annealed to the board, again using the alignment of the molecular structure of the crystallized silicon and crystallized metals to serve as the digital circuit. It was sort of digital, actually, since they didn't use "on or off" binary logic like human electronic computers did. They had a trinary logic system, composed of _positive_, _neutral_, and _negative_, the three states in which a molecule could be aligned. Memory was a simple matter of setting aside a section of a chip for storing data, or chips that served solely as memory storage devices, where data existed within the molecular alignment of the matter of the device itself. Every single molecule in the internal structure of a moleculartronic component was a part of the chip's processing power or memory. With moleculartronics, a single chip had more processing power than a mainframe. A single moleculartronic circuit board had the power of a supercomputer. Jason's panel, a moleculartronic device, was like carrying around ten Cray supercomputers, and his panel was considered _small_. The microprocessor in the device in Ailan's hand had more computing power than the most sophisticated desktop personal computer any human ever built.

"I wondered why you weren't in a logic class this semester," he chuckled. "They don't teach Control III in the spring, so you had no place to go."

He nodded.

"Oh, I meant to ask, how did you do that melting the armor trick?" he asked.

"That was easy," he said with a scoff. "I had chemistry last semester, Professor. Vandirium armor reacts with tetrasodium bisulfate and recombines to form gaseous sodium bivandirium sulfate and titanium bisodium oxide. I just made up a solution mixed in with a little something to make it revert to gas when it came into contact with nitrogen, and put it in a jar."

Ailan laughed. "How did you figure that out?"

"I didn't. My chemistry teacher last semester did that as an experiment. I just remembered how he did it, that's all."

Ailan gave him a sly look, then chuckled. "I heard that you made peace with the Marines. I heard that their post commandant personally ordered arbitration. You sorta won."

"Geez, where do you get all this, Professor?" he asked in surprise.

"My wife is a major in the Marines," he revealed. "She works in the commandant's office. From what I heard, Monday, after she heard about that Army unit that tried to put you in that dog collar, the order came down right of the commandant's office that it stops. They were going to send in the company commander, but the squad Lieutenant requested permission to do the negotiating."

He grunted. "Well, I had to give in on the date, but I got a guarantee that it stops afterward," he said. "I can live with that."

"What stops? You shouldn't close your mind on the idea of a Faey girlfriend, Jason. Our races are so similar we're virtually identical. We're not _alien_ aliens," he said with a sly wink.

"You're right," Jason said evenly, hoisting his pack over his shoulder. "You're just conquerors."

Ailan said no more. There was nothing that he could say to that, and allowed Jason to leave unchallenged.

                                        * * *

Despite his adamant stance that he did _not_ socialize with Faey, he ended up with Tim and Symone after his martial arts class. They ate pizza and studied, which was to say Tim and Jason studied while Symone read another human romance novel. After that, Tim taught Symone how to play ping-ping in the rec room on the first floor as Jason got a little work done. Symone was very agile and had good hand-eye coordination, so she quickly became a viable threat to Tim's ping-pong supremacy.

"This is bullshit," Tim laughed after she took a five point lead on him. "You just learned how to play!"

"Take your beating like a woman," she said tauntingly. "Your serve."

"Well, I heard about it, but I had to come see for myself," Jyslin called from the doorway. She filed into the room, wearing the tank top and shorts she wore to work out, both black. "Do you have something nice picked out for Friday, Jason?" she asked with a sultry smile.

"I'll be ready," he said in a calm yet ominous tone. "I hope you enjoy it. It'll be the first and last date we have."

"Oh, so this is the one that started all this," Symone said with a laugh, putting the paddle down.

"Who are you?" Jyslin asked in Faey.

"I'm Tim's babe," she said with an outrageous grin.

"The one in the collar," Jyslin noted dryly.

"Yup. Two days hanging around Tim and Jason when you're naked makes you want to hang around some more," she said with a malicious grin. "They _rocked_ me," she said breathlessly.

"Symone," Jason said sharply.

"Hey, I'm trying to give you a reputation here," she winked.

"He already has one," Jyslin told him with a grin. "He's that annoying human who the Marines can't beat."

"We didn't have much better luck," Symone laughed in agreement.

"Well, I got what I want, so I'm not going to rub it in," she told him.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," he said dryly.

"Oh, I will, believe me," she told him. "I got my foot in the door. All I have to do now is convince you I'm worth hanging around. Just like her," he said, pointing at Symone.

"Oh, I don't hang out with Jason," she said with an insincere grin. "I hang out with Tim. Jason just happens to be in the same room. And he'll stick to that story," she added with a wink.

"Semantics," Jyslin snorted. "Just admit that all Faey aren't the Imperium, and we won't have any trouble, Jason," she told him. "You don't seem to have any problem with her. Why do you have trouble with me?"

"She doesn't want to have a relationship," he said coolly.

"Not that I didn't try at first," she laughed honestly. "Well, not a relationship, actually. More like a wild night in bed."

"You never said any such thing," he snipped in reply.

"Would you shut up!" she said with a grin. "I'm trying to make you look studly!"

"I'm sure he doesn't appreciate it," Jyslin smiled. "He wants me to go away." She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "He's not getting it, though. Friday, he's going out on a date with me. One date. He agreed to behave like a civilized person, and I agreed to be civilized. We're going to have a nice, civilized evening. Dinner, the opera, and an after-opera nightcap. Since we both agreed to be nice, it gives me one evening to convince him to go out with me again. I think I can do it."

"I think you won't," he said coolly.

"Oh, I think you're wrong," she smiled. "She proves that your vaunted ideals aren't as set in stone as you pretend. You take her as an individual, not as a representative of the evil conquering race. I'm going to prove to you that I'm interested in _you_. Not your politics, not your philosophy, not your positions. And I'm going to teach you that it's alright to be interested in _me_. Not _my_ politics, not _my_ philosophy, not _my_ positions. I want to be your _friend_, Jason, and to be honest, I want to be more than that. You're an intelligent, fascinating man. I just have to show you that I'm an intelligent, fascinating woman under my armor. I'm not the Imperium, Jason. I'm Jyslin Shaddale. Until they put the crown on my head, don't blame me for how they do things."

She glanced at Symone, and Jason could feel... _something_, a fringe of something that passed between them. Were they using telepathy to communicate?

He winced slightly as a sharp pain lanced into his head. The headaches usually didn't come on so quickly.

"You alright, Jayce?" Tim asked, putting down the paddle.

"Just a headache," he said with a negligent wave of his hand, rubbing his temple.

"I thought I told you you should go to the doctor," Tim told him.

"It's stress, Tim," he sighed. "I used to get them all the time when my father got sick."

He felt it ease into that dull ache quickly, which was much more tolerable. "Do you need some pain killer?" Jyslin asked in concern.

"I don't take medicine unless I don't have any other choice," he replied. "It'll pass in a little while. I'll be fine."

"Well, alright, but if it bothers you, go to a doctor," she told him. "I'm going to go get my workout in. I'll pick you up at six on Friday, Jason. I'll see you then."

After she was gone, Jason and Tim exchanged looks. He looked to Symone, his eyes curious. "What was that about?"

"She just came by to see what I was up to, that's all," she grinned. "After I told her that Tim was my guy, she was alright with it. Actually, she prefers it."

"Why?"

"She said that any friend of Jason _deserves_ a Faey for a girlfriend," she winked, then she laughed delightedly.

"I never heard anything," Tim protested.

Symone tapped her head meaningfully.

"Oh. I meant to ask you something, Symone," he prompted.

"What?"

"Well, why do your people even _speak_?" he asked curiously. "You talk to my mind all the time. Why don't all Faey just do that?"

"Well, first off, because thinking requires a _language_," she said, sitting on the ping-pong table. "Think about it. If we didn't have a language, how would we form thoughts? Pictures?"

"I never thought of that," Tim admitted.

"I know. It's something of an abstract concept, isn't it?" she winked. "Second, the talent doesn't start to show up and express itself until around puberty. We have to teach our children to speak to communicate with us, and for many, it's a habit that sticks. Faey talk about as often as they send, but it depends on the Faey. Some Faey almost never speak. Some Faey almost never send. It's entirely personal." She held her hand out before her. "When I'm with other Faey, I tend to speak more than send, but that's because I'm not as strong as most other women. I guess I hide my inadequacy by not making it common knowledge. But sometimes we do _have_ to speak," she explained. "Most Faey women have a telepathic range of about three human miles, on the average. Most men have a range of about a mile and a half. I'm not very strong at all," she admitted. "Barely stronger than the average man. I have a range of about two miles. The strongest have a range of like ten miles. Some of the strongest men are stronger than I am," she admitted candidly. "So, if we want to communicate outside our range, we have to use a communicator. Since no machine can receive and decipher telepathy, that means we have to use our voices. Even though we _can_ send, and it is more efficient, we still have a need for our voices and our language."

"Wow, I didn't know that."

"Well, now you do," she smiled. "But that info isn't free, honey. I demand payment."

"What?" he asked in surprise.

She pointed to the floor immediately in front of her. "Come here and curl my toes," she told him with a mischievous leer.

"Oh. I think I can manage that," he grinned, then came around the table and tendered up her payment.

Jason ignored them as they started getting rather involved in their kissing, worrying a little about the upcoming date. He was worried more about how well he would hold onto his ideals than what kind of trouble Jyslin might give him. She was too right, and she kept grinding it into him that she was _not_ the Imperium, that she was _not_ directly responsible for his position. If anything, she was in the same fix as he, for she was stuck in a job she did not want, trying to get where she wanted to go. The commoner Faey were just as much slaves and thralls to the Empress as the humans; only the nobles were truly free. And Symone was going to make it even murkier for him. He did like Symone, and her constant presence these last few days had indeed kind of numbed him to the fact that she was Faey. Then again, she was just so damned likable that he really didn't have much of a defense against her. Nobody did. Despite the abject hatred that many humans had for Faey, even on campus, none of them hated Symone.

"Hands out of her pants in the common room," Jason said without looking up. He didn't _have_ to look up to know what that change in the tone of her cooing hum meant.

"Yes, daddy," Symone taunted. "Let's go up to our room, Tim-Tim," she purred. "I'm feeling a tad hot and bothered."

"How can I say no to the world's most beautiful woman?" he returned.

"Flatterer. Say it again."

Jason tuned them out, and went back to studying.

                                        * * *

Friday.

It was _the day_, the day of the date. But that was going to take place at the end of the day. The problem was, the day got off to a very weird start that, in Jason's mind, was something of a bad omen.

Simply put, when he woke up, he had a message waiting in his panel, sent during the night. It was from the Ministry of Technology itself, and it reported, in flowery language, that the Empire had bought out his patent for his sonic inducer.

Not taken, not assumed control over... _bought_.

Since it was considered a low-priority technology, the message read, considered for possibilities in hypersonic short-range communications, the rights were purchased for a very modest sum.

Seventy five thousand credits.

Seventy five _thousand_ credits.

For the Ministry of Technology, that was considered a modest sum.

For Jason, it was an absolutely bloody _fucking_ fortune.

With that much money, he could buy a hovercar. Hell, he could buy an older model, used airskimmer, a civilian craft akin to a Cessna. He could buy a truckload of components and toys and set up a killer workshop, or he could even buy a small house in the city. It was a monstrous amount of money for someone who received a weekly stipend of fifty credits. A credit's value was different than the old, unused dollar; a credit was worth about a dollar and a half. In old American money, it was a sum of nearly a hundred and twenty thousand dollars.

That threw off his entire day, even more so than the worry about the impending date did. That date was common knowledge all over the campus, even if the circumstances of it were not. Some thought Jason had finally caved in to the Faey, but not many actually blamed him. After all, it really was only a matter of time before they finally forced him to obey. His weeklong battle with the Marines was entertaining, it gave the humans a little hope and some pride in themselves again, and everyone knew that it eventually would end. He had no concentration in his classes, and he got another one of those stupid headaches during lunch, and it didn't go away for the rest of his time at school. Students gave him words of encouragement as they passed, and a surprisingly large concentration of Army regulars and black-armored Marines who were patrolling the campus gave him teasing smiles and offered to make bets on just how thoroughly Jyslin would own him by midnight.

He was totally disgusted by the end of his last class, which Professor Tia mercifully allowed him to leave from early. They were practicing Faey pronunciation, and since he sounded virtually fluent, she decided that he didn't need to hang around and be bored. He went home and paced nervously in his tiny dorm, then went down to the room's bathroom and took a shower. The shower eased the headache quite a bit, and he felt less surly by the time he went back to his room and did some of his homework, still scattered by both the doom of the impending date and the staggering sum of money that was now residing in the brand new account that had been made for him at the Imperial Bank. The passcodes for the account had been sent to his panel while he was at school, and now he had access to that money. All it took was a thumbprint at any shop or store, or he could visit a branch bank and withdraw hard currency, which for Faey were small plastic coins encoded with their value.

He had no idea what to do with that money. He wasn't even sure he felt right in spending any of it. It was money paid to him by the _Imperium_. Not only had he not done anything to kick them off Earth, now they were paying him for things that _he_ invented. He had become a part of the system, even if it was absolutely unintentional, the fault of that meddling Lieutenant Lana.

But, on the other hand, since it was absolutely unintentional, that meant that the money was a windfall, not pay. _He_ didn't submit the inducer. _He_ didn't send it off to the Ministry. _Lana_ did. That they had paid to buy the rights to the design meant that it was an occasion of good fortune, not a conscious selling out to the Faey. In that respect, he did have a right to use that money without feeling guilty about it.

Not that he really knew what to do with it.

He glanced at the clock and cursed. Where was the time going? It was five o'clock, and Jyslin would be there in an hour. He did _not_ want to go, but he made a deal, gave his word, and Jason did not break his word. He changed into the only nice clothes he had, a white long-sleeve dress shirt, the sleeves of which he rolled up past his elbows, since he detested the feel of sleeves on his forearms, a pair of black slacks, and a pair of very old black loafers. A gray tie with geometric designs done in red and white was around his neck, loosened around the undone top button of the shirt, and over that went a simple black vest that was left unbuttoned.

He sat back down again and surfed around on CivNet on his panel. He did have something in mind for that money, and that was an airskimmer. He didn't know how to fly one, but he was sure he could figure it out, or pay for lessons. As long as it was a civilian model, he had every right to buy one. The idea of an airskimmer appealed to him for one simple reason, and that was the fact that it could fly. His father had had a Cessna, but Jason had been forced to sell it when the parking fees became more than his part-time job when he went to school in Michigan could support. Before that, Jason had absolutely _loved_ that plane, and the sense of freedom that came with it. As long as he could afford the gas, Jason could jump in his Cessna and go just about anywhere. Before the parking fees overwhelmed him, he was quite popular with some of the other guys because they'd all pile into his plane and fly places during the weekends. Distance made going somewhere warm and balmy out of the question-a flight to Los Angeles or Florida was a twelve hour journey-but they could go to places like Saint Louis, or Chicago, or Ottawa, somewhere other than the campus of the University of Michigan. There was such a sense of freedom that came with knowing that, at any time, you could chuck a pack into your plane and go virtually anywhere you wanted.

Selling that plane had been one of the low points of his life since his father died. It had been an admission that things couldn't be the same, a realization that he, like his father, could lose control of his life, and a loss of both a feeling of freedom and one of his father's most prized possessions, but there had been no helping it. He'd had a breakdown in Indiana and had to shell out nearly a thousand dollars in repairs, and that had been the death knell that had put him behind. The bills kept mounting up on him, and he'd been forced to sell his beloved plane or avoid having it chained to the tarmac for non-payment of his parking fees down at the county airport. If there was any satisfaction in it at all for him, he sold it to a flight school at the airport, who allowed him to borrow it from time to time without charging him for its use. Old Sam down at the airport understood the jam he was in, and sympathized with him and the pain it caused him to have to sell it. All he had to pay for was the fuel and the parking fees of the airport where he landed if it wasn't that one. They wanted him to come work for them on weekends as a flight instructor, but that required getting certifications that he didn't have the time to get, because of the demands of school and football.

The airskimmer wouldn't be his dad's old Cessna, but it would be the same thing, the sense of freedom that he'd once had, and it would make him happy. He'd have to find out where he could keep it, and pay for the parking fees, but he figured he could make enough money between his stipend and the unofficial work he got playing piano down at Patty O's to cover those fees. This time, he would _not_ lose his plane. He'd just have to find an exceeding cheap airskimmer and put back enough money to cover the fees. He could do some of the maintenance on it himself, since the schematics of an airskimmer were easily obtainable on CivNet, and he'd probably get a maintenance manual with the airskimmer.

That sense of freedom would mean a great deal to him. In this damned mouse trap he was in now, it would be one of the very few things that would make him feel free.

Probably for the first time ever, Jyslin _knocked_ on his door. Somehow, he just knew it was her. It opened without him calling, and she stepped inside. He glanced at her, then looked back when her appearance struck him like a hammer. She was _stunning_! She wore a sleek, elegantly simple gown made of what looked like liquid gold, with threads so fine that he couldn't see their weaving. Each thread was burnished, and the effect was a radiant gown of a wondrous golden color that both clashed against and accented her blue skin in an amazing manner, as well as perfectly displaying her sensual, voluptuous hips, slender waist, and her full breasts. It had two slender straps that attached to the bodice of the moderately low cut neckline and flowed over her shoulders, with a sloped hem that rose to the knee of her left leg yet dipped to the ankle of her right leg. It didn't sparkle in the light of his dorm room, it seemed to radiate a warm light that was like an aura that drew every eye to her, drew his eye to the fact that she was a vision of absolute, shockingly feminine beauty. It was the first time he'd thought of her as _feminine_. She was definitely a woman, but never acted feminine. That gown made her look _gorgeous_. She had her hair combed back away from her face, held by a pair of elegantly simple silver barrettes over each slender, pointed ear, with a gold chain woven into her auburn hair that ran just above the hairline over her forehead. She had on a pair of simple diamond (or some clear crystal) earrings, and a single gold chain around her neck with no amulet or pendant, an adornment of elegant simplicity that only heightened his awareness of her exceptional beauty.

She smiled at his surprised and nearly awed gaze. "You like?" she asked in Faey, quite demurely, turning this way and that so he could admire her from all angles. "I bought it this morning. It cost me a month's pay, but it was worth it."

"You're _beautiful_," he said with utter honesty. There was no way he could lie to her about that.

She gave him a wonderful smile. "Stand up. Let me see." He did so, and she put a finger to her chin as she appraised his appearance. "Well, you make slouchy look chic, Jason. I like it."

"It's all I have," he admitted.

"Well, it suits you. The vest is definitely a perfect touch." She stepped up and grabbed his tie, tightening it just a little, smiling up into his blue eyes. "I'm a little early. I wanted to make sure you weren't wearing a tutu or something," she said with a wink.

"I gave my word."

"I'm starting to understand how seriously you take that," she told him.

"A month's pay?" he asked, finally realizing what she'd said.

"Wasn't it worth it?" she asked, turning around slowly for him, modeling her gown with a mysterious smile.

"Jyslin, you shouldn't have done that," he said disapprovingly. "Not for me."

"I say you're worth it. Prove me wrong," she said challengingly.

"You bought a dress that cost you a month's pay for _one date_," he said bluntly.

"True. But it was worth every credit for that look you gave me when I came in," she smiled. "Don't worry about me, Jason. I'm very tight with money, I had plenty held back. I could afford it." She put her hands on his shoulders. "Now, since you're ready to go, we might as well get started. I have a limousine waiting outside for us."

"A _limo_!" he protested.

"Hush," she said with a light, amused smile, putting two fingers over his lips.

"But that's too expensive!" he said loudly when she moved her hand.

"I told you, don't worry about the money," she told him firmly. "I haven't so much as bought a new pair of shoes for a year, Jason. I have the money."

"But-"

"There is no but," she said, silencing him again with two fingers to his lips. "It's _my_ money, and I can spend it any way I please. I wanted to look good for you, so I bought the dress. I wanted us to not worry about driving, so I hired a limo. Well I also wanted us to get around in style," she added with a smile. "I'm not trying to impress you with my vast riches," she winked. "I bought the dress and hired the limo because I wanted to, not to impress you."

"I don't like it too much, Jyslin," he told her honestly. "You shouldn't have spent so much money. I'm not worth _that_ much."

She laughed delightedly. "Jason, hon, I don't have enough in my bank account to cover what I think you're worth."

Jason flushed slightly, but said nothing more on the subject. There was little that he could say, or at least say without starting a fight. He didn't want her to spend so much on him, invest in him, because he didn't want to pursue a relationship. If he had his way, there would be virtually no contact between them after tonight. If that happened, then she would have spent all that money on the dress, the limo, the dinner, the opera, all of it for nothing. If he didn't _like_ Jyslin so much, maybe he would feel differently. It would be easy to ignore the amount of money she'd shelled out if he didn't care about how it might put her into a financial bind.

She slid the hand on his shoulder down his arm, then took a gentle grip on the back of his hand. "Now, since we're both ready, why don't we just go ahead and go on?" she asked. "If we get to Copeland's early, we can get our pick of tables."

"I, alright," he said quietly. He almost didn't want to go through with this. Not because he was worried that she was going to be a pain, he was more afraid of spending time with her and giving her that much more time and opportunity to wear down his defenses.

She smiled slyly. "Don't worry about it," she said with a wink. "I don't need extra time."

He gave her a hard, flat look.

She put up her hands. "I also didn't need telepathy to see that," she told him. "You forget, I _know_ you know when we're doing that. Do you think I'm fool enough to ruin this date by doing the one thing you can't stand?"

She was right, of course. Damned Jyslin, she _always_ seemed to be right!

"Now, come on, Jason," she said. "Let's get started."

He wasn't entirely sure what to expect on this date, and he wasn't sure about what was going to happen. They were going to be going to a Faey opera, and that meant that the odds were that there would be many Faey there. It said much that Jyslin was willing to bring him to a function that would be filled with her own people, where he would have the opportunity to make a fool out of her, humiliate her, in front of more than just her Marine squad. He hoped that it wasn't going to be too long. He had no real interest in opera, and even less interest for a Faey opera, and he didn't want to be bored stiff. Before and after that, he knew, Jyslin would want to talk. Talk over dinner, talk over the nightcap, talk in the limo. He wasn't quite sure what she would want to talk about, but he knew it was coming.

And that was probably the greatest danger. He couldn't get too close to her, couldn't let her get herself too close to him, or she was going to end up like another Symone, a Faey that he liked, and allowed himself to like _too much_. They were Faey, they were the _enemy_, and he should not be socializing with the enemy. But Symone wasn't an enemy in his eyes anymore, he had to admit that to himself. He had gotten to know her, and had accepted her because he felt that she was truly a friend. She liked him, he liked her. He could never imagine Symone on the other side of a battlefield, pointing a plasma rifle at him. He knew that were they actually fighting each other, she would, but he just couldn't imagine it. Then again, he really couldn't imagine Symone pointing a plasma rifle at _anyone_. If there was ever a Faey who had been utterly wronged when they assigned jobs to Faey conscripts, it was Symone. Symone didn't have the temperament to be a soldier, because she would rather go out and have a beer with the enemy than try to kill him.

The limo was a stretch one, but not too large. Jyslin opened the door for him and gave him a sly smile, waving him in, and he couldn't really say anything. He didn't want to prolong this, because he noticed that quite a few people were watching from discrete distances. Many knew about this date, and he didn't want to cause a scene. He wanted to get himself, Jyslin, and the limo out of there. She got him with him and closed the door, and the black limo pulled away from the curb.

"So," she said, leaning against the side of the limo and smiling at him. "Now comes all that boring conversation."

It turned out to be not boring at all, which Jason both cursed and enjoyed. He didn't _want_ to get to know her, but he found her to be a fascinating and engaging woman. He found out that she was born on a Faey mining colony called Rokan IV, which was nothing but a rock orbiting a blue star. It was enclosed in domes, and her parents were both miners. It surprised him that Faey actually _mined_, but he found out from her that Faey did just about every job that humans did. There were Faey farmers, miners, servants, factory workers, the whole gambit. They didn't make their conquered races do all the dirty and dangerous jobs, they did the jobs for which they were qualified. Faey who weren't too bright ended up in those kinds of jobs. But her father was definitely smart, as he was one of the mine's engineers, while her mother worked as a secretary in the office of the mining company. She grew up in a sterile world of steel and glass, with no plants, no open air. She stayed there until she was twelve, and then her father was transferred to an arctic planet called Novira IX. Because of that, Jyslin now absolutely detested cold weather. They where there until she reached the officia