"Pheromone Pharmacopia"

by Brandy Dewinter

(c 2001, All rights reserved)

 

Chapter 1 - "Mission"

 

"Wow, Vanna, did you rob a bank or something?" asked Carol.

"Hardly," the elegant blonde replied, patting gleaming combs in her elaborately styled hair. "These are Army issue, just like Sandy’s boobs."

"Hey, I grew about half of these fair and square," Sandy laughed, hefting her soft mounds.

"Quit bragging," laughed Carol. Then she turned to the fourth member of their team, Jaymi, and said, "You’re awful quiet, Jaymi. What did you do on furlough?"

The slender brunette blushed and ducked her head, but her grin showed she was more than willing to talk about her vacation. "Oh, nothing much," she began nonchalantly. "I just met . . . a boy."

"Oooh, tell us all about it!" Sandy squealed.

"Settle down, ladies," Marilyn ordered, coming into the room and forestalling Jaymi’s response.

The team dutifully draped themselves among the available comfortable chairs. Despite the furlough after their previous mission, they were still closer than sisters, a closeness built on mutual trust forged in shared danger. Marilyn, jiggling like her equally-blonde namesake, seemed to contradict her own orders with the bright energy she brought to every move, but her authority was uncompromised within her team. The others waited patiently, but expectantly, for her to explain why she had called them together.

However, as soon as she started to speak all four of the other young women chorused in unison with the words she was going to say, "We have a mission!"

Marilyn laughed and said, "Well, since you already know everything, I guess I don’t need to talk."

"Oh, Mom, you know we’re just funnin’," Sandy said, giggling.

"Don’t call me ‘Mom’," Marilyn ordered, but the twinkle in her blue eyes took any sting from the reprimand. "Why, most people looking at us would take us for sisters, not a mother and daughter."

"Right . . . mom," Sandy replied, unrepentant.

The shapely team leader shook a manicured finger at her dark-haired second in command, unable to squelch a giggle of her own. In truth, she didn’t really look old enough to have a grown daughter. On the other hand, Sandy didn’t look old enough to be out of high school yet, at least not until you saw the ancient anguish in her eyes. The other team members watched the sparring with amused tolerance. Elegant Vanna raised a single eyebrow; sensuous Carol idly fingered the hem of her tiny skirt, a distraction in almost any setting; and serene Jaymi sighed softly, clearly happy for the comfort they found in each other’s company.

"I’m glad to see you have your team so well under control," a man’s voice said from the doorway, discordant among the soft tones of the women. Sam Gates, their liaison to the President and de facto boss, chuckled as he moved into the room and took his own seat, recognizing that informality would never undercut the discipline of the SMITE team - the She-Male Independent Tactical Expedition. For all these beautiful women were indeed she-males, outwardly feminine but born as men, and with a man’s fully-functional plumbing.

"About as well as could be expected," Marilyn said, not apologizing in the least.

"Indeed," Gates nodded, then he looked at the team, assessing each one against some private internal checklist. Whatever standards he held must have been met because his eyes twitched in the lightning-quick flicker that passed as his smile.

Marilyn took that as an invitation and she turned in her seat to look at Vanna. "Vanna, dear, how would you like to be an astronaut?"

It was a tribute to Vanna’s relentless training that this stunning question caused no further physical response than another lift of her arched brow. After a moment, she said, "Once upon a time I would have said I wanted that more than anything in the world. Now, there’s nothing more important to me than the team, but I would surely love to find a way to have both."

"And so you shall, my dear, as will all of us," Marilyn said with a proud smile. Then she explained to the others, "I’m not sure we ever talked about this, at least all together, but Vanna is a pilot - civilian only, but with some ratings that show real skill. She’s going to be helping all of us in the next few weeks."

Marilyn paused and looked at Gates. "I suppose this is as good a place as any for you to take over," she said.

He nodded, but instead of beginning a briefing, he asked a question of his own. "How many of you have heard of Seward’s Folly?"

Sandy’s hand raised immediately, followed by Jaymi and Vanna. Only Carol looked befuddled, though she was in fact the one to speak. "I seem to remember something about that from school. Wasn’t that, um, another name for the Louisiana Purchase or something?"

"Not quite," Gates answered, another smile-twitch showing briefly. "That’s not too far off base, for one use of the term. The first thing called ‘Seward’s Folly’ was the purchase of Alaska, but I was in fact referring to the contemporary application of the name."

"The space station?" Sandy offered.

"Quite," Gates confirmed, then continued. "Thomas Seward, of Seward Pharmaceuticals, has put together a consortium to finance the first major commercial space endeavor outside of the communications field. There are certain pharmaceuticals that can only be produced in commercially-useful quantities in a zero-G environment. The station, officially ‘Seward Space Facility 1’ was constructed for that purpose. However, aside from the financial risk it has gained a questionable reputation based on Seward’s eccentric plans for staffing and supporting it."

"Oh, now I remember," mused Jaymi. "He’s the new Howard Hughes, right? Billions of bucks, but a recluse who hasn’t been seen in public for years."

Gates nodded, and added, "Apparently his . . . inducements are sufficient that no one on his supply crew will say anything about conditions on the station."

"I read something about that, too," Vanna said. "It seems he believes that except for himself, only women should be astronauts, though I’ve never seen a very good explanation of his rationale."

"That’s because he’s been hiding his real rationale," Marilyn said, taking over from Gates for a moment. "And that’s where we come in."

"Good," Carol said. "I’m glad we’re finally going to talk about something I might understand."

"Perhaps," Gates replied. "First, another question. Are any of you familiar with the concept of ‘Brilliant Pebbles’?"

Again, Sandy’s hand went up immediately, this time not to be joined by any others. At Gates nod, she explained what she knew. "It’s supposed to be the ultimate smart bomb. All it takes is a rod of metal in orbit with a simple GPS guidance package. You de-orbit the rod of metal at the right time and send it down to some specific point. They’re cheap, aside from the cost to get them in orbit in the first place, and just about impossible to stop. A couple of pounds of tungsten rod traveling at 10,000 miles per hour will punch a pretty good hole in just about anything."

"Very good," Gates said, nodding. "Okay, one more question. Have any of you heard of human pheromones?"

This time Carol’s hand shot up like a kid in school who finally gets the chance to show off. Gates’ smile-twitch was all the permission she needed to start talking. "They’re supposed to make people irresistibly horny. Now *that* is something I know about."

"I’m sure you do," Gates agreed. "And that’s close enough to the truth. There’s only one key thing you didn’t mention. They are sex specific. Pheromones that arouse women have little effect on men, and vice versa."

"So, can you put it all together?" Marilyn challenged her team. As they often did, the other girls looked to Sandy to speak for them.

She paused a moment to gather her thoughts, then said, "Well, the Brilliant Pebbles would seem to tie in to the Seward’s Folly space station, and the pheromones to Seward’s Pharmaceutical business, but I don’t see the whole thing tying together."

"Neither did we, until recently," Gates said. "In fact, they are not directly related except in the way Seward has used them. One, the Pebbles, are his offense, and we believe pheromones are his defense."

The young women were too beautiful for confusion to mar their faces in any serious way, but even slight frowns seemed so out of place that Gates almost rushed to explain so that their serene (well, in Carol’s case, sensual) smiles could return.

"Seward has apparently been using the station to produce more than pharmaceuticals. He has offered to sell destruction from space as well. At least in claim, he has sown Brilliant Pebbles around his station and will take out any desired ground target for the right price."

"That’s the offense," Marilyn took over. "That part we know about for sure, since he has made his offer of destruction. However, he’s brilliant, if eccentric, and it would be foolish to assume he has no defenses. There have been rumors of new, black-market aphrodisiacs that are supposed to make women irresistibly aroused. That seems too convenient to be a coincidence."

"What do you mean?" asked Carol.

"Well, what would you do, if you wanted to defend a space station from armed attack?"

Carol’s brow furrowed in a discordant frown, and she glanced at Sandy for help.

The young brunette’s own expression showed concentration, which cleared as she began to speak. "Obviously, you don’t want bombs or guns that could depressurize the station. Anything light enough - darts or whatever - that wouldn’t damage the walls would have trouble penetrating body armor, or even a space suit. So, something airborne? I can see why pheromones might be useful, but, why not just use gas masks?"

"Cameras," offered Jaymi.

Marilyn nodded, and continued, "We believe that his primary defense is saturating the air of his space station with pheromones that cause arousal in women. That’s the real reason he insists on only female astronauts. Based on some of the black-market samples we’ve intercepted, it’s likely he carries with him a spray defense that is so potent women are reduced to helpless desire. Since compartments are so small in the space station, he feels that he can render any attacker helpless before she can attack him unless something is used which would be likely to kill the attacker, too. A grenade on a space station is NOT a good idea."

"So shoot the whole thing down," suggested Carol.

"Aside from the fact that we couldn’t be sure where the pieces would come down - there’s little value in creating the very rain of destruction we’re trying to stop - we don’t have an ASAT capability any more," Gates explained.

"ASAT?" Carol asked.

"Anti-Satellite," explained Gates. "We used to have a rudimentary system, but the missiles are old, their propellants unsafe."

"Ah, I don’t mean to be, oh, bloodthirsty or anything, but why not pop the thing with a nuke? If he’s threatening the whole world, you could probably get the political support." Vanna asked.

"EMP," replied Sandy, cryptically.

"Damn it, d’you just want me to go polish my nails or something?"

Carol snapped. "If not, then speak English."

"Sorry," Sandy said, nodding her head. "Electro-Magnetic Pulse. If you set off a nuke up where the satellites live, you’d burn out most of the communications, weather satellites, whatever. The cost would be, well, astronomical."

"Quite," confirmed Gates. "That option would be worse that paying Seward’s protection money."

For the first time, Jaymi spoke up with a gentle question. "And an assault by men, or men dressed as women? They would be immune to his pheromone defense."

Gates showed a moment of what might have been embarrassment in a less-controlled individual, then said, "Seward always, ah, examines each supply crew before he allows them through the airlock. The standard Seward Space Facility uniform is, ah, rather revealing. We expect that if the astronauts do not show appropriate signs of arousal, they are refused entry. If they try to force entry, well, he claims that he keeps his finger on a button that will automatically send Brilliant Pebbles through the roof of the Oval Office in the White House and through other equivalent sites. The Powers That Be are not ready to take that risk, yet. That’s also his threat if we interdict supplies to the station."

"So, as I said, that’s where we come in," Marilyn declared. "I’ll be more blunt than our so-gentlemanly Mr. Gates, and explain a bit further. Seward has his female astronauts wear skin-tight uniforms that just happen to show nipple arousal in the presence of female pheromones. ‘Permanent’ arousal from faked boobs is too obvious. Only those who can show a visible difference in their nips are permitted through the airlock. We can meet that test, I believe."

The girls snickered, and nodded. "However," Marilyn continued, "we should not be so incapacitated by his close-in spray that we can’t overcome it. Our rather unique nature, neither fully fish nor fowl as it were, might allow us to slip through a crack in his defenses. Our task is to board the station, taking the place of a regularly-scheduled supply mission, and then capture Seward. It should be a piece of cake."

"Oh, dear, there goes my diet," Sandy sighed, but her eagerness to proceed showed in her smile.

"Are we really going to be trained as astronauts?" Vanna asked, just as eager.

"I think I’ll let Marilyn brief you on the actual approach to be used," Gates said. "The only element I will stress myself is that you need to maintain absolute secrecy about your unique natures, not only for this mission, but to avoid compromising past or future missions as well."

He looked at Marilyn, a glance passing more of a message than mere permission to continue the briefing. She nodded, and in her turn looked at Jaymi.

"Jaymi, dear, that means you will need to be a bit more discreet in your off-duty . . . pursuits than you were while on furlough."

"Yes, ma’am," Jaymi replied, a blush firing her cheeks as she ducked her head.

The other team members stared at Jaymi like she had just grown another head or something, but they all held their tongues, not wanting to be the next victim of Marilyn’s disciplinary attention. It didn’t work, though. Marilyn’s blue eyes focused on those of the other blonde on the team, the elegant Vanna.

"Even when you are the . . . pursued rather than the pursuer," the team leader warned.

Vanna’s blush showed even more clearly against her pale skin and for once her air of poised sophistication gave way to an almost childish contrition that would have looked more in place as part of Sandy’s ingénue persona.

"Geez, am I the only one who didn’t get laid on this break?" Carol grumped.

Instead of answering, Sandy said, "It would appear that we had, ah, company on our furloughs."

Now it was Marilyn’s turn to appear slightly uncomfortable, but she lifted her head (provoking interesting secondary motions) and said firmly, "You all knew that security was paramount when you volunteered."

"Indeed we did," Jaymi softly agreed, defusing any tension with her gentle acceptance.

"Indeed, we all did," Gates said. "And you all did well, considering the challenges you faced." Then he surprised the team by looking at their commander, saying, "Even you, Marilyn."

"Now THERE is an opening we just have to pursue," Carol crowed, laughing at the thought of a romantic liaison for their beautiful leader.

The laugh died in her throat, though, when she saw a look of sadness rather than embarrassment on Marilyn’s beautiful face.

In a heartbeat, Sandy was out of her seat and hugging the pretty blonde, an embrace that Marilyn did not seem to mind a bit.

"I think you all have some more catching up to do," Gates said, standing to leave. "The only reason I came today is to make it clear that the surveillance placed on all of you was not in any way a sign of lack of trust from Marilyn. She could, as usual, have handled the entire mission briefing herself. But none of you, nor myself in fact, are exempt from security. Remember that as you meet all those, ah, handsome astronauts and fighter pilots."

He smiled to each of them in turn, made a slight yet courtly bow toward Marilyn, then made his way out.

"What happened?" Sandy asked as soon as the door closed, her emerald green eyes focused on the brilliant blue gems Marilyn displayed.

Marilyn straightened in her seat, and dredged up a more-typical smile before glancing at Jaymi. "I guess you could say that I, too, . . . met a boy."

 

(continued in next part)

 

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SMITE 2 - Pheromone Pharmacopia © 2001 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.