- 6 -
The Vaught Plantation - August 5th, 1952 - 11:00pm

Elizabeth seethed as she listened to Gregory recount the details of her first meeting with Alice. Any sympathy she had for the young woman dissipated as Gregory’s mocking tone described her own breasts in great detail. It did not surprise her to hear the man relish her humiliation, but it galled her. She had imagined her plan clever and careful, perhaps only meager enough to slip Gregory’s attention. “How soon did she come to you?” Elizabeth demanded.

“Alice?” Gregory said with a huff of laughter.

“She didn’t. In fact, I haven’t officially met the woman. Don’t wring your hands so, Liz, what are you always telling the twins? Worry lines age you, and no decent husband wants a hag for a wife? Or was it some other blithely abusive mantra? — Forget it. No, as has been told to me, she fully intended to play your game. She got further in twenty-four hours than you ever thought she would. But, that wasn’t good enough. You needed to twist another knife. Or maybe, you got a little too on edge from your own game.”

Her cheeks flushed to scarlet.

He shifted slightly, enough to reveal the lower half of his face again. Leering with a predatory smile, he said, “Do you know what strikes me about this? All it took was a look at those tits of yours. A microdose of serum and that little tease got a woman to nearly ruin her life. If I told you to take them out — if, then would you? Let that stained dress fall off your pretty shoulders and show off the tits that doomed a poor girl?”

His voice faded. To her horror, Elizabeth found herself suppressing an uneasy energy in her hands. She wanted to do what he said. She had no illusions of her privacy any longer, but she never would display herself for Gregory so privately and intimately. To feel the urge to obey him caused her stomach to coil like hot wire. She willed herself to be still and focused on her breath, slowing it down until she heard him grunt, as though a question had been answered.

“Anyway, it wasn’t Alice who first tipped me off. It was your habitual betrayer that put me on the scent. Benny’s lovestruck reasoning made him confess to me as much as to you.”

The Vaught Plantation - July 31st, 1952 - 8:20am

Greg had slept a few hours in the car on the way back, but that had only worsened his mood. He hated going into the city. Too many people, and all of them on edge. The majority of the country looked at the unending war in the same way they looked at the weather. Some days it was good, some days it was bad, but for the most part it was beyond their control and little more than a conversation starter. In the Capital, things were different. The war hung over the place like an enormous vulture sitting on top of the Washington Monument. It made Greg grind his teeth and shortened a temper he’d spent years attempting to keep as long as possible.

The trip had been a handshake meeting. Greg found that the more influence he accrued, the less he had to do. On this occasion, he’d ridden for six hours to and around the city to have dinner and shake hands with a man who owned four warehouses in the Baltimore docks. The old money guys liked to “see the measure of a man” before doing business. Greg thought this was a bluffed reason to have too many meals where people fawn over them. He shook the man’s hand, had water and a single chicken breast, and left before dessert.

Once upon a time, Maddock would have been his driver, but Greg wanted someone around home that could manage things in his absence. Besides, they had plenty of young men looking to prove themselves. Disease, war, and famine caused by the aforementioned disease and war had left no shortage of errant rogues. Maddock plucked them out of cities like picking fleas off a dog and put them to work somewhere in Greg’s operation. Their alternative was usually the trenches in Eastern Europe, so they went along enthusiastically once they accepted they weren’t about to be dropped into a river. The scrappy kid assigned to Greg’s trip was an accomplished pickpocket and swindler. But he knew how to drive a car and was loyal enough to the man who kept him fed and clothed. That was enough for Greg to get a few hours of bumping, uneasy sleep.

After swapping to his own car, he drove himself home in the bleary hours of morning. Abby was already out of the house, off to the lab, no doubt. Greg took the time to shower and have a bite to eat, three pieces of toast with a large glass of milk. He dressed and smartened up as best he could before heading over to find his wife. He liked to think he wasn’t as addicted to sex as some people, but a full day without so much as seeing Abby caused the hair on the back of his neck to needle. He didn’t need to bend her over her lab station. A kiss would do, the chance to feel her body and taste her, to know what would be his once again the second she had a moment to spare.

Unfortunately, he walked into the warehouse to find Benny with his feet propped up on Maddock’s desk. Greg’s irritation found a quick and easy target, “Get your fucking feet down.”

“And good morning to you, too, brother,” Benny said in a cheerful tone. “Long night?”

Greg was in no mood for banter, “What do you want, Benny?”

“If you’re upset, I can certainly come back another time. It is…uh, not pressing.”

“Out with it.”

Benny’s demeanor shifted. The charm slithered off him and left an awkward, nervous man who glanced sideways at Maddock’s hunched, silent form. “I thought we might talk in your office.”

“I don’t have time for indulging your privacy, Benny. I did have a long night, so whatever it is you want, just say it and I’ll either give it to you or tell you to fuck off. Maddock’s as much me as my own fucking ears, so get on with it.” Greg grabbed a nearby chair and sank down.

Benny teetered on the spot. He opened his mouth twice before snapping it shut both times. On the third attempt, his face had drained of color, but he managed to speak at least. “Elizabeth and I had an argument last night.”

“And the sun rose today, so what?”

“During the exchange, I may have indicated a desire for a separation.”

Greg sighed. It wasn’t the first time Benny had tried to escape Elizabeth. “Fine, take off. You and your newest piece of tail can ride off into the sunset together as penniless tragedies.”

“The ‘piece of tail’ in question is Melanie Cunningham,” Benny said.

The name thwacked down near the end of Greg’s rapidly shortening temper. “Melanie Cunningham? Some other coincidentally named woman, right? Not the daughter of Senator Cunningham, cause that would be fucking insane. C’mon Benny, cut me some slack. I’m really not in the mood for a bad joke. That’s what this is. Cause I don’t know what else I would call it when my brother-in-law tells me he’s going to leave his wife for the precious baby girl of the man who sits one fucking step away from the center of this whole fucking apparatus. A woman who is twenty years younger than you by the way. Shit, Benny, how many women have you fucked in the last ten years. Pick any one of them, hell pick ten, I’ll give you a million bucks and a pat on the back, but tell me, look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t admit to Liz that you’re fucking Cunningham’s daughter.”

Benny bore the deluge of words well, but kept a wary eye on Maddock, who had done nothing more than stand up. “Sorry, Greg, but it’s true. We met a while back, you introduced us actually. We hit it off, and I’ve been seeing her ever since. Over a year now.” He paused and plucked up his courage. “We’re in love.”

Greg barked out a laugh, “No, you’re not. You’re married. With two daughters nearly the same age as Melanie. Oh, and Cunningham would cut your balls off himself if he knew.”

“I didn’t come here for your approval. It’s more of a courtesy than anything else. You have instructed me to be cautious about Elizabeth’s feelings, and I am afraid I misstepped there. You know how provking she can be. She was quite upset last night when I last saw her. I worry she might do something rash.”

Greg noted a minuscule change in Maddock’s expression. He didn’t acknowledge it and kept his gaze fixed on Benny. “She would be entirely justified. Benny, this doesn’t end well. I don’t know what kind of fantasy you’ve cooked up where you think you’re in love —”

“It is not a fantasy. I have suffered for twenty years under the heel of that frigid woman,” Benny protested. “All the while I have seen how you and Abby look at one another. I have seen others love, and I thought it would be something I never knew. But that is how I look at Mel, and how she looks at me. We talk about the future because we have a future together. It is nothing like the miserable ruminations on present and past that we have to endure on this cursed estate. Surely you have to appreciate that on some level. Surely you can empathize with it.”

Greg let his head rock back and stared up at the second floor of the warehouse. He assumed Abby was busy with her work, lost to the melodrama unfolding down below. In truth, he did feel sorry for Benny, but such emotions were small things, easily snuffed by his own devotion to his wife. “Benny, listen to me. You will go see Melanie today. And end it. I’m not going to list out the reasons for this, but suffice to say plenty of rational ones exist. Instead, I will tell you that any attempt to pursue this thread would put you into direct confrontation with me. And with Abby. Think about that on the way to see your girlfriend. Think about that while you give her a goodbye fuck. Tell her it’s over, and then think about it some more as you leave. Do you understand me? Do you understand what happens to people who go beyond the pale with me? When they go that far with Abby?”

The last blemishes of color faded from Benny. He clutched his hands compulsively, over and over. He tried again to speak, but failed, settling for a curt nod. Greg wasn’t satisfied, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow. “Yes, I understand,” Benny stammered. He picked up his hat and took a step toward the door. “Even if…even when I do this, I don’t know if Elizabeth will —”

“Let me worry about Liz,” Greg said with a dismissive wave.

Maddock walked to the outer doo and opened it. The two exchanged a nod as Benny slipped out into the sunny day. Maddock shut the door with a loud click and walked back to his side of the desk. He sat down before speaking, “Mrs. Vaught came down last night. She was visibly drunk and upset. She asked to see Abby. A while later, she left. Less drunk, more upset.”

Greg nodded and glanced up at the lab door. “Did you hear any shouting or broken lab equipment?”

“No, boss. Walls are thick. Don’t think Abby has left all night. Checked on her this morning, and she hadn’t changed clothes.”

“Have you slept?”

Maddock shrugged.

Greg nodded and rubbed his chin. Business and family shouldn’t mix, but it seemed the two never separated where the Vaught sisters were concerned. “Go after Benny. If he’s been seeing the girl for over a year, he’s doing it somewhere we haven’t noticed. Make sure he gets that I’m serious about this. After that, take the night off. I worry when both of us are sleep deprived.”

He got to his feet with a fatigued and exasperated grunt, clapped Maddock on the shoulder, and headed up to the lab.

Greg was the only person allowed to enter the lab without a knock. He knocked anyway, mainly due to a previous event that involved his unexpected arrival ending with singed eyebrows. Abby didn’t answer, but he entered anyway. The lab looked like pure chaos. Machines whirred and clicked. Things boiled and hissed. Papers were on nearly every surface and huge diagrams sprawled out on the floor. A strong scent of burnt sugar pervaded the air. In the middle of it all, wearing a pair of magnifying goggles and a black leather apron over a white smock, Abby was frantically making notations on a sketch pad. She looked up at him and grinned from ear to ear. “Thank Christ, I thought I was going to have to have Maddock jerk off in a cup.”

“Nice to see you too, love,” he answered, not exactly processing what she’d said. “You’ve been here all night?”

“Not all night,” she said. “I had breakfast a few hours ago. Took a walk. Had a coffee and a bath. Cleared my head.”

He noted the pile of burnt, uneaten toast sitting on her desk underneath a sheaf of papers as he moved around to her. She stripped off her goggles and took off the leather apron dropping both on the floor. Greg’s attention snapped to her as he realized she was naked underneath the protective gear. “Where are your clothes?”

“Didn’t need them getting ruined,” she said. Her attention turned to a variety of beakers and vials. She picked out a few of them as her butt jiggled tantalizingly from the open backed smock. “Something I was doing earlier was fairly likely to cause a nasty explosion.”

Greg gritted his teeth. “I thought we agreed to limit incendiary experiments.”

“Oh, sorry, not that kind of explosion. I started off on the theory of aerosol dispersal. Couldn’t make something scentless or there would have been no point to it. So I made a stink bomb effectively. Surprised you haven’t mentioned it. Still can’t taste anything but overcooked caramel. Realized immediately that was idiotic. Take your pants off.”

The sight of his wife’s naked body shifting under the loose fabric had already stoked the coals of his libido, but seeing her preparing sample taking equipment made him wary. His thoughts finally caught up to what she’d said when he entered. “Wait, you wanted Maddock to jerk off?”

“No,” Abby said, “that’s what I wanted to avoid. I didn’t know when you’d be back. Obviously I would prefer to use your sample, but I was getting impatient. Not sure he would have done it anyway. Not without asking you first. Also, despite his profound loyalty and indefatigable stoicism, I know he thinks that I’m a witch.”

Greg thought it was wise not to give bodily fluids over to Abby without knowing her intent. “You want a sample?”

“Of your ejaculate. Your cum.” She grinned as she held up a beaker. “It’s for science.”

“What kind of science?”

She set down the equipment and pulled off the smock. Her body looked as perfect as ever. She let the cloth linger at the top of her nipples for half a second, giving Greg a small taste of anticipation before pulling it down. Abby was no stranger to the Milktec Serum, but she used it like a sculptor uses a chisel. Her breasts had been crafted into a size and shape that could weaken Greg’s knees if he so much as glimpsed at them. She’d found a way to make her nipples the exact shape she preferred, perfect for her husband’s lips, and as sensitive and responsive as she could bear without leaving herself in a constant state of arousal. She left the lab so rarely that her complexion was that of moonlight everywhere except the collar line of her neck where slightly tan, freckled skin tapered into the cream of her chest. Greg didn’t think a more beautiful creature existed.

Abby took pleasure watching the bulge in her husband’s slacks grow as she padded lightly around the lab. She opened a cabinet and drew out a shoe box. “These are new,” she said. “Thinner than regular rubber. Ultimately cheaper to make, I think. They have a rather alluring quality to them, I think.” She pulled a pair of elbow length gloves out of the box. They shimmered with reflected light as she carefully pulled them on. They stretched tight over her hand and creaked as she closed and opened her fist. “Polyvinyl chloride gloves. More a novelty than functional, but they make a good water deterrent. And they’re sterile enough.” She let the edge of the second glove snap against her skin.

Greg was surprised at how alluring he found the dark plastic contrasting with his wife’s near luminescent skin. He finally obliged her request and unbuckled his slacks. Whatever she intended to do with his sample, he figured it would be worth the experience of having her touch him with those gloved hands. Abby moved closer to him, but stopped again, bending over for his enjoyment while she plucked a small squeeze bottle out of another cabinet. It spluttered as a thick gel sprayed into her palm. “A lubricant,” she said. “Useful for keeping everything moving smoothly.” She smeared it along her glimmering fingers as she stepped closer. Greg dropped his boxers, and his cock sprang out at full attention as she pressed her naked body into him.

She stared into his eyes as her gooey hand closed around the girth of his manhood. The gel was cold but warmed amazingly quickly between the glove and his own body heat. She moved her hand in a slow stroking motion as she pulled him into a kiss. Greg fought the urge to wrap her in his arms and lift her onto his cock. His hand slid over the curve of her hip and his fingers dug into the side of her ass. The feeling of sinking into her soft flesh sent a shiver through him. If all the rest of the world melted away and he still had her, if he could still feel the warmth of her underneath his fingertips, then he would be happy. The slick glove glided along his length at an incessant pace. She flexed her fingers, tightening or loosening her grip at random, and smiled as his breathing deepened.

“What is this for?” he grunted, trying to distract himself to prolong the feeling. “And don’t say science.”

Abby smirked and slowed her hand. “It wouldn’t be fun to explain right now. Can’t a girl enjoy the feeling of a cock throbbing in her hand.” She moved her other hand around and slid her fingers against his balls. With agonizing slowness, she cupped him and squeezed, beginning an alternating pattern of pressure between her two hands. “You focus on emptying these heavy things. The more you give me, the more science I can do. Say when you’re ready, I don’t want to spill a drop.”

Greg’s free hand grabbed the nearby table for support. He apparently didn’t need to say anything. With deft speed, Abby pulled one hand away and quickly slipped the head of Greg’s cock into a cold glass tube. His hand clamped hard on her ass as he came. His knees went weak as thick spurts of cum hosed the inside of the beaker. The rubber covered hand milked him at a leisurely pace, making certain every drop oozed out of him. When he was finally drained, Abby cupped his balls again and gave them an affectionate squeeze. “God, that made me hornier than I thought,” she mused. “I could perk you up, and we can go again.” She seemed to remember the beaker of cum and frowned. “Oh, but the work…”

Shambling over to a stool, Greg took a seat after stuffing his dick back in his pants. “Mind explaining what you’re up to?”

“Elizabeth came to visit last night,” Abby said. She put the sample aside and went to collect her lab clothes. It was disappointing to see her ravishing body disappear behind the bulky garments, but Greg thought it for the best if he wanted to have a conversation with her longer than his serum-shortened refractory period. “I’d been in a loop with a problem for a few hours at that point. She riled me up, and I told her off. Blurted out something to be hurtful like all sisters do, but once she was gone I remembered what I said. It rattled the problem loose.”

“The problem?”

“A call and response component within the serum. Well, within matching serums. It was an idea proposed a while back by Klein, one of the other — doesn’t matter, the gist of it is that a hucow is more productive under certain scenarios, effectively when she is happy. Now, initially, we ascribed that happiness to the same metrics as a general woman, but opinions drifted into the idea that hucows operated at a more base instinct level. They want to be fucked. If they’re fucked, they’ll be happy.

“But, Klein proposed an idea that hucows need not only sex, but companionship. Devoted companionship at that. Well, devoted in a sense. They need a bull which they can call their own. A male specifically for them. It creates a safety net in their mind as competition increases. The papers from the Philadelphia facility backed up this idea. The male to female ratio worsened and milk production declined. When external males were brought in to offer sexual fulfillment to the hucows, the rate increased, but not as significantly as against a control group where long term companionship was secure.”

Greg nodded along through her rapid fire words. “So, hucow women like to have committed relationships, too? We gonna start marrying them off?”

“No. This is a biological problem, not exactly my field, and certainly not one I can explain to you.”

He smirked, “Didn’t marry me for my scientific mind, eh?”

“I don’t understand it enough to explain it. I’m sure someone more versed in it would have no trouble translating it for you. The hormone set we’re utilizing to alter the biology of women is doing so unilaterally. It’s why they have such high sex drives at all. We simply didn’t realize they also had all the other mental aspects of a sped up reproductive system. Desires for mates, desires for progeny, et cetera. But, bulls are…bullish, and they love to roam for the same reason hucows want to stay put. Roaming bulls have less competition by increasing their supply.”

“Now that’s something I understand,” Greg muttered. “The supply and demand bit, not the supply being fresh hucow pussy.”

Abby rolled her eyes at him. “So, a component which satisfies both sides of this equation would be of value, correct? That’s why I need this.” She tapped the beaker full of cum with a pipette.

“My semen will fix it?”

“Not yours particularly, but if my idea is right — and how often am I wrong? — then I can code the serum to shift protein structures in your cum to match a mirror protein in the corresponding hucow version.”

“And that does?”

She crossed the room and picked up two small models of what Greg thought were atoms. One of them had blue balls at the end of sticks attached to a slightly larger center ball, the other was the same except for red. Abby held one up, “This is the bull’s cum.” She held up the other. “This is the hucow’s…well, usually we target this sort of thing to pelvic muscle tissue or maybe the cells of the uterus. That bit’s not important, just that this represents the hucow.” She twined the two models together and pulled, demonstrating them locked. “We can bioengineer devotion. If I gave you a serum with this type of formula and took the same type myself, our bodies would change to have hormonal responses to each other. The oils on your skin would arouse me by simply existing. I would be absolutely yours in every way.”

Greg rubbed his chin and frowned. “So, you could give me that stuff and then find some random woman, dose her, and she wouldn’t be able to live without me? Like a magic love potion?”

“Yes!” Abby squeaked and tossed the models over her shoulder. They shattered on the ground, sending small balls bouncing every which way. She kept a wild smile on her face for several seconds before it slowly slid off into a queasy look. “Oh, wait, is this monstrous?”

He shrugged. “Some. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t test the theory, I guess.” They lapsed into silence as Abby went to look over her notes. It wasn’t unusual for his wife to grapple with moral quagmires, and it usually put her into a foul mood. Greg figured it was better to get all the unpleasant topics out of the way at once. “Why’d Liz stop by? That’s breaking a decade-long streak, ain’t it?”

“Hmm? Oh, she wanted more serum. Not sure she said why. I didn’t pay much attention to whatever she said.”

“Was she upset?”

“I would think so,” Abby looked up from her notes. “Is something wrong?”

“She and Benny had a squabble. From what Benny said, Liz took this one personally. He’s worried she might do something extreme.”

“Guess I won’t share my mind controlling serum with her then,” Abby said wryly. “What is it that you are worried about?”

Greg sighed. “Benny’s been fucking Cunningham’s daughter.”

“It’s not like Elizabeth to be jealous of his waifs,” Abby mused.

“This one is different. Benny says he loves her. Told Liz that they’d run away together and damn the consequences.”

“Oh, that would be catastrophic. Cunningham would rather see a radioactive Washington than let his precious little girl run off with someone like Benny. Anyone short of a highly educated army major fresh back from the front and quick on his way to the Senate and then presidency isn’t good enough for his little Mel. Honestly, one more conversation with that man about her, and I’ll turn her into a brainless cow myself and let him pin his hopes on a litter of grand-calves.” She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck. “I assume you’re handling this?”

“Sure she didn’t say why she wanted the extra doses?”

“I don’t think so. I know what I speculated, put words in her mouth. Mostly about her putting other things in her mouth.”

A buzzing noise interrupted Greg’s next thought. Abby crossed the room and pressed down a button. The intercom speaker crackled to life. Maddock’s voice came through, “Sorry for the interruption, boss. Mr. Flensing requests a word.”

Both of them scowled. “It’s like he can smell a war crime and comes running.”

A few moments later, Erlich Flensing darkened the lab’s door. Few people gave Greg an unsettling feeling, and Flensing ranked right at the top. The man was thin with protruding cheekbones that drew out his skeletal visage. He had a thin covering of black hair which he kept swooped to one side and oiled to the top of his head. He wore a hat nearly around the clock except when introducing himself, furthering the impression that his entire being was held together by seams. He was in his late fifties and spoke with absolutely no hint of an accent. Flensing spoke English in the fashion of a hyena mimicking the sound of a baby’s cry. He smiled, an expression which did nothing to convey warmth, and greeted them, “Good morning, Abigail. It is a pleasure to see you once again. And, my luck, Greg as well. It is so rare that I am allowed to see both of you at once.”

Abby’s upbringing of forced social politeness saved her once again, “Erlich, you’ve surprised us. We weren’t expecting another shipment for a week yet.”

“Oh, I am not here about a shipment. I was simply in the neighborhood, so to speak, and thought I would come by to renew our offer.”

Greg’s frown deepened. He didn’t know where Milktec found a man like Erlich, but the man’s employment with the corporation gave credence to the idea that they were secretly run by a Satan worshiping cult. “The lady’s made it pretty clear that we’re not interested,” Greg said as gently as possible.

“Ah, but things change,” Flensing said, not missing a beat. “Abigail’s research has been invaluable to us. We simply wish to bring her closer to the center of things. We view this as an ongoing negotiation. Already we have increased our investment in this operation many times over. Among those investments has been a lax approach to handling of materials. Highly classified materials. Though we haven’t any reason to suspect wrongdoing on your end of the operation, we have recently discovered a few errant entrepreneurs along the chain. You recall your former liaison, Mr. Clarke?”

Abby folded her arms. “Yes, we were sorry to see him reassigned.” Greg stifled a laugh. The former Milktec envoy had been boisterous and engaging, every bit the opposite of Flensing.

Flensing’s lips peeled back in a thin show of teeth, “He now resides at one of our facilities. It was discovered that he was depriving clients of small portions of their deliveries and reselling the serum on the black market. Unfortunately, he did not follow the proper safety protocols and suffered an extreme exposure to an experimental strain. The result was…unsavory.” Flensing paused to take out a small handkerchief and wipe his hands. “His trade network was rooted out. Arrests and detainments have been made. And so on, and so forth. The point, my friends, is that Milktec grows ever more paranoid.”

“Wait, are you threatening to cut me off?” Abigail said. “That’s ridiculous. Milktec wouldn’t be half of what —”

“Calm, please,” Flensing said. “No, we have no intention of ending our current relationship. With either of you. It has all been quite beneficial. And there are no squeaky wheels in your operation. I’ve checked.”

Greg’s frown transitioned into outright scowl. He didn’t need more bad news. The idea that Flensing was sneaking around after his men was incredibly bad news. Most people who met the man assumed he’d been nothing short of an SS officer. Greg looked into it and discovered quite the opposite. Erlich Flensing had been ceaselessly hunted by the Nazi government due to his tendency to murder high ranking Nazis. Why Flensing did it was never clear, but the man spent his war years passing information to the Allies and butchering fascists, which earned him a free ticket to America once the dust settled. If he’d been a more palatable character, the politickers might have paraded Erlich around as some kind of example, but instead he was scooped up by Milktec and became the boogeyman of their security operations. Getting him as their liaison had been a troubling event, but Greg had known about Clarke’s side business, so it wasn’t entirely surprising. “Then get to the point, Erlich,” Greg said.

“Unwanted attention is coming. The government grows less enthralled with Milktec as the weeks pass. Their inability to turn the tide fully in Europe has left certain parties scrambling for a new target to rile the public against. These incidents that they claim are attacks on the moral fiber of good people are seen by some as an opportunity to rein in Milktec’s sprawl. My employers do not wish for this to harm ongoing projects, but a circling of the wagons may be necessary in the future. Those who do not circle must be left outside the protection. While you have nothing to worry about from Milktec, I cannot vouch for a vengeful government. Now would be an inopportune time for our highly placed allies to become erratic.”

Fuck, he knows. How the fuck would he know? Greg thought.

Abby spoke before Greg could voice his alarm. “I have made some new strides that are in their early phases. I hope to have a formal report prepared by the end of the week, but it may take more time. I don’t know how it would compare to previous breakthroughs, but it might represent a path to a substantial increase in productivity and, more importantly, participant happiness. Happy hucows make more milk, but they also make better publicity, don’t you agree? This mechanism I’m working on could also have a practical deployment in dealing with parties who might be opposed to Milktec’s research.”

The skeletal smile returned, but hungrier. “Interesting. A few of our contracted operatives are investigating a chemical level of…control. Such a tool would be useful.” He folded his hands and slowly tapped the fingers of one across the back of the others. “I have a proposal that would expand our working relationship. The Vaught plantation has a rather notorious history to go along with its vast landholding, much of which is mortgaged. Farrs Post is conveniently located and well seeded toward the idea of Milktec serum usage. We no longer wish for you to come to us, Abigail. No, on this occasion the mountain will come to Mohammad. We wish to come here, to you. Milktec is formulating plans to buy you wholesale. This lab, the Vaught estate, and even in a manner of speaking, Farrs Post. The end goal being to convert this entire area into a new state-of-the-art research facility, obviously run and operated by you two. Greg, you would need to scale back your involvement with your other enterprises. Abigail, as resident director, you would enjoy full privileges to all research and resources. I have a dossier here that outlines the full breadth of the operation. All I need is your cooperation, and that of any other parties you wish to have directly involved.”

They exchanged a glance. “When do you need an answer?” Abby asked.

“The offer stands until it no longer does.” He gave a slight bow of his head. “I will leave you to your work. Thank you for your time.”

Before either of them could say anything, Flensing swept out of the room, taking the air with him.