “We’re in trouble.”

* * *

The Prius pulled into the driveway of a nondescript house in the suburbs of Chicago. “I thought it was a bit far-fetched, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s an action movie. It’s not supposed to make sense.”

“But when Iron Man falls from 50,000 feet and makes that last-second turn, I don’t care what the suit does, he’s a puddle of goo.”

“Jane, the guy had a nuclear reactor powering a magnet keeping shrapnel out of his heart. They weren’t going for reality.”

“Good point,” said Jane Matthews, as she switched the car off. “So, you ready for tomorrow?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” said Jake Finney, as he exited the car. “I just hope the PowerPoint doesn’t bore ‘em to death.”

“It won’t,” Jane said, and then she paused.

“Did I leave the door to the garage open?”

Jake looked at the door, which was open just a bit. “I didn’t think so,” he said. “Here, let me go first.”

“Should either of us go in?”

“It’s just an open door. I’m just being overprotective,” he said, swinging the door open.

He walked into the kitchen, and flipped on the light. As Jane walked in behind him, he said, “See? Nothing to worry about.”

It was when he walked through to the living room that the guns were drawn.

* * *

The enormous cavern of Erica’s mouth filled the vision of Lil and Ráichéal. They hung on as it slipped over the enormous shaft and clamped down, moving toward them with a mighty slurp.

“We should be okay if we stay in the pubes,” said Lil, hanging on tight.

“I certainly hope so,” said Ráichéal. “She’s certainly taking enough of it in.”

“Hang on,” said Lil, as Erica’s lips reached apogee, before sliding back down. With a smile, the woman opened her mouth and caressed Mike’s member with her football-pitch-sized tongue. “Oh, God,” Lil said, as Erica ran her tongue quickly up the shaft, right toward them.”

* * *

Jake looked around the room, holding his hands up. He looked toward his sofa, and sighed. “So. You found me.”

“Jake, it’s been a long time,” said Michaelson. “A long time. How are you?”

“I’m not excited about the gun at my temple, but otherwise, life is good.”

“Good, good. Look, about Beanstalk…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you like I did. I like to think I’ve learned from my mistakes.”

“If you don’t think you should have pressured me,” Jake said, evenly, “why are there four federal agents pointing weapons at my wife and me?”

“Oh, I should have pressured you, just not the way I did. Gun to the temple’s more effective. Jake, you’re coming with me. You too, Mrs. Finney.”

“It’s Dr. Matthews, and she isn’t going anywhere,” said Finney.

“Jake, don’t….”

“She’s not going with you,” Finney said. “I’ll go. But Jane is unharmed, and free to go.”

“Right,” said Michaelson. “What I’m doing right now is in violation of the Treaty of Harrisburg, and your wife goes and tells the League and ten minutes later, we’re getting a knock on our door telling us to let you go.”

“That might be a hint,” said Jake, “that you shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Might be,” said Michaelson, “but I’m not taking it. You’re the key, Finney. The key to solving the problems of Beanstalk. The key to stopping those bitches once and for all.”

“Beanstalk was fatally flawed,” said Jane. “Jake shrinking was a one-in-a-million event given what you were working with. It won’t work.”

“We’ll find out, won’t we? Anyhow, I’m done arguing. Restrain them and prep them for flight.”

“I’ll die before I help you,” said Jake.

“Then you’ll die. Get ‘em prepped.”

* * *

The tongue moved right, and pushed straight into the pubes. Lil dodged, but it struck Ráichéal dead-center, and as it slid back, she slid along with it, bouncing between the rough tongue and the veins of Mike’s shaft.

She tried to extricate herself, but the saliva was coating her, and she was too small to push away. Lil pulled the tongue back along the shaft, and flicked it lightly against the head of the cock, finally dislodging Ráichéal into Mike’s piss slit.

The world went dark again as Erica took the shaft back in. Ráichéal tried to right herself, to go somewhere – anywhere – to get away from the chaos of the mouth, of brief glimpses of gleaming white teeth and the smell of Erica’s dinner. But before she could imagine where to go, she felt the shudder, and suddenly she was forced out violently into the yawning cave.

She came to a rest on the back of the tongue. The last thing she felt was the great suction of Erica swallowing. She blacked out as she felt herself pulled backward in a puddle of spit and come.

* * *

The afternoon’s festivities had been enjoyable for everyone in attendance. Leah Jackson had introduced the new Regent of the League, to a raucous standing ovation from a thousand women. Even knowing it was coming, Liz couldn’t help but be taken aback.

And then, they had begun the testimony.

“I was fourteen when my uncle raped me,” the slender girl had begun, to the complete silence of her sisters.

“It wasn’t the first time he’d done so,” she said. “The bastard had been sniffing around me since I was ten. First fingered me when I was eleven. First raped me later that year. He always gave me money, told me not to tell.

“That rape wasn’t the first one, but it was the first one that made me pregnant. I was terrified – but that wasn’t the worst part. I tried to get an abortion, tried to get rid of it – it was going to be a freak, inbred freak, and I didn’t want to give birth to a freak. But I had to get my parents’ consent to the procedure. I told my mom first, but she said she’d have to take it to the Lord in prayer, and He evidently told her to bring my uncle’s brother into it.

“My father beat me for an hour. Beat me until my eyes swelled shut, called me a whore, accused me of lying about the abuse his brother had visited on me, accused me of trying to cover up my sin. He beat me in the name of Almighty God, telling me, ‘Let the lying lips be put to silence,’ over and over, until I blacked out.

“Needless to say, he didn’t take me to Planned Parenthood,” she said, smiling wanly, to the nervous laughter of the crowd.

“It was four months later that the complications developed. I started bleeding and bleeding – if my parents had taken me to the hospital right away, I’d have been okay. But the doctor had to do emergency surgery to remove the fetus by the time I got there – placental abruption, it had died in my uterus. While trying to remove the baby, the doctor perforated it. Badly. He had no choice but to go full boar and remove the thing. I had a hysterectomy two days before my fifteenth birthday.

“I can never bear children. I can never be a mother. That’s what I’d really wanted to be, you know; I know it doesn’t sound really feminist, but I really thought I’d be a good mom….”

The young woman trailed off, and a woman to her right rose and put her arms around her, and let her cry it out until she could continue.

“My father, his brother, they failed me. They both raped me in their own way. And my mom…she was too part of the system to see what she was doing. And I vowed that day that if I could not be a mother, that I’d be a foster mother to all the girls out there in my situation. I swore I’d help to free them. And then the miracle happened,” she said, and now she was beaming. “The miracle that built this sisterhood. This sisterhood will save women, and save our sisters around the world. It will end the reign of men who view women as their property, theirs to defile as they so desire. I am so proud to be a soldier in this army, and I am so grateful that you found me.”

This drew cheers equal to the ones Liz had received; indeed, Liz found herself cheering the woman quite naturally.

There were three more stories: The woman from Egypt who, at age two, had her clitoris sliced off by her grandmother in the name of femininity. The woman from Japan who, at age 16, had to spurn the advances of not one, not two, but three of her male teachers. The woman from Brazil who had been gang-raped by a mix of tourists and locals and left for dead.

They stopped only because they were the four who would speak this evening; the next night’s meeting would bring four more stories, as was their custom. Four more women who had been wronged by men. Four more women justified in seeking revenge.

When it came Liz’s time to address her subjects, she found she did not have to dig deep to find the words.

“The stories we heard from our sisters tonight,” Liz said, “like the stories we all carry in our hearts, are the reason we fight.

“Not all of our stories are as dramatic as those our sisters told tonight, but all are of a part of it. All of us have been devalued for who we are. All of us have been told that we are not the equals of men, from the time we were born. All of us have been on the receiving end of men who had been told we exist for their pleasure. Men can’t help being psychotic bastards; society breeds it in them. But we can damn well stop society from putting them in charge, from putting them in positions of power. We can build a new world where our daughters need not fear rape, or assault, or even simple prejudice. And in a few generations, when men have been domesticated, perhaps we can allow them back at the table as an equal partner. But we cannot do so now; we know what men are. We cannot trust them to simply change because we ask nicely.

“Sisters, it is good to be home,” she said, and the crowd cheered. “Soon, my sisters, we will succeed in the task we began so many years ago. Soon, my sisters, this world will be ours!”

There had been applause and drinks and good food and good company. Angie had looked at her adoringly, and Leah had looked at her with respect. And Liz…Liz wanted very much to crawl away into a hole and stop thinking for a good year.

She hadn’t expected this. She had banished every trace of the creature she had become. Jake’s sacrifice had not been in vain. And she had no desire to go back to the vengeful, wrathful creature she had been.

And yet…there was a part of her that thought, maybe she could be a positive influence. Maybe she could help make the League something like the Society, only more firmly on the side of women. Create a gender imbalance that resembled more a reversal of 1985 than 1955. A world where men who were almost equal…but not quite.

Because she believed what she’d said to the group. Oh, certainly there were men who were the exception to that rule, men like Scott Chelgren, and Jake, of course, but most men still were, well, most men. They had earned their opprobrium.

But she had promised Jake’s widow that she would help free Chelgren. Could she go back on that promise? Could she betray her again?

She shuddered as she walked through the cold campus toward her quarters. She wanted a hot bath, and to talk to Angie, and an end to these brief, annoying thoughts.

“Your Highness,” said a voice from behind her, “a moment, please.”

She turned, and saw the new adept, Zoraida. “Hello,” Liz replied calmly. “What can I do for you, Senorita Abarca?”

“I have…some questions,” Zoraida said.

“Really,” Liz said. “All right; what’s on your mind?”

“It’s very remarkable,” Zoraida said, “your escaping the Society.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Perhaps not. But it is remarkable, is it not? Especially since you’d been basically written off as having gone soft on the Society. And then, out of nowhere, you go on this daring escape.”

“You know,” Liz said, “I’m not exactly liking your tone, Zoraida. Why don’t you just speak freely, and tell me that you think I’m a traitor?”

Zoraida looked a bit flummoxed, and struggled for words. When she spoke, it was slowly. “That was not my intent, Highness,” she said. “I…I wanted to know how you did it. And why now.”

Liz sighed. “I’m sorry, Seniorita Abarca. It’s been a long trip and a trying time. The answer to how: I had help.”

“From Tori and her folks?”

“Right. As for why now? The opportunity presented itself.”

“Ah,” Zoraida said. “That makes sense. I am sorry for intruding, Highness.”

“Not at all,” Liz said. “Talk to me in the morning. I’ll be in a better mood then.”

Liz and Zoraida parted, both of them unsure of what had just transpired, and whether they had just conversed with their best friend on the base, or their worst enemy.