53 Miles West of Venus Ch. 01

Corporate takes security here very, very seriously. So do I... and fortunately so does our Security Chief Phylicity. She'd been the one who had answered the gate intercom a few minutes ago and she'd already gathered all of her staff for a full security meeting, including our four hourly guard contractors and her two salaried deputies. The room was noticeably full of tension and everyone was noticeably anxious. Bad news travels fast, especially here in the back ass end of nowhere.

"You were followed again," Phylicity stated. It wasn't a question. We have an oral security code for the front gate, not to mention at least a dozen hidden cameras that watch our gate, the ranch road, the rail line, the turnoff from the local county road and all obviously vulnerable sections of barbed wire fencing along the way. Not including the three or four dozen cameras that watch over everything inside our fence. If things were normal, which they had been until recently, I'd quote some random meaningless song lyric. Maybe Dylan, or perhaps Beach Boys or Joni Mitchell or just whatever song earworm was in my head at the moment. If there was some vague minor trouble, like a strange car obviously following us, then we were to quote Beatles - that was a Code Yellow situation. Worse or more obviously threatening potential external danger was a Code Orange warning, requiring a quote from the Rolling Stones. Imminent and immediately direct danger, Code Red meant Led Zeppelin. Corporate had similar but different codes of their own with various meanings, but these were our local ones. Since I had double quoted the Beatles, this suggested that I was nudging up the already preexisting Code Yellow alert a bit to the edge, but not quite to Code Orange status.

Phylicity would know exactly how to handle this. She was born mixed race, a rather light-skinned black and beautiful, but innately simmering with more than her rightful share of suspiciousness at the world to begin with. But just because she kept her long hair in 'street-sista' braids didn't mean that there wasn't a razor sharp brain underneath. It did make her resemble the 'Predator' alien hunter more than just by accident. Phyl was no more ghetto than I was, coming from a nice middle-class neighborhood just outside of Chicago. She was taller than Claire, but not by much and no one ever looked or talked down at her. She did high-level taekwondo, and could have cleaned Claire's clock in less than ten seconds. She took her job seriously and didn't do anything half-assed. That was the Army Ranger School training influence (she had passed the qualifying school - but she wasn't a 'Ranger') had helped to make her the best security head I'd ever had to boss. If I ever decided to break my rule against sleeping with the staff, she'd actually have been my first preferred choice. You never, ever needed to give her an actual direct order - just the vaguest hint of a suggestion would usually do the job. If I ever had to go into a battle I'd want her as my senior NCO to lead the troops. That's exactly why requested her assignment here from corporate.

"Trip into town this morning was ok, but I think they were already waiting for us at the first stop, the post office. White Chevy Suburban, newish, not a lot of dust on it either and that helped it to stand out it from the crowd. Claire has a cell pic of the rear plates, but it's not great, a better view of one of her fingers than the car, but enough to work with I think. I told her to get it to you immediately after she gets the groceries in. They also followed us back at least to the ranch road turnoff."

"They did," she confirmed, walking over to pull up for me on a monitor the digital security camera that covered the turn-off from the paved county road to our private dirt ranch road that we shared with a couple of local ranchers. "They drove past it about a quarter mile and then circled back to park right by the turn-off, staying on the shoulder of the county road. Driver and a passenger. They waited there about ten minutes and then drove back towards Aphrodite. They just left about the time you pulled up downstairs."

"Ok, twice being followed we all agreed could just be coincidence, but neither of us believed in that then... and now three times, three weeks in a row means deliberate intent. What are your thoughts Phyl?"

"They've used a different car every week but this shows identical behavior. Wouldn't surprise me if they'd actually started to watch us a week or two even earlier. Martin had the grocery run three weeks ago and we all know that he's pretty oblivious. He probably never even used the rear view mirror once the whole trip, so they could have been tailing him and us even earlier than we know for sure. This could have been set up as a planned snatch though, a target of opportunity sort of situation if they'd seen Claire all alone in town by herself. But probably not, since they were using a late model Suburban, unless there was a second 'snatch car' waiting somewhere but not following. Too obvious and noticeable in a parking lot, especially when Claire goes all Kung Fu on them and starts breaking kneecaps." Everyone laughed, but it was an all too likely result of anyone trying to grab our cute but egotistical and manic petite geneticist.

"My thoughts too. They'd likely have had an old nondescript truck or a van for that sort of thing, if it was intended as a fast snatch and grab. Not 100% impossible though, if they thought they could manage to seize one of us with little or no risk. I'd lean then to the idea of an off-road ambush as being more likely though, maybe right off of the county road here with no witnesses in sight or sound for miles. Either way, we keep to the buddy system... indefinitely until I say otherwise."

"Stay on Yellow, or do you want to tweak our protocols a bit?" She enquired neutrally.

"Stay. We've got good firm procedures and let's keep following them to the letter, but let's do an early quarterly review tomorrow morning anyway so that they're fresh in our minds. What I would really like you to do is have the staff conduct an updated physical security review. I mean a really comprehensive tour of every inch of the fence line and both the roadway and railroad security gates. Then update corporate this evening, but flag it as routine."

"Ok, we'll look around for any and all outside penetration zones and then flag and tag them. I'll get with Keo." Again, not a question. Keono, her senior deputy normally handled most of the external perimeter related security issues. He was from Poravuvu but like many of the islanders was of mixed western blood and very American in his attitudes... and in the two years that he'd been here had further embraced an attitude and styling of the old Wild West as well. Like a modern day gunslinger he rode the fence line on a horse every morning and knew every rock in or around the crater like the back of his hand. From the saddle you'd easily mistake him for an Indian, some predatory Apache or Comanche, and he possessed exactly this sort of scouting mentality. He could sneak about in the sand and brush in the dark like a shadow, and often did, just to predict what his future enemies might try against him.

"Just leave our potential intruders a nice obvious place or two to crawl under the barbed wire from the road, but just a few. Check all of the motion and IR sensors and don't be afraid to install more, if needed. Remember, we're supposed to look mostly abandoned, neglected and relatively oblivious to security concerns. Just a legacy shell operation of some minor company of little or no interest or importance. That's still our motto, keeping our lights hidden under a bushel! My gut instinct is that our outside friends have just recently discovered us and are still trying to figure out who and what we are and what we're up to. Let's keep being mysterious!"

"So now that they know where we are," Phyl mused, "they'll then probably come and pay us a late night visit to take a closer look, sooner rather than later?"

"That's my guess for how this will escalate. They'll drive up and down the ranch road a few times late at night to see what they can from the road, but that won't be much. Everything's hidden down here on the crater floor except for the very top of the Ops building roof we're right here on the central uplift. So unless some of the ladies are sunbathing nude up there again their view of us isn't going to be very memorable!" Everyone laughed and I continued, "So they'll have to cross the wire and at least sneak up to the rim to get a decent look at anything down here. I'd expect them also to launch a drone or two, high altitude during the day but maybe flying lower at night so they can get a thermal map of the crater, showing them what buildings we use or don't. With most of the old mine structures empty, the few ones that we do use should be obvious, especially this big central one, Operations."

"What are the rules of engagement then... if some people sneak in at night and start trying to find their way in here?" The hesitant voice came from one of the newest contract security guards, Dwayne, I think his name was. We leased them from a large security agency in Dallas for much higher than market pay for a six month employment contract, not to mention free room and board. Most liked the job enough to extend their contracts and stay with us. We were able to skim the cream of the usual rent-a-cops and our current four guards were an aggressive and dedicated bunch... and each were all ex-military, three former Army and a Marine. If shooting was ever necessary, these four could more than handle their own.

"No change. Watch, wait and observe. If someone other than from the Collins or Falls Key ranches comes down that road you get Phyl, first. When someone crosses the fence or an internal sensor goes off, you then call for me... immediately! In the wild remotely unlikely possibility that you think someone is shooting at you, you hunker down and stay put and DON'T SHOOT BACK! Yes, this is Texas and it is indeed your God-given right to blast away at anyone sticking a toe across your barbed wire... but don't. Please exhibit restraint. They want to get information about us, fine... we need to get some information about them too, preferably passively... at least for now. Clear?"

It was. I listened quietly while Phylicity gave her team their orders and challenged them to attempt to discover each day an entirely new and different means for an aggressor to attempt to penetrate our facilities that hadn't already been observed and noted. We already had a pretty fat binder book full of potential physical security threats and our suggested means of dealing with each, but she was challenging her crew to get creative and discover more... and she was even offering a cash bonus for the best simulated threats. Good thinking.

Shortly before the meeting was over, Claire arrived upstairs on the elevator and passed on the cell picture of our tail. Blown up on a full sized monitor the image looked like crap, but Phyl grumbled and thought that she could clean it up enough to run a backdoor Department of Motor Vehicles search on the plate. She succeeded, but the results were disappointing as DMV records indicated that this plate ought to have belonged to a 2008 Blue Toyota Prius. Another computer search revealed that the front and back plates had been reported stolen in Waco several weeks ago. A dead end... mostly. This just confirmed for me my fears and suspicions that our unseen nemesis had resources and had far from an innocent intent.

"You want to go Orange... I can feel it and I don't blame you at all." Phylicity muttered, giving me a casual but yet firm massage with her fingers across my upper shoulders and neck as I sat drooding.

"I do... and corporate won't second guess me or blame me later, probably... for slightly over-reacting. But that would mean a whole lot of extra work, hassles and protocols for everyone, none of which would guarantee we'd learn a single damn thing about the folks watching us. No... we'll stay at Yellow caution and keep playing stupid until they do something to force us to react. No casual trips for anyone into town though, I don't care who wants to go or why. It can all wait until next Saturday, which I think also means that you're next on the grocery pick-up list but you'll need at least two extra guards. Speaking of that, we should order extra stuff too, enough for at least two weeks if not three, in case the situation escalates and we think we're about to get sieged in. We've got months' worth of MRE's and other emergency stuff downstairs but none of us want to subsist on those."

"Orange also means shutting down most normal operations and cutting loose all of the hourly staff and contractors, except my four guys. That's nearly two dozen sets of potentially loose lips that could be telling some rather interesting stories to anyone paying or just listening. At that point we might just as well entirely close up shop and pack out. We're well past our quota, but quitting before we really have to would be unfortunate."

"It would, and that's at least another bridge or two further down the road that we don't have to cross today. Send that advisory only notice to main corporate security tonight though. Emphasize to them that it's 'advisory'. Some of them worry more about things than we do! Anyway, fuck it... at least for this evening. I'll be upstairs grilling chicken on the roof, so dinner probably will be ready at about dark, as usual. I'll throw a keg into the freezer so that the beer will be nice and cold too."

"I'll be there, but first you're getting a neck rub. You're totally tensed out, and not just because of the trip. Is Claire pestering you again?"

"Full court press. She even dropped her panties and spread for me. I should have pounced on it just to teach her a lesson about teasing."

"Or do what I do... tease her back and tie her to the bed, then tease her some more with lots of starting and stopping and when she's good and hot leave her alone for an hour or two to cool down, and then start all over again. That clit ring makes her crazy sensitive and waiting helplessly is good punishment for the little bitch!"

"Oh, I'm really tempted, but since I'm the boss around here it is up to me to set some sort of positive example to the rest of you, especially the sex crazed scientists, of which Claire is only one of several rather oversexed ladies." Phyl snorted, but with amusement. It was no secret to anyone that she hooked up with Claire a couple of times a month, whenever either of them got bored or especially horny. Between them, they were said to have the two highest sex drives in the crater and each liked girls just as much as a roll with a guy.

Phylicity gave me a nice neck rub and got most of tension out of my upper back too and finally let me depart to start dinner with just a final quick hug and a peck on the cheek. She'd made no secret of the fact early on that she'd share my bed sheets with me in a heartbeat, should I so much as crook a little finger at her, but she also really did understand my position. Everyone might just be sleeping with everyone else around here, but someone (alas me) needed to be recognized not only as 'the boss', but also as an impartial one. I wouldn't play favorites or bend the rules for my playmates. Unlike everyone else, I was seen as 'fair' and unbiased, unprejudiced and independent. It was a complicated mental position to keep and hold, but pretty much essential. Especially if there was now likely to be trouble soon.

"Oh, one last thought," I muttered, turning around just before I was about to take the stairs down, "cash in any favors you might have or just plain lie your ass off and try to get a hold of any external security camera footage you can find from the Wal-Mart and Sam's parking lots. There's no outside cameras at the post office and I don't think that Wells has any either, except covering the loading docks out back. Beg, borrow or steal whatever you can find though. The idea of a second vehicle waiting along with that white suburban is now suddenly nagging at me... let's prove or disprove that theory before things get any more complicated."

Phyl nodded, "I've got a friend at the county sheriff's office and I can have him officially get a copy of the footage Monday and then I could pay him a social visit on my day off on Tuesday. Ok for me to go into town alone? Armed, of course?"

"Sure thing. Now is he that deputy you were telling some story about a few months ago? The cop who stopped you outside a bar in town and was threatened to run you in for suspected DUI unless you let him see your tits and then give him a blow job?"

"Same one. Took me home to play 'handcuffs' with but I ended up getting the cuffs on him and then gave him all of the milk chocolate pussy that he could handle! Rode his lily-white cracker ass for almost two straight days until he begged for mercy. Made the poor boy cum so much that he got dehydrated just from loss of splooge! Called me back the next week wanting more, but I've been teasing him since. Taught the boy a good lesson that pussy is all pink on the inside, but yeah, he's really pretty much a complete raging asshole out of bed. Too bad, he wasn't half bad as a fuck though. Ok, maybe it's time to give him a chance for a proper date anyway, if he can get us those tapes... and then just maybe I'll let him use the cuffs on me this time!"

I had to laugh. Sometimes I just couldn't tell who was crazier and the most slutty, Claire or Phyl! I've never understood why some (many) women are attracted to guys that are obvious jerks, and even complete assholes. I've heard the "they're confident" excuse a dozen times but I'm pretty certain that this isn't the real reason. A cynic (often me) would suggest instead that many women want to be submissive and be towed about by the arm or hair and told what to do... and usually obediently do it. I don't quite hold to that machismo philosophy myself, and being a fairly self-confident guy I'd like to believe that there's some middle ground to be found between being a raging asshole and a cringing wallflower.

So, with a somewhat lighter heart and much less neck tension, I went back downstairs to the kitchen to gather up the packages of chicken, not to mention the beans and corn, and I took the elevator up to the rooftop to start grilling dinner. The other unwritten (but understood) rule about the Saturday grocery run was that the driver was then also responsible for cooking dinner that night for everyone. It was the chef's day off.

Most folks semi-cheated or shirked the duty by either buying bags of burgers from Dairy King or else grabbing a dozen or so family sized frozen entrees from Sam's and just tossing them into the ovens. Technically, this was also now Claire's responsibility this late afternoon... but she was a horrible cook and the poster girl for sloughing off on the duty in the past by buying random frozen crap like corn dogs or grade-Z chicken nuggets. Little Miss Priss wouldn't be caught dead slaving away in a kitchen anyway... too likely to break a nail! By informal agreement, we now always arranged to appoint someone else to take over this duty from her whenever her turn came up. Today, it was me. Since I was the boss and needed to present a proper example, I'd bought several jumbo bags of chicken leg quarters and was going to BBQ the lot of them. We had a full staff of nearly thirty people and another double-handful of resident dependents, but with two large gas grills cooking away, supply would relatively soon become equal to demand. Not to mention an ice-cold keg of frosty brew!