Bomber Gone by Dogfish

Bomber Gone

The Damocles prototype soared through the air more smoothly and naturally than anything that size had any business to. The vast delta wing aircraft howled through the sky like an angry dragon, the sheer bulk and speed of the monster ripping the air apart in a deafening din that threatened to drown out the engines. The Damocles was a marvel of modern engineering, the ultimate expression of technical superiority. It was not enough to just drop bombs any more, no, you had to scare people. They had to know what was coming. They had to fear it. Once airborne the Damocles had the range to reach any city on the planet and the firepower to remove it from existence. It could do it from high altitude, or it could come down good and low, shattering windows and shaking buildings by its mere presence. The designers were all very proud.

Within the belly of the beast things were much quieter. The flight crew sat at their stations, carefully running their scheduled inflight checks while a team of engineers from the company that built the monster roamed the aircraft running their own tests and making observations on their logs. Or at least most of them did. Two of them had other plans.

Sammi was bored. The gunner she was talking to was boring her. She didn’t know what this woman did and she didn’t care to know. Standing close to her, listening to her waffle on about sighting systems, computer aiming controls and how exciting it was to be able to blow people to pieces without ever getting close to them was really starting to get on Sammi’s nerves. She flexed her fingers in her tight white surgical gloves, contemplating the way that the translucent latex changed the colour of her dark red nail polish as she pretended to pay close attention.

Like all the research team Sammi was dressed in a very sleek white latex catsuit, with boots to match and a belt for tools and equipment. A sterile transparent mask covered her mouth and nose, flexible rubber with a central filter. She felt more like she was checking for dust than performing scientific tests. Not that there was any dust to be found.

“And this little button here,” continued the gunner, “This activates the thermal imaging, so I can see people even if they are hiding, it’s very useful.” She beamed. She was a svelte young blonde dressed in the pristine shiny blue uniform of the company pilots. She wore a tinted visor over her eyes to provide a heads up display even while she was sat at her terminal or walking around the plane, a breathing mask connected to her air supply hanging loosely from the side of it should it be needed in an emergency. With her eyes completely concealed behind the visor and just her pretty yet incessantly moving red lips visible below she seemed almost like some sort of out of control cyborg, trapped in a loop extolling the virtues of precision targeted heavy weapons as if some military adware had taken over control of a shop mannequin.

Amy arrived at that moment, climbing down the ladder into the forward weapons bay, stepping around the ferocious looking loading mechanisms for the guns and stepping up beside Sammi.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said to the gunner before turning to Sammi, “Regarding that question you asked before, the answer is yes.”

“Thank you,” Sammi replied, smiling brightly, “You should probably go and check on the rear weapons system.”

“On my way,” Amy nodded and left through the small door on behind them where a second member of the flight crew was waiting to tell her many interesting things about bombs.

“Everything all right?” asked the gunner, looking around in her seat, a helpful smile on her face.

“Everything is just fine with me,” Sammi replied, returning her attention to the monitor on the weapons station, “But is that working correctly?”

“You mean the console?”

“No, I think it was something, else, one of the camera displays, in the corner,” Sammi spoke slowly, focussing the attention of the other woman on the screen. As she did this she pulled a small soft plastic object from a pocket on the back of her belt. The object looked like a tiny translucent egg, no bigger than a fingertip.

“I’m not seeing anything wrong, but I can run a diagnostic of the system,” the gunner smiled helpfully and touched the screen to bring up the control panel.

“Beautiful and smart,” Sammi said, sounding impressed, leaning in closer so that she was side by side with the other woman, pushing up needlessly close, intruding on her personal space. She gripped the plastic egg between her forefinger and thumb, feeling carefully to ensure the narrow end was pointing out, her arm up on the back of the gunner’s chair. She gently squeezed the egg, causing a tiny pointed plastic needle to emerge from it a few millimetres. The device now resembled an artificial hornet stinger.

“It’s really not that difficult,” the gunner said bashfully. She turned to look at Sammi with a slight nervous smile. The close proximity was making her a little uncomfortable.

“No, I suppose it isn’t,” replied Sammi suddenly rather dismissively. She leaned forward a little, looking past the gunner at the screen, allowing her breasts to just rest on her shoulder. The gunner turned slightly, awkward at the contact and sudden criticism. At the same moment Sammi’s hand dropped down from the back of the seat and she planted the needle in the back of the gunner’s neck, giving the stinger a second squeeze to release the contents.

The gunner flinched and recoiled slightly, but didn’t have time to make a sound before the paralytic drug had taken effect. The point of injection being so close to the spine had speeded the process greatly. Sammi held her hand in place for a few seconds, letting the effect take hold, then pulled out the needle and discarded the expended stinger.

“See it isn’t really very difficult, killing from up here,” Sammi whispered softly to her paralysed victim, “Not with a bomb from sixty thousand feet.” She seated herself in the stricken gunner’s lap, facing her. The gunner’s mouth opened a little, her lower lip trembling as she attempted to speak, but no sound came out.

“Anybody worth their salt, if they have to do it at all, does it up close,” Sammi paused for effect, then smiled, “Lucky for you, I don’t have to do it today.” She pulled a tiny sprayer from her belt and squirted a short burst inside the breathing mask attached to the gunners visor before attaching it into place over her mouth and nose, the poppers clicking sharply. The gunner could detect a strong, sweet odour inside the mask, like too much expensive perfume, out of some instinct to resist she tried to hold her breath but she could no more exercise conscious control over her lungs than she could any other part of her body. The tranquiliser spray in the sealed confines of the mask did its job very quickly.

Sammi gazed at her reflection in the dark surface of the gunner’s visor as she watched the other woman drift off to sleep. Even if she said so herself, she was damn hot. In fact she often said so herself, caring little what others thought, though none would argue anyway. Satisfied she stood up. A couple of plastic ties from her belt secured the snoozing crewmember to her chair just in case she did wake up earlier than scheduled, then it was off to see how Amy was getting along.


Amy walked up behind the second gunnery console, quietly slipping a small black cylinder from her belt as she approached. She was nervous and a little scared, but she liked the feeling, it was like the giddy thrill of stealing, or hacking a computer network that had active security teams on it, but much, much better. Could it just be the adrenalin she wondered, or was there more to it? She wondered if she’d have time to get a blood sample to test. Maybe she could next time. Would next time be as good? She gathered her thoughts, focus. Capture first and do science later.

The gunner was busy and Amy was able to move up very close before the other woman heard her and looked around.

“Oh, hi!” said the gunner, smiling brightly from beneath her visor.

“Hi,” Amy replied softly. She smoothly reached forward and pushed the end of the cylinder against the back of the gunner’s neck, pressing a button on top. Her movement was so natural and so casual that the blue suited crewwoman didn’t realise that there was anything amiss. She did when Amy pushed the button though as an electrical shock passed through her body, stunning her. With a sigh the gunner slithered down her chair into an unruly heap of latex clad limbs on the floor.

Amy crouched down on the floor next to the girl and rolled her onto her back, feeling her throat for a pulse. There was one, albeit faint, but Amy knew that this was probably fine. She leaned forward, pushing down on the gunner’s chest with her knee, putting her weight onto it to keep her victim pinned. Her fingers remained on the girl’s throat, waiting to ensure the pulse returned to normal. With her free hand she pulled a few of the plastic ties from her belt. Amy had not tested her stun device out on a human before, she knew it’d kill a lab rat, damn near fricassee it, and she had suspected it might well kill a human, but she didn’t actually want that to happen. She just needed a victim instantly incapacitated.

“Quite a strong heart you’ve got there,” Amy murmured softly. She glanced at her watch, waiting for the pulse to return to normal before she moved to the next step. The tension was palpable and Amy realised, somewhat uncomfortably, the process was starting to turn her on a little. She’d always enjoyed seeing the rest of her team go to work, dealing with sentries, gassing guards and so on, but this was her first time operating in the field herself. The feeling of control coupled to the thrill of being somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be was a powerful mix.

Satisfied that her victim was starting to recover Amy rolled her over onto her front, binding her wrists and then her ankles, then her wrists to her ankles. A squirt of anaesthetic spray in the breathing mask as Sammi had done was next, with Amy locking the mask in place. The gunner made a soft moaning sound as the scent of the spray hit her, flexing against her bonds, but she was in no shape to resist and she was soon fast asleep.

Amy left the sleeping gunner on the floor and headed back to find Sammi, who was by now waiting by the ladder to head up to the middle deck of the aircraft.

“You finished?” she asked pointedly.

“Yes,” Amy replied, “No problem at all.”

“We’ll see how you get on when they are actually fighting back,” Sammi started to climb the ladder, waiting a moment about halfway up for Amy to start climbing up after her before continuing. Sammi knew by doing this she’d force Amy to have a look up at her butt in the tight white latex and she liked messing with her partner by doing this.

Amy’s hopeless attraction to Sammi was a source of much amusement for Sammi and she enjoyed torturing her with it. As Sammi neared the top of the ladder she slowed her pace, exaggerating the movement of her hips. Amy couldn’t help but feel a twinge of arousal, knowing that Sammi was doing it just to screw with her was making it more of a turn on, as was knowing that she’d do this to her under such entirely inappropriate circumstances. It was almost overwhelming. Sammi didn’t need to look back to know the effect she was having.

At the top of the ladder Sammi observed one of the researchers through a window in one of the rear doors examining the emergency equipment stored in the tail of the aircraft. In the other direction she could see the navigation and communications officers at work under the watchful eye of the other researcher.

As she emerged from the ladder Sammi walked over to the researcher and tapped her on the shoulder. Amy meanwhile headed through the rear door.

“The emergency gear has a problem,” Sammi said curtly, “I think you’ll want to see it.”

“Is it serious?” asked the navigator, looking around from her console.

“Not unless we have an emergency, besides, we should be able to fix it.”

Sammi pointed the way and followed the researcher. The navigator shrugged and returned her gaze to the screen.

Inside the narrow hallway where the assorted emergency equipment was stored Amy had wasted no time. Approaching the researcher swiftly while she was busy checking the gear Amy picked her moment and struck quickly. One of her hands snaked up under the woman’s arm to grip her throat, the other hand cupped the air intake on the front of her mask. The researcher began to speak, but a firm squeeze on her neck choked off her words nicely. Her eyes bugged out in surprise behind the plastic visor of the mask, the rubber body of the mask flexing slightly as she tried to suck in a breath. Amy turned her back on the door, figuring there was no reason to let anybody who might come through see what she was doing.

“What’s going on?” asked the second researcher as she entered the room, Sammi right on her heels, closing the door swiftly behind her.

“Looks like these two are getting a bit too familiar,” Sammi chuckled. The researcher in Amy’s potentially fatal embrace waved an arm in distress; with the other she was now trying to pry the hand off her throat.

“She’s having some sort of panic attack!” warned Amy, improvising a lie, tightening her grip, digging her thumb and forefinger into the throat of her victim, “We need to stop her before she does some damage!”

The second researcher moved forward helpfully to try to assist Amy with her associate, but Sammi followed her, deliberately too close, deliberately tripping her up. The researcher fell forward onto her hands and knees, Sammi following her down in the confined space, accidentally on purpose landing on top of her, squashing her against the floor with a muffled yelp through her mask.

“Oops, I’m so sorry!” Sammi said above the squeak of latex, pretending to struggle to find her footing, rubbing herself up against the researcher, pushing her knee up between the her thighs, causing a sharp intake of breath. She pushed the researcher down again, knocking the wind out of her with another insincere apology before reaching around with her hands to grab hold of the researcher’s mask, covering the intake firmly. The researcher tried to twist around but Sammi was right on top of her, every time she moved she felt Sammi’s leg pressing up between her legs and the effect this had on the tight latex was very distracting, not to mention stopping her from rolling over.

Meanwhile Amy could feel her opponent’s struggles getting more and more desperate and was now worried about losing her grip on her. The girl was resisting a lot and it didn’t feel like she was getting weaker at all. Amy did not really have a plan B; she had to take this girl down now, lest she alert the rest of the crew and start a fight she couldn’t win. Sensing that her opponent was starting to work loose she squeezed her body tighter against her, allowing her less room to move. She could feel Sammi’s eyes on her as she continued to struggle and between that and the latex clad body pressed against her she was starting to feel awkwardly aroused again. However the desire to not let Sammi down spurred her on and she felt a renewed vigour, digging her fingers deeper into the flesh of the researcher’s neck. Suffocation or a lack of blood to the brain, one of them had to kick in she thought; she didn’t mind which as long as it happened soon.

Suddenly she could feel the girl really start to panic. The struggling reached a crescendo and finally started to weaken. She smiled victoriously as the hands clinging to her wrists gradually slipped away. A moment later she could feel the girl’s knees giving way. She moved her hands so that she was holding the woman under her arms guiding her gently down onto the floor.

With the researcher on the floor Amy quickly removed her mask to allow her to breathe freely, then set about binding her wrists and ankles as she had done with the gunner. By the time she was done the researcher was starting to come around, but before she could make a sound Amy had slipped a small rubber ball from her belt and pushed it into her mouth. On contact with saliva the ball expanded gently but insistently, filling the researcher’s mouth, leaving her with a very confused expression on her face but no means to speak or make any sound more coherent than a small indignant, “Mph”.

Sammi had finished with her opponent in about the same length of time. The researcher’s mask had fogged up as it had suffocated her into unconsciousness. As Amy had done Sammi removed the mask and stifled her victim with one of the self-inflating gags before binding her in a hog tie.

“Well that was easy,” said Sammi with a smile, waiting at the door for Amy to join her.

“Easy for you maybe, mine nearly got away from me,” Amy was flushed, her body tired, the rush of adrenalin starting to fade.

Sammi reached over to Amy, tilting her head up by the bottom of her mask, looking her straight in the eyes, “You’re stronger than they are. They won’t beat you. Understand?”

Amy smiled, she didn’t feel very strong when Sammi was controlling her like this, but somehow she believed her nonetheless. Amy believing Sammi didn’t solve the problem of numbers however; several crew members still remained between them and control of the plane.

“I’m going to see to the pilots,” Sammi said curtly, “You need to handle the others.”

“Both of them?” Amy’s heart began to race again. She was moving past the excited phase now, this was actually becoming frightening. The plan had been to tackle the pairs of opponents as a team.

“At once,” said Sammi, gazing fixedly into Amy’s eyes, “Or one then the other. I don’t mind in which order.”

“But that wasn’t the plan…” Amy tried to protest, her voice trailing off, inaudible by the time she’d reached the end of the sentence.

“New plan now,” Sammi grinned, letting go of the front of Amy’s mask, trailing a finger down the front of Amy’s suit, “Impress me.”

With that Sammi walked back through the door and made her way towards the cockpit. Amy followed a little sheepishly.

“Are you all right?” asked the navigator, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” Amy replied, “Just getting things squared away is all, a couple of complications.”

Amy looked from the navigator to the communications officer. The two young women looked slightly less warlike than the two gunners below. Their uniforms included sleek blue forage caps perched at a rakish angle atop their carefully styled hair rather than helmets and form fitting skirts instead of trousers. Their immaculate presentation gave them the appearance more of airline cabin crew than military personnel. The navigator had long dark hair in a ponytail, the communications officer, wearing a headset across the nape of her neck, had wavy blonde hair. To Amy the communications officer looked almost like a modernised pinup of a telephone operator, all curves and blonde locks.

Moving carefully Amy positioned herself between the two crewwomen, turning to face the navigator and blocking the line of sight from the communications officer. She slipped the stun device she had used against the gunner into her gloved palm, readying it for use as she approached her target.

“Actually,” said Amy softly, leaning down towards the navigator, “There was something I needed to talk to you about.”

The navigator turned, meeting Amy’s gaze with her deep brown eyes, “What’s up?”

“Listen,” replied Amy softly, leaning forward. The navigator turned her head a little, listening intently, and in doing so allowed Amy to push the stun cylinder against her neck and give her a charge from it.

Amy had planned for the device to be disposable, but she hadn’t banked on it being this disposable. It worked, the charge fired, but the cylinder suddenly grew extremely hot, the battery pack seemingly burning itself out. The navigator jerked back in her seat, quite violently, and Amy recoiled too, dropping the burned out weapon and cursing profusely.

“What’s going on?” asked the communications officer sharply, spinning her chair to face them and standing up.

“The console!” Amy cried, pointing, “There was a short circuit!”

The second officer’s beautiful blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, seeing the sinister looking device rolling along the floor. She reached for the console to alert the pilots.

Amy looked from the gadget to the worried face of the officer. It was clear that the deception had run its course, it was time to fight. She suddenly charged across the room, hoping to grab whatever element of surprise there might be left and threw herself at the officer. She collided with her opponent’s superbly toned form and the two of them tumbled onto the floor, the headset wire yanking free of the terminal.

The officer was trying to call for help but Amy managed to do a pretty good job of keeping her mouth covered with her hands as the two of them rolled around on the floor. Amy could feel the officer’s skirt ride up her thighs as the woman wrapped her legs around Amy’s midriff. She began to get that sinking feeling that she was in a fight with a girl who, if not expecting trouble or dressed for it, was still more than capable of providing some. Amy was glad of her mask, for though it made breathing trickier and reduced her visibility the officer was clawing at her face and those long shiny nails of hers could have scratched her up badly. The officer seemed not to mind that Amy had got on top, knowing her attack could work whichever way up they were.

Amy reached down to grab a weapon from her belt, but all she found was the silken thigh of the officer, her legs preventing her from reaching her gadgets and beginning to squeeze now. She caught the look of triumph in the blonde’s eyes as she felt those magnificent legs begin to constrict around her more tightly. Her mask began to fog up. She couldn’t get a good enough grip on the officer to smother her, but her roaming fingers found an alternative route of attack.

Carefully Amy gripped the cable from the headset, first on the loose end, then grabbing the back of the headset itself and then she wrapped it around her opponent’s neck. In the struggle she was only able to get one or two loops in before the officer fended her off, but as she began to pull on the ends of the wire she sensed that it would be enough. The black plastic cable dug deeply into the pale skin of the officer’s throat, just above the shiny collar of her uniform, and suddenly her skin began to darken.

Sensing the danger she was in the officer began to struggle feverishly, squeezing Amy as hard as she could between her legs, trying to grab hold of the air intakes on the mask to smother her. She rolled the pair of them over again, taking a position on top of Amy, tightening her grip, feeling her scissoring attack starting to take effect, but already she was seeing spots before her eyes. Her vision began to narrow. She tried to cry out in fear, but no sound came out, her tongue merely lolling out between brightly glossed lips.

Amy could feel the resistance in her opponent starting to weaken and redoubled her efforts. She was amazed at how deep the cable had gone into her victim’s neck, leaving a cruel red mark on her throat. Not long now though, she knew, feeling the officer’s legs slip away from her and her hands drop to the floor at her sides. She could breathe more normally now, and did so, savouring the fresh air as she poured the last of her energy into the cable.

Finally she collapsed on top of the now unconscious officer, letting go of the makeshift garrotte, then taking care to quickly loosen it so her victim could breathe again. She felt exhausted, sweating inside her suit, she knew that the girl could still be a threat, but she was not here to kill anybody.

Picking herself up Amy walked over to the navigator. The dark haired woman was still breathing, laid out on her back. She was definitely out cold, either from the shock or the fall it didn’t matter. Amy could feel the tiredness in her limbs and her torso felt tender where the blonde officer had squeezed her, she was not in the mood to fight this girl when she woke up. She squatted next to the girl and slipped one of the inflating ball gags into her mouth before binding her wrists and ankles. No sooner had she completed her task than she turned back to see to the communications officer.

The blonde had recovered somewhat, trying to drag herself back to her console to raise the alarm. Amy approached quickly pushed her back down onto the floor, sitting on her chest to stop her from getting away. Having Amy sat atop her took the fight out of the officer completely and all she could do was glare up at her captor sullenly. Calmly Amy shuffled herself forwards so that she was sitting partially on the face of her prisoner, keeping her head still between her knees. The officer’s eyes widened and she struggled, but there was no moving her unwanted burden. Amy watched with a broad smile as the struggling came to a stop and the eyes of the officer rolled slowly back in her head.

Comfortable and satisfied, Amy secured the unconscious blonde and set to work preparing the aircraft’s systems for its change of management.

Meanwhile Sammi had gone up to the cockpit door and waited. She wanted to be sure that Amy succeeded before moving on. Once she had heard the sounds of the fight subside she moved through to the cockpit, which resembled something she would have expected to see on a spacecraft than an airplane. Everything was sleek and smooth, with the controls neatly contained on the main console at the front, at which sat the pilot. Sitting in the corner to the rear was the co-pilot, who handled operations of the computers and autopilot on a separate console. Through the broad front window she could see banks of cloud, stretching out for miles around them like a perfect polar landscape and above the clearest blue sky; it was so beautiful she almost forgot what she had come here to do. Almost.

The pilot and co-pilot wore tight blue latex flight suits, similar to that which the gunners had worn only with a greater amount of life support equipment attached. Both looked very busy, which suited Sammi fine.

Sammi made her way to the co-pilot first, peering over her shoulder at the bank of controls. The muted roar of the engines and airframe outside provided enough background noise to hide her footsteps. Once she was behind the co-pilot she reached down over her shoulders, bracing her thumbs on the back of her neck and digging the knuckles of her forefingers hard into the artery and vein at her throat. She gripped hard, the smooth latex of her knuckles digging and deep into the unsuspecting flesh of the co-pilot, cutting off the blood to her brain instantly and totally, not to mention making her jump in surprise.

The co-pilot struggled to turn around, but in the somewhat cavernous seat afforded to her as one of the senior flight crew she was ill equipped to defend herself. She grabbed at her neck, her mouth gaping like a fish out of water, but she couldn’t shift Sammi’s lobster-like pincer grip. The effect of the grip was very fast, rapidly reducing the co-pilot to unconsciousness. Sammi kept up the pressure for a little while longer and then allowed the body to relax. In the reflection of one of the screens she could see that the co-pilot’s eyes were closed and her tongue was protruding slightly between her glossed red lips. She’d be out for a few minutes yet. Sammi gave her an affectionate pat on the top of her helmet, causing the visor to slowly lower over her eyes, and walked over to the pilot.

Sammi walked up to the main control console. The pilot sat in the big chair, her visor down and her oxygen mask firmly attached, giving it the whole hotshot military pilot act. Deciding to dispense with any sort of formal greeting Sammi simply reached over the top of the chair, grabbing the hose of the mask with one hand and squeezing it tight shut, while with the other hand pressing the mask onto the face of the pilot more tightly.

She could hear the pilot try to protest as she squeezed, reaching up with her hands to free herself, relying on the autopilot to do the flying. Sammi squeezed tighter, wrapping the hose around her hand for extra leverage. The pilot was flailing now, the rubber of the mask collapsing onto her face more tightly at the lack of air. Sammi smiled, it would all be over soon. She slipped around the front of the chair, straddling the pilot, getting comfortable.

The pilot felt Sammi slide into her lap, comfortable and intimate like a lover. She tried to resist but she was too tightly strapped into her seat. Was this a prank? Was she really under attack? What about the others? Her mind raced, or it tried to as the asphyxiation began to take her, she grabbed at the harnesses that secured her into the seat, her fingers already feeling thick and clumsy as she struggled to work the catches. She heard one catch click open as spots danced in front of her eyes, her hands tracing down the second strap towards the catch there, she felt something, tried to grip it, but then everything went dark.

Sammi let go of the pilot, moving round in front of her, helpfully disconnecting her from her harness and mask before laying her out on the floor. With practiced ease Sammi bound the pilot’s hands and feet, gagging her as she had the others. Once she had finished she returned to the co-pilot, binding her into her chair and gagging her too even as she was regaining consciousness. After a cursory check that the autopilot system was still operational Sammi went back to look for Amy.

The rest of the bomber crew posed fewer problems. Sammi, assuming control of the communication officer’s station, spoke to each in turn that it was now time to put their oxygen masks on and test their connection to the on-board air supply. Meanwhile Amy, with unfettered access to the command terminals and a small cylinder of sedative gas, ensured that, as Sammi instructed the oblivious gunners to take deep breaths, they were given something with a little more kick than they expected. One by one the gunners in the turrets succumbed, snoozing gently amid their banks of targeting systems.

“That’s the crew taken care of,” Amy announced, relieved, as she returned to Sammi at the communications console, “Those gunners will be sleeping like babies until about two hours after we touch down.”

“That just leaves the research team and the overseers in the cargo bay,” Sammi said.

“I thought we were just going to seal the cargo bay and leave them there,” Amy fretted, “There’s no military stores down there, just the independent equipment for gathering flight data, they can’t do anything to stop us-”

“Once we change the flight path of the plane,” Sammi interrupted, rising from her chair, “They’ll know something is up. They might take action against us.”

“But if we seal the cargo bay they can’t do anything, it’s designed that way, there’s no points of access, no way they-”

Sammi took her mask off, the simple interruption silencing Amy’s protests. She smiled sweetly at her partner in crime, inviting her to continue, as she slowly unzipped the front of her suit, sighing happily at the touch of the cool air. Amy tried to remember what her point had been but simply reddened slightly and fell silent.

“Look,” Sammi said, “I know you’re worried, but you don’t need to be. The overseers sound like more trouble than they are and there’s what, six researchers in that room?”

“I think six, from the briefing.”

Sammi placed a steadying hand on the nape of Amy’s neck, supportive, nurturing, and keeping her friends gaze directed down at her cleavage, “Six is nothing. I wouldn’t have brought you along if I thought six was many. Trust me.”

“Eight,” Amy corrected, subconsciously unable to let bad maths go unchallenged, “Two overseers and six researchers.”

“I have a plan for the overseers,” Sammi replied, “We’ll lure them out and then go in after the others. They’re overseers after all, so we’ll tell them there’s something up here they need to see.”

Amy looked up and smiled behind her mask, “What do you need me to do?”

The Overseers sat at the back of the cargo compartment, both comfortable with their feet up on their respective desks. The researchers in front of them had sophisticated workstations, but that was because they were tasked with actual work. All the overseers had to do was watch and report on any major breaches of the testing protocol. They wore bright red latex catsuits with black boots, belts and gloves and small transparent breathing masks so that they could move around the aircraft without risk of contamination and look suitably intimidating when approaching the researchers.

They sat in silence, sullen, partly to effect an air of authority over their underlings, but also largely because the two overseers didn’t like each other very much. They were competing for a promotion that neither of them was probably competent enough to deserve, but both would happily crawl through a sewer for.

They looked up in unison when Amy entered the cargo bay.

“You’re not tasked to be in this area,” declared the nearside overseer, her sharp blue eyes assessing the intruder as if they had the power to shrink her down to the size of a kernel of corn, then pop her, “Aren’t you supposed to be in the gun decks?” The other overseer looked over, her eyes just as piercing but a brilliant green. But for their eyes they could almost be twins, pale skin, dark hair in similar styles, the very models of career minded field executives.

“There’s been a problem,” Amy replied, “I think you should-” Her sentence was halted by a raised palm from the blue eyed overseer.

The overseers exchanged looks. The researcher should have reported any problems over the radio, for the official transcripts, but she hadn’t, this could be important, and maybe knowing this the researcher was covering deliberately. There were two possibilities, this could be an opportunity to discover a problem, solve it, and look good, or it could be an opportunity to be the person associated with a problem. Both overseer’s eyes narrowed as they had the same idea.

“I’ll go look,” said the blue-eyed overseer at the exact same moment as her colleague uttered the phrase, “You go look.”

Both women smiled, each entirely confident that the other had just blown their career.

Amy turned and led the overseer out of the cargo hold, through the belly of the aircraft to the deserted gunner’s station, ensuring to close the doors behind them along the way. The sleeping gunner had been concealed in the other station, meanwhile Sammi waited on the floor above, listening at the top of the ladder through the open hatch.

“Where’s the gunner?” asked the overseer immediately, Amy pointed up the ladder without saying a word. The overseer gave her a perplexed look and then started to climb up.

“Showtime,” muttered Sammi to herself as she heard the sound of the overseer’s boots on the rungs of the ladder below. She then stepped out onto the ladder and started to climb down towards the overseer.

The overseer was not more than a couple of steps up the ladder when she saw Sammi coming down towards her. She opened her mouth to complain but her first thought was lost as her attention was drawn to the perfectly-formed, latex-wrapped derriere above her, reflecting the bright lights off the gleaming rubber as it moved. Sammi took another step down, slowly, carefully, feeling the overseer’s eyes on her as she did so.

The overseer didn’t feel Amy’s hand reach up and gently tug the microphone wire out of the radio on her belt, effectively cutting her outgoing communications to the others. Her attention was momentarily completely elsewhere. No help would now be forthcoming. Amy pulled the shock cylinder from her belt, holding it in her fist, the burned out device still weighty with its battery even if it was non-functional in its original role.

“Hey,” the overseer said after her momentary hesitation, trying to establish that she was in fact in charge of things, “Just what exactly is going on up here? You on the ladder, stop.”

The overseer looked around, momentarily disoriented, people needed to be explaining the situation here. A gunner was away from her post, she’d been called away from the main control area without a formal reason given and this entire situation was rapidly shifting from unusual to unacceptable. She would need to resolve it quickly. She didn’t like how close the other researcher was standing to her either, although she presumed the other woman was just waiting to climb the ladder after her.

Above her Sammi sneaker a couple more steps down the ladder, close enough that when the overseer looked back up she was surprised by how close she was.

“Hey I told you to stop,” the overseer protested, “So that means that you stop, idiot.”

“I don’t think she’s the idiot here,” Amy said, suddenly annoyed, mimicking the tone of the overseer and pulling her down off the ladder by her belt. The overseer stumbled as she stepped onto the ground, a look of disbelief on her face, she had never seen a researcher talk back like this before and she wasn’t sure what to do. Berating an underling that had actually done something wrong was a new experience for her.

She didn’t get the chance though, just as she was about to speak Amy punched her in the pit of the stomach, the weight of the stun weapon adding enough extra heft to completely drive the air out of her target. The overseer let out a muted sound a bit like a squeak and sank down onto her knees. Amy grinned with satisfaction as Sammi finished climbing down the ladder to join her.

“Nice shot,” Sammi observed, pulling the dazed overseer back up to her feet and removing her mask, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Don’t see what all the fuss is about to be honest,” Amy said with a modest shrug.

Their conversation was interrupted by the radio on the overseer’s belt, the voice of the other overseer.

“What’s going on up there? I didn’t hear back so I’m on my way, where are you?”

The overseer snatched up her radio but realised immediately that the microphone was missing, she sighed, partly in defeat, partly because she was still winded. However the sound of the door to the room being opened perked her up a lot.

“Quick!” Sammi hissed, shoving Amy away into the corner of the room next to the door with one hand before turning, grabbing the overseer by the back of the neck and dragging her into her arms. The overseer yelped in surprise but before she could make a further sound Sammi was kissing her full on the mouth.

The door opened and the second overseer walked in, stopping in shock at the sight before her, the blue eyed overseer wrapped in the arms of a researcher (neither wearing their masks, a fastidious part of her super-ego noted) and, well, that was probably enough wrong to be going along with. Her eyes met Sammi’s and Sammi gave her a lascivious wink, one hand groping the butt of her panicky paramour, pinching hard, eliciting what might have been a protest or a moan of pleasure it was hard to tell.

Sammi crooked a finger at the overseer seductively beckoning her closer. The green eyed overseer, still somewhat in shock at what she was seeing, stepped forward carefully, still too perplexed to be properly angry, contemplating an appropriately doom-laden response before committing to it.

Striking from behind Amy grabbed the overseer suddenly but not roughly, an arm around the neck, a hand on her hip to disconnect the radio. The overseer didn’t react nearly quickly enough to prevent the attack but once Amy began to squeeze her neck she realised she was in danger and her meagre two sessions of mandatory company self-defence lessons tried to kick in, insomuch as she vaguely remembered she’d had them. Somewhere in her subconscious mind her fight reflex shrugged, looking hopefully over at a flight reflex that had already hung up her ‘back in five minutes’ sign. She reached behind her to no avail and then tried to reach out to the overseer in front of her, but her comrade was no help at all.

The two agents made eye contact during their respective struggles, Amy determined and trying not to show how aroused she was, Sammi playful as she felt the overseer in her arms begin to weaken. She wasn’t sure if it was the force of Amy’s initial hit, the fact that she was purposefully digging the fingers of one hand into a pressure point under her arm, or some kind of mystical power of love thing happening (she suspected the second), but it felt a lot like her playmate wouldn’t be conscious for long. She wasn’t sure if the woman was getting into it or if she was in horrible pain, or if it was a little of both, but Sammi could swear she was starting to reciprocate her affections, perhaps hoping to win herself a reprieve. Too little too late though if she was trying to smooch her way out of this, with a sad sigh the overseer went limp in her arms.

Sammi gave her victim’s butt a firm squeeze for old time’s sake, then dragged her over to a corner to bind her up and gag her. When she was finished she noticed that Amy was still squeezing away at her still quite conscious overseer, she walked over to see if there was a problem.

“Adjust your grip a little,” Sammi advised, “You’re cutting off the blood flow, not choking her. I mean, you’re meant to be cutting off her blood flow, I guess. Unless you are choking her on purpose, is she choking you?”

The overseer flailed a bit in annoyance at the question. Amy adjusted her grip as instructed, eliciting a satisfying whimper of complaint.

Sammi regarded Amy’s prey casually as her eyelids began to flutter, “You know I wish she’d come up first, she’s got much nicer boobs.” She gave overseer’s breasts a perfunctory squeeze as if checking them for ripeness, her skilled thumbs tracing around the nipples teasingly. The overseer flailed a little again, less strongly than before. Sammi rewarded her defiance by twisting a nipple, causing her to moan in pain, the sudden shock coupled to the extended pressure finally putting her out.

“What now?” asked Amy as she bound and gagged the second overseer.

“Now you go in there and start to thin them out, my little Trojan pony,” Sammi smiled a wicked smile, “I’ll be right outside so send a few my way won’t you.”

Amy didn’t like the idea of going up against six researchers at the same time, but she figured she’d think of something when the time came. She considered the pressure of improvising a plan to dispatch six women in the same room as her to be less than the pressure of explaining to Sammi why she couldn’t do it, especially when Sammi had that look, so without another word she set to her task.

Walking into the research area Amy could feel the eyes of the other researchers follow her as she walked past them to the overseer station behind the others. Once she was out of their sight however they returned to their duties. Such was the discipline and the commitment to not getting into trouble that nobody said anything to her or mentioned the missing overseers. To do so might mean getting involved in something that could ruin a career, nobody wanted to look for trouble.

The overseer terminals were both locked to other users. The system used entirely invincible security systems that the developers guaranteed to be absolutely impossible to hack by any means known to science. Amy knew this system inside and out and she also knew its weakness. Searching the terminal she quickly found what she was looking for, the inevitable Post-It note with the password written on it. She’d never yet found anybody running one of these systems who trusted themselves to reliably memorise the code.

Accessing the terminal she found that she had control of the displays that every one of the other researchers was looking at. As a test, she sent one of the researchers at the back of the room a message that she had to report to the overseers in the weapons control room. To her relief, the researcher complied, meekly wandering out the door without a word.

Sammi intercepted this researcher in the corridor close by and wasted no time with her. She accosted her from the side as she passed and struck hard, her hand chopping down on the side of her victim’s neck, then the other side as the shocked researcher started to reel away from her. She then looped her arms around the chest of the now stunned researcher, linking hands under her ample bosom, allowing her to drag her off into an emergency gear cupboard. After swiftly tying and gagging the sleepy scientist Sammi left her crammed unceremoniously among the parachutes and emergency breathing gear.

Figuring that Sammi would be as good as her word in taking care of the researchers who left the room Amy sent a message to another of them to tell her that she needed to report to the overseers on the control deck. The researcher stood up and dutifully headed out the door, leaving the four others working silently away on processing their data.

Unlike the previous researcher however, this one was more of a go-getter. She had her eyes on an overseer’s position and she was going to work her socks off to get it, once ordered to. This can-do attitude manifested itself in her trying to run to the room she was summed to, rather than walking and in doing so her encounter with Sammi was somewhat more abrupt than Sammi had expected.

Sammi was just returning to her ambush spot when the researcher ran around a corner in the corridor and straight into her. They both sprawled on the floor, Sammi underneath, the researcher at first apologising for the accident as she sat up, but then realising that Sammi wasn’t wearing her mask and also recognising that Sammi was not on the research team.

Looking up from the floor, the wind knocked completely out of her sails, Sammi could see the researcher putting two and two together. She felt oddly awkward, somewhat unused to being caught like this and unsure what her next move was going to be. The delay was all that the researcher needed, she did that thing that every secret agent hopes that every sentry, minion or wandering civilian will never do. She yelled.

The mask didn’t help; the cry of alarm muffled by the breathing apparatus coming out indistinct and distorted, but loud enough to carry back to the cargo area, loud enough to alert the rest of the team. Loud enough too to snap Sammi out of her momentary lapse too.

Seething with annoyance at her own fallibility Sammi grabbed the researcher by the shoulder and pulled herself up, dragging her still shouting opponent down to the floor as she did so. The researcher tried desperately to defend herself as she cried out but she was not trained to fight, not to mention she was already out of breath from her shouting. Sammi punched her deep in the stomach, driving the last of the air out of her opponent, finally silencing her yells. The researcher tried to curl up into a ball, her immediate defensive instinct deciding that maybe an anti-bear defence would work. As it happened it sort of did, because no sooner had the researcher curled up than Sammi stood up and turned, ignoring her and preparing to face the rest of the researchers, who she figured couldn’t be far away.

In the cargo bay Amy looked up in alarm as she heard the shout, watching the rest of the researchers immediately stop what they were doing, looking up from their work like startled meerkats before heading for the door to help. Amy followed as quickly as she could, catching the last researcher before she made it out, grabbing her around the neck with her arm and quickly dragging her out of sight around the edge of the doorway.

The two of them toppled to the floor, Amy underneath, wrapping her legs around the other woman to prevent her slipping away as she carefully adopted the hold around her neck that Sammi had taught her. The researcher’s eyes bugged out in surprise but she found herself unable to cry for help, at least not loudly enough that the others could hear her in the commotion. She writhed against Amy, trying to gain leverage, testing her captor to see if there was a weakness she could exploit. Amy responded by nudging her boots gently up between the researcher’s legs, trying to distract her with a little teasing. She heard the researcher moan a little bit and smiled to herself, squeezing her victim even tighter.

In the corridor Sammi confronted the trio of remaining researchers, lined up as they were in the narrow corridor. The researchers eyed her fearfully, watching their stricken comrade wheezing on the ground, collectively unwilling to end up in the same position and well aware that, despite their superior numbers, in this corridor whoever led the attack was not going to have a good time.

“Who are you?” asked the researcher at the front of the line, hoping that by asking the question she’d at appear in the eyes of her colleagues to be doing something, and by exploring their diplomatic options she might end up postponing having to be first in line in the fight.

“I’m a spy,” Sammi replied evenly, “I’ve captured the whole crew one by one and now I’m going to capture you.”

“Well it’s four on one now!” piped up the researcher at the back of the line, helpfully nudging her fellows forward, “So why don’t you give up?”

“Why don’t you make me?” Sammi smiled, but her smile suddenly faded. The fallen researcher curled up by her feet had grabbed one of her ankles and was clinging to it for dear life. Suddenly Sammi was snared. Without another word the others attacked.

Back in the cargo bay Amy felt the researcher go limp in her arms and rolled her away. Knowing that her sleeper hold might last only a few seconds she cuffed the researcher as quickly as she could. She could hear the exchange in the corridor, but figured a few seconds would make less difference to Sammi than this opponent waking up and entering the fray. Once she had bound her victim Amy went off in pursuit of the others.

The fight in the corridor had not gone as expected for the research team. Their initial enthusiasm seeing Sammi apparently immobilised faded quickly as the first of them took a sharp blow to the front of her mask. She recoiled, more shocked than anything else, stumbling into the other two, causing the whole attack to lose momentum. As eager as those bringing up the rear were to see Sammi taken down, neither of them was willing to lead the charge and it was becoming clear that nor was the one in the front.

“Help me!” yelped the researcher on the floor, still clinging onto Sammi’s leg, unwilling to risk losing her grip and try to grab both, yet dreading that Sammi was going to take revenge if she wasn’t grabbed soon.

The researchers shuffled forward again, but the sight of Sammi raising a fist to strike stopped them again. The standoff continued as Amy joined at the rear of the group.

“We have to help her!” Amy announced with authority, appearing to try to push past the other women but in effect simply jostling them a little further forward and off balance. She leaned into them insistently, blocking any effort they may make to retreat.

Sammi recognised Amy’s voice and saw the opportunity her partner had created. She nimbly reached forward and struck the lead researcher with a chop to the side of the neck. The researcher tried to stumble backwards, her head swimming, but Amy unhelpfully shoved the group forward again, inviting Sammi to strike for a second time. Sammi smiled, chopping the dazed researcher again sending her stumbling into the arms of her comrades, who by now were starting to panic.

Watching the chaos in front of her Sammi took a moment to jerk her foot free of the fallen enemy on the floor. With a flick of her leg she pinned the woman by the neck to the floor, applying just enough pressure with her boot to start choking her. The pinned researcher let out a mewling noise and grabbed Sammi’s foot, trying to lift it from her neck to no avail. Seeing that the opponents to her front were in no shape for an immediate attack, Sammi decided to provoke them some more, jabbing down on her fallen victim once again.

“Help!” croaked the researcher, right on cue, again spurring her fellows forward. The lead researcher, still groggy from the hits she had received, put her fists up and bravely stepped forward, the others right on her heels again. This time however before the researcher could strike Amy slipped a hand through the tightly packed group and grabbed her butt, squeezing it firmly and affectionately. The shock and sudden intimacy of this touch caused the researcher to start forward somewhat faster than intended, turning her head to see who it was who had groped her. In doing so meet a sharp punch to the throat, right on the carotid artery, that put her out like a light. She slithered down to the floor, her comrades at first trying to support her weight, but then realising they needed to defend themselves.

“Let me help!” Amy insisted, unhelpfully shoving forwards again. She snaked her hands around the researcher to her front, cupping them underneath her breasts, stroking her thumbs across the latex where it covered her hardening nipples. The researcher was too shocked to say anything as she felt Amy push in tighter against her, pressing her breasts heavily against her back. Even in the middle of such incongruous circumstances it felt incredibly pleasant. Her mind wandered from the task at hand.

Seeing how Amy had captured the attention of one of the two researchers still standing Sammi decided to take advantage of the situation and grabbed the other one. She pulled the startled woman forwards by the wrists, exploiting her unstable centre of gravity and causing her to tangle with her fallen comrade, falling down right on top of her. Sammi jabbed her boot down firmly again on the neck of the woman at her feet, not enough to knock her out but enough to keep her out of action a little longer, and then dropped onto the back on the researcher in front of her, capping an unruly pile of rubber clad fighters.

Behind this fight the researcher in Amy’s hands had tried to move forward to help her friends but Amy’s touch was insistent, pulling her back and away from the others. Though the thought of diving on top of Sammi to join the fray entered the researcher’s mind, she was happier where she was. She didn’t know what was happening but if anybody asked she had surrendered, whatever, they didn’t pay her enough to brawl with spies.

On the floor Sammi set about trapping the head of the topmost researcher between her thighs and give a good squeezing. The last of the researchers, fresh from having Sammi’s boot on her throat, was lying back on her elbows, utterly bemused by the entire spectacle.

“You don’t want to fight,” Amy hissed to her own now very agreeable victim, giving her nipples another friendly squeeze, “So put your hands behind your back for me.”

The researcher complied with Amy’s command and Amy set about binding her arms extra tightly, feeling her captive had earned the discomfort for giving up on her friends so cheaply. She led her prisoner back into the cargo bay, seating her on the floor alongside the other victim before binding her ankles. The gags could wait, there was nobody left to alert.

In the meantime Sammi had quickly taken charge of her opponent, trapping her head between her thighs and giving her a long, hard squeezing. The researcher kicked her legs and wiggled as hard as she could, but Sammi was having none of it, punishing such wanton acts of resistance with some sharp spanking. Oddly enough spanking her prey only seemed to make her struggle more, but Sammi didn’t have time to really consider why this might be as her victim was soon sound asleep.

Momentarily ignoring the last of the researchers Sammi set about binding the other two sleeping beauties together, head to feet, so that they wouldn’t be tempted, or able, to go anywhere when they awoke. While she worked the last researcher watched and considered her options, realising gloomily that she didn’t have many.

“If you try to run,” Sammi said, addressing the researcher while not paying her any attention, “When I catch you I’m bringing worse than a spanking, so stay put.”

The researcher sat down meekly, ankles and wrists presented for Sammi to tie them as soon as she got around to it. She decided to consider this her resignation; she’d never liked this job anyway.

The Damocles prototype touched down on a secret runway six hours later, running on the last fumes from its fuel tank. As the gigantic machine rolled to a stop drab coloured utility vehicles zoomed out from under camouflage nets to meet it. They arrived just as the cargo ramp had extended out onto the ground.

Sammi and Amy stepped down to the ramp to be met at the end of it by a large black jeep. The driver got out to meet them, a tall, imposing woman in a tight black military uniform.

“Any complications?” asked the uniformed woman, looking up at the aircraft in wonder as her comrades began to board the aircraft to recover the prisoners and attach fuelling hoses.

“None,” answered Sammi curtly, “What about the fee?”

“Here,” replied the woman, handing Sammi a memory key, “Everything you asked for,” she looked up again at the plane as the soldiers began to file out of it carrying the crew, “Feels like you sold yourselves a little short. What do you even need that data for anyway?”

Sammi smiled, “When it happens, you’ll know.”

Without another word Sammi took Amy by the hand and the two of them set off walking down the runway to where their own aircraft waited. The uniformed woman watched the odd couple strolling away with a mystified shake of her head. Whatever they were planning she didn’t want to be anywhere near it.