Chapter Text

"Friendship is love minus sex and plus reason.
Love is friendship plus sex and minus reason. "
Mason Cooley

"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra
and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath.
At night, the ice weasels come."
Matt Groening, 'Life in Hell'

"Huh?"
Mark, G-Force Commander

PART I

Friday, 11 February 2163; 1547 hrs

"It's all very well for you," Eros grumbled. "You get to look languid and desirable. I'm... cute! They've made me cute... and safe... and sweet!"

"Positively cherubic," Aphrodite purred from her clam shell sofa, where she lounged indolently, secure in her position as the fabled summit of beauty and love.

"You always were one of the nastier deities," Eros sniped.

"Relationships are full of nastiness," Aphrodite pointed out. "I'm a long termer. I'm the Goddess of Love. You, on the other hand, are about that misty pink cloud of falling in love."

"As opposed to what I used to be," Eros growled. "Before they made me cute, I was all about sheer, unbridled lust. I used to be tall, strong and virile! I was a young man in his sexual prime! Now, look: it's Valentine's Day tomorrow and instead of being offered sacrifices and virgins, they plaster my image on candy box lids! I look like a Powerpuff Girl!"

"That's the collective consciousness for you," Aphrodite sighed.

"At least you still exist worth a damn," a pale, reedy voice said from the armchair in the corner. Eros had the grace to hang his head at the emaciated and semi-transparent form of Pan, the satyr. "Only psychology acknowledges me, these days. Satyrism's classified as a mental illness, for heaven's sake! I'm not even popular! Not like the nymphs. The nymphs got Art Nouveau. Even Cerunnos has more of a following than I do, what with the Neo-Pagan movement."

"Believers," Eros spat. "Fickle, accursed mortals! If only we didn't need them!"

"Things used to be different," Aphrodite said. "There was a time when they believed they needed us."

"Now they think they don't," Pan said, "so it's true. They have no idea how powerful their belief is, the wretches."

"Where's Bacchus when we need him?" Eros wondered. "I could use a drink."

"He went to a virtual toga party on the Galaxy Wide Web," Pan said.

"I hate the twenty second century," Eros decided.



"I hate the twenty second century," Princess complained. She sat sideways on a bench in the women's locker room, knees drawn up against her chest, waiting for her friend Fran, who had just come off shift from Chief Anderson's security detail.

"How so?" Fran asked from behind the door of the cubicle where she was changing after her shower.

"There's no romance in my life," Princess said. "Look at me! I have to wear a uniform all the time and it's about as alluring as... oh, I don't know, but it's not alluring. My combat gear's more feminine than this!" She gestured at her t-shirt and jeans.

The door of the cubicle opened and Lieutenant Fran Patrick walked out, feeling suddenly guilty about the red dress she was wearing. She had a towel slung over one shoulder and carried a backpack in one hand. "Valentine's Day blues already?" Fran inferred. "It's only the eleventh!" She tossed the towel in the linen discard and sat down next to Princess. Her long dark hair was still damp and she ran her fingers through it.

"I guess," Princess said. "Fran, sometimes I just get so tired of being one of the boys!"

"Oh, c'mon, girl friend, don't be down in the dumps," Fran said. "Look at what you've got going for you: you're smart, you're young, you're pretty, you've got great hair -- I'd kill for eyes like yours. You keep in shape, you're tall --"

"I have no life," Princess said.

"You save the galaxy on a regular basis!"

"I want a little romance!" Princess wailed. "Is that so much to ask?"

"Well..." Fran rested her chin in one hand. "Hey, I know! Why don't we have a little fun and do one of those love spells? There was something in a magazine about it..."

"A love spell?" Princess echoed.

"Oh, come on. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I suppose it can't do any harm," Princess sighed, "but I'm not going to hold my breath." She smiled and shook her head. "I guess it should be good for a laugh."

"Cool! All we need is a personal item belonging to your true love and a lock of his hair, and we can work the spell."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Princess said.



"More forms?" Mark sighed. He leaned on the table in the conference room.

"Commander," Chief Anderson said, "your team blew up an ISO robot training unit."

"It looked alien!" Mark argued.

"It was supposed to look alien," Anderson said levelly. "It was a mock up of an enemy ship."

"Well... it was convincing..."

"Just fill out the damage report," Anderson said, abandoning further argument.

"Okay." Mark fished around for something. "Uh, can I borrow a pen, Chief?"

"Here." Anderson proffered a stainless steel Cross. "Hand the paperwork in to Gunny when you're done," he said, and stood up. "I'll be in my office."

From the corridor, Princess watched as Anderson returned to his office, then she slipped into the conference room and sat down beside Mark. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," Mark said.

"Paperwork?"

"Yup." The top of the pen twitched as Mark wrote neatly on the form. "I know you tried to warn me, Princess, so don't say, 'I told you so.'"

"I wasn't going to," Princess said. "I just came in to see how you were doing."

"Well, at least the Chief isn't taking the damage out of our salaries," Mark said. He turned slightly in his chair and ran his fingers through the back of his hair, as he was wont to do when nervous or discomfited. "I guess I'm kinda bummed out... embarrassed... I mean... Well... you know."

"Yeah, I know." Princess attempted a smile. "Still... It was a good shot."

Mark uttered an inarticulate groan and buried his face in his hands. "Do you have to keep reminding me?"

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault, Princess." Mark leaned on the conference table. "I'd better finish this report. The Chief's expecting it."

"Did he yell at you?" Princess asked.

"Nah... I almost got the feeling he was trying not to laugh. It's just disturbing when he does that."

Princess sat and watched as Mark wrote out the report. He wrote neatly and deliberately, thinking carefully about what he was putting down on the form as he did so.

It took some time.

Not that Princess minded. She sat with one elbow on the conference table, chin in hand, watching Mark bent over his work. She noted how the wide blue eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, noted the slight twist of his mouth, committed to memory every detail of the way his chocolate coloured mane of hair hung around his face. Does he ever look at me the way I look at him? she wondered.

Mark scrawled his signature at the bottom of the incident report, put the pen down, and stretched in the chair. Princess took advantage of his momentary inattention to palm the pen and slip it into her pocket.

"All done?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah." Mark picked up the form and stood. "I'd better give this to Gunny. You need a ride home? I've got the car downstairs."

"That's okay," Princess demurred, with a twinge of regret. "Fran's giving me a ride back to her place. Girl stuff, y'know?"

"Okay. Well, have fun."



Fran had turned the lights down and lit incense. The sweet, smoky smell gave the air a mysterious and exotic feel. Princess clasped her hands and took a deep breath. "Wow..." she breathed. "I love what you've done with the place."

"Cool, isn't it? Okay..." Fran had cleared the coffee table and covered it with a silk sarong. She had placed candles at the four compass points and scattered rose petals in a circle. At the centre of the circle she had placed a bowl with a tea light candle in it. Both young women sat on cushions on the floor.

"Is that everything?" Princess asked.

"Not quite." Fran consulted her magazine, and Princess craned her neck to read.

"Ooooh, you can send in a coupon to get a free sample of that new Givenchy perfume," Princess breathed.

"We'll do that later," Fran said. "Here." She tapped at the relevant paragraph with one fingernail. "We need a personal item and a lock of hair from the object of your desire."

Princess pulled the pen from her pocket. "Here's the personal item," she said. Fran took it and put it next to the bowl with the candle in the centre of the table. Princess pulled a zip lock bag out of her other pocket. It contained a few strands of dark chocolate coloured hair. "I bribed Keyop to get Mark's hairbrush out of his locker."

"Cool." Fran took the bag and placed it next to the pen. "Now, we begin." Fran sprinkled incense over the tea light in the bowl. "Hear me, all you powers of love!"



"Did you feel that?" Eros asked, sitting suddenly upright.

"Yes..." Aphrodite moved more slowly, propping herself up on one elbow.

"Someone's invoking you," Pan said. He watched, the envy patent on his face, as his colleagues seemed to acquire an inner glow of power.

"Time to go to work!" Aphrodite said brightly.



"Now, visualise the object of your desire," Fran said. "By..." she consulted the magazine article. "By Aphrodite! By Eros! We call in true love! Okay, Princess, light the candles."



"This could be good," Eros said.



Princess giggled. "Fran, this is silly!" All the same, she did as she was told and lit the candles. They were pink, with little gold hearts on them.

"Don't lose focus!" Fran ordered. "Think of Mark! Think of him being drawn into your life and your heart. Think of him falling completely and utterly in love with you!"

Princess giggled again. "That's easy!"



"Interesting," said Aphrodite. "Complex."

"Quite a challenge," Eros observed.