Carvedinstone's Saga - 23 / 04 / 2120

"I'm going to get fucking fired," Daleman said, as she handed me the optical chips. Straight from the Morgul Vale PD evidence locker. I weighed them in my hands.

We were in Daleman's apartment, still. I'd brought my few belongings while she "borrowed" the assets I'd outlined. Planning the run against Drake Industries. Looseleaf and I were decent hackers, but we needed an edge. That's what Daleman had risked her career to retrieve.

"What are you planning to do, anyway?" she asked, as she slipped the suspenders off her shoulder and let her pants fall to the floor. I caught the hint and peeled off my shirt. Hadn't bothered to put on a bra. Daleman might be doing all this for Vanessë, but she was still a horny bitch—or maybe, I thought, she was actually nervous.

"Well, first I'm going to eat your pussy," I said. "Just to take the edge off. Later—I've got a meeting with the others. Refine the plan."

Daleman laid down on the bed, tits up, her huge body still bruised, ribs taped. She stared up at the ceiling as I crawled between her legs. Her pussy was dry. At first. I took it slow. Soft, slow licks and kisses. Nuzzling my cheeks against her thighs. Light bites that were very careful not to let teeth touch clit. Teasing and sucking the hairy pussy softly, until I could hear the Beorning's breathing shift a little faster, that little grumble deep in her throat. I knew right then that the big woman's eyes were closing, probably imagining the Elfkin.

A huge hand closed on the back of my head.

There was no rush. The meeting in the Matrix was in a few hours. Long enough to make Daleman squeal like a she-bear in heat, and to go through the contents of the optical chips. I wasn't sure what was in there.

I just hoped it was enough to kill a megacorp.

The Uruk-Hai's hand-drawn maps from her recovered memories were overlaid on the fuzzy photographic outline of the Black Labs facility, cobbled together from the satellite imaging equivalent of peripheral vision and occasional hiker photos from social media. The ancient diagrams of the ruins pre-purchase by Drake Industries added a third dimension.

Looseleaf and I were back in the porno-room, pointedly ignoring the endless porn loops that played all around us in the virtual walls and ceiling. Right now, it seemed to be showing multiple angles of a bukkake shoot involving a Dwarf woman and a dozen Men.

The contents of the stolen chips were splayed out before us, our interfaces depicting them as building blocks.

"Daleman secured me the total illegal software cache that the Morgul Vale PD have confiscated from hackers over the last three years," I told the other hacker. "Not just hacking tools and IC breakers: viruses, worms, malware of all sorts."

I picked up two blocks. It looked like I snapped them together, like children's toys. Several layers of code down, the two individual viruses formed a single macro-virus as I combined the individual security flaws exploited.

"We're basically talking cyber-terrorism," Looseleaf said bluntly. "With root access, we can corrupt all the data in their system that isn't in the off-line backups, damage some of their hardware. It will take them years to recover. Cost them hundreds of millions of credits. Enough of a loss to put a big gaping hole in their bottom line. But it won't stop them from coming after Rowethasdottir and her pet Uruk-Hai, or you and Bob."

"Not by themselves," I said simply, as I rooted among the other code-blocks, searching for compatible elements. "Which is why we're making two viruses."

The carefully-sculpted eyebrow on Looseleaf's avatar rose in a perfect arch. Behind her, the porn shifted. The Dwarf was on her back now, spreading her pussy wide, silently begging the Orcs to bukkake her gaping slit.

"This," I said, pointing to the virus I was putting together. "Is a bomb. Designed to exploit multiple security flaws, infiltrate multiple systems, corrupt data, set specific physical systems to actions that will physically damage them. It's loud, messy, and all of their computer security, engineers, and technicians will be racing to unplug equipment, keep the geothermal tap from burning out the power grid, and protecting key data. This will make enough of a mess to hide the evidence of the other virus..."

"Which can be something more subtle," Looseleaf realized. "Delete specific data, siphon millions from credit accounts...we could delete everything they have on us. Just disappear from their systems."

I nodded. The other hacker reached toward the code blocks, selecting some of the more subtle ones. She studied them carefully, her hands twisted, the cubes fused into another, more complex cube. It was an elegant start. We worked together, each of us on our own task, but collaborating in tandem, sharing bits of code, reviewing and bugchecking.

In the end, we ended up with two different code-blocks. Mine was a monstrous, ugly thing, little cubical knobs hanging off a rainbow-chrome surface like a chunk of bismuth. Hers was innocuous, a soft-cornered, plain white code block. The kind that could easily be missed, even be an experienced hacker.

Looseleaf seemed to consider both programs. Behind her, I saw the Dwarf girl push four fingers into her own overflowing pussy, Orc jizz oozing out over her quivering asshole.

"All we need is to get them into the system," I said.

The other hacker snorted. "You talk about hacking a glacier of black IC like it's going to be a pleasant stroll up the slopes of Mt. Doom."

We both glanced at the map we'd generated. Rowethasdottir had a plan to get us in. Daleman was our backup. All we could do was wait and watch until they called.

"We've got my stealth program. And the best attack and defense utilities of dozens of hackers to choose from," I pointed out.

"Let's hope that's enough." Looseleaf sighed. "If we get caught, we're brainfucked."

I unplugged from the optical outlet in Daleman's wall. She hadn't dressed, but she was seated on the edge of the bed, cleaning her gun again, the Torc Mearas. It fit into her massive palm in a way that made it look less cartoonish. I'd seen Dwarven sex toys less well-engineered than that chunk of chromed steel.

"Everything's set," I said.

"Don't tell me more than I need to know," Daleman told me. I studied her face. The swelling had gone down, the bruises still dark but starting to yellow around the edges. "What am I doing?"

"Let them guide you into the facility. We'll wire you up. Pinhole cameras, a discreet earpiece. That'll give us a better idea of where they're keeping Bob. If necessary, you'll need to create a distraction. Some localized chaos."

I held up an optical chip. "You get an opportunity, plug this into any open computer terminal. Don't stay to see what happens, it'll run automatically."

The Beorning flicked her wrist. The cylinders of the revolver clicked into place. She aimed along the iron sights at a spot on the floor.

"I told Vanessë I'd be gone for a few days," Daleman said. "Police business."

"You want her to stay here? Apartment-sit?" I asked, glancing in the direction of the heavily reinforced front door.

She shook her head, mouth set in a grim frown.

"If the Crown Players want her, this place isn't secure. Not sure where I could stash her. They would find her. Any attempt to hide her would twig them to what was happening," Daleman said.

"They're not all-seeing, all-knowing, or all-powerful," I noted.

"They are rich, with a lot of pull," Daleman said with a frown. "If it was just about killing one fucker, that's doable. But this isn't a situation where I can bite someone's head off and be done with it. It's not like it is in the storybooks, where they throw the Ring into Mt. Doom and all the armies of the Dark Lord collapse or lay down their arms. Even if you rescue your friend and trash their databanks, I still have to return to the Lodgemaster empty-handed. No matter how this mission goes, I'm probably fucked."

The Beorning holstered her massive pistol. "Which means I should eat as much Dwarf pussy as I can, while I can. Come on over here and sit on my face."

I crawled onto the bed. Maybe this was mad. Maybe I was being selfish, trying to rescue Bob on top of everything else. This whole rescue situation was a terrible gamble, and even if it worked...would it really make things better? Yet what else could we all do? Stand around and wait for our enemies to kill us, enslave us, trade us for a few creds?

Between doing something stupid and doing nothing, I prefer to do something.

Standing over Daleman, I pulled my labia apart. Her eyes shifted from the ceiling to the bright pink of my pussy, so vivid against my dark brown skin and the darker tattoos. I dropped into a slow squat, my pussy descending toward her face. That big mouth opened, that hot tongue stuck up to catch the first quivering drop that hung down from my hot cunny.

"They'll feel us when we stick it to them," I promised, as that hot, thick muscle slid into my fuckbox. I closed my eyes. There were times like this with Daleman, when it reminded me of when I was with Bob.