Something Feels Strange…

"The Jeffers are lucky people," he says. "I hope that they treat their daughter well knowing that she is only on loan. We look forward to seeing our son again in a couple of months. Remember that we love you. Don't hesitate to call any time – day or night – if you need anything."

"Thanks, Dad," I say with a watery eyes. "I am looking forward to the job. I am also looking forward to returning again. I really like being a Quinn. I love you." I stand on my toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. I figure that is what a girl would do. It feels right too.

His eyes are misty. I've not seen that before.

Chapter 9: North to Alaska

We are airborne shortly after settling in our seats, lifting off around 11am local time.  The cabin of the jet is configured for eight passengers but there only the three of us.  The seats are arranged in two conversation groups with seats facing each other fore and aft.  There is a plasma screen TV on the forward bulkhead near the little kitchen that separates the pilots from the passenger area and the toilet is in the back of the aircraft.

Upon reaching cruising altitude, the copilot – Captain Davis – comes back to brief us.

"Welcome aboard ladies," she begins. "It looks as if it is an all female venture today.  We have some good chick-flicks in the library if you want to watch them. There is no stewardess on this flight, but feel free to help yourselves to anything in the galley. We have approximately five hours and twenty five minutes before we touch down at Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage at about 3:30pm Alaska time. The sky is clear in Anchorage and the current temperature is a balmy 69 degrees Fahrenheit.  The seats recline to the point that you can sleep comfortably if you like.  We are expecting a smooth trip as there are no reports of turbulence along the way. If you have any questions for us, just pick up that phone on the bulkhead by the big screen. We have internet and satellite communications available to you if you require it.  Just let us know and we will hook you up. Do you have any questions?"

Major Compton does. "We will need privacy through most of the flight, so can you please announce yourselves before leaving the cockpit for anything?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the captain replies, "That is a pretty common request on this aircraft."

"And can we hook up a laptop to the TV screen?" Mrs. Harrison asks.

"Yes, Ma'am. There is a computer port on the side of the screen.  You will find cables in the cabinet below the screen.  Is there anything else?"

When no one has any further questions the co-pilot returns to the flight deck.

A quick search of the galley produces small sandwiches and drinks for the three of us.  As we settle in, I get the sense that I'm not going to get to watch the in-flight movie.

There is light chit-chat as we snack on the sandwiches.  When everyone is done, I take the remains to the trash receptacle in the galley.  In the mean time Mrs. Harrison extracts a laptop computer from a bag that she has been carrying and interfaces it with the big screen. 

Major Dr. Compton pulls out a large case which, when opened, reveals an array of instruments that I have never seen before.  I figure that I'm about to find out what most of them are for.

"Kris, you can call me Hilary," she begins. "There is no need for formality here.  My medical specialty is gynecology and I have been asked to give you a full examination.  Doing this in a small jet at 40,000 feet is a first for me, but I have performed this exam many times.  I don't know why we couldn't do this at the Base hospital and I don't want to know. A short trip to Alaska sounds like fun anyway."

"Before we get started," she continues, "I have a couple of questions for you.  First, when was the last time you had an exam?"

"Ah... would you believe never?" I ask.

"That's hard to believe," she says. "Highly unusual at best.  So does that mean that you don't know what we are going to do?"

"Yes, Ma'am." I reply.

"You can drop the Ma'am part if you like," she tells me. "Okay, so let's try another question.  When was your last period?"

"Never?" I tentatively answer.

"That, I don't buy," she looks at me sternly. "There is no way that a girl as developed as you are has never had a period. Look, Kris, I need your honest help here if I am to do my job."

Mrs. Harrison, who has been quietly watching the events unfold, decides to join the conversation.  Thanks! "Hilary, Kris is telling you the truth.  I can't go into the how or whys, because it is a need-to-know kind of a thing.  Trust her, I will let you know when she is pulling your leg."

Obviously the good Mrs. Harrison is part of the Lab's security team. 

The explanation seems to satisfy Hilary that I am not intentionally being uncooperative, but it does not take away her confusion.

"How about any known health problems?" she asks.

"None that I know of," I reply sincerely.

Hilary hands me a paper hospital gown and directs me to go into the lavatory to get undressed and put on the gown.  That would be as in completely undressed, she tells me.

The lavatory in this tiny business jet is actually spacious compared to a normal commercial airliner's lavatory.  Changing into the gown goes quickly. It is easy to avoid the small mirror, which I studiously do. Again, no time for self exploration or evaluation. The cabin of the jet, like all jet cabins, is a bit on the cool side.  This raises goose bumps all over.  The gown doesn't cover much and provides no insulation whatsoever.

Back in the cabin, I discover the ladies have reclined one of the seats to a near horizontal position and covered it with a sheet.

The first task is to measure my height and weight.  This is done with a tape measure and a portable bathroom scale.  Hilary mumbles something about using less than optimum equipment.  It turns out that I am five foot six and a half and weigh 114 lbs.  Pretty skinny I'm told.  I don't know about that, I feel a lot fatter than before the change, particularly in the rear end and chest.

"Sit here, Kris", Hilary points to the covered seat and takes the seat facing me. 

Next up, she takes my pulse and blood pressure.  Both are relatively low.

"You must be an athlete," Hilary observes.

She heats a stethoscope with her hand then starts listening to my heart and lungs.  You know how it goes, the doctor moves the stethoscope around your back and chest while having you take deep breaths.

"It would be good to do a lung capacity check.  I bet that your lungs have exceptional capacity," she observes as she notes the results in an electronic form on her laptop computer.

She has me open my mouth while she looks down my throat then feels the glands under my jaw.  She peers into each ear and my eyes as well. Next she has me lie back on the covered seat and begins prodding my abdomen looking for who knows what.

Keeping her hands under the gown, she moves to my breasts and begins feeling around there.  Whoa! A new experience.  My nipples respond by standing at attention.

"A normal response," Hilary assures me when she sees the confused embarrassed expression on my face. "I don't imagine that you know how to do a breast self examination?"

I shake my head negatively.

"Somehow, I thought not," she replies before launching into a how-to-do-it lesson.  She has me sit up and try it a couple of times myself until she reckons that I have the procedure down.  The gown had to come off for that – it was embarrassing being the only naked one there.

While the gown was off, she does a close exam of the skin.  Front and back.  She says that she is looking for moles and other skin ailments.  She doesn't find any.

She tells me to slip the gown back on.  I'm not sure why since it doesn't hide anything.

After I replace the gown, she says, "Now for the hard part.  This would be a lot easier in the office, but I need to do an internal pelvic examination.  Everyone hates this part.  It is both uncomfortable and invasive.  Unfortunately, it is also vitally important.  Normally we have stirrups that hold your legs up and out of the way.  What we are going to have to do here, is have you grab your knees and spread your legs to give me access to your vagina.  Susan, I will need you to hold the flashlight so that I can see what I need to see."  I am on display. I tell myself to relax and endure.

"What I'm going to do," she explains as she holds up a strange looking device, "is insert this speculum into your vagina, then spread it so that I can see your cervix. It will be very uncomfortable and maybe even hurt a little. I will do this as quickly as I can, but it does take a little time.  I need you to be tough and hold the position until I'm done."

This is not sounding at all like fun.

She lubricates the speculum with some kind of jelly, then tells me to assume the position.  I close my eyes and hold my breath, waiting for the breach.

"Kris, I know this is hard, but please relax as much as you can," she encourages me. "It will make this go much easier."

That request is easier said than done. I use the relaxation techniques that I have learned from distance running.  To run distances effectively, runners learn to relax all muscles not needed to maintain the pace so as to minimize the energy needed to cover long distances.  This is a powerful technique that I try to apply to this situation.

It doesn't work as well as I'd like.

Hilary inserts the speculum as gently as possible, but it is still uncomfortable.  I feel somehow violated.  Then she spreads the arms of the device.  Ouch!  I have to take a deep breath and hold it.  Relax, I tell myself, but I am not very successful.

"Hang in there Kris," she tries to sooth me. "You are doing well. Just a little more." She moves the device around.

I close my eyes tightly and hold my breath as I try to 'hang in there'.

After what seems like an eternity, she collapses the mechanism and withdraws it. She wipes my crotch with some tissue and tells me that I can relax now.  I let go of my knees and lay there for a few seconds.  It still hurts.

Hilary tells me that I can get dressed now as she heads to the galley into rinse off her torture implement.

Back in the lavatory, I clean my crotch as best I can and put my clothes back on.  As I am finishing up with the top, I check in with brain central, who has been uncharacteristically quiet for a long time.  I have been female for a sum total of less than twenty four hours now and putting on these clothes seems like no big deal.  It appears that brain central has accepted the change now and is looking at new experiences as things to catalog and assimilate into it's programming.  Even invasive procedures and the new clothes.  None of these activities seems physically threatening.  Just physically new.

I reflect that the transition has happened quicker than I would have thought possible and wonder what that says about me. Or does it have something to do with the transformation?

I catch myself looking in the mirror, noticing that my lip gloss could use a touch up. My purse is out with my stuff in the cabin. I must have put too much on last time, because it has smeared a little.  I try cleaning it out with a tissue, with moderate results. In the end I just decide to wipe it off.

Back in the cabin it is time to hear Hilary's assessment of my physical condition.

"Just before we land, I'll take blood and urine specimens for further tests.  Regardless, you appear to be perfectly healthy." She announces. "Nothing is out of place.  Even your hymen is in place.  It is becoming less common to see a sixteen-year-old virgin these days."

"Your muscle tone is excellent," she continues, "and your heart and lungs seem to be unusually strong.  It appears that your first period is not too far a way.  I would give it a week or so. I take it, that no one has told you what to expect when that happens?"

I shake my head negatively and say, with some trepidation, "No."

Hilary goes on to explain about bloating and cramps.  She digs out a sanitary pad and a tampon – every girl carries these, and a spare pair of panties, with her, I am told – and explains their use.  Apparently I can expect a day or two with 'heavy flow'. Oh joy! I am told to get pads in several different weights to accommodate different flow conditions.  I am a bit wary of the tampons.  She tells me to be careful about leaving them in too long as there are some health problems that can occur if I do.

This condition is to be expected about every four weeks. It may vary some.  I need to keep a record in case things go wrong.

"Birth control pills can help regulate the timing and reduce the cramping associated with your period," she explains, "in addition to accomplishing their primary purpose."  Oh joy – I can get pregnant now! – "I recommend that you fill and use this prescription."  She hands me the paper, which goes into my purse.

"In short, you are a healthy sixteen-year-old girl that is in better than average physical condition." Hilary pronounces. "Have you any questions?"

Feeling embarrassed, but recognizing an opportunity, I ask, "Can you teach me more about all the parts down there. Like what and where everything is. How do I take care of it?  It is more complicated that I thought it would be." I wave my hand at my crotch.

She looks at me strangely. You can see her thoughts in her expression. 'How does a sixteen-year-old girl not know this.'  You can tell that she wants to ask the question, but knows that she shouldn't.  Isn't military training wonderful!

"Susan," she addresses Mrs. Harrison, "do you have the internet up?"

"Yes," Mrs. Harrison replies, "I'll just pop it up on the big screen."

You can find anything on the net these days.  Including, I found out, more than one medical site that gives a graphic view of female genitalia, complete with an explanation of what everything is.  We find one with a full crotch view of a woman the points shows the fleshy folds, the vagina, urethra, and clitoris.  Hilary launches into an explanation of what each of the elements is and their care and cleaning.  Now I have had human reproductive education before, but this was a lot more detailed than what I remember. The boys are not given the full female maintenance lecture.  Mostly I remember turning scarlet whenever we talked about the private parts of girls and boys when we discussed such things in school.  Back then I was very relieved when the discussion was over. Now, it somehow seems more important to know more about the care of my new body.

I have her back up and tell me more about the clitoris.  I am not at all familiar with this element.  I get another strange look from Hilary, but she refrains from asking questions.  She goes on to tell me about how this feature actually is used to stimulate sexual excitement.  She explains that by stimulating the clitoris, I become sexually aroused, and it causes "that moist feeling" that lubricates the vagina for sexual activity.

I'll have to check this out.

"Surly you have noticed how moist you get when you get aroused?" she asks. "It is a very normal reaction for a girl with raging teenage hormones."

I decide to not confuse her more so I nod my head affirmatively.

She spends some time talking to me about the things that typically go wrong 'down there'.  She spends a long time talking about the horrors of vaginal yeast infections.  She suggests using panties that breath well (cotton is high on the list), allowing air exposure at night (no panties, and nightgowns are preferable to pajamas), and drying the vaginal area completely after bathing.  I think I will need an owner's manual.  Being a guy was never this complicated!

She begins explaining the internal reproductive organs and how they work, but as I remember the general details from school, I am able to get her to keep the lecture short.

I get the sense, with some relief, that the medical investigation and briefing is winding down now.  It has taken almost two hours.

"We are finished for now, Kris." Hilary tells me, finally. "Unless, that is, you have any more questions."

"Not right now, Hilary," I reply.

"Hilary," Mrs. Harrison says, handing the doctor a business card, "I need you to email me a copy of your notes and report to this address."

Before letting Mrs. Harrison get started with her presentation we take a refreshment break.  I pick up the flight deck phone and ask the pilots if there is anything that I can get for them.  They ask if this would be a good time for them to use the facilities and I inform that this would be.  They come back one at a time, use the facilities, make a snack and return to the flight deck.  They tell us that we have just passed Seattle and will be following the coast line of the Gulf of Alaska most of the rest of the way.  It is suggested that we will want to peek out the window from time to time as the weather is clear and the views of the mountains below are spectacular.

Once the pilots are satisfied, Mrs. Harrison suggests that Hilary might be more comfortable in an aft facing seat in the back half of the cabin and that earphones would be appropriate at this time.  Hilary takes a hint.  She pulls out her Ipod and some reading material then settles in for the remainder of the flight.

Up this point, Mrs. Harrison has been a quiet presence, helping Hilary when needed, but staying watchful in the background. I sense that that is about to change.

"Kris, let me start off by telling you how impressed I am." she begins. "I've known of you since Ben started running on the cross country team. I have also learned a lot about you from your profiles. In addition to being intelligent, the assessments show that you have a maturity way beyond your years, which makes you even more ideal for this project than we could have hoped for. I knew that you were mature and bright, but, still, I never expected you to make the transition so smoothly.  You are learning very quickly and I am very impressed."

"As you have probably determined by now," she continues, "I am part of the security team. I will also be your new supervisor at work. I manage the temporary help pool. I am here to orient you to your new summer job.  Welcome aboard!"

"Thanks – I think." I reply with heavy sarcasm. "Before we go too far, I think that you should know that I am not particularly happy with your recruiting methods. Some warning and choice would have been nice.  Also, it creeps me out that your team has been checking me out without my knowing it. And then there is the deception of my so called girlfriend that gets under my skin."

It feels good to get that out!

"Sorry about that," she says apologetically. "Things got a little out of control in the past couple of weeks.  If it is any consolation, we had planned on giving you some warning, but we did give you a choice."

"Some choice," I say with continued sarcasm; "Sure, I could have backed out, but I was painted into a moral corner that would have been difficult to get out of."

"True," she admits, "but we are convinced that you would have accepted the job if things had gone to according to plan anyway. Don't you think that you would have?"

I've already been down this mental path.  I still don't like feeling like someone else is making my choices, even if they are the same ones that I would have made myself.

"Yes, I would've," I admit. "But I still feel violated."

"That's understandable," she notes. "Regardless, we need to know if you are with us or not.  As I said, we are all very impressed with your integrity. We know that you question ours, and rightly so, but I think that if you knew the whole story, you would at least admit we are not totally without morals.  We did everything we could to make sure that you were the right person for the job while trying to maintain secrecy. We had to be absolutely certain that you were right for us and that you could deal with the situation before we could move forward.

"As far as Laurie is concerned, you really need to talk with her about her role in this.  We are impressed with her too.  She figured out a lot of the story even when we tried to keep her from knowing what we are really trying to do.  In fact, we don't really know how much of this plan she has actually figured out. I'm pretty sure she knows a lot less about this plan than you and we need to keep it that way for her safety as well as for the success of the project. Her job was just to help us gather information about our candidates without knowing why we needed it. We told her what we wanted to know and she obtained it. I think that you will find that she has been your advocate in this process, but then again, I'll let her tell her own story. Things aren't always as they seem.

"I talked with your mother just before you arrived at Travis.  She called Jen this morning after she left you. Laurie knows that you are feeling violated and that you blame her, at least in part, for it. Laurie feels pretty bad about the situation according to your mothers. Just give her a chance, okay?"

"I'll try," I grumble. I am beginning to wonder if Laurie might have some valid excuse for what she did.  Even if she does, how do I know if her feelings about us are genuine or not?  Was it all a sham? Where can we go from here? So many questions.

"So," Mrs. Harrison enquires, "are you with us?"

Thinking for a minute, I rehash the reasoning of the early morning hours and come to the same result.

"Sure," I reply with a sigh, "I'm in. I'm just not totally happy right now."

"Good, we'll take what we can get.  Let's get started on the job training.  We have a lot of ground to cover." She says enthusiastically. "And, by the way, you might want to get in the habit of sitting in a more lady-like fashion."

I cross my legs, reminding myself of the morning's girl lessons.

The next couple of hours are spent going over the job expectations and some of the resources that will be available to me.  I'll spare you the dialog and give you the summary.

First of all, I am being hired at the Intern I level – the lowest level job at the Lab.  It is also one of the most invisible jobs.  I will be assigned to a pool of office helpers that Mrs. Harrison supervises.  My cover job is to be miscellaneous office help where needed so I will be helping with filing, copying, minor word processing and the like. The beauty of the job is that I will be able to turn up anywhere on the site, without question.  Another major reason for being female for this assignment is that the males – the lab professionals are predominately male – tend to be more helpful and accommodating towards young women than young men.  They treat them differently from boys; it is as if the girls need protecting. A girl will get better reception and be more likely be brought into someone's confidence, particularly if that person feels the need to take a mentor role.  It is expected that a young high school girl will be weak – not be considered much of a threat.  The security team hopes that my male perspective, hidden in a female package, will make it possible for me to see things that a real girl wouldn't. It is worth a try.

My interface with the security team will be to fill out questionnaires supplied by secure email on a regular basis.  They are to be filled out and returned promptly.  The questionnaires are designed to extract information from me without telling me exactly what they are looking for. Apparently this is the same system that they used to get information from Laurie about me.  All she had to do was answer questions about me and what she thought my responses to hypothetical situations would be. If she didn't know, then she would find or create opportunities to find out.  The team then uses this information in their analysis.

Keeping me out of the analysis loop protects the team should I be uncovered somehow as an agent.  I would not know anything about the security team's plans or what they are thinking.  In this way, I would not be able to leak any significant information to the wrong parties.  It also helps me maintain my cover as an innocent intern.

Mrs. Harrison has attached a well-used laptop computer to the big screen.  I am told that this is to be my new personal computer. The computer lid has an Alaska flag sticker on it as well as a sticker saying "Alaska Girls Kick Ass" – apparently a sticker popular with girls in the Great Land. I won't be able to bring the computer to the Lab for work since there are tight controls on taking computers on and off the site, but I will be using it plenty of times to respond to the questionnaires. 

She starts by pulling up some aerial photographs of the Lab and pointing out the major locations where the endangered research projects are.  I am expected to memorize where everything is, and yet act clueless when I get there.  She also brings up profiles, including images, of many of the major players whom they want me to watch.  She shows me where to find these files on the computer for more detailed study later.  The files are password protected in an encrypted part of the system.

She also pulls up images and biographies of my new family.  I study them closely.  I can definitely see the family resemblance between Aunt Jennifer and Mom Polly.  I fit the same mold.  After looking at Dad Bill's image, I can see some of him in my face as well. There is also some resemblance between me and my new brother, Tom. There is little doubt that I am genetically part of this family.

I am told that the family does not know about my sex change. They think that they are getting a disguised girl for a daughter.  We want to keep it that way.  Wow, talk about pressure!  I must act like a girl from day one for my new family.

Next, she shows me how to access my account at the Alaska USA Federal Credit Union and my AT&T account for the cell phone.  I am happy to see that I already have several thousand dollars in the bank and unlimited use of the cell phone.  I like this.  Mrs. Harrison points out that the money in the account is to cover the cost of additional clothing and girl supplies that I will be needing this summer and for paying the cell phone bill.  I don't have an unlimited budget, I am told, so need to be careful about my spending.

Mrs. Harrison informs me that I have a busy week ahead.  The major goals being to finish rounding out my profile as Kris, getting to know my new family, becoming familiar with south central Alaska, more training in girl mannerisms, and getting me back to running again in my new body.

After discussing the job for a while, we get into some fun geek stuff.  I am to receive two neat electronic toys to help me accomplish my secret agent job.

First of all, the laptop computer is much more sophisticated than meets the eye.

The machine has an incredible amount of memory which is faster than anything available commercially.  The hard drive capacity is one terabyte. The system is also equipped with a webcam, a very sensitive omni-directional microphone, and a GPS receiver. The computer is never really turned off.  When the computer appears to be turned off it knows where it is and is capable of connecting wirelessly with available networks to transmit and receive whatever it needs to, including email and instant messages.   The network interface card is also capable of proprietary data encryption for transmission to similarly equipped computers on the internet. 

Even though nobody expects me to be in any dangerous situations, there are software programs on the computer that allow me to send distress signals of varying degree simply by pressing the right key combinations.  I can leave the computer out anyplace, apparently turned off, and it will record sounds for transmission to remote computers or later playback.  Great for eavesdropping. The computer's listening abilities can be activated or terminated remotely. If it ever gets lost or stolen, the security team can interrogate the computer to find out where it is and what it's condition is.

The battery is awesome.  The computer can be left on for three hours and the battery will maintain the background systems for at least fourteen hours before totally shutting down.

To the normal user, the computer looks like any other PC laptop computer.  It runs Windows XP at the same slow rate that other similar computers do. You need to know the special key sequences to access the real power of the system.

The computer has a remote control, as found on many laptops.  Instead of just accessing the media functions, this remote can activate the computer's emergency messaging system or put it into audio record mode.

Like I said, not your average laptop.

The cell phone, Mrs. Harrison tells me, is similarly equipped. 

It also has a built-in GPS and can be used as a remote microphone simply by pressing the correct key sequence to activate the microphone.  The audio is then sent over the cell network to servers that record what the cell phone hears or can be stored in the 32 gigabyte memory for later recall.  All calls on the cell phone are automatically recorded into the memory and can be accessed remotely by the security team.  When the emergency system is activated, the device sends a text message to the security team with time, date, and location information.

I guess that I am going to have be careful about what I do or say around either of these devices!  Mrs. Harrison tells me that they have obtained a court order allowing them to essentially tap this cell phone line legally for the whole summer.

She then shows me the address books on both the cell phone and the computer email system.  They are pretty full. My new parents and brother are prominent in the phone log.  There are also a few girl's names in the lists.  I assume that these are my new girl friends in Alaska.

The music loaded on the cell phone and computer is typical of that listened to by a young teenage girl.  I guess that I am going to need to learn to listen to a whole new set of tunes.

I guess Mrs. Harrison should really be called 'Q' after the character in the Bond books and movies who supplies all the real neat gadgets to 007.

We spend most of the rest of the flight learning how to use the features of the cell phone and computer.  This is actually fun.

By then the orientation is winding down, I realize that I haven't given any thought at all to my transformation in several hours.  Well, even though Mrs. Harrison has gently reminded me to implement girl mannerisms constantly, I haven't been bothered by being a girl.

"Mrs. Harrison?" I ask, "Did the transformation process mess with my mental conditioning at all?"

"Not to my understanding," she replies. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," I reply, "for some reason, I find myself less concerned by the transformation than I would have thought.  After all, I have never given any thought to what it might be like to be a girl."

"I'm no psychologist," she points out, "but your profiles did indicate that you would probably adapt well since your intelligence and maturity are well above that of your typical sixteen-year-old boy. I hesitate to mention this, but the profiles also showed that your personality might feel comfortable as either sex, with slight adjustments.  It is also possible that we have kept you so distracted that you have not had the time dwell on the change directly.  This allows your subconscious to ease into the concept before you get the time to really analyze the situation.  The new brain structure and the female hormones flooding your body may also have some impact on your transition.

"I imagine that the experiences that you have had would be even more difficult for your average sixteen-year-old boy than it appears to be for you," she continues. "As I said before, I'm really impressed with how well this transition is going for you. A lot of the success, I am sure, can be attributed to your ability to focus on the mission like you have the past few hours."

Maybe I am one of those people that can be happy either way, like those that I had heard about on that radio talk show.  I certainly hope so, I really don't want to have a melt down.  I am hanging on to the idea that this is all temporary – just a new uniform for my summer job. Everything will return to normal when this is over.  From that perspective, I can look on this as an adventure.

About half an hour before arrival in Anchorage, we pack things up and Hilary gets her blood and urine samples.  The urine specimen is a lot trickier to get as a girl than as a guy.

As an after thought, Mrs. Harrison digs through her briefcase and produces a booklet entitled Alaska Driver's Manual.

Handing it to me, she says, "You must study this tonight. You need an Alaska driver's license for ID. Your mother will be taking you in for your driver's test at 10am tomorrow. The rules are not a lot different from California's, so I'm sure you'll do fine."

The three of us take time to look out the window as we get closer to Anchorage.  Wow, I have never seen so many mountains all in one place.  Most of them are still snow-capped, so I get cold just looking at them.  We even spot a few huge glaciers.  As we get closer to the city, the pilots tell us where to look for Mt. McKinley – at 20,320 feet, the tallest mountain in North America – to the northwest.  It looks huge on the horizon.

Before landing, the Mrs. Harrison helps me to get my makeup fixed up for the forthcoming 'reunion' with my new family.

In no time at all we are instructed to buckle in for the landing at Elmendorf AFB, which the pilots perform with military precision.

We taxi into a large hanger – not as big as the hanger at Travis, but is much bigger than needed for this small jet.

As we deplane, I notice a silver Toyota Tundra crew cab pickup truck and a mini bus waiting just outside the big doors.  A large man wearing casual clothing comes over to great us.  I recognize him from the photos that Mrs. Harrison showed me.

"Hello, Kristina, welcome home to Alaska," he greets me with a smile.

He is in pretty good shape for a guy who was broken up in a life threatening training accident a little over a week ago.

I figure that it is time to start playing the game and I'm pretty sure that I know what I need to do having seen my sisters do it to my father a thousand times.

"Hi, Daddy," I say with a smile as I give him a big hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

"Ooh –," he says with a grin, "I think I'm going to enjoy having a daughter!"

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Thanks again to Gabi for catching most of my errors. Your reading experience is better because of her efforts!