The following morning, they attacked the parcels in the main room of the house. Greg took all of the materials he’d ordered to the workroom and then let Trish take over. When she had finished ‘changing’, she took her purchases, including the battered suitcase to the bedroom and opened each box with relish.

Maniacal glee was the best description of Trish as she opened her new acquisitions. She’d stripped naked and then tore into the wrappings like a kid on Christmas morning. Greg had to smile as she tried on all of the underwear and struck poses in front of the mirror.

“Well, I think I know Victoria’s Secret…” Greg said.

“And what’s that Darling?” she responded warily.

“She’s a world class narcissist.” Trish stuck her tongue out at him, put all of the underwear, except what she was wearing away and started in on the dresses. Soon, they were all hanging neatly in the closet with the blouses and skirts. Trish had tried on all of the pants and shorts before settling on jeans and a yellow t-shirt. Half an hour later the fashion show was nearing completion as only a dazzling array of shoes and boots remained to be tried on. Trish put them away a pair at a time, keeping the black cowboy boots on. Finally, she opened the last of the boxes which held an assortment of cosmetics and toiletry items. Greg spotted the tampons and shuddered.

“Get used to it Buddy, it’s not just for camouflage. If we stay in female form for longer than a month, we’ll need them,” Trish pointed out factually.

“Phew! I guess I knew that intellectually, but it’s just sunk in emotionally. Wow.” The entire situation was just too surreal for Greg. Trish put away the toiletries and placed soaps, shampoos and conditioners in the shower rack. Hair care items took up a drawer and her deodorant was stowed beside Greg’s in the medicine cabinet. Finally, Trish looked at herself in the mirror and began to apply a light assortment of the makeup she had purchased. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror and walked away satisfied.

“Just like a big Barbie doll,” Greg muttered. Trish gave herself a flick on the ear hard enough to sting and Greg quickly apologized. They walked to the kitchen with the boxes and wrappings and fed them into the shredder for recycling. Grabbing a coffee They sat down at the kitchen table to open the documents. Trish was ecstatic at how perfect each minor forgery had turned out. She now owned birth and baptismal certificates, a social insurance card and two bankbooks. The credit cards were available for pick up at the bank and a driver’s licence would be issued in town after she ‘arrived’ on Friday.

“Hey Honey, I’m human!” she squealed.

“Silly rabbit, I’ve always known that. Never doubted it either, not after the real emotions you showed, even before we bonded. Well, enough lazing about, I should get to work. Should we change?” he smiled.

“Nope, turnabout is fair play. You have to learn how to handle a female form as a backup for me, just in case I’m rendered incapable of control,” she was smirking.

“Wait a minute!” Greg protested. “You’ve never really run the male body.”

“Quit trying to confuse the issue with facts, Bubba,” she teased. Greg felt Trish surrender control and he picked up the reigns before they collapsed on the table. He stood up and felt bottom heavy for a moment. They walked to the workroom with Trish giving little suggestions on how to be more girly.

Greg sighed as he opened the packages he had ordered and reached for his magnifiers. His eyes gave a slight twitch and he saw that his binocular vision could be used for magnifying. Working carefully, he constructed a segment of cloth in about seven hours. It was made up of a fine circuitry weave he had copied from the one he’d originally seen in the suit and layers of tough but pliable memory nanofabric.

“What’s that, Greg?” she asked.

“Hopefully the answer to a problem that’s been nagging at me since we wrecked all those clothes,” he responded absently. “Remember when I was learning our abilities and I made that quip about naked superheroes?”

“Oh yeah!” Trish recalled. “It was amusing but what does that have to do with this?”

“We’ll soon see, that is, depending on whether the bugs can temporarily wire this into our net. If it works, this will take care of clothing camouflage on missions. I originally had the idea when you were shopping online, and the brain boost allowed me to jump from theory to practice… I hope.”

Greg wrapped the cloth around his forearm and felt tiny tugs as the nanomechs, under Trish’s direction, connected it to their network. He concentrated for a moment, picked up a razor knife and attempted to cut the cloth. No cut or mark appeared as the blade skittered across the fabric. He flexed his arm and the material responded like spandex. He smiled,

“Well, that worked. Now for stage two. Are you recording all this Trish?”

“Everything,” she confirmed.

Greg concentrated and the material shifted to look like the lower sleeve of a men’s dress shirt in pale blue. He thought again and it looked like the sleeve a tuxedo jacket. Once more and it looked like their bare arm.

“Greg! That’s astounding! What is it?” Trish goggled.

“The ultimate in fashion and camouflage clothing for 2009,” he responded sounding like a TV pitchman. “The memory fabric can shift to imitate any clothing pattern that can be thought of and…”

He picked up a large pointed probe and jammed it into his forearm with as much force as he could muster. The probe bounced off and its tip was blunted,

“…thanks to the magic of nanofabric, it can be 20 times tougher then Kevlar, taking on the properties of any cloth. Voila, no more destroyed clothing! Now how much would you pay? Don’t answer yet, operators are standing by,”

Trish felt tears of laughter rolling from their eyes as Greg finally settled down and explained more seriously,

“I would never have been able to create this two days ago. It was just a vague concept I’d had, but it seems I have access to a lot more information now. Not that I’m even entirely sure how it works. I based the circuitry weave in part on your fathers work. It’s nowhere near as sophisticated though,” he noted blandly.

“Gregory Howard, don’t you ever depreciate your work!” Trish snapped. “This is easily as innovative as anything my father ever came up with. I’ll not have you putting down your genius, not now, not ever!” Trish was really pissed off and building up a head of steam. He could feel her anger as she continued,

“Your design is something that has never been invented before, probably never even conceived of. And because every creative mind is different, my father may not even have been able to visualize this, and remember he had eight of the most advanced AIs to work with.” Greg had the good sense to look chagrined. He took a deep breath.

“Thank you Trish. I did deserve that. My low self-esteem has held me back for as long as I can remember. You keep at me and if I ever discover a character flaw in your perfection, I’ll help you with it,” he ribbed gently.

“You’re very welcome Darling,” Trish was mollified. “Now, tell me more about this cloth please, I find it fascinating.”

Greg spent the next half hour detailing how the cloth worked and the theory behind it. Trish caught on quickly and paid rapt attention to him.

“The major problem Trish,” he finished, “is that it will only work when wired into a high powered computer system. For example, someone like us. It’s useless for anyone else.”

“Well, maybe we should keep it that way for the time being,” Trish posited. “If we’re going up against these ‘Illuminati’, we don’t need them having access to advanced body armour,” she surmised.

“You’re right I suppose, but I wish I could share this with the law enforcement community. What a vest this would make, light as cloth, with really high stopping power.”
“Maybe someday, Greg,” she said, “maybe someday you can.” They put aside the work and went to the kitchen to make dinner. Greg remained in Trish’s form as they cleaned the dishes and went outside to look at the sky.

Just before dawn the next day, Trish packed the old suitcase, loaded her wallet with her new ID and got dressed. She chose a knee length skirt with a matching jacket, white blouse, blue tights and medium heel boots. She put on the necklace Greg had given her and walked to the door. Putting down the suitcase, she put on a navy pea coat and a pair of earmuffs. She looked at herself and grumped.

“Are all of these clothes really necessary?” she whined.

“They are if you want us to blend in, it’s still winter out there,” Greg instructed. “Now remember, we fly to Timmins, land just outside town and walk to the train station. At the counter will be a prepaid ticket in your name. We ride the train to Parry Sound, you take a cab to the Canadian Bank of Trade and give your ID and passbooks to the teller. We’ll continue from there. You better get a book or magazine to read on the trip as well,” He advised her.

Trish went to the bookshelves, selected a well-read paperback from Greg’s collection and put it in her purse. She stepped out into the yard and powered up. Rocketing north-northeast to arrive in Timmins just after 7:00am, she scanned her chosen landing zone for activity, human or electronic. The stretch of the highway was deserted and dark this early in the morning. The birds were just starting to rouse and the sun had just started to brighten the horizon to the east. Satisfied that it was deserted, she landed and powered down everything but defensive systems. Logically she knew she was safe but still she felt nervous.

Trish walked into the railway station at 7:30 and stepped up to the ticket counter.

“Hi, good morning, I’m here to pick up a prepaid one way ticket to Parry Sound.”

“Certainly Miss, may I have your name please?” the clerk inquired.

“Tricia Saber,” she replied. The clerk looked at his computer terminal for a moment.

“OK, Tricia Saber, ah here it is. May I see your ID please?” Trish handed over her birth certificate and S.I.N. card displaying more confidence than she felt.

“Courage, Dearheart,” Greg comforted. The clerk scanned the cards, printed the ticket and handed everything back over the counter to Trish.

“There you are,” the man smiled, “track 3 at 8:00. There’s a coffee shop across the street if you want a snack. Thank you for travelling Ontario Northland,” the clerk intoned mechanically.

“Thank you very much.” Trish left the counter clutching the ticket and headed across the street to the Tim Horton’s to have a ‘snack’. She breathed a deep sigh of relief.

“You did wonderfully, Darling. I’m proud of you,” Greg cheered.

They boarded the train just before 8:00 and found a window seat. Trish discovered her nervousness being replaced by excitement. No one was paying her any attention at all, except for one man who glanced at her with interest.

“Greg! This is fun,” she whispered. “I never knew how much interesting stuff went on in the world. Nobody seems to care about who I am either. Why do you suppose that is?” she asked innocently.

“It’s like I told you before Sweetie, if you don’t do anything out of the ordinary, no one will pay more than a cursory interest in you. They all have their own thoughts and worries. But did you see that guy giving you the eye?” he chuckled.

“Yes,” she said, “I did, what was that about, should I be on alert?”

“No, no Darling. He was just checking out a pretty woman,” Greg clucked. Trish felt a slight blush warm her cheeks and glanced over at the man who had looked at her. He was deep in conversation with his seatmates and wasn’t even looking anymore.

“Humph!” she grumbled indignantly. Greg chortled,

“They’re just guys, Sweetheart. It’s what they do,” he reassured her.

The trip was uneventful and Trish started to get restless. Greg noticed this,

“Read your book if you’re bored.” She started reading and quickly got lost in the grand stories of Arrakis and the fremen leader Paul Atreides. Before she knew it, they were announcing Parry Sound. She reluctantly put the book away and gathered her belongings. Leaving the station, she hailed a cab and directed the driver to take her to the bank. At the branch, she waited in line until a teller was free and then approached the counter.

“Good morning, I’ve just moved to town and my accounts should have been transferred here,” Trish smiled at the teller. She handed over her birth certificate and S.I.N. card as well as her bankbooks.

“Certainly Miss, one moment please,” the young man replied. Trish waited patiently as the he assembled the relevant documents.

“Alright, here we are Miss Saber, if you would just sign the card and initial the forms we can get you all set up. Uh, I noticed your address is listed as the AERI on Franklin Island and you have a post box as the mailing address. Is this correct?” he queried.

“Yes, I was just hired as a research assistant by Doctor Howard. He’s kinda of cute too,” she smiled.

Kinda of cute? thought Greg. The teller smiled indulgently.

“Yeah, I’d heard that, isn’t he a little old for you though? I understand he’s loaded though. There we go, here are your new books, an access card and two credit cards. Please sign the backs of all the cards and we’ll set up your PIN over here,” he directed. Trish signed again with a flourish. She had practiced this signature for several hours the previous night. Greg was stewing.

“Old, humph,” he muttered under their breath. The teller looked up quizzically,

“Did you say something, Miss Saber?”

“No, nothing,” Trish covered quickly and sub vocalized, “Shhhh Honey, you’ll make me laugh.”

“Will you be setting up direct deposit for your pay checks, Miss Saber?” the young man asked.

“I’ll have to discuss that with the Doctor, I guess. But I’ll let you know,” Trish responded professionally.

“Very well, is there anything else that I can I help you with today?” the teller inquired politely.

“No, thank you very much. Have a good day.”

“You too, Miss.”

Trish exited the bank and walked to the driver and vehicle licence office just down the block.

“All right Greg, step three,” she said happily.

“Huh, old,” he complained. Trish did giggle this time.

“Not to me my Love. This is a wonderful day so far, so please don’t be a grump.”

“For you, OK,” Greg cheered up slightly. Trish walked into the office and joined the line. Shortly she was in front of the camera.

“Just look at the light, and there. Your licence will be mailed to you in 4 to 6 weeks,” the clerk handed Trish a temporary licence.

“Thank you,” Trish smiled winningly. “Have a nice day.” She left the office and sighed with relief.

“All done, now a payphone to call the house and a cab to the landing and we’re through,” she said proudly.

The cabbie dropped her off at the landing and offered to wait. she told him it would be OK and tipped him generously. He drove off and after waiting five minutes, Trish powered up and flew home.

“That was a nice touch, by the way,” Greg commented absently.

“What was a nice touch, Greg?”

“Telling the bank teller you were a research assistant here at the AERI. That information and a description of you will be all over town in no time. Add to that the rumour that we’re engaged…”

“Huh? Wait, what?” Trish interrupted.

“I-I sort of told the jeweller that I was expecting my fiancée to arrive in town shortly. He recognized me, so I figure the town will be abuzz soon,” he said sheepishly. She began to chuckle and he joined in with a hearty guffaw. They both had a great laugh about it. Trish’s adventure had taken a little less then 8 hours and had solidly established her as a citizen and a resident. That night, they both had wonderful dreams.

Trish and Greg worked on the fabric over the weekend, each contributing ideas and working out mistakes. By Monday the 30th, they had a large pattern of nanocloth cut and laid out on the floor of the workroom. Greg frowned,

“Now what Sweetheart? I can’t sew worth a damn.”

“I have an idea,” she said. “Lay down on the back piece.” Greg did and Trish had the bugs wire it in. They did the same with each successive piece until the entire suit was in place.

“Now to have the cloth bond to itself.” Greg speculated, “it should be seamless if this works.” The cloth writhed as if it was alive. Each segment weaving itself into the next. Trish clapped excitedly,

“It worked! It really worked. Let’s do the shoes next!” Greg placed the boot uppers on his feet and Trish bonded them to the system. Soles followed, then gloves and soon they stood in a jumpsuit that covered them from neck to toe. Greg glanced down and created an adjustment in the suit, a cup. Trish’s puzzlement was clear.

“Well, there’s skin tight and then there’s skin tight,” Greg responded archly. Trish giggled as they walked down the hallway and into the bedroom towards the full-length mirror.

Looking in the mirror, Greg held up a hand and furrowed his brow,

“Trish? Will we be able to scan through the suit?” he wondered.

“Hmmm, you know, I’m not sure. The scan function was designed for flesh-to-flesh contact, however, this isn’t exactly regular cloth either,” She postulated.

“Well, better safe than sorry,” he said looking at their hand. A seam appeared at each wrist of the suit and he peeled off the gloves. Grinning, he congratulated himself,

“Keen! This is pretty darn slick, if I do say so myself.” Placing the gloves aside, Greg pictured a tuxedo with a white mess jacket and directed the image toward the suit. It shifted and magically Greg was outfitted for a formal occasion. Trish giggled,

“You look like you fell off of a wedding cake.”

“I happen to think I look pretty sharp, thank you very much. Though I do wish I could take you dancing somewhere fancy,” he said wistfully. “Ah well, I’ll have to dance with the pretty girls at the party and imagine it’s you in my arms.” He danced around the room as if holding her.

“Ahhh, there’s the romantic man I married. Let me try now,” Trish said eagerly. Greg changed the suit to its matte black default
mode and Trish exchanged their form. He glanced in the mirror,

“Uh, Trish Honey?” he began. “Remember how I said there’s skin tight and skin tight? You might want to consider a bra in this getup,” he tweaked one of their outstanding nipples. “Tune in Tokyo!” he quipped lasciviously. She slapped his hand away and replied with mock outrage,

“Why Gregory, I didn’t know you were a dirty old man. And here I thought you liked our nipples,” she mimicked a pout.

“Hey, if I had my way, I’d just gaze at your lovely nakedness all day long,” he said lustily. “But, if we decide to do any public adventuring, you’ll have to cover up. Remember what I said about the mob mentality?” he reminded her.

“There’s my lovely, horny man. And here I thought you loved me for my mind,” she teased.

“Well, that too, but now there’s a sexy body as well. Bonus!” he grinned wickedly. Trish broke out laughing at that and he joined her. They sat down on the bed and caught their breath. Trish smiled, then frowned slightly.

“Greg? I was just thinking about what you were saying about public adventuring. I really don’t think we should do anything but covert operations for the time being. Let the world think that The SIX are the only superheroes around. It could make our job easier while we’re hunting the Illuminati,” she suggested.

“You’re right Honey,” Greg agreed, “and if we’re undercover and spotted or temporarily captured, we’ll probably look like Elton John or someone.” She smiled, stood up and took her place at the mirror. Seconds later, she was in an elegant evening gown that would have made Jean Paul Gaultier green with envy.

“Yow!” Greg yelped.

“Oh, I take it you approve?” she purred wickedly.

“An emphatic ‘Yes’! If I was controlling our jaw, it’d be sagging right about now.” Trish went through several designs including some racier ones just to get Greg’s reactions. She was rarely disappointed. Then she allowed the suit to go back to its default mode.

“Greg!” Trish screamed. “I heard you, in my mind! I heard you say ‘Wait’ll I get you alone, Sexy!’ I heard you!” She concentrated.

“Hey!” he said. “I caught that clear as a bell! What’s the bugs’ integration status?”

Trish called up the nanomech monitor and they both gaped at it in surprise. The bugs were 85 percent idle and neural integration was at 100 percent. Greg reached out with his mind and turned off the monitor. It was almost second nature.

he offered the set-up. She laughed as she recalled the old joke,

he asked.

She offered him the straight line, this time.

he groaned. She willed an opening in the front of the suit and disconnected it from their net. Stepping out of it, she grabbed a robe and put it on as they walked to the kitchen.

Four hours later, Greg found that he could transform his right hand to any of the patterns they had. Trish split her time between coaching him and setting up an organized file system for all the raw data that they expected to collect. By the time 11:00pm rolled around, they were both very happy but extremely exhausted. As they climbed into bed, Greg pictured the yard in his mind. Trish saw what he was attempting and joined him there.

he sighed happily.

She grinned and ran to him. He held her tight.

He kissed her tenderly and thoroughly and then smiled contentedly,

he finished her thought.

he conceded.

To Be Continued