This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity.

If you would like background information on the canon characters, see:
http://crystalhall.wikia.com/wiki/Table_of_Contents

For a copy of the campus map I am using, see:
http://crystalhall.wikia.com/wiki/Poe_Cottage

Authors note:
I mention a rather bizarre federal loophole based on the supreme court decision in 'Technomancer vs. The Transportation Safety Administration, 2002', see the official cannon story 'Gearhead by E. E. Nalley' for an explanation.

Scratchy

Since I apparently don't sleep, I don't know if 'waking' is the correct verb, but I woke up very early. That is to say, my mum, (god I liked saying that,) released me from her embrace around 4am . The first thing I became aware of was, the sheets were really scratchy. Not irritating like synthetics, just rough like sandpaper. Well, okay slight exaggeration there, but I am sure you get the picture. Evidently my delicate female skin was quite sensitive to cheap cotton bed linen.

With no real hope of proper sleep, I got up and headed to the shower. I briefly thought about playing with the Hydroflux equipment, but truth be told, I was still a bit frightened by my female anatomy. So, giving it a miss, I had a long comfortable shower then settled down in front of my vanity to get to grips with the technicalities of hair and makeup. By now, even though I was a bit intimidated by my more intimate parts, I was very comfortable with the actuality of being a girl and wanted to make a success of it. Not only that, my mum was quite insistent my looks were my most powerful weapon, and was adamant I learn to present them in their most flattering light.

I had bought a hair-drier, curling tongs and heated-rollers; and, to be perfectly frank, after reading the instructions, I was lost. The mysteries of feminine hair seemed beyond me. Wrapping a short towel around my head to keep any damp hair away from my face. To give me time to think, I got dressed before wrapping another towel around my shoulders to help keep my top clean. Deciding, for the moment, to concentrate on the make-up, it took me three attempts before I could expertly reproduce the look I had been given in the castle. Not sure about the effects of the chemicals in the face cleaner and tissues, after cleaning off the final successful attempt, I quickly washed my face with lots of fresh water. I was now ready to try tackling my hair.

Although it had a plethora of mysterious attachments, the hair dryer seemed the simplest to master. Unfortunately, since my hair was very thick and currently had a few tangles, brushing it was painful. Putting the hair-drier to one side, I started off by running my fingers through my hair, before progressing to a wide toothed Afro comb, then a slightly smaller toothed comb. It became hypnotic, almost therapeutic, and for a while I zoned out. What was captivating me was how long and silky my hair was. It stretched down to below my breasts, and the more I combed it, the more silky it became. When I came out of my trance, it was with some amazement I realized that my hair was only slightly damp, with a natural waviness.

Thinking about styles: I had always liked the style where girls would weave two small braids with their front locks; and, along with the bulk of the hair, fasten them at the back with a clasp. It seemed fairly simple, and I had bought a few decorative clasps and barrettes. Diving into my jewellery box, I quickly found a barrette about 7cm long by 3cm wide made from silver with a lapis lazuli inlay. Pinning up the top of my hair, I fitted the bindi and combed the hair out around it, before attempting to weave the first braid. It wasn't that difficult, after two attempts I had it down pat, and after finishing a matching braid on the other side, I was combing the rest of my hair behind my head ready for the barrette. All in all, I was quite pleased with the look, and set about putting on my make-up, a trick which I had already mastered.

After switching out the earrings back to the original sapphires, (in the process, making another note to find some way to make the piercings permanent,) I put on the rest of my jewellery along with the heeled sandals I was given at the castle. With a quick dash of the floral scent that mum had liked, I was ready to face whatever tribulations the day would throw at me. By the way, I wasn't wearing my jewellery out of pure vanity, I had an appointment with both my guardian and Cecilia Rodgers. I wanted to make an impression with my guardian, but more importantly, I was taking all of my jewellery, including what was in my jewellery box, with me to the Rodgers Boutique. Basically, I wanted to make sure that my clothes would go well with my chosen style of adornment. Apart from that, mum was going to show me how to load my jewellery up with enchantments and charms, so it was important that people get used to seeing me fully kitted out.

Breakfast

When I manifested as a pre-cog, one of the first things I noticed was, during team sports, I had a sort of situational awareness: I was very much aware of what the opposing team were upto and their overall goal with respect to how they were positioning themselves.

Taking the path between the Doyle Medical centre and Melville, I became aware, or rather intuitively felt, that someone was lying in wait to ambush me. While I was with Baron Blitzen, I had taken active measures to hide my telepathic gift, measures that were no longer necessary. Sampling the surrounding area, I zeroed in on a man hiding in the bushes about 50 metres ahead. Sensing he was very excited to see me and preparing to jump out, I readied a one-two telepathic punch followed by a mesmerising blast of my aura. I briefly flirted with the idea of bonding him, but realised that would probably cause more trouble than it was worth. If nothing else, the way my reputation was going, I would probably be accused of raping the rapist.

It went exactly as planned, with a gleeful shout of: “Miss....”, he burst from the bushes just as I drew level, and stopped dead in his tracks with a pole-axed expression from a telepathic smack to the goolies. This quickly turned into a big cheesy grin, as my mesmer hit him. He was looking a bit green about the gills, but he was just soo happy....

Now that I had him, after a few minutes thought, I decided that, since I was supposed to be a member of security, I should maybe take him into custody or something. Telling him to follow along, we marched into Kane Hall with him scampering ahead to open the door for me. (Well, since I was wearing the tight pencil skirt and strappy sandals, maybe marching wasn't quite the right word.)

Along with the officer on the duty desk, Chief Delarose and Sam were standing in the middle of reception discussing some detail or another. Looking up and seeing me and my prisoner, the Chief broke into a big smile, saying: “Why, if it isn't Special Agent Bernstein, as I live and breath. What do we owe this.....”

Whatever he was going to say trailed off as, seeing the blissfully vacant look on my prisoners face, he gave me a sharp look and demanded: “What did you do to him?”

Then with a questioning gesture: “You didn't...?”

The Admiral, with a resigned sigh, restricted herself to: “Oh Fiona, what have you done now?”

Yep, I was in trouble again, and Sam was back to being the Admiral.

Realising the direction things were going, I replied aggressively: “Look, the creep tried to rape me.”

Then, somewhat righteously: “It was my duty as a campus security auxiliary to bring him in for questioning.”

My indignation didn't seem to move them, as both the Chief and the Admiral simultaneously voiced a sceptical: “Rape?”

Aggressive attack didn't seem to be working, maybe a bit more teenage whining was in order: “He was hiding in a bush, and jumped out as I walked past.”

Seeing their still sceptical looks, and feeling I needed to explain myself a bit more. With possibly a touch too much nonchalance, I continued: “What was I supposed to do? There I am, a young defenceless girl walking along a deserted path, and this 'pervert' jumps out to drag me into the bushes and commit god knows what atrocities on my body?.”

Chief Delarose almost screamed: “He wasn't trying to rape you, he was trying to recruit you!”

“Huh?”

Sam, she was back to being my friend, suggested: “Why don't you let me handle this Chief.”

Turning to me, she explained: “The police and intelligence services of various governments have teams of recruiters working undercover on campus to try to hire top talent. Special Agent Bernstein here works for the FBI.... What did you do to him by the way? Please tell me you haven't bonded him?”

With Agent Bernstein standing staring at me with a vacant, adoring gaze, ready to immediately satisfy my slightest whim, and realising I was possibly in real trouble, I thought to myself: 'You know self,... maybe if we let him go they might cut us a little slack.'

Waving my hand in an entirely superfluous, vaguely magical gesture, I released the mesmer. In the process I explained: “I just gave him a little blast of my aura to make him docile.”

Special Agent Bernstein, turning a ghastly shade of puce green, immediately doubled over clutching his family jewels, and proceeded to empty his stomach of everything he had ever eaten.

Sensing the unasked question, I added: “Oh, and I telepathically kicked him in the nuts.”

Giving the poor guy a second look, I qualified: “Well, I haven't really got the hang of it yet, so maybe it felt more like I stomped on them.”

The duty sergeant; who, with the lightening quick reflexes of a combat veteran, was thrusting a waste-paper basket in the direction of the FBI agent, looked at me with horror as did both the Chief and Sam.

Special Agent Bernstein, before grabbing the waste-paper basket and throwing up some more, managed to gasp at me: “Try: 'Placing them on an anvil and having them smashed with a sledge hammer.'”

Noting the typical male reaction to the mental imagery, I helpfully pointed out: “He isn't physically injured, he just won't be feeling... mm... frisky(?)... for a couple of day's.”

To cut to the nub, apart from the fact that I had gotten into a potentially dangerous situation without backup, technically I wasn't in trouble. The recruiters were supposed to restrict themselves to the campus job fair; but, in an effort to get a jump on their competitors, they regularly made a pest of themselves. It was generally felt that little incidents like this helped keep the nuisance factor down to tolerable levels. There was a tiny little issue with the Whateley cannon of psychic ethics, but it was agreed that, since he had jumped out on me, I had good reason to believe I was defending myself. This explanation was supported by Agent Bernstein when, by way of apology, I offered that when he was feeling better, he could make his pitch about the benefits of an FBI scholarship along with the associated career opportunities.

On the other hand, I had only succeeded in increasing Sam and the Chiefs determination to keep me so busy I wouldn't have time for extracurricular misadventures. This impression was based partly on the stern way in which I was told that once I had filled out an incident report, it, along with the rest of the day's security reports, would be added to my in-box for processing. The other hint they were less than pleased was: I was being moved to the head of the list for power testing. First thing tomorrow morning, before the bulk of the new fresher intake even arrived, I had an appointment in the power lab. As Sam sweetly put it: “We want to get your details so you can start holo-sim training on: 'Protocols and standards of behaviour for campus security.'”

Grinning, she then went on to inform me: “The school has a UN affiliated JTROC program, for the most part, students have already made arrangements to join through their national OTC programs before arriving at Whateley. The problem is that the basic range safety courses don't start until winter term. To get around this, we run a special induction course during freshers week for prospective new members. It is based on the requirements for a 'federal concealed carry permit' and it allows us get new JTROC members playing to the same script and onto the ranges.”

Her smile was positively evil as she finished: “Since I have already made arrangements for you to join the JTROC, you will be taking this course. It runs throughout fresher's week, and has a full schedule with both day and night classes to give you time to complete your other class registration requirements. There is also a final exam, an exam by the way, I expect you to 'ace', no excuses accepted.”

So much for my freshers week and, to quote the student handbook: 'The great opportunities it presented new students.'

I was really hungry when I finally got out of Kane hall to go for breakfast, but only had a very short half hour before my debriefing on how I escaped from Baron Blitzen. With this thought in mind, I quickly filled a tray with all the things girls are supposed to avoid, and sat at the first empty table. Eating quickly, and still a bit hungry, I went back for seconds. Given the quantities I had heaped on my plates, (plural,) even for my normal enhanced appetite, this was a bit unusual. However, since I was eating my breakfast alone while wallowing in self pity at life's many injustices, I brushed it off as simple comfort eating.

Debriefed

Debriefing was a bit like the inquisition: The Chief, Sam, gunny Bardue, RSM Burlington-Smythe and staff sergeant Wilson were arranged on one side of the table, while a very forlorn and solitary little me was sitting in the chair facing them. In terms of fire-power, this was serious overkill. Between them, they had about a hundred years service in British and American special forces, and all of that experience was directed at taking apart and critiquing my escape.

Okay, to be fair, they were pretty gentle with me. They already knew the details of the actual escape from debriefing Blackstar squad, and were more interested in my plan, how I came up with it and what influence precognition played in the planning. In fact, they actually helped me get a better grasp of the nature of my pre-cog talent.

I started off by explaining how, apart from brief flashes and hunches, the basic nature of my gift seemed to be a type of enhanced situational awareness. When I told them about my disastrous first visit to the 'web of fate' and the visions of a likely demonic future, I could almost see the skin creeping up the backs of their necks and we got kind of sidetracked. For sake of being concise, I wont stick to chronological order that information was shared, (note the use of the word shared!)

In essence, they had been told that, apart from me, no pre-cog had seen beyond mid 2008 and lived to tell about it. They were very interested in knowing if I had foreseen a way of stopping my vision happening, and, although they had the calm of professional soldiers, were even more creeped out when I replied in the negative. What really weirded them out however, was, from what I saw in my visions, mid 2008 was only one of hundreds of thousands of potential launching points into hell. All of this made them very interested in understanding how I had used my gift to escape from Baron Blitzen.

Explaining the fluid nature of the future; how in many ways it was like a maze, and, (possibly because I was untrained,) about the lack definition in my original vision. I told them that I knew that, if I survived, I would arrive at Whateley and I would have joined with Princess Selene, but the exact details were initially vague and the further I got from the point of entry, the less they could be relied upon as a guide. This lead into my plan of escape and how I developed it.

By the time we had finished, I felt they were quite impressed. Burlington-Smythe in particular, was gloating about how I had played RSM Wilkins. Apparently he knew Wilkins from the 'regiment', and while he respected him as a soldier, had never really liked him. There seemed to be a suggestion in what he was saying that he fully intended use the regiment's old boy network to let Wilkins know how he had been suckered.

As Sam summed it up, the general feeling was that I had come up with a workable long term strategy to get into a position where I could use my abilities to escape. During the escape, I had made tactically sound decisions which were focused on the primary goal of escaping with the information necessary to mount a rescue of the other women and children. More importantly, while sorely tempted, I had not fallen into the trap of going beyond the basic mission parameters: Like for example, trying to mount my own rescue attempt of women and children who, because of the Baron's indoctrination, might very well have resisted being 'rescued'.

As I would find out later in the year: Sam was so impressed, she would use my escape, along with the 'D-day assault on Brécourt Manor', in one of her lectures on small unit tactics. The parallel being that the 'Brécourt assault' had focused on the primary goal of disabling the guns bombarding Utah beach, and not fallen into the trap of trying to take the position. A trap which would certainly have resulted in a much higher number of casualties and could easily have resulted in failure to achieve the mission's primary objective.

Although the debriefing had gone quite well, it had taken over two hours and I was exhausted by the time I met Mrs Potter's daughter for the first time.

My Guardian

Waiting for us in the reception was a stout middle aged woman who, for the benefit of any watchers, gave me a big hug, while explaining in a loud voice how she had been so worried about me. Taking charge, Sam then invited us into our office so that we could have some privacy for our 'reunion'.

Pulling the seats from our desks alongside the one from in front of Sam's desk, we seated ourselves in a comfortably intimate circle before getting down to business. My guardian, a widow with two grown up children who lived in Boston and New York, was called Mrs Waterford, though she insisted I call her Agnes. Explaining that she lived in a cottage on the outskirts of Dunwich, she filled me in on the little details that I would need to know. I must admit, I liked her. In a lot of way's she was like a younger version of my grandmother who had died a few years ago. My grandmother by the way, was probably the only person who had ever stood up to my father, my uncle Dave taking the less confrontational approach of just ignoring him.

The bulk of the conversation was taken up with my trust fund; setting up a charitable donation to finance the new security barracks, and the forming of a limited company to employ my private army. This company was being registered as a legitimate security business with all the appropriate permits and licences. In addition, since, as part of the charitable donation, they were technically being contracted to Whately, its employees were being deputised as Federal Agents. The twist here was: Because I was the squad's commander of record, once I had passed the JTROC foundation course, I was also being deputised as a federal agent. The lawyers felt that in light of a few recent test cases, particularly the supreme court decision in 'Technomancer vs. The Transportation Safety Administration, 2002', they had a good chance of making it stick.

On the advice of Mrs Potter and Circe, the wheels had already been set in motion for all of this before my arrival and now that I was finally here, they could proceed with the detailed work.

While we were talking about my trust fund, I had a flash about a financial crisis involving sub-primes and the growth potential of Bullion, Treasuries and Swiss Guilts. I had no idea what any of these terms meant, but when I told her what I could, Mrs Waterford, or rather Agnes, laughed and explained her mother had also warned her, saying: “In some way's precognition is my biggest investment problem.”

Apparently, apart from the often cryptic nature of Mrs Potter's hints, pre-cogs and their families weren't, strictly speaking, forbidden from investment markets in the way that we were forbidden from casinos and other forms of gambling, but we were held to a much higher standard by the Securities and Exchange Commission vis a vis insider trading laws.

As she explained it, she had to have an impeccable paper trail demonstrating that any investments she made were based on sound financial information that was freely available to anyone who cared to look. The requirements were so exacting, most pre-cogs found it was much simpler to set up a blind trust to manage their investments. On the other hand, she had years of experience managing both her own portfolio and that of her mother's. As a result, she had all the contacts already in place to deal with the required research. The really good news however, was that, because she was restructuring our portfolios, she was effectively taking profits. In my case, the accountants felt that, taking into account tax-deductions like my charitable donations to the school, even after I had put $15 million aside for a new security barrack; the inflation adjusted net value of my trust-fund would increase by more than I could possibly hope to spend.

Lunch

Having dealt with all the incidentals, we were ready for the important business of getting something to eat before my appointment at the Rogers Boutique. When we got outside, we found Starlance waiting for us dressed in a Whateley security uniform and acting as the designated driver of a campus SUV. Saluting Sam and me, he informed us in a clipped military style that the emergency dormitory had already arrived and was being installed behind Kane Hall. Then turning, he opened the rear door for Mrs Waterford before rushing to open the door on the other side for me. Sam took the opportunity to quickly get in the front passenger seat without any unwanted assistance.

On the way into town, Agnes, she was quite insistent about me not calling her Mrs Waterford, told us she had taken the liberty of booking a table at Sally's Restaurant for an early lunch. She described it as being: “Quite a homey little restaurant which is often used as a meeting place by the town's movers and shakers.”

It was still a bit early for the regular lunch crowd; but still, when we arrived, there was a couple of locals and a few tourists already in the restaurant. Starlance, entering with us and scanning for any potential threats before retiring to keep watch from the car, raised a couple of eyebrows, though Agnes handled it in her stride. Exchanging greetings with one of Dunwich's better known gossips, she casually reminded her that her ward had recently been kidnapped and suggested that the school was taking no chances with my safety. This of course lead to me being introduced to the town gossip, who, while not quite fawning all over me, agreed I was quite the loveliest creature she had ever seen.

I have to point out here, I was starting to find being referred to as 'quite the loveliest creature', a bit insulting. Mrs Horton, then Agnes and now the town gossip had all used the exact same expression. As far as I knew, I looked like a normal, albeit exceptionally beautiful, human girl. Did I have fairy wings and pointed ears I couldn't see?

Once we finally got seated and were waiting for the menu, Agnes leaned into me conspiratorially and confided she was: “... finding all this cloak and dagger stuff quite exciting.” As she saw it, she was a fat old woman who had never really left Dunwich. A town which in her opinion was a great place to bring up children, but was so boring, with everyday being exactly the same as the last, it could easily have been the inspiration for Ground Hog Day.

Lunch was good, and because the school was a major source of revenue, the towns inhabitants had a very discreet 'hear nothing', 'see nothing' attitude when it came to Whateley students. For me this was great news, since I was able to tuck in with abandon. When Agnes mentioned my appetite, I pointed out I was an exemplar, then after a second and third thought, I realised that my appetite was much bigger than it had been before my joining with Princess Selene. Putting a few things together, it almost seemed as if, (along with my regen,) my exemplar rating had had a significant boost. I asked my mum about this, but she was at complete loss. As far as she knew, the magic and telepathy from my succubus aspect should bleed over into my human aspect, but the purely mutant powers were not part of the succubus heritage. In other words, she had no idea what was really going on. When I mentioned it to Sam, she was just as puzzled, and suggested it was all the more reason to get me into power testing at the earliest opportunity.

The main topic of conversation centred around me and my jewellery, which Agnes really liked. She was particularly impressed with the bindi which she thought was very unusual but somehow seemed to really suit me. Once again leaning in conspiratorially, she asked: “Did you steal it from the Baron's castle?”

Man, why does everyone take one look at my jewellery and assume I am a jewel thief in training?

Since my explanation to Jadis the previous evening had fallen flat, I thought I would try something else. Blushing like a schoolgirl, I explained: “It was a gift I received from an admirer just before my escape.”

Agnes, a very wise woman, was not easily fooled, saying: “Good for you girl, look upon it as compensation. A girl can never have too much jewellery, and after what they put you through, I think you deserve it.”

You can see why I like Mrs potters daughter, she was a girl after my own larcenous heart.

She went on to say that all the excitement had put her in the mood for more, and suggested she would like to act as chaperone on a shopping trip to Boston for me and one or two friends. The official aim of the trip being to find me a few more items of sparkling gaudiness to decorate my bodacious bod.

Although I don't think she had any intention of doing so; before Sam could object, I quickly agreed. A shopping trip to Boston, chaperoned or otherwise, meshed well with my own plans for trying to fit in and make friends. Something I was going to be hard-pressed to do if Sam and the Chief really were intent on keeping me out of mischief by filling up all my free time. I was sure Vamp would jump at the chance, Jadis might be interested and there must be at least a couple of the new fresher intake who would like to go on tour of Boston’s finest jewellery shops. So, with that in mind, we tentatively made plans for the second weekend after the start of classes.

After we had finished lunch, we decided to stroll down to 'Rogers' Fabric Boutique'. I have to give Starlance his due, even though he had been a villain before I bonded him, he was a professional. Discreetly tailing us, he waited until we were about a third of the way to Cecilia Rodger’s shop before moving off slowly to pull up outside Cecilia's shop just as we arrived. Meaning, we were not only always within easy distance for a rescue, we were always centrally placed with respect to his effective combat scanning range.

Maybe I should explain: When I had first bonded them, in addition to my prescient knowledge, I had got a very quick run down on Blackstar squads power and skills. They were all low to mid level Aryan exemplars, even Startech, and they had all had extensive military training, this included the military use of both their powers and conventional weapons. They also had a great many years of real combat experience.

Starport was primarily transport and reconnaissance. His teleportation limit was about fourteen people plus basic equipment, or a six man squad plus heavy equipment and supplies. After transporting the squad into an area of combat, he would teleport by line of sight to reconnoitre the drop zone. He was also a highly skilled sniper preferring a McMillan TAC-50 rifle fitted with the obligatory bipod and a devisor-tech, day-night scope. With his warping power, he could quickly and silently get into position for a kill shot.

Starfire a mid level pyrokinetic energiser who, along with Starstrike, acted as aerial support; though it should be noted: Due to the squad's primary role as a scout infiltration group, unless actually in combat, being airborne was usually counter productive. As an energizer, he had the capacity to fire upto seven lightning bolts from his hands, before requiring a few hours to recharge. In addition to lightning blasts, his pyrokinetic talent allowed him to set anything combustible, (within a range of about 50 metres,) on fire with a glance. Even though this made him a very terrifying opponent, his effective range was closer to the enemy than sane people wished to be during a fire-fight, so his preferred weapon of choice was the M249 light machine gun. With a sustained rate of fire of 100 rpm and Starfire usually carrying at least half a dozen of the standard 200 round canvas ammunition drums, (at around 20kg + basic equipment + 7kg LMG, a heavy sustained load for a baseline, but not too great a problem for an exemplar/energiser,) he was capable of laying down around 15 minutes worth of near continuous, withering suppressing fire from either the ground or air.

Starstrike your basic TK-Brick, was the squads tank. Able to fly, along with Starfire he could act as aerial support; but as previously pointed out, in a normal combat patrol this was a liability. With a telekinetic shield protecting him he was more or less immune to anything short of anti-brick rounds and could close with an enemy position and physically rip it apart. On the other hand anti-brick rounds were a serious problem, so his preferred weapon was a Carl Gustav recoilless rifle. With a TK field that extended upto 5 metres around him, he could load and fire the monster on his own. The main limitation to the weapon was the number of rounds he could carry. Because of his TK enhanced strength, this was more a question of bulk than mass, and he had designed a special ammunition rack fitted to a back frame. In addition to the recoilless rifle, he also carried an M16 set to fire in three round bursts.

Starfury, the squads combat mage, was the mortar and camouflage expert. With years of experience, he had a wide selection of spells, along with a number of charms and enchantments that were combat ready. His stand-off weapon was a modern recurve bow, with a selection of 'barrage' arrows some charmed to create smoke, while the majority were charmed to explode, not only with the traditional fireball, but with a destructive shock-wave kicker. Firing at a 45 degree angle his effective barrage range was in the region 250 to 300 metres. An expert Olympic grade archer, at around 80 to 100 metres he was deadly accurate with arrows charmed to deliver a focused armour penetrating blast. This made him absolutely lethal against tanks and bunkers. As a supplement to this, he was also skilled with a slingshot catapult and carried a wide selection of charmed, colour coded, heavy beads that included magical capture gel rounds and smoke. He also carried an M16 slung over his shoulder as a backup weapon.

Startech, the squad's devisor, was primarily in charge of communications and surveillance. Carrying an M16, his pack was loaded with devises and the parts that would allow him to improvise devisor-tech in the field; like, for example, the devises we used to set fire to the castle's C&C.

Starlance was a mid level telepath, whose stand-off weapon was the squads standard M16 firing in three round bursts. To put it bluntly, for a military unit to use a telepath purely for interrogation was, at best, a criminal misuse of a powerful resource, and his main role was a telepathic scout. During a combat patrol, Starlance would scan the surrounding area for strong emotions radiating hostile intent. The effective scanning range fell off as a hyperbola, beyond about 500 metres the effect became unreliable; in the range 250 to 500 metres only non-telepaths with specialised training could block his scan. Once inside a hundred metres, it would take someone with exceptional training and control to block being detected. In close quarters combat of less than about 10 metres, he became extremely dangerous: He had developed telepathically attacking an opponent into a higher art form, and was also a highly skilled knife fighter who carried, (secreted about his battle dress,) a wide selection of daggers and throwing knives of all types. This made even other telepaths vulnerable to his combat skills.

A slight digression there, but what with mentioning Starlance's powers, it seemed like a good opportunity to outline the rest of Blackstar squads power set. Anyway, as you can see, from the way Starlance had positioned himself during our stroll to Cecilia's shop, we were always inside Starlance's most effective combat range.

He was about to enter the shop with us and repeat the scan he had made at the restaurant, but both Sam and Agnes strongly suggested this would not be a good idea. Apparently Cecilia was so good a seamstress, she was able to pick and choose her clients. As Sam put it: “It wouldn't matter if you were the Queen of England, you piss her off and you can kiss goodbye to her services.”

Pointing out I was Scottish, and, as far as I was concerned, being the 'Queen of Bloody England' was reason enough to be barred from any shop, Agnes interjected: “Just listen to her Fiona, Cecilia really is very choosy about who she takes as clients.”

The really annoying thing was: There was a definite, but unspoken, 'For once,' preceding Agnes interruption of my tirade on the general character of the English, their flag and the collection of inbred, genetically defective free-loaders they laughingly called a royal family. I mean, jeez, she hardly knew me and she was already talking like she'd said a million zillion times: “For once, just listen Fiona...”

Rogers' Fabric Boutique

As we entered the shop, as if by magic, Miss Rodgers appeared from a stockroom: With the exemplar type looks of a model, and her long brunette hair tied in a pony tail, she looked to be in her mid twenties. Dressed in a blouse and a peasant skirt, she was also wearing a lab coat with dozens of pockets holding what looked to me like devisor-tech. I had been told, that because of her mutation, much like the way a hydro-kinetic has control of water, she had complete control of fabric right down to the molecular level. She supplemented this ability with the use of devises and magical enchantments. With these tools and her basic power set, she could create almost any outfit in minutes, and with clients flying in from all over the world to have the prestige of owning just one of her outfits, she was widely considered to be the best couturist on the planet.

Things got off to a bad start when she introduced herself by saying: “My aren't you quite the loveliest creature, we really must get you enrolled in the Ballroom Dancing class.”

Spluttering... My indignation at once again being referred to as a 'creature', was choked off by a final gasp of indignation from my old male self when I fleetingly fantasised about being twirled around a dance floor by some overly muscled adonis.

Seeing the questioning looks at my thunderously rising fury, I was about to let blast a blistering retort when my mum intruded: <You know Fiona, that is really a very good idea.>

Having a target for my rage that wouldn't be mortally offended, I let rip: <You have got to be kidding me. With the way my luck runs, I will probably end up partnering a pimple faced casanova who has more hands than an octopus.>

<I thought you were fantasising about being 'twirled' by an overly muscled adonis? You have to take risks if you want to win the big prize!>

How can you have a fair argument with your mum when she's inside your head? I didn't really get a chance to reply though, she unfairly hit me with logic: <Look, it's really very simple. You need these lessons, along with all the other lessons that will teach you the skills of a beautiful woman. Like, for example, the things you will learn when you rush Venus Inc.>

Spluttering again at the thought of joining what was obviously Whateley's version of the Beauty Nazis, my mum decided to make a tactical withdrawal. In the process, she left me to face the increasingly worried Miss Rodgers, Agnes and Sam.

Sighing, I took some small satisfaction in saying: “Evidently my mum agrees with you, she is being quite insistent that I sign up for ballroom dancing.”

I think I was starting to take real pleasure in doing that to people. The looks of total bafflement more than made up for what I had just been put through.

Getting down to business, dumping my collection of spare jewellery on the counter top, I politely explained to Miss Rodgers I was going to be using these, along with the jewellery I was currently wearing, to make an arsenal of charms and enchantments. Going on to explain that just over 24 hours ago, I had been a boy and currently only had the clothes on my back, I explained I had no idea about styles or fashions, but desperately needed a complete wardrobe for a teenage girl, including nightwear and winter overcoats. Then, pointing out that I was actually sidhe and it needed to be 100% natural fibre, I remembered the scratchy sheets and pleaded, with genuine, irresistible, girly tears in my eyes, for her make me some really soft bed linen.

There was a sort of stunned silence at the way I had got my shopping list out in one unbroken rush. A silence that was only broken when Sam pointed out: “You will also need three security uniforms, one to take away with you, and two Gi for martial art training, again one to take with you. In addition, Mrs Horton asked me to remind you: If you plan any more nocturnal excursions, then you will need a costume for your succubus aspect. Her exact words were: 'Although the boys in Emerson and Twain, almost certainly enjoyed the view, it is against school rules to fly naked around campus.'”

My blush response went nova as Miss Rodgers and Agnes tried hard to suppress snorts of laughter.

When a recovering Agnes added that I would need a business suit, though not immediately, Miss Rodgers politely asked: “What about a school uniform, I usually get asked for at least one of those?”

Oops...

“Thanks for reminding me, I will probably need one or two of those too please.”

You see, I'm not a bratty teenager, I do have manners and know how to say please and thankyou.

With that, we finally got down to fabric choices. Miss Rodgers, asking me to call her Cecilia when we were in her shop, had a selection of fabric samples and wanted to know what I thought in terms of softness and how they felt against my delicate skin: Angora and cashmere wool, both woven and knitted, felt great, and good quality silk is one of the most wonderfully sensuous fabrics you can imagine. When she showed me 700+ Egyptian cotton, it's amazingly soft texture quickly convinced me that it would be suitable for all the cotton and denim I needed. However, what really blew my mind was satin-weave, either silk or cotton, it didn't matter. Well maybe silk was nicer, but there was not really a lot in it. Smiling indulgently at my reaction to the feel of satin, Cecilia noted that even the boy's liked it, especially when it was worn by a pretty girl.

Funnily enough, although I did blush, I didn't really react like you would expect. Sure, I made noises about no boy ever getting close enough to feel its soft, smooth, almost frictionless caress, but at the same time.... well lets just say it was the first time I really felt the stirrings of mild curiosity any young teenage girl eventually feels.

Then, I gave myself a shake as I realised what a number the succubus magic was working on my psyche. Boys? Yeugh!

It was when we got to possible styles that the real fun started. My mum, god bless her lovely soul, asked: <Fiona, it is important I speak with your couturist.>

<Are you going to change our aspect again? I mean if you are, I want to take my top and bra off, I don't really have anything to replace them with yet.>

<It's my natural form dear.>

With a sigh, I announced: “Erm... Miss Rodgers, evidently my mum wants to have some input on the style of clothes I get, and would like to speak with you.”

Seeing the puzzlement on her face, sticking to the cover story, I explained: “You see when I joined with my guardian spirit, the magics made me her daughter, and since my birth mother is dead and I really am her daughter, I call her mum.”

Nodding in sympathy, her eyes rose sharply when I told her: “Erm... I am going to have to take my clothes off to make room for my wings and tail.”

Reminding me to call her Cecilia, she replied: “Well if I need to make a costume for your other form, it is probably best I get an idea of what it looks like first, and since we are all girls here, I don't really see a problem.”

After being naked so often since I turned into a girl, I was kind of anaesthetized to the embarrassment factor. Stripping off my clothes, rather than undo the straps of the sandals, I left them on, and was once again pushed into the passenger seat as mum took control of my body. Bowing to Cecilia, she was her usual formal self: “Honoured craft-mistress, my daughter is yet new to her inheritance and does not yet have full understanding of its nature. She is a maiden with a shy and retiring disposition, therefore it falls upon me as her mother to give guidance in the selection of a suitable wardrobe for both a succubus and the Royal Princess of the Court of the Moon.”

Eyes were popping all around. By definition, succubi in their true form exude sex appeal in the way teenage boys drool over porn, and their beauty is such that even the most beautiful exemplar women will gnash their teeth with envy. All of this was lost however, in the simple but elegantly formal way my mum addressed Cecilia. Bowing in return, Cecilia replied: “I have had many years of experience in dealing with mutants and their special needs, I am sure that we can come up with a suitable wardrobe for your daughter your Highness.”

“Yes, I am sure you can honoured craft-mistress, your skills are almost as legendary as those of the Artificer. With your permission, I will explain: While she is yet young, her magical nature is that of the succubi and she draws power from the baser instincts and drives of virtually all males and many women. As she matures and grows, it will be something she does on an almost instinctive basis, but for the moment, it is a skill that she needs to learn. It is very important that she becomes comfortable with this aspect of her patrimony; however, she is also the ruler of her court, and it is equally imperative that she be seen as such. I beseech thee honoured craft-mistress, use your skills to strike an appropriate balance between the needs of her aspect as a succubus and the demands of her aspect as ruler of the Court of the Moon.”

With that, bowing again in a gesture of respect, mum withdrew and I was back in the driving seat. Cecilia was evidently studying my succubus form with the eyes a high fashion designer and though I was a bit self-conscious at the scrutiny, I managed to resist the temptation to revert to my base form and manifest a robe.

After a bit, she asked me to enter a cubicle so that she could scan my dimensions in my succubus aspect. Telling me to place my shoes, bracelet and choker in the marked receptacle, she added that she understood about the problem regenerators could have with removing piercings. Then, joking about the time it must have taken to work the bindi into my hair, she told me she would make allowances for the rest of my jewellery.

The inside of the cubicle was about 2.5 metres tall and 1.6 metres wide, not enough to fully stretch my wings and I needed to curl my tail a bit, but it wasn't claustrophobic either. A mechanical voice told me to drop my clothes in a container, which I took to mean my shoes and jewellery. Then, the same voice asked me to take various positions like: sitting, standing, arms out to my sides, stretching and folding my wings as much as possible in the confined space, swinging and curling my tail... I guess you can imagine the routine. As I followed the instructions, I was scanned over every millimetre until the machine had built a complete 3D image of my body.

Once again outside with the others, Cecilia suggested I maintain my form while she prepared a costume. Heading over to a devise with half a dozen small robotic arms that vaguely resembled a cross between a knitting machine, a microwave and a sewing machine, she loaded it with bobbins of various types of very fine thread. As she worked, she explained that I would need special shoes for the costume she had in mind.

Apparently the bobbins were fine threads of lead, steel, and a modified form of kevra used for the soles of high end safety or combat boots. Starting with a thin core of lead to give it extra oomph, the machine wove as a single piece, the sole and stiletto heel for what would become the left foot of a pair of sandals. Progressing at eye watering speed, the weave blended into a steel lining around the lead core for rigidity, before finally blending into the modified kevra to give the exterior finish and ensure that, even on surfaces like ice, the sole had good grip.

Removing the finished sole out of the devise, Cecilia handed it to me for inspection while she set the devise up for the right foot of the pair of sandals. Okay, so far it was just a plain sole with a 3 ½ inch stiletto heel; heavy for is size and ostensible purpose, but not excessively so; it flexed easily in the direction of my foots natural flex, yet was very rigid in lateral compression. It was also delicate, under 2cm thick in the sole, with flowing lines leading to the heels blunted point. Where the insole would eventually go, it was sculpted to the natural curve of the sole of my foot, and even had a thin, delicately sculpted lip around the edge that would, among other things, protect me from stubbing my toes. Before I had finished examining the left sole, the devise had finished the other. It really was that quick!

Moving over to a platform with what was obviously a devisor-tech tailor's mannequin, she adjusted it until it was my shape and size, including the stubs of my tail and wings. Starting with a layer of silk, she very quickly built up over the mannequin alternating layers of silk and the thinnest calf leather imaginable, until it formed a skirted, one piece bathing suit. Giving it a kind of martial feel, she wove into the breast area a steel chainmail fabric which dangled very much like the crop top I had been wearing when I entered the shop. As a finishing touch, she added a 3cm strip of 'broken satin' angora rabbit fur around the edges of the chainmail where it merged with the leather. The use of the 'broken satin' breed of rabbit, (away from the context of the fur's original owner,) gave the fur an appearance that spoke of natural savagery.

Taking the two soles from me, she formed soft leather insoles which seemed to flow into the kevra of the actual soles themselves. Placing the nearly completed sandals under the mannequins feet, she quickly wove into the sandals long leather laces whose tasselled ends were tied around the top of the mannequins calfs.

Watching her work was entrancing, materials would fly from the shelves and wrap themselves around the mannequin, before melding into the desired form. When she finally finished only a few minutes after she had started, I had to give myself a shake to bring myself back to earth.

Sam, looking at it speculatively, suggested: “I took part in debriefing Starfury, and had already decided to see about getting Fiona trained with the bow and slingshot. If you don't mind Cecilia, I think you should add an archer's bracer to the left forearm, with possibly a second bracer to the right forearm for sword work.”

While Cecilia moulded matching forearm bracers, complete with leather thonged buttons and a tooled Celtic knot pattern around the edges, I asked Sam what she was playing at? She replied: “I don't know a great deal about magic; but from what Starfury said about his combat role, having a stand-off capability makes a lot of sense.”

Then, she added with a smirk: “Unless of course, you would rather sink those pretty little fangs into an enemy's throat?”

Mum, of course, had to get in her two cents worth by saying: <'For once', just listen to her Fiona.>, before retiring with a chuckle at my anguished shriek of: “Argh!”

The voluble shriek meant I had to explain what was so annoying about what my mum had just said. This produced knowing smirks from Agnes, Sam and Cecilia....

Jeez, a girl just can't win.

After removing the costume from the mannequin, Cecilia suggested I try it on. Unsurprisingly, the bathing suit was not a problem. It went on easily and the halter top was quickly buttoned at the back of my neck. The arm bracers went on relatively easily, but the laced sandals, on the other hand, were very intimidating.

Sitting, the first problem was my tail, but once it was safely tucked out of the way, I was faced with what could easily turn into the proverbial Gordian knot. Luckily, Cecilia really was a mistress of her craft; after she showed me the secret, it was obvious. The laces woven into the soles had been woven as hoops that, along with a single flap forming the heel, fitted around my foot like the flaps of a traditional shoe. There was one very long tasselled lace that fitted through the flaps and was wrapped around my calf in a criss crossing pattern before being tied in a double slipped reef knot below the knee. Easy-peasy, easier than putting on a pair of combat boots.

Armour

An aged, leathery black in colour, the halter top front exposed a deep cleavage, which was matched by a large ovoid cutout around my lower chest and belly. Along with a notch in the waist of the skirt for my tail, the costume was backless to accommodate my wings. With the steel chainmail, dangling just below my breasts, it was like something you would expect a barbarian warrior Queen to wear. An effect only enhance by the savagery of the thin, speckled strip of animal fur; the forearm bracers, and the demonic appearance of my succubus aspect.

Surprisingly, it had the suppleness you would expect from a well loved leather biker jacket. Looking in the mirror, I liked it, as did mum. The skirt was way, way short, barely reaching 12cm below my crotch; thankfully, the swimsuit bottom preserved my modesty. The exposed cleavage was decent; but man, I tell you no lies, if any more had been exposed, I would have been having a wardrobe malfunction every time I took a breath. In order to comfortably accommodate my tail without destroying the fit of the skirt, the waist was so low, with the addition of the large cut out in front, there was no doubt I should be thinking about a bikini wax, maybe even a brazilian.

Cecilia was explaining that layers of silk and leather had been used since Roman times to make the best quality armour. Me, I thought that it covered so little, any attacker would be too busy ogling to think about sticking things in me,..... well, at least sharp pointy metal things.

Lets just say it was scandalous. Agnes, my putative guardian, was breathing hard and fanning her flushed face, and Sam was worriedly helping her into a seat. After getting her breath back a bit, she managed: “You know, that costume's a challenge to every man who ever lived. If my husband had ever caught my daughter in bathing suit that even remotely resembled your costume, she would still be sitting gingerly 10 years later.... But on you.... It really suits you dear. I think Cecilia has outdone herself.”

Sam suddenly burst out laughing, and could hardly stop laughing long enough to explain: “When gunny Bardue sees that costume, he is going to go ballistic. One of the things that always sets him off is when a female student turns up for combat training in a scanty costume that is totally unsuited for real world battle conditions. The thing is, given your nature and powers he has nothing he can really complain about.”

Getting herself back under control, Sam further suggested that Cecilia add a strap to one of the side panels for me to clip a short wave radio.

Having an idea, before taking off the costume for her to add the strap, I shifted back to my human form, and et-voila, the costume still fitted like a glove. I had been fairly confident that both forms were the same size, which meant it was just my wings and tail that were causing my wardrobe problems. Obviously an intelligent woman, Cecilia had at least an inkling of the way my mind was working and was closely studying the fit. In her expert opinion, the only alteration that really needed to be made was creating two tiny flaps at the base of my tail to allow the notch to be closed with a small leather button when in my human form.

I had already fallen in love with Cecilia's creation, if nothing else, it offered me at least a partial solution to the nudity problem when changing form. Though that was not my main reason for liking it; the costume almost felt as if it was a part of me, and it was with real reluctance I prepared to take it off. Sensing what I was thinking, mum with a mother's typical practicality, suggested: <This evening when the moon is up, you can cast a ward of keeping and guarding into the costume; and, if you want, I will show you how you can also use the 'Law of Similarity' to cast an enchantment to turn it into real armour?>

<Real Armour?...'Law of Similarity'?>

<While it looks impressive, and I have little doubt of the craft-mistresses skill, without an enchantment there is too much exposed skin for it to provide real protection in battle. Since it looks like armour, we can use the similarity to cast an enchantment that will generate a protective field around you. It will offer protection from the bitterest winter cold; moderately intense heat comparable to standing in the centre of a large log fire, and will also stop arrows, slings, swords, hammers, axes and spears wielded by the strongest warriors. I do not know how well it will stand against modern weapons, but with the aid of your battle mage, we should be able to modify the shield spell you already know to provide layered protection for you and your warband.>

My exuberance to what mum was saying, must have shown a little. Especially when I gave a victory punch to the air and shouted: “ Yes! Oh wow yes.... Mum, that would be so cool.”

Telling everyone what mum had suggested, Sam, both a warrior and an engineer, thought it was important to know the limits of personal body armour irrespective of whether it was enchanted or not. Her eyes took on a vacant look as she worked through the problem of testing it without actually shooting holes in me. Cecilia was full of professional curiosity, she did use enchantments in her work, though I wasn't sure whether she actually had a magical ability of her own. Suddenly Sam's eyes focused sharply on me: In her best Admirals command voice, she ordered: “If you are intending on flying around campus this evening, you 'will' report in to security before leaving Poe.”

When I acknowledged her direct order, before Sam could return to calculating how to extrapolate useful test data on my, [soon to be,] enchanted armour, Cecilia asked her if it would be possible to see the test results. With Sam looking at me questioningly, it was obviously up to me and I replied: “Normally, I think I would want that type of information in the hands of as few people as possible. However as my couturist and now my armourer, you do have a need to know. What about if you can eyeball the results but it remains in our custody. Would that be acceptable?”

Sam nodded sharply in approval, and Cecilia agreed it was a reasonable precaution. So, when Sam returned to her calculations, Cecilia suggested we get on with making the required modifications to the armour and kitting me out with an emergency wardrobe.

Emergency Wardrobe

Just to be sure both aspects had the same basic measurements, Cecilia insisted I enter the cubicle to be rescanned. Once completed, I had the quandary of whether I should manifest a robe or not. I mean, since I had become a girl it seemed like I had been naked, or close to it, more often than I had been fully clothed. It almost felt like being naked was my natural state. Propriety won out, but at the speed Cecilia worked it was probably a waste of time. Heading back to the devise that she had made the soles of the sandals with, she quickly wove the soles for a pair steel toe capped combat boots for my uniform. In this instance, the modified kevra layer was a bit thicker in order to build up the overall thickness of the sole.

Within minutes after adjusting the mannequin, she had made a lavender silk satin-weave nightgown and a flimsy, transparent, silk baby doll nighty with matching white satin sleeping bra and thong. Telling me that would be enough nightwear to get by with until the rest of my wardrobe arrived, she added two sets of satin-weave cotton bed linen, along with lacy pillow cases, all sized for the standard campus beds, duvets and pillows. Asking if I had a robe, when I told her I had bought a cotton terri-cloth bathrobe the night before, she quickly made a sky blue, heavy silk robe patterned with unicorns for general lounging.

Next was lingerie: Starting with four pairs of transparent seamed black silk stockings, Cecilia wove from silk, two guipure lace suspender belts, one navy blue with butterflies, the other red with unicorns which, she joked, match my school bag. The elasticated straps were made from a weave of natural rubber blended with silk so they wouldn't irritate my delicate skin. Following these, there was a deep blue, front lacing, satin-weave cotton bustier type corset with straps for the stockings and gold needle lace trimming. Okay, it wasn't a real corset in the sense it had whale bones and needed a machine to be tightened, but it was pretty stiff, and, when I couldn't resist trying it on, she recommended lacing it tightly.

Along with guipure lace silk bras to match the suspender belts, she added: A couple of plain satin-weave cotton sports bras; two pairs each of guipure lace silk thongs and bikini briefs, which also matched the suspender belts; a pair each of satin-weave cotton bikini briefs and thongs to match the corset, and finally four sets of plain cotton satin panties to match the sports bras. As she added these last items, she explained with a wink, you will need them for when it is that time of the month.

Alright, so far I was adjusting quite well to being a girl. However, as someone who had been a thirteen year old boy just over 24 hours ago, I had only the vaguest notions of what was meant when girls talked about that time of the month. What I did know was that I did not want any part of it whatsoever. I was ashen faced and had to be helped into a seat, Cecilia was really distraught, accusing herself of being a fool and explaining that I had seemed so natural as a girl that she had completely forgotten I had only recently become one. Agnes had her arm around me and was trying to comfort me, while Sam had dashed into the back to make a cup of hot sweet tea. My mum pulled me briefly into her embrace, and just with that little reminder that she was with me, I managed to pull myself together.

Shuddering as I regained focus; I gratefully took the tea from Sam, and started to apologise for blanking out, and needlessly scaring them. They would have none of it of course, Cecilia was still distraught at her perceived lack of tact, and Agnes was promising we would have a long mother daughter talk as soon as we had the chance. Sam was kind of standing there with a concerned but helpless look to her eyes, not really sure what to say. I think it was the wink of camaraderie from a shared situation that finally got me thinking: 'Look self... get a grip other boy's in Poe have had to deal with this, and every girl that ever lived has had to deal with it too. If a hard bitten warrior like Sam can handle it, then we can surely manage to put up with the inconvenience. After all, you like being a girl.”

It was that last thought, that pulled me out of my funk, it was true. I did like being a girl, don't ask why, but I did.

Able to smile at last, I apologised and told them about my revelation, saying: “Look I am sorry for scaring you, it was just something I hadn't realised would happen to me. I'm not looking forward to it, but when it comes I'll deal with it. It's just a normal part of being a girl and I just realised, I really do like being girl.”

Agnes pulled me into another hug before looking at me intently and asking: “Are you sure your okay? I mean it must have come as a real shock. When I realised it was going to happen to me I cried for hours, and I was born a girl.”

“Yeah, I mean I'm not jumping for joy at the thought, but in a way it's a kind of validation that I really am all girl.”

Seeing the doubts on their faces, I explained further: “It's difficult to describe, when I was a boy, I was happy being a boy and never really gave it much thought. Now that I am a girl, it just feels right... You know?..... It's like I have found something very important that I never knew was lost....”

When I gave a questioning shrug to ask if they understood, I got another quick hug from Agnes, and was left to drink my tea while Cecilia finished my initial wardrobe.

The first creation to be ready, was a silk lined, dark blue velvet gown with a low cut round neckline with a frothy lace trimming and loose flaring medieval sleeves. It was figuring hugging, with barely enough room in the thighs to allow me to walk, and flared out from just above my knees in a cascading waterfall of frothy, cotton lace in shades contrasting blue. It was guaranteed to cause whiplash of the neck as I wiggled my cute little tush. For an accessory, Cecilia had also made a matching fringed velvet shoulder bag. I must admit, I loved that gown, it had real teenage class.

She quickly added: A brown, woven cashmere peasant skirt with four lace hemmed white cotton petticoats; two flared cotton skirts, one emerald green with a hem above the knee, the other red with a mid thigh hem, and lastly, a pair of faded, tight fitting, low rider capri jeans which ended at the knees with fringes of delicate, multi-coloured, cotton bead work. To go with this, there was a selection of two satin blouses, one lavender the other light blue; two cotton halter tops one red the other green, and two cotton crop tops one deep blue the other lavender, both had fringed cotton bead work hanging in a similar fashion to my armours chainmail.

For outer wear, I had two really soft, fluffy V necked pullovers along with matching long cardigans. Coloured green and light blue, the green set was from knitted Angora wool, while the light blue set was knitted cashmere. La pièce de résistance, was a very dark, almost black, green, calf length cloak, made from a tightly woven cashmere wool, it also had a soft, deep cowled hood whose edges were trimmed with the same 'broken satin' fur as my armour. With a dark red silk lining, it fastened at the neck with a gold chain, and I loved it immediately. It was just so elegant, it was a real shame the weather was still a bit too nice to wear it.

Telling me that, unless it was for a combat costume or uniform, she generally bought shoes from a supplier in Boston, she went on to assure me that the clothes should be enough to see me through until my full wardrobe was delivered in a few days.

I must admit, I had no idea what Cecilia had planned as a full wardrobe, and when I asked, both Agnes and Sam supported her when she said it would make a nice surprise.

A school uniform was next, which was just your basic school blazer, with the school emblem embroidered into the breast pocket; a black, knee length pleated school skirt, and two satin weave white blouses, four pairs of white, calf length, virgin socks and a school-tie which was suitable for tying in a sexy Saint Trinian's knot.

The Gi was what you would expect, a heavy duty cotton martial arts robe tied with a white belt, and at the speeds Cecilia worked at, it was finished hardly before you could say: 'At the speeds Cecilia worked at.'

Which left the security uniform: Starting with a heavy cotton black shirt with two practical sized breast pockets, one of which was embroidered with sub-Lieutenant Fiona S. McCloud, she worked downwards adding a pair of loose black cargo pants with multiple pockets, which were bloused over the pair of black combat boots.

When it was finished, Sam suggested I wear it back to school, since as she diplomatically put it: “You will need to check into security to get your radio, and you still have the paperwork from renting the emergency dormitory.”

“Oh and before I forget, I have to show you how to deal with the daily security reports that, starting tomorrow morning, will be your responsibility to summarize and file.”

Oh man, what a way to ruin a good mood. I felt like sticking my tongue out at her, but resisted the temptation. Deciding that experiencing the feel of satin lingerie for the first time was too personal to share, this left the silk lingerie. Opting for the red bra, I considered the choice of either bikini briefs or a thong for all of 5 micro-seconds before quickly slipping on the bikini briefs. Not groaning with pleasure at the sensuous feel of silk encasing my nether regions was quite difficult, but being in public stiffened my resolve. After that, the rest of the uniform went on quickly. Lacing up the combat boots, I stood and looked in the mirror: The shirt was tightly tucked into my cargo pants, the legs of which were bloused over the tops of the boots. You wouldn't believe it, but the bloody thing actually fitted in a way which spoke: “Here is one really classy, good looking broad you don't want to mess with.”

What I mean is, Cecilia had done wonders with all my clothes and the armour was a pure masterpiece, but the simple tailored cut of an everyday working uniform that most people would buy in low end department store, enhanced, heightened and flattered my natural features in a way I would never have thought possible. Giving Cecilia a quick hug of thanks, I quickly slipped on the sapphire bracelet, belt and choker. When Sam asked: “Isn't that a bit overdressed for a security uniform?”

I reminded her: “Once I load these with charms and enchantments they will be my equivalent of your gun. It is important that people get used to seeing them on me.”

Nodding in agreement she replied: “In that case you need some more jewellery.”

Pulling out what looked like a small jewellery box, she opened it to reveal two small gold, (actually brass,) bars which she proceeded to pin to the collars of my shirt, explaining: “It is a tradition in the US military when a senior officer mentors a junior, the senior passes on his or her original bars of rank. These were my ensigns bars and I would be honoured if you would wear them for me.”

Stepping back, she saluted me, a salute which I returned with a misty eyed one of my own before breaking protocol to give Sam a hug of gratitude that would have crushed a lesser mortal.

Believe me, there wasn't a dry eye in the shop, and Cecilia had to break out a box of tissues.

After all that, while Sam, Agnes and Cecilia packed up my purchases, like any teenage girl after a good 'happy' crying jag, I had to touch up my makeup and check my hair. Everyone wisely kept quiet about how girly I was becoming.

Now that we were nearly set, I dumped the rest of my jewellery back in my school-bag. This of course raised horrified objections from Cecilia and Agnes, forcing me to explain I didn't have a proper jewellery box yet. Which, of course, raised even more objections, with Agnes loudly proclaiming she would have to take me in hand and make sure I learned 'proper decorum' for a girl of my station.

I had seen enough films to get the hint that when in a shop of Cecilia's stature one did not do anything as crass as ask: 'How much?' So instead, I just pulled out my credit card and handed it to her with a quiet thankyou.

Realising I was trying to show a bit of that decorum Agnes was still muttering about, before handing my credit card back along with the printed care instructions for my wardrobe, Cecilia gave me a wink and wrapped the receipt around the card. Then she went on to tell me: “All my work for Whateley's students has a free repair warranty. If the clothes are damaged in combat or otherwise, just drop them into one my marked collection boxes. You'll find them dotted all over campus... Oh, and since you are still growing, if you need any adjustments because of a growth spurt or something, just bring them back in and I’ll see to it. Okay?”

Nodding in agreement, I was wondering what the hell she meant by 'damaged in combat', before I realised: 'Doh!... School for super powered mutants = Serious school-yard battles.'

Oh man, and I used to think the occasional teenage gang fights at my old an inner city school were tough!.

Now that we were ready to leave, even though I tried to insist it wasn't necessary, by way of apology for earlier, Cecilia quickly put together a dozen velvet chokers with, barely visible, unicorn patterns worked into the velvet. Each had an empty silver eyelet to hold a cameo, and made from silk, they were shades of very dark reds, greens and blues. What made the gift so special though, was, after disappearing into a back-room, she returned with a decorative wooden box containing a dozen silver mounted agate cameos, each engraved with a different phase of the moon. They were gorgeously detailed: With a black background, the silvery white relief of the moons phases clearly showed the finely etched lunar craters. Matching the proud relief of the full moon, was an equally detailed new moon in black relief with the faintest hint of silvery white around the circumference. When I tried to refuse, she insisted, telling me she had got them for a commission that had been cancelled, and they were just taking up sorely needed space. The thing that really puzzled me was, I was positive I hadn't told her about choosing Luna as a code name.

It was on the way back to Whateley my mum explained the significance of the moons phases, and by then I had started to get used to the idea.

Anyway, once we were outside, Agnes stoutly proclaimed: “I have shopping of my own to do; and anyway, I'm quite capable of finding her own way home thankyou very much!”

With not really a lot we could say in reply, with a final farewell hug, we left her waving goodbye standing outside the 'Rodgers' Fabric Boutique'.

Fresh young Posies

Pulling up at Poe, Sam, being privy to the Poe secret, offered to help carry my things up to my room before we drove up to Kane hall. With the two of us it only took the one trip, and having Sam standing in my room, I thought I might as well get the security stuff out of the way. At least then, I could get changed before dinner. Leaving my new wardrobe, (still in the carrier bags,) sitting on the bed along with my rucksack, I grabbed the shoulder bag holding my hair brush and make-up, and we headed off.

Yeah, I know, but a girl always has to look her best, doesn't she.

Things started going badly almost immediately. As soon as we arrived, I was issued a short wave radio along with a charger and spare battery. The school didn't stint on the security budget, and always got the latest in high-tech gadgetry, much of which originated from Whateley's own student gadgeteers and devisors. What this meant, was that the radio was extremely small, the bulk of the size being the battery and the necessary knobs for channel selection, squelch, and volume, along with a socket for an ear-bud and the stub aerial. (The Tx/Rx button was on the microphone attached to the ear-bud chord.) The size wasn't a great problem; in fact, when clipping it to my belt, it was with some relief I realised the radio wouldn't interfere with my jewellery.

The thing that caused me to curse was, I hadn't brought my rucksack to carry the bloody charger. Of course, since he was up to date on current rumours about me, my curse caused the technician to blanch. This got me wondering if I should ask Sam how securities rank and file had incorporated the mornings events into the rumour mill. Deciding I would probably be better off not knowing, I was a bit bitchy as the technician gave me a run down on proper radio procedure, which of course made the technician even more nervous, which only increased my crabbiness.....

I am sure you get the picture, the only bright spot was that my new codename was free for the taking, and my call sign was now officially Luna. Unfortunately, the way the technician breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that he wasn't going to have to ask me to choose another codename, only helped to increase my foul mood.

Getting into our office, Sam briefly asked what the problem was. When, after I had explained at some length, she offered to tell me the latest gossip on the campus security net. I declined forcibly.

Realising she was getting nowhere, Sam took my mind off my problems by explaining that there was a daily summary of the previous day's security incidents circulated amongst squad leaders and above. It was fairly typical military procedure, and she had always found the best way to keep up with something like this was to write a semi-official summary report. Basically, it was a 'cover your ass' deal. I read the detailed reports, summarise the contents and email said summary to the next up the chain of command, (in my case Sam,) in addition, I print out three hard copies: One for my personal files, one for Sam and one to disappear into the bowels of campus bureaucracy. By doing it this way, if anything comes up and fingers start looking for someone to point at, assuming I have actually read the reports, my ass is fully covered.

Not a big deal, and it did make a lot of sense.

Getting the paper work done from the previous nights purchases, wasn't really a great chore either. All I really had to do was gather all the electronic receipts into a folder, print paper copies for both mine and Sam's personal files; encrypt and zip the folder and email it to my guardian, Sam, Chief Delarose and Carson for further processing. Something that was very quickly completed.

I was sitting back in my chair; feet up on the desk; hands behind my head, wondering whether I should take a walk to inspect the progress of the dormitories, when there was a timid knock on the door. Sam refocused from whatever she was doing in cyber space, and barked: “Yes!”

The desk sergeant poked his head in and said very nervously: “Mam, Mrs Horton from Poe asked me to remind sub-Leftenant McCloud that the official welcome for new Poe residents starts in 10 minutes and will be held in the Poe common room. She said it was important that sub-Leftenant McCloud be there.”

With a sharp, unladylike expletive, I shot to my feet, causing the desk sergeant to quickly retreat to the safety of reception as Sam replied: “Thankyou sergeant, that will be all.”

Turning to me, she asked in a pleasant voice: “What's going on Fiona, your like a bear with a sore tooth?”

Waving my arms around wildly, I let her know, at even greater length: “This, being drafted into security without any choice. The way the security grunts try to hide whenever they see me coming. Being put in a position that, despite whatever I may wish, my situation is being rammed down everyone’s throats. Now, to cap it all off, I'm not going to have the chance of appearing like a normal schoolgirl when I meet my new dorm mates.... It's so 'fucking' frustrating, all I really want to do is just blend into the woodwork, yet everything and everyone seems to be conspiring to make sure that doesn't happen.”

There was a flash of sympathy pass across Sam's face as I wound down. Considering her words carefully, she responded: “I think that we should talk about this later. It might even be a good idea to get you in to see Dr Bellows, but I think you know deep down inside you never had any chance of blending into the woodwork. It's the same with being drafted into security, neither you nor the school have any choice in the matter. You need Blackstar squad to live, and the only way that they can stay on campus is if they are in security. This means you have to be in security and that's that, there is nothing anyone can really do about it. Over and above that, there are federal laws to consider. The situation is analogous to devisors: For some reason when devisors manifest the first thing they invariably make is some kind of weapon, because of medical complications like Diedrick's syndrome, we can't stop them, so we are legally required to provide specialised firearms training. In your case, Blackstar squad are mercenaries and because of your mutation, you are their commander. This means we have to train you as a battle leader. I'm sorry, but we have no choice and neither do you...”

Then, with a smile ,she added: “Mind you, if you want securities rank and file to stop hiding when they see you coming, it might help if you stopped cursing around them. For the moment though, I think you are going to have to double time it down to Poe.”

With a fresh set of curses, I grabbed my shoulder bag and battery and charger, (I had already clipped the radio to the waist of my cargo pants and had the ear-bud in my ear,) and dashed out the door to jog down to Poe.

Arriving in the common room just as the meeting was starting, all eyes immediately turned to me and my uniform.

Man, I was so totally screwed, I could already see the latest set of rumours spouting on the grapevine like weeds.

To be continued.

Al comments gratefully received.

Irvine

Irvine