“ritesh, please. Do me a big favor and don’t ask any questions”, i replied as i passed the contract agreement over the desk. He looked at it and...looked up at me. “what the fuck is going on? Don’t tell me not to ask questions – i don’t deserve a statement like that. We’re supposed to be friends, or am i wrong about that?” i quickly debated whether to tell him or not. “you’re right, ritesh. We are friends, but please, i just can’t talk about it. I have to leave ….we’ll talk about it later,” and i. "KENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!" she screamed into her cockpit.Shoving the throttle to full power, she left the squadron behind her as she sped back toward the ship.On the flag bridge, the crew was still at battle stations as the enemy fled, unknown to anyone there, no one knew that Ken had just died on the medical deck. The ship continued to recover the surviving fighters and bombers while SAR shuttles went through the combat zone searching for survivors and recovering the dead to be buried at. We finished crossing the bridge and were back on dry land. There was a guard post set up to our left, with barrels of waste nearby keeping the general radiation count in this area higher than normal. To my right were three men wearing armor, carrying fairly heavy weapons, and two people facing them wearing rags. I recognized the woman as the one from Bar Harbor.The man questioning them had a hard look about him, a full head of red hair, a full, but trimmed beard, and mustache. His armor was. And, oh man, was I eversurprised. There were tons of magazines in that box that were new to me,that's for sure. There was 'Guys in Nylons', 'Pantyhose Pansies','Sissyboy Pleasures', and several others. They were HOT and I couldn'timagine why they were in the garage in a box.But then I noticed a packet of photos and I opened it up. There werephotos of people who didn't show their faces but who were NOT female.They were all of guys wearing nylons and garter belts. I knew that thiswas something I.