Synopsis:

Synopsis: Lt. Commander Brandon Anderson is grievously wounded during a special operation in the Iraqi desert. After two years of surgery and therapy, and facing a lifelong disability, he accepts an offer from Dr. Susan Covington to participate in an ambitious test of the alien artifact he helped recover from the desert. The results are something neither anticipated in their wildest imaginings and Brandon embarks on a journey to discover the woman, and weapon, he has become.

Warning: This story contains no graphic sexual content but does have adult situations and language. There are also action scenes with graphic descriptions of violence and warfare.

Story:

Genomorph   Part 1 of 5

By Breanna Ramsey

Edited by Janet Nolan and Carla Winters

CHAPTER 1

Northwestern Iraq, near the Syrian Border, March 2003

The night was moonless. The stars were obscured by a heavy overcast, blanketing the bleak landscape with total darkness. A lone sentry patrolled a section of the high chain link fence that encircled the compound in the desert, unaware as a laser dot appeared on the back of his skull. Even if it had been on his face, he could not have detected the dot, which was visible only with the aid of night vision gear. Then in the next second his head snapped forward as a silenced nine millimeter bullet impacted at the base of his skull. He dropped lifeless to the sand.

Lieutenant Commander Brandon Anderson, United States Navy SEALs, lowered his MP5SD and scanned the compound for any sign that the death of the sentry had been observed. All was quiet, and as he motioned the two SEALs with him forward, reports echoed in his ear from the rest of his platoon, informing him that the other sentries around the perimeter had been dispatched with equal efficiency.

The mission had begun more than thirty miles to the south at an altitude of twenty-seven thousand feet. The platoon of sixteen SEALs had performed a HAHO, High Altitude, High Opening, parachute insertion, and then covered the remaining two miles to the secret bunker on foot. After reaching the Iraqi compound, there had been an agonizingly slow crawl through the minefield around the perimeter fence to where the mission had begun in earnest with the neutralization of the perimeter patrols.

Now they were on the clock. It was only a matter of minutes before one of the patrols would be missed. Brandon motioned Petty Officer Greg Jennings forward. While Brandon and Seaman Andy Talbot maintained watch, Jennings quickly cut through the fence, then slipped through the opening. Once through Jennings swung his MP5SD forward and took up watch as Brandon and Talbot slipped through the opening.

Once through the fence Brandon dropped to a knee and waited for the rest of the platoon to report. Seconds later the radio informed him that all the elements of the platoon were in position.

"Go, go, go!" Brandon hissed into the throat mike, and he and his two companions moved forward.

Brandon took the lead, followed closely by Jennings and Talbot. They crossed the compound fast and low, reaching the front of the bunker and taking up positions around the small door next to a big roll-up door. They were joined seconds later by three more SEALs, led by Senior Chief Petty Officer Charlie Wright. When the rest of the platoon signaled that they were in position, Brandon turned to Jennings.

"Blow it," he ordered, and then spoke into his radio, "kill the lights."

Jennings stepped forward, placing a pre-assembled breaching charge over the locking mechanism and hinges of the door. The SEALs drew back, taking cover to the sides of the entry and Jennings triggered the charge. With a thunderous boom the door was blown inward, taking out the guard on the other side in the process. Simultaneously there was the sound of an explosion across the compound as the generator was taken out. The interior of the bunker was plunged into darkness. Brandon stepped through the doorway, sub-machinegun at the ready, followed closely by the other five SEALs.

The bunker was really just a large warehouse, with wooden pallets scattered everywhere. The pallets were stacked with shiny silver cases, apparently seamless, of various sizes, some quite large. Once through the door, the SEALs spread out and began picking their way forward to clear the bunker, scanning the darkened interior with the aid of the night vision gear they wore.

The first Iraqi soldier to round a pallet stacked high with the silver crates barely had time to register surprise before a three round burst from Brandon’s MP5SD ended his life. The integral silencer of the weapon reduced the report to a barely audible whisper. The six SEALs continued to search the interior.

Outside, the rest of the platoon moved in on the barracks and the security building. Most of the opposition that was awake had been neutralized silently already. The others stumbled from their racks to find themselves staring down the weapons of the SEAL platoon. Those few who did attempt to fight were neutralized easily, with only a brief exchange of fire.

It was over in minutes. The compound was secured and Brandon set his men out to watch the perimeter. He then called in the cargo aircraft that would take away whatever it was they had come to snatch.

As he waited for the planes to arrive, Brandon considered the mission they were on. He was not even supposed to be here. At thirty-eight, he was being promoted and should have already taken over as Commander of SEAL Team Eight, to which the platoon was attached. But the word had come down that this was a critical mission and he had been given the job. It was the price of being the best. Still Brandon had eagerly accepted; once he was team commander his days of field ops would be basically at an end.

Fifteen minutes later two C-130 cargo planes taxied down the compound’s runway and up to the bunker. This was the most dangerous part of the operation. As long as the aircraft were on the ground they were extremely vulnerable. Brandon fervently hoped that their intelligence brief had been right, that there were no Iraqi forces within striking distance of the facility. They were well out in front of the advancing American forces. Baghdad had not been taken yet and they were well to the northwest of there.

As soon as the ramps on the two aircraft were down, a pair of Humvee’s with mounted fifty caliber machine guns sped out of the cargo holds. They took up positions to lend fire support to the perimeter if necessary. After the hummers were clear, they were followed by a pair of heavy duty fork lifts that would be used to load the pallets from the bunker onto the aircraft.

"Time is of the essence Commander," A woman’s voice said from behind him. Brandon turned to face Dr. Susan Covington. He regarded scientist for a moment as the support team began moving into the bunker.

She was certainly very pretty, in her late thirties with long, dark brown hair and a nice figure. She was dressed like everyone else in desert pattern BDUs, but there was no mistaking that she was a woman. Brandon had considered the possibility of asking her out once the mission was over, but he felt fairly certain she would not accept.

She had also proven to be a first class pain in the ass. Brandon had not even wanted her to accompany them, as she was just one more noncombatant to worry about. But, he had been overruled by the brass. Still, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, and he sensed that she was not usually such an aggravation. Now was not the time to let this get on his nerves however.

"I’m aware of the situation Dr. Covington," Brandon replied tersely. "The crews are moving to load the aircraft as we speak."

"Perhaps some of your men could assist and speed things up," She suggested.

"My SEALs are maintaining the perimeter and that is where they will stay," Brandon told her. "We are out on a limb here, Doctor."

*****

Thirty miles to the west, just over the Syrian border, a convoy of trucks loaded with Iraqi troops, members of the elite Republican Guard, left their concealed positions and began speeding towards the east.

*****

"The last two loads are coming out now Skipper," Lieutenant Matt Branch, the platoon executive officer informed Brandon. Branch was slated to take over as platoon leader after Brandon moved up to Commander, SEAL Team Eight.

"Fine Matt, start pulling the perimeter in," Brandon told him. Branch jogged off to over see to the withdrawal of their men from the perimeter.

Brandon watched impatiently as the last pallets were being pulled from the bunker by the forklifts for transfer to the C-130s. It was taking far too long and they were in decidedly unfriendly territory. He had no clue as to what was in the containers, and did not really care. His job was to see that they were safely removed from Iraq and that was it. As one of the forklifts began moving the next to last pallet, he began to think they might actually get away clean.

"Skipper we got trouble incoming," Chief Wright said in a hushed tone as he stopped beside Brandon. "We just got word that a force of Iraqi troops crossed over from Syria over an hour ago, at least a reinforced company. They could be here anytime."

"Can it get any better than this?" Brandon asked rhetorically. "How the hell did they get into Syria in the first place? I thought the fly boys were blasting everything that tried to cross the border."

"Intel thinks they were pre-positioned and monitoring this place," Wright said.

"Typical," Brandon muttered. It was exactly the type of information that should have been included in his mission briefing and was not, probably because some intelligence weenie decided the SEALs did not have a need to know.

The last pallet was being pulled from the bunker and the fork lift began making its way towards the second cargo plane, even as the first C-130’s ramp began closing, its engines revving for take off. Maybe they would get lucky, Brandon thought as he turned to Susan.

"Time to go Doc, I want you on that plane now," Brandon said.

"Commander Anderson…" Susan began protesting, but Brandon cut her off, turning to Chief Wright.

"Chief, escort the Doctor to her seat," He ordered. "If she gives you any trouble, pick her up and carry her."

Chief Wright smiled politely and gestured towards the waiting cargo transport. With a glare at Brandon, Susan turned and allowed herself to be escorted on board. They had just reached the foot of the ramp when the night air was split by an explosion as a rocket propelled grenade slammed into the front of a one of the humvees, sending the vehicle somersaulting into the air. It landed with a crash and exploded again. Small arms fire immediately erupted from the darkness.

Flare rounds arced into the night sky and began bursting, illuminating the darkness, as the SEALs returned fire. The Iraqis were advancing in company strength or better, at least two hundred men against his sixteen SEALs.

Another RPG round streaked through the air, scoring a near miss on the second hummer. The gunner manning the fifty caliber machine gun mounted on the vehicle was shredded by shrapnel and the gun fell silent.

"See if you can get some air support in here pronto!" Brandon ordered his radioman, and then he sprinted for the humvee. Bullets ricocheted off the vehicle as he climbed aboard, pulling the body of the gunner from the cupola and then slipping into place.

Brandon opened fire, cutting into the advancing enemy as he barked orders over the radio and directed his SEALs. They were receiving a heavy volume of small arms fire from the advancing Iraqis. Though the SEALs volume of fire was smaller, it was more effective, and the Iraqi advance began to falter. That would change as soon as the platoon began to withdraw to the plane though, unless some kind of fire was maintained to support the withdrawal.

"Branch, pull squads three and four back to the Herk!" Brandon ordered his executive officer over the radio. "One and two hold for my order to fall back."

The C-130 was loaded and the sound of the engines turning over rumbled across the desert as the battle raged. Brandon gave the order to the remaining two squads to fall back as he reloaded the machinegun, and then began to pour fire from the fifty cal into the advancing Iraqis. The advance faltered once more and the enemy pulled back.

Squads one and two were falling back, nearly to the aircraft when more fire came from Brandon’s right. Another group of Iraqis was moving in to flank the withdrawing SEALs and placing the still vulnerable C-130 at risk. Brandon swiveled the fifty around and opened fire once more. Another RPG was fired at the hummer and again missed. Shrapnel hissed past Brandon as he continued to fire.

"Pull this thing back soldier!" Brandon shouted down to the driver, who was crouched behind the engine of the hummer, engaging the enemy with his M16. The soldier ceased fire, climbed in and tried to start the vehicle. There was a grinding, metallic sound as the starter tried to turn over.

"No go, sir, the motor is FUBAR!" The driver shouted from within the vehicle. "We gotta get outta here!"

"Go!" Brandon ordered as he continued to pour fire into the advancing Iraqis. The driver bailed out and headed for the C-130 at a run.

Brandon watched the driver run, and then stumble to the ground. His helmet came off revealing close cropped red hair. He picked himself up and resumed running, bounding up the ramp and into the C-130.

Brandon turned back and resumed firing. He made his decision. Without the fire from the fifty to delay the advancing enemy, the last C-130 would likely never make it off the ground.

The second group of Iraqis began to withdraw as the machinegun came up empty a second time. Brandon dropped into the hummer and hauled another box of ammunition up top. He had just snapped the receiver down and charged the weapon when gunfire erupted once again from the direction of the first group of Iraqis. He could hear Chief Wright shouting over the radio piece in his ear as he opened fire once more.

"Skipper we’re loaded! Get the hell out of there!" Wright’s voice pleaded over the radio.

"Get that aircraft off the ground Chief!" Brandon barked as he continued firing. "That is an order!"

Something hit him in the left side like a hammer blow, and Brandon felt a warm wetness spreading there. He knew he had caught at least one round but did not think it was too serious, his body armor taking the brunt of it. Stealing a quick glance over his shoulder he saw that the last of his SEALs were bounding up the ramp into the C-130, the lumbering aircraft already beginning to roll forward. Brandon resumed fire, the fifty caliber rounds exacting a terrible toll on the Iraqi troops. Once more the advance was halted. The fifty came up dry again and Brandon dropped down for another case of rounds.

He popped back up and quickly reloaded the machine gun. As he returned his attention to the advancing Iraqis, he saw the smoking trail of another RPG round streaking towards the hummer.

The explosion propelled him upward from the gun mount, his senses overwhelmed by light and heat and pain as his body tumbled through the air. He hit the ground hard and rolled across the rocky sand.

When he came to a stop he tried to lever himself up with his arms, but his right arm could not be made to work. He managed to push himself up with his left and looked down.

The lower half of his body was a smoking, bloody mess. His right leg was horribly mangled, nearly severed below the knee. His left was bloody and torn and blood was pouring from his pelvic area and groin.

"Oh shit!" He screamed as the pain grabbed him fully. The last thing he saw before passing out was a pair of Apache helicopters swooping overhead, chain guns blazing.

**Two Years Later**

Stairs were the worst, and there were a lot of them on the University of Florida campus. There were elevators in most of the buildings certainly, but despite his disability Brandon refused to take an elevator unless his destination was more than one floor up.

He should have died on the desert sand, but somehow, even as he lost consciousness his body had refused to give up. As his life’s blood had flowed he had fought to hang on to that last thread of life. Still, if there had not been a Dustoff chopper following on the heels of the gun ships, he would have died. They had stabilized him and gotten him to a field hospital.

The fact they had been able to save his legs was nothing short of a miracle; that’s what all the doctors said. But they could not make them completely whole again. He had lost a good portion of the inner thigh of his right leg, and most of the calf. His left leg had faired better, it could still support his weight unlike his right, which required a cane to provide support. His right arm had made a nearly full recovery, though he was still undergoing physical therapy to try and restore its full range of motion.

Perhaps to some the worst injury had been to his genitals, which were so badly mangled they had to be removed entirely. And if that had been the only injury Brandon would likely have been more upset over the loss of his ‘manhood’. But for Brandon, the loss of mobility was by far worse. He had been a powerful, athletic man and now he hobbled along, barely able to walk.

There had been months and months of reconstructive surgery and still more to come. Naturally the majority of the surgery had concentrated on his legs. He could deal with sitting down to urinate, but being confined to a wheelchair for a year had been sheer hell. The physical therapy was like torture at times. He often found himself thinking, after a grueling session, that they should put terror suspects in the care of a loving physical therapist. One or two sessions and they would give away their mothers.

Most of all he hated the feeling of helplessness; having to walk with a cane, the loss of mobility. He hated knowing that despite all the surgery and therapy in the world he would never run again.

He made his way from the VA hospital, across Sixteenth Street to the parking garage. Though he was only parked on the second level he broke his own rule and took the elevator; he was just too tired after today’s therapy session.

Waiting beside his Ford SporTrac was a familiar woman and Brandon found himself smiling. Despite their rather rocky introduction, he and Susan Covington had become good friends. She had visited him frequently in the hospital, and he knew she had harbored some guilt over his injuries. It was silly, and he had told her so. It could have happened on any one of the dozens of combat missions he had been part of; it was part of the job.

Susan smiled as she saw Brandon approaching, though he detected a bit of apprehension in her eyes. They embraced and she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"You’re looking well Brandon," She said.

"And you look fantastic as always," Brandon told her. He pushed aside the thoughts of what might have been and accepted what was.

"What brings you down from your secret mountain top lab?" He asked her, only half jokingly. Since the desert, he knew that Susan had been involved in something regarding the containers that had been flown out of Iraq, and he also knew not to ask what it was.

"Well, you do actually," She smiled. "I thought you might like a tour of the place."

Brandon stopped and stared at her, as a black Chevy Suburban pulled up next to them.

"Brandon you know the way these things work," she said, her face serious now. "I can’t tell you a lot. But I am offering you a chance to be whole again, to heal your injuries completely. If you aren’t interested, just tell me and I’ll get in the car and leave. If you want to know more, we get in together. But once you get in, there’s no turning back. And before you make a decision, I have to warn you that this is not without risks."

Brandon leaned heavily on his cane, and then smiled and gestured towards the waiting SUV.

"After you, Doctor Covington."

*****

The trip to the airport was made in relative silence, with only a few attempts at small talk. Brandon knew there was no point in asking questions; Susan would not talk about her offer in detail until they were in the air at least. At the airport they boarded a waiting Cessna Citation.

"Would you like a drink?" Susan offered once the twin engine jet was airborne.

"I would like you to tell me what is going on," Brandon answered. "But since you offer, I’ll take a beer if you have one."

"Of course" Susan smiled. She took two bottles of Killian’s from the cooler in the bar and twisted the tops off. She passed one to Brandon, then sat down and took a drink from her own.

"You expected me to accept," Brandon said, smiling as he took a swallow of Killian’s, his favorite.

"I suspected you might," Susan admitted. "Of course I like Killian’s too."

Brandon took another swig of the ale, and then waited for Susan to speak.

"It all goes back to that night in the desert. Did you ever wonder what was in those containers that were flown out that night?"

"Wasn’t my job," Brandon replied. "I was there to see that they, and you, were protected."

"Well they contained…artifacts," Susan continued, watching him closely. "Alien artifacts to be exact. Advanced technology left here by beings from another planet."

If Brandon was shocked he showed no sign, though in truth he was surprised by her statement. Regardless he continued to return her gaze, stone faced, as he waited for her to continue.

"You’re no fun at all," Susan complained and pouted slightly. "The majority of the artifacts turned out to be a machine, a medical device, capable of manipulating the genetics and cells of living things like, well like magic. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying that any sufficiently advanced technology would be indistinguishable from magic. This device certainly qualifies."

"And how does this apply to me?"

"We’re ready to begin advanced testing of the machine," Susan informed him. "I believe that with it we can repair the damage from your wounds, restore you completely as though you had never been injured."

"So what is the catch?" Brandon asked, knowing there had to be more to this offer than Susan had told him.

"There’s no catch," Susan replied. "The machine has been in testing for eight months and every test has been successful. We have re-grown limbs and even corrected birth defects in test animals. After the procedure, you’ll be put through a few weeks of tests and kept under observation, and then you’ll be free to get on with your life. We will ask you to come back once a year for a week of follow up testing."

"So why me?" Brandon asked her.

"Because we…because I owe you. Without what you did we wouldn’t have this technology," Susan told him. "Also, you fit the profile. Other than your wounds you are in excellent physical condition. You have already been cleared through numerous exhaustive security checks and you are still bound by the oath you took as a SEAL. Also you, well you…"

"I have no family to miss me if something goes wrong," Brandon finished for her. His parents had been killed during his second year at the Naval Academy in a home invasion. It had been a brutal, senseless crime and had influenced his decision to join the SEALs. He saw it as a way to get back at the evil in the world in a more direct manner than he could as a typical Naval officer.

"So where are we going?"

"Oh, a little test site in the Nevada desert."

"Not Area 51?" Brandon asked with a grin.

"Of course not!" Susan exclaimed, a look of mock disgust on her face. "Area 51 is strictly for tourists…we moved the real alien artifacts out of there several years ago."

They chatted for a while about their lives since they had last seen one another, and finally lapsed into silence for a long time. Brandon began staring out the window, his mind awash in thoughts. To be whole again, healthy and complete…he knew he would do anything for that.

"I would have said yes," Susan said a short time later. She had been watching Brandon for some time as he stared out the window.

"Yes, to what?"

"If you had asked me out," Susan explained. "I knew you wouldn’t though. I was pretty much a bitch that whole mission."

"Well you had a lot on your plate," Brandon said.

"I’ll tell you what," Susan suggested. "How about when this is over, we spend a few days in Vegas. See some shows; waste some money in the casinos."

"You have a date," Brandon smiled.

CHAPTER 2

As Susan had stated the facility was not at Area 51, rather it was west of there, located at the northern end of the Nevada Test Site. The Cessna landed at Nellis Air Force Base where they boarded a helicopter which took them the remaining ninety miles.

They landed at a helipad near a collection of small buildings and a hanger. Most of the buildings were run down and near collapse, and there were two rusted out trailers situated directly across from a relatively new looking structure. Susan took Brandon into this building where he was signed in and given a badge, then buzzed through the security check point. A short hallway led to an elevator, which they entered.

"The actual facility is a hundred feet underground," Susan explained as the elevator began its descent.

"So what happens now?" Brandon asked her.

"We have a few days worth of tests to run on you," Susan explained. "They’re all routine, to establish a record for comparison after the procedure is complete."

The elevator reached the bottom and opened onto a long corridor. The interior looked much like a hospital and Brandon noted there were even colored lines to guide one to specific areas. As Susan led him through the corridors, they passed a few people and Brandon noticed that he got a few curious looks, making him feel more and more like a lab rat.

"Forgive the stares," Susan apologized as they reached a secure door. "Everyone is excited about the test."

Susan slid her badge through the reader next to the door and it unlocked with a click.

The room beyond was the size of a small hangar and was dominated by the machine. Brandon suppressed an urge to laugh when he saw it. He had been expecting something futuristic and instead saw something out of a bad B-movie. There were gleaming silver conduits everywhere, and along the far wall were five large cylinders filled with a glowing purple plasma. At the center of the machine was a raised metal platform. Around the perimeter of this were eight tall columns topped by large silver spheres. In the center of the platform was a clear cylindrical chamber topped by large blue crystal about three feet in diameter. Blue energy arced between the spheres on the columns and into the crystal atop the chamber. Inside the chamber was a shiny metallic exam table.

Susan led him to a small control room to one side of the room. Inside was a large console, which in contrast to the machine itself looked very advanced. The entire surface was a glossy black screen with glowing touch pads and screens with scrolling information and displays. A young man was busy at the console as they entered the room.

"Brandon this is our resident computer genius Ryan Sanders."

Brandon shifted his cane to his left hand and shook hands with Ryan and then turned his attention to the console. He was surprised to see that it displayed information in English.

"I would have expected the controls to be in some alien language," Brandon said as he studied the console.

"Well they were when the machine initially was powered up," Ryan explained. "Shortly after that it interfaced with our computers and in a few hours had translated itself. A good thing too; we would still be stumped if we had to try and translate it ourselves."

"Lucky us" Brandon said. "So how does this work?"

"The subject lies on the table in the chamber and the machine runs an initial scan," Susan explained. "Once it has the scan data, we can enter the corrective procedure from the console. The entire process takes very little time, though we can’t be entirely sure as this will be our first major human trial."

"When do we start?" Brandon asked. Now that he was here he was anxious to get on with it.

"Brandon you understand there are no guarantees here?" Susan asked. "We are confident that the machine has the capability to repair the damage you have suffered but we can’t be absolutely certain."

"There are no guarantees with conventional treatments either," Brandon responded. "And in fact there’s not much more they can do. Let’s just get this started."

Over the next four days Brandon was poked, prodded and measured and then poked and prodded some more. They took blood and tissue samples and hooked him up to a variety of machines. There were CAT scans and MRIs and dozens of photographs taken. Some of the tests seemed to have no purpose he could ascertain at all, and he was reminded of a book he had read about the Mercury astronauts. They had endured torturous testing by doctors who found themselves with willing subjects and the freedom to subject them to whatever procedure they wanted to. He could hardly object considering what they were offering him.

During his free time, he read through several pages of material on the alien artifacts, and Susan answered his many questions regarding the machine.

They called the aliens The Forerunners, as information they had gleaned from studying the records stored in the databanks of the machine indicated that they were very much like mankind. It did not appear that they had actually brought intelligent life to Earth, but it was apparent that their genetic heritage had been mingled with man’s.

They had arrived on Earth around ten thousand years ago, a band of refugees fleeing their own planetary system, which had been ravaged by a long, bloody war. It was unclear also as to whether they had eventually died off or simply fully integrated themselves into human society. Whatever their fate had been, they had left behind caches of their technology, one of which had been found in the desert of Iraq shortly after the first Gulf conflict. The Iraqis had intended to spirit the artifacts away to Syria, which is why everything had been neatly packed for transport when Brandon and his SEALs had ‘liberated’ the artifacts.

As the day approached, Brandon felt a rising sense of excitement. Once the procedure was complete, and if it was successful, he would have to endure a week or so of additional testing, and then he would be free to resume his life. He was even told he could be returned to active duty if he so desired.

Whether he would choose that path he had not yet decided. For the moment, he tried not to get his hopes up. The life of disability and pain that he had thought lay before him might now be swept aside by a miracle. And if he could be restored to full health and mobility, the implications for accident victims and even those born with a disability, were staggering.

But as Susan told him numerous times, there were no guarantees. As he drifted off to sleep the night before the procedure, he knew he was willing to pay whatever price was necessary to be whole again.

CHAPTER 3

Brandon stepped naked into the crystal chamber under the watchful eyes of Susan and a dozen other scientists and technicians. Even after two years of having his emasculated genitals viewed by numerous medical professionals, both male and female, he still felt self conscious about it. The fact that there was no technical reason for his nudity - the machine would perform its function even if he were clothed - only added to his discomfort. The onlookers simply wanted to be able to observe and record the process, which of course meant there were a number of video cameras trained on him including one which would be focused tightly on his groin.

He was helped onto the table by two female nurses. Though it appeared to be made of shiny chrome, he found the table was warm against his skin and as he laid back the surface conformed to the shape of his body. His skin began to tingle as though a slight electric current was running through him. He had been fully briefed on what to expect, but was surprised as he felt a stirring in his groin, as though his partially reconstructed penis was becoming erect, or at least trying to.

"How do you feel Brandon?" He heard Susan’s voice ask over a loudspeaker.

"Good," Brandon replied, his voice sounding a bit dreamy "Very good in fact."

"The machine is sending a harmonic wave through your nervous system at the moment," Susan explained. "The wave is stimulating the production of endorphins in your brain to promote relaxation."

Susan saw Brandon nod slightly in response to her words. Already though he was nearly asleep, though she knew the machine would not knock him out but rather lower him into a state of complete relaxation and keep him there for the duration of the process, much like placing a patient under hypnosis.

"Start the scan, Ryan," Susan said, her voice almost a whisper. As Ryan touched a series of glowing squares on the control console she realized she was holding her breath. She was excited, not just because of the tremendous potential of the machine if this test worked, but because of this test. She owed Brandon Anderson her life, and she knew that even if the machine only worked this one time she would be content.

The great machine began to hum with power as the crystal chamber filled with the glowing purple plasma. A bright white beam of light flashed down from the crystal atop the chamber and bathed Brandon’s nude form. Seconds later a three dimensional image of him appeared in a small screen on the console. Next to this a graphic representation of Brandon’s genetic structure appeared, resembling a laser barcode with multi colored bars instead of simple black lines. One by one each of these bars flashed in quick succession as each gene was scanned. Susan knew that the roughly thirty thousand genes would be scanned in about fifteen minutes.

Inside the chamber Brandon felt as though he was immersed in warm water as the glowing purple gas surrounded him. The sense of euphoria he felt increased and his skin began to tingle pleasantly. He noted the sensations with a sense of calm detachment. There was no sensation of time passing; for all he knew he could have been in the chamber for minutes or hours.

A new text display appeared on the console, displaying the progress of the procedure.

Initial scan complete….physical debilities identified….

On the graphic image of Brandon’s body, areas were highlighted; his legs and groin, his abdominal region, even the fully healed bullet wound in his left side.

Initiating repair sequence….foreign objects in body….matter conversion underway…

It was working! The machine was converting the steel hardware that had been used to piece Brandon’s shattered legs together into living, healthy bone. As Susan and the assembled scientists watched, the muscles could be seen reforming, the scar tissue disappearing.

In the groin area, the penis was being rebuilt, tissue forming as if by magic. The testicles were replaced and pubic hair even began growing spontaneously.

After twenty minutes, Brandon’s body was completely restored. A cheer went up in the control room and around the chamber as the display announced success.

Physical debilities repaired…Human male subject restored to 100% capacity….

Her fellow scientists were congratulating Susan on the success of the procedure. Debilitating injuries had just become a thing of the past! The enormity of what had just happened struck Susan and she did not no whether to laugh hysterically or shed tears of joy, so she did both.

"Susan there’s something odd here," Ryan said, gesturing to a display on the console.

Targeted genetic sequences identified….Genomorph Protocol override initiated….

"What’s going on?" Susan wondered aloud as she read the words. Several of the bars in the genetic display were now flashing.

"What the hell is the Genomorph Protocol?" Ryan asked.

"Shut it down!" Susan ordered. Ryan pressed a touchpad but nothing happened. He stabbed the control several more times but there was no effect.

"The system is not responding," He stated, and then began frantically trying to override the system.

Subject chromosomal structure reassignment underway…..XY Chromosome conversion to XX Chromosome in progress….

"That’s not possible!" Susan gasped. As she watched the gene map she saw a pair representing Brandon’s XY chromosome changing, the Y chromosome altering until it matched the X.

"I don’t get it?" Ryan remarked. "XX…isn’t that…."

"Female," Susan confirmed. "It’s altering his male chromosome to female."

Gender reassignment initiated….scanning data banks for profile….

"We can pull the plug," Ryan suggested. "Sever the power feeds to the chamber…"

"That could kill him for all we know," Susan countered. "We have no choice but to let it run its course."

Error…Error….data banks out of date….scanning network connections…updating Genomorph Profile to reflect contemporary esthetics ….

"The computer is accessing the network and the web," Ryan informed Susan. He glanced down and saw a new display window on the console. It appeared that the computer was compiling data about the female appearance and sexuality. Susan was extremely uneasy as she saw what kind of sites it was scanning more and more frequently.

"Oh shit!" Ryan exclaimed as he put the pieces together. He pushed away from the console, rolling his chair across the floor of the control room to another, more conventional computer terminal. He began frantically tapping commands into the keyboard.

"What are you doing Ryan?" Susan asked.

"It’s accessing internet sites, trying to build a profile on what a woman should be, how she should behave," Ryan said, continuing to pound commands into the keyboard. "It’s accessing porn sites — there is some pretty freaky shit out there. I’m trying to limit access to some of the more extreme sites."

Susan looked out the control room window and stared with horror at Brandon. His body was already changing. His masculine appearance was becoming softer, feminine. His muscular frame was thinning, his waist, chest and shoulders narrowing and his hips widening. His face was softening and taking on a definite female appearance. All the while he stared serenely upward.

Despite his seeming oblivion, Brandon was aware that his body was changing. He could see his reflection in the crystal of the chamber and had felt a rush of exhilaration as his legs had become strong and muscular once more. He had seen his genitals reform.

But now he was changing still. There was no discomfort but he did feel the transformation as fat was redistributed and his musculature was altered. There was a decidedly odd sensation that bordered on painful as his skeletal structure was altered, but the endorphins flooding his brain kept the sensation at bay.

All the while he watched his reflection in the chamber’s crystal walls as it changed. Something was definitely not right. His hair was vanishing, being absorbed into his body, every part of his body. Even the hair on his head was vanishing. And his body seemed to be changing in other ways. He could feel his hips widening, even as he watched them expand and soften. His waist narrowed, and the hard edges of musculature became soft. His shape was becoming less and less masculine and far more…

…feminine.

"Su..Susan…" He struggled to speak, to call out and let them know something was wrong, but it was so hard to concentrate against the lethargy that seized his body and mind.

The strangest sensation came from his groin and abdomen. Over the course of the initial transformation, which took nearly thirty minutes, his just restored male genitals were transformed into a perfect female vagina.

"I think I did it," Ryan announced. "I was able to restrict access from our network to anything really extreme or fetish oriented."

Brandon’s body was now completely female, but it appeared bland, unfinished. The woman who now lay on the table was neither pretty nor ugly; she was not even average but more a blank slate waiting for details.

Reconstruction of Genomorph Profile complete….randomizing variables to construct unique subject profile….

Next to the graphic image of Brandon’s now female body a new display window opened. At first the image there was identical, but gradually it began to change. The figure became even more obviously feminine, almost exaggerated with a narrow waist and wide, round hips. The breasts swelled to form extremely large, round mounds, jutting firmly from the chest. The face went from plain to beautiful and sensuous with full lips and large, expressive eyes. Pale, curly blonde hair that hung down to the waist was added, and the overall frame of the figure shrunk in height. The final form displayed was of a beautiful young woman in her late teens or early twenties; it was hard to tell her precise age. The youthful, innocent face could easily pass for fifteen but the figure was that of a mature, sexual young woman.

Initiating final cosmetic transformation….

Brandon’s form once more began to alter, now conforming to match the image on the display. For another half hour the process continued until finally the young woman who lay on the table looked exactly like the computer generated image; and bore no resemblance at all to the man she had once been.

Gender transformation sequence complete….

XX Chromosome structure in place….body chemistry and hormone levels stabilizing at optimum levels…

Subject is now a Genomorph female….biological age seventeen years…

Height five feet, eight inches….weight one hundred thirty-five pounds….

Initiating motivational and behavioral matrix modifications….downloading core skill upgrades

Brandon’s body was once more bathed in white light, while a beam of intense blue light focused on her face. For the first time, she made a sound. It started out as a low moan which gradually built in intensity. It was not a moan of pain or discomfort but rather one of building pleasure.

Subject’s body optimized for physical and sexual performance….

Sex drive of subject increased….sexual orientation modified to dual gender acceptance…

Genetic structure modified to Genomorph Profile …

"Susan look at this," Ryan said, pointing to the display of Brandon’s new form. A graphic representation of the double helix that had been his genetic structure had been replaced by something Susan had never seen before, a quadruple helix.

"My God…"

Genomorph sequence complete….do you wish to enter a new code name?

Beneath the question on the screen Brandon’s name was flashing. Susan looked at the young woman who now appeared to be sleeping peacefully on the table. The name hardly seemed appropriate any longer. She quickly typed out a new file name and hit enter on the virtual keyboard.

Subject profile saved….code name...Brandi….

CHAPTER 4

Awareness returned slowly, and the first thing she noticed was the strange weight on her chest. The second thing was the fact that she knew she was now female. The third was that she was restrained by straps securing her arms and legs. It had not been some weird dream; it was all real.

She could remember it all; at first it had progressed as Susan had said it would. There had been a feeling of euphoria; a natural seeming relaxation as the machine had begun its work. But then the changes had begun; changes she had felt and seen in the reflection that shone back at her in the crystal chamber. She opened her eyes and looked down at the two impossibly large mounds pushing the sheet up at her chest.

"Shit."

The sound of her voice was startling, a soft, melodious soprano, and drew the attention of the two women standing nearby. Susan handed the chart she had been reading to the nurse standing next to her, and then turned towards the young woman on the bed, her face showing concern. She looked like she had not slept in days.

"Why am I strapped down?"

"We were afraid you might be…agitated when you awakened," Susan explained. "We didn’t want you to injure yourself. You seem to be handling things well so I’ll release the restraints."

"I don’t know about well but I’m handling things….I don’t really have a lot of choice do I?"

"How do you feel Brandi?" Susan asked as she and the nurse released the straps.

"Brandi?"

"Sorry, it’s what we’ve been calling you since …since the transformation," Susan said. "You’ve been asleep for three days and…well it just didn’t seem right to call you Brandon anymore."

"I suppose not," Brandi admitted, and then her face clouded with anger. "Susan what the hell did you do to me! I trusted you and you…you…"

Brandi’s voice trailed off, choked by the sobs that forced their way to the surface. She tried to fight the tears, tried not to cry but soon she was sobbing uncontrollably as Susan held her, encouraging her to let the emotions out.

"Brandi, please believe me, none of us had any idea the machine was capable of anything like this," Susan said. "If I had known… I never…"

"I believe you," Brandi said, wiping her reddened eyes. Even as she said it she knew it was in fact true; she did believe Susan, not just because she trusted her but because she knew she was telling her the truth. It was not like an extrasensory phenomenon; rather it was as though she were hypersensitive to the world around her. As she concentrated on the sensation, a world of sounds and smells and feelings she had never experienced before washed over her.

She knew other things she realized too. She knew that the nurse still standing by the door was nervous and a bit frightened despite her dispassionate appearance. She knew that the room was being monitored, though she could not see any evidence of cameras or microphones she could feel their presence and knew where each was located. She knew that there were two guards outside the door.

"I’d like to see what I look like," Brandi said quietly after Susan broke from their hug. Susan studied her for a moment then adjusted the bed so Brandi was in a sitting position. She pulled a hand mirror from the drawer of the night stand and passed it to Brandi.

The face that was reflected in the mirror was that of an incredibly beautiful young woman. She looked quite young, in her late teens or perhaps her early twenties. Her skin was a light golden tan and flawless, framed by a mane of pale, loose, golden blonde curls that billowed over her shoulders and down her back. She had high cheekbones with a natural blush and a beautifully sculpted, slightly upturned nose. Her lips were full and also had a slight upturn, giving her a natural, mischievous grin. The most striking thing about her face was a pair of big, round eyes with astonishingly deep, purple irises.

Brandi stared at the face, her face, for a long time before turning her gaze downward to the breasts that more than anything else announced that she was indeed a woman. They were large, quite large, and very firm. There was no denying them as they pressed against the thin fabric of the hospital gown she wore, her nipples clearly visible. Brandi set the mirror on the night stand and then tentatively poked at her right breast with her index finger.

Without preamble, or any apparent concern over modesty, Brandi pulled the loosely tied gown down and then grabbed both of her breasts experimentally.

"Wow they sure are big," She said, her voice filled with innocence and awe.

Brandi continued to examine these new additions, seemingly oblivious to the presence of Susan and the nurse. She seemed mesmerized by her breasts. They did not hang from her chest but rather projected, a good six inches, their weight pulling them down just enough to give them a pleasing, natural appearance. She lifted them and let them fall; she pressed them together and pulled them apart. Finally Susan could stand it no longer.

"Megan would you step outside please," She said to the nurse, who appeared only too happy to comply.

Turning back to Brandi she said, her voice pleading, "Brandi, please tell me what is going on inside your head! Are you still…I don’t even know how to say it…"

"Am I still me?" Brandi asked, raising her eyebrows. She pulled the gown back up to cover her breasts and settled back against the pillow.

"I don’t really know if I can answer that. I mean, I know who I am, or was…dammit this is confusing! I remember my life but I do feel…different."

"You feel like a woman," Susan suggested.

"I guess…I don’t really have any basis for comparison, other than the fact that I don’t feel like I did as a guy," Brandi admitted, and then she frowned. "Susan, how did this happen?"

"During the initial scan the machine detected markers in your genetic structure that triggered something called the Genomorph Protocol," Susan explained. "It was buried and encrypted within the computer system, but we have been able to decipher some information about it. Apparently it was a military program, designed to produce a superior soldier."

"This body, a superior soldier?" Brandi snorted. "What am I suppose to do, beat things to death with these huge boobs? And what the hell is a Genomorph?"

"The outer shell is superficial window dressing, or maybe camouflage is a better word," Susan explained. " Genomorph is a translation of a word in the Forerunner’s language that had no parallel in ours. Geno for genome or genetic, and morph from metamorphosis, meaning to alter form or shape. The Genomorph Protocol radically altered your genetic structure.

"You remember that the Forerunners were fleeing their system after a devastating war? Well, their enemies, which were actually just another branch of their own race, were a completely male dominated society. Women were nothing more than objects for sex and reproduction. So the forerunners developed Genomorphs as operatives that would not be seen as a threat."

"So why not just use a woman?"

"That’s where the genetic markers come in," Susan told her. "For lack of a better description, we are calling those markers ‘warrior genes’. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that while most people use the terms warrior and soldier interchangeably, there is a difference. A lot of men, and women, can be taught to be good soldiers, but I’m sure you’ve heard it said that a true warrior is born that way. Well, it looks like that adage is true. The Forerunners identified those genes."

"And those genes are only in men?" Brandi asked.

"No," Susan replied. "They are rare in men and even rarer in women. Plus it involves more than one set of genes. The computer was looking for a specific combination of seven genes. Of course we have only identified a very small portion of the human genome. The Forerunners apparently had mapped it much more extensively, perhaps even completely."

"So what exactly did it do to me?" Brandi asked. "I mean other than the obvious."

Susan hesitated for a moment. She was not sure how much Brandi was ready to hear, and in truth they had no idea how much the Forerunner machine had modified her.

"Please just tell me the truth, Susan," Brandi pleaded as she saw the hesitation on Susan’s face.

"Brandi, I promise you now that I will never, ever lie to you," Susan said. "That doesn’t mean that I might not withhold information from you if I feel you aren’t up to hearing it. I am responsible for what has happened here and I am going to do everything in my power to help you get through this.

"As to what has been done to you, the truth is we don’t know the full extent. I can tell you that you are now completely female in every way. That means you have the brain and body chemistry of a woman and you have a fully functional reproductive system and all that entails. You can get pregnant and will have to deal with a monthly period.

Brandi gasped slightly as Susan’s words soaked in.

"Your muscles, connective tissues and skeletal structure are considerably stronger than a typical human, stronger even than a person in peak physical condition. Your cellular structure is much more robust as well. Over time as cells divide and reproduce, the DNA within them becomes damaged. It’s kind of like making copies of a copy. Eventually the end product is unreadable. Your cells reproduce exactly every time, so far as we can tell, and we have some pretty sophisticated ways of analyzing them even over a short period of time. This will have many benefits; your rate of healing from injuries will be extremely fast, and I seriously doubt there is a disease out there, not even cancer, that could harm you. It also is likely that you will look just as you do now for a long, long time."

"Are you saying I can’t die?" Brandi asked wide eyed. "That I’m immortal?"

"I’m saying you would be very hard to kill, and aging is not something that you will have to concern yourself with. You will remain at your present biological age of seventeen, but I can’t promise that it will be forever. We have found no data regarding the long term effects. Certainly you will live several human lifetimes."

Even though what Susan said was technically true, she frankly doubted there was any limit to Brandi’s life span. She had studied her new genetic and cellular structure repeatedly over the last three days and every thing she saw indicated the young woman would never simply wear out over time.

"Seventeen?" Brandi echoed. "I thought I looked younger than I had been. A lot younger. That could make it kind of hard to function in the world. Everyone who sees me will think of me as a kid. I guess our trip to Vegas is off. I doubt I could get into a bar. "

"Who said we had to go to a bar, or a casino? We could always spend a few days hitting all the malls," Susan said, laughing as Brandi gave her a sour look. "Well, with that body I don’t think you will have much trouble. You look young, yes, but no one would question an ID that put you in your early twenties. And once you learn the art of makeup there are tricks you can use to make yourself appear more mature or even younger if you wanted."

"I may feel like a girl but I’m not ready to surrender to being a girl just yet Susan," Brandi said. "I don’t want to even think about things like makeup, or sex for that matter."

As soon as she said the word Brandi realized she had been thinking about sex for some time in the back of her mind. To her shock, and horror, she realized she had been thinking about it with a sense of curiosity and anticipation. She felt her nipples hardening and could see them becoming more visible as they pressed against the fabric of the hospital gown. The very contact of the fabric against them began sending shivers of pleasure through her body.

"Oh shit."

"Yes, you may not have much choice on that score," Susan said somberly. "It appears that sex was as much a tool of these Genomorphs as combat skills. Your sex drive was increased significantly, likely to allow you to utilize it more effectively."

"That is just fucking great!" Brandi shouted. "It’s bad enough that I get turned into a hyped-up female super soldier and now you tell me I’m a sex crazed bimbo, too!"

"I said nothing of the sort," Susan shot back. "Your mental capacity has not been reduced in any way. In fact, your thought process is several orders of magnitude faster than normal. Your capacity to learn and adapt has also been increased. Yes, you will have to deal with an increased level of desire, but you have the capacity to deal with it."

Susan paused to give Brandi time to absorb what she had learned so far. As she watched her, she could see that her nipples visibly softened beneath the gown.

"It could have been much worse," she finally continued. "The Forerunner computer recognized that its data files were very old and began searching through the network connection to the internet for information on what contemporary society considers sensual. Most of the data it gathered came from pornographic web sites. Ryan was able to limit access to exclude the more extreme sites."

"You’ll have to thank him for me," Brandi said sullenly. "I guess that explains this body. If I saw boobs like this on a woman I would swear they were fake, but the pictures it accessed probably were of girls with implants."

"They are real I assure you," Susan said. "The machine made modifications to the musculature of your back and shoulders to accommodate them, though I suspect you’ll still want to wear a bra."

"I don’t have a clue about stuff like that!" Brandi protested. "I wouldn’t even know what size I need."

"We took your measurements while you were asleep," Susan informed her. "Your measurements are 36G — 22 — 36. I’m afraid you won’t be buying bras off the rack. I took the liberty of ordering some for you, and they will be here tomorrow."

"Gee, thanks," Brandi said, rolling her eyes. "Something to look forward to."

"I’m not saying any of this will be easy, Brandi, but you have to look at what you have gained as well. You are young and healthy and you have the full use of your body again. You are more physically capable than you were at even your best before you were wounded. It is going to be a long, hard process, but I will help you in every way possible."

"There’s no way to undo it?"

"We already tried," Susan told her. "The day after you were transformed we put you back in the machine. If it had the capability to alter you from a male to a female, we reasoned it had to be able to alter you back. We burned out the entire control system trying to override the security protocol."

"The machine was destroyed?" Brandi asked wide eyed.

"No the machine still works. We can run scans, but the programming required to make repairs and alterations, including the Genomorph program, was largely destroyed. We are already working on reconstructing it, but it will take time...years, probably even decades, before we have the technological capabilities to restore that kind of function to the device."

"For the foreseeable future, you are one of a kind."

CHAPTER 5

"How did the Forerunners get here?" Brandi asked as she applied a liberal coating of ketchup to the huge hamburger on the tray table before her. Brandi preferred to eat in her room, usually in bed as she was today. Though she endured whatever tests or exercises they asked of her, almost always observed by numerous scientists, she felt uncomfortable around people in a less controlled environment like the cafeteria. She complained to Susan that they looked at her like she was a lab rat, or worse a freak. It was the main reason Susan desperately wanted to get her out of the lab, if only for a few hours each week, so she could be exposed to people who would see her only as a beautiful young woman.

"We’re not sure," Susan said as she watched Brandi begin to devour the hamburger, her second. The girl had an appetite like a horse. "So far no evidence has been found of any kind of landing site. There is mention in one of the historical files we have translated of ‘passing through the gateway to the new world’, but we’re not sure if that is literal or poetic."

"So they might have come through some kind of portal, like on Stargate?"

"It’s a possibility," Susan said. "Are you finished or do you want a third?"

"No, two will hold me for a while," Brandi said after a moment’s consideration. "I guess I should get dressed for play time."

Brandi threw back the covers and hopped out of the bed, totally naked. She showed no modesty at all standing nude in front of a room full of people, cameras rolling, yet she resisted every suggestion that she wear feminine clothes. On the rare occasions she did wander the corridors, she wore a pair of black BDUs and an over sized t-shirt. The only female clothing she would wear was her undergarments, and that was more a concession to comfort than a desire to wear them.

She slipped on a pair of panties and a sports bra, the only type of bra she would wear, and then slid on a pair of black tights. Again, the tights were a concession to practicality; she would be sparring today instead of her usual solo workout.

"Brandi can I ask you a question?" Susan asked as she watched the young woman.

"Because I’m afraid," Brandi answered as she tied up her sneakers. She had a habit of answering questions before they were asked. It was not that she could read minds, but rather she read people. Her enhanced senses gave her a flood of information about a person, and her mind was capable of processing it all astonishingly fast. She had sensed Susan’s discomfort over the question she wanted to ask, and linked it to her getting dressed.

"I can’t bring myself to dress like a girl because I’m afraid I’ll like it. I’m not ready for that yet."

"All right sweetheart, I don’t want to rush you," Susan said. "We have plenty of time for you to adjust."

That was bitterly true, Susan knew. In the three weeks since Brandon had been transformed into Brandi, Susan had requested repeatedly that she be allowed to take the girl out into the world. She knew the clinical environment of the lab was stifling Brandi’s emotional development. But every time she had been told no; it was too great a risk.

She knew Brandi was excited about today’s agenda. Generally, Brandi cooperated with whatever tests or exercises she was asked to endure, but she did so without enthusiasm. Today she was downright giddy.

"It’s nice to see you happy," Susan said. She was becoming very attached to this young woman.

Brandi finished tying her other shoe and paused to regard Susan before speaking.

"I don’t know if happy is the right word," She said slowly. "But I am, like excited. I do want to see how I do against real opponents."

"I see."

"Susan I know you’re worried about me," Brandi said, her voice growing quiet. "The last thing I want to do is stress you out. It’s very hard; I mean I still think of myself as a man, even though I don’t feel that way. Hell I even talk like a teenager. Sometimes I’m afraid I really am turning into a bimbo."

"What’s the square root of two hundred forty six?"

"Fifteen point six eight four three eight seven one four one three…," Brandi rattled off the digits without hesitation.

"Enough!" Susan laughed. "I’ll take your word for it. I think your mind is functioning just fine."

"Yeah but if a stranger had asked me that I would have said, ‘Um, numbers have roots…and they’re square?’" Brandi giggled.

They left Brandi’s room and walked a short distance away to a much larger room which had been set up for physical testing and training. There was a variety of exercise equipment and the floor at the center of the room was padded. A larger window on the high wall marked the location of the observation room.

Five men stood on the edge of the exercise mat. Four were dressed in shorts and tight t-shirts that clung to their muscular bodies. They were all six feet or taller, and all wore stony expressions on their faces.

"Oooh, new toys," Brandi purred sexily, slipping seamlessly into her role. "They are all that and then some. But like, who’s the tin soldier?"

The fifth man, dressed in the grey BDUs of the security force, stepped forward.

"Brandi this is Evan Mitchell, head of the security detail," Susan said.

"Hmm," was all Brandi said. It was evident that she did not like Mitchell on sight.

"I’m here to make sure you don’t get out of control," Mitchell said flatly.

Brandi giggled at that, "Honey think whatever makes you feel good."

"I’ll be upstairs in the observation room," Susan told Brandi and then slipped out through a side door.

Brandi stepped to the center of the mat and stretched a bit, making a show of it in front of her sparring partners. When she finished, she adopted a sexy pose with her hip cocked and smiled at them suggestively.

"There’s only one rule here boys; fight hard," She said sweetly. "Treat me like a girl and I will hurt you."

The four men glanced at each other and then at Mitchell, who simply nodded his head.

They rushed her as a group but Brandi dodged all their attacks. She took a defensive posture and let them initiate for a time, using the opportunity to judge their strengths and weaknesses. Once she was satisfied, she went offensive, taking one to the ground with a hard kick to the stomach and another with a driving punch to the gut followed up with a palm driven up under his chin.

The third grabbed her from behind as the fourth man came in, punching her hard in the abdomen twice. Brandi let out a cry of pain and then tears began streaming down her face as she started crying. The man backed away, confused, and Brandi rewarded him with a kick to the groin…she pulled it so it did not do serious damage…followed by a second kick to the face as he doubled over.

The remaining man held her still from behind, his arms looped under hers with his hands behind her head.

"Afraid to squeeze tighter honey?" Brandi asked as she pretended to struggle to break free.

"I wouldn’t wanna make you cry anymore," The man leered. "I couldn’t bear to hurt a pretty thing like you."

"To bad I don’t feel the same way," Brandi said as she snapped her head back, flattening his nose. To give him credit he maintained his grip but it did not matter as Brandi reached up, grabbed his hands and twisted, snapping both his wrists.

"I warned you not to treat me like a girl!" she hissed as he fell to the mat crying out in pain.

Brandi looked up at the observation window, her face angry as she said, "Next time get me some guys with fucking balls! If you’re gonna just waste my ti…"

Her words were cut short as she felt two pricks in her back. Then the muscles of her body tensed as fifty thousand volts of electricity surged through her from the taser gun in Evan Mitchell’s hands.

Brandi crumpled to her knees, tried to rise but seemed unable to get her legs under her. She managed to reach around and pull the darts out, but still seemed shaky and uncoordinated as she regained her feet. She turned shakily towards Mitchell, just in time to receive a blow across the side of the head from the collapsible baton he held in the other hand. He followed the blow up with two more, across the stomach and then to the back and Brandi pitched forward onto the mat with a cry of pain. She struggled to rise but Mitchell brought the baton down across her back again.

"That’s enough Mitchell you bastard!" Susan screamed as she flew through the door into the room.

"She injured one of my men!" Mitchell protested.

"That doesn’t justify beating the hell out of her!" Susan screamed back, her face livid.

"Hey she is supposed to be the super soldier," Mitchell shrugged. "She needs to learn to watch her back."

Medical teams entered the training room to treat Brandi and the man with the broken wrists. It turned out she had also broken the jaw of the man she had kicked in the groin. As they tried to load Brandi on a gurney she shook their hands off and then limped out of the training room. By the time Susan caught up with her, Brandi was in bed in her room in a deep sleep. When Susan tried to wake her, she did not respond. Near panic, Susan called the medical team and they rushed Brandi to the infirmary.

CHAPTER 6

The large plasma screen display on the wall of the briefing room showed Brandi, dressed in black tights and a sports bra, standing on the exercise mat. Surrounding her were six men, much taller than her five foot, eight inch frame. They were all experts in hand to hand combat, and they circled the young woman warily at the edges of the mat.

Brandi appeared unconcerned, and she did not even adopt a defensive stance. Instead she merely studied her nails for a moment, and then tossed her head back, throwing her long blonde hair over her shoulder and smiling. She adopted a provocative stance and looked around at the six men.

"I thought you boys wanted to play?" She purred sexily.

Two of her sparring partners rushed in from either side, while two more came at her from the front and back. The remaining two kept their distance, ready to move in when the time was right. Brandi blocked kicks from the two to her sides but was caught squarely in the back by a kick from the man behind her. She was propelled forward towards the fourth, but she somehow managed to use that momentum to her advantage, launching herself upward into a flip that took her completely over him. Her own kick sent the man stumbling forward into his three partners and they all tumbled to the mat in a tangle of limbs.

Not waiting for them to recover, she went on the offense against the two who had held back. Rushing forward, she dodged a flurry of kicks and swings, and then doubled over one man with a solid knee to the solar plexus. She rolled across his back, her legs wind milling into a double kick to the jaw that sent the other man down to the mat.

The fight went on for another five minutes but the outcome was never really in doubt. In the end the six men lay on the mat, battered and bruised. Brandi was not unscarred when it was all over, her nose was bleeding and she had a purple welt swelling on her face as well as numerous bruises to her abdomen, arms and legs. As soon as she helped her sparring partners up, she immediately stripped off her clothing so the camera could record the various bruises and welts, showing no concern over exposing herself to the camera.

The screen went dark and the lights in the briefing room came up as Susan rose from her seat.

"Brandi’s injuries were completely healed in less than fifteen minutes," Susan informed them.

"They were pulling their punches," A man in a dark suit named Reginald Mercer accused. "They just didn’t want to rough a girl up."

Susan glared at the man for a moment. He worked for some unnamed government agency and had been sent as a ‘liaison’ to their work, but Susan knew better. He was there to evaluate Brandi, who was rapidly being viewed as a potentially valuable tool. Mercer was there to see that nothing interfered with the development of this new weapon. And to top it all off, he was an asshole whom Susan had taken an instant dislike to.

"I think you can see from the bruises and blood that they managed to rough her up quite effectively," Susan replied acidly. "Besides, this was not the first time Brandi sparred with these men, and she had taught them not to go easy on her. In an earlier bout, she sent two of them to the infirmary for treating her like a girl."

"That sounds like the Brandon I know," A distinguished looking older man in a naval uniform snorted.

Rear Admiral Michael Hammerstein, known with some affection, and a good bit of fear, by those under him as ‘The Hammer’, was the Commander, Naval Special Warfare Command. He had known Brandon for years, since he was a young midshipman at the Naval Academy. He was a hard, brusque man, and one you always knew where you stood with.

"If I hadn’t seen the transformation footage with my own eyes…" Admiral Hammerstein muttered.

"What about the earlier incident?" Mercer asked. "Why was she so easily incapacitated by the taser?"

"She is not invulnerable," Susan said. "She feels pain just like anyone else. Also Brandi is able to detect very minute electromagnetic fields. It may be that this ability makes her more susceptible to the taser’s effect on the nervous system."

"What other capabilities has she demonstrated?" Mercer asked. "Other than the physical enhancements she has displayed."

"She can go for long periods of time, days, without sleep. She can also run for literally hours at a steady pace," Susan told them. "However if she pushes herself hard she eventually has to enter a kind of meditative state to recover. She calls it ‘Zen Sleep’. Basically she becomes for all practical purposes comatose and it is virtually impossible to awaken her until her body has recovered. In this state she is very vulnerable, and her body will only allow her to enter it if she is in a safe environment. This is what she did after the incident with Mitchell, to heal her injuries."

And scare the hell out of me, Susan thought.

"Mr. Mitchell hit her hard enough to break three ribs. She also had a mild concussion and severe bruising to her kidneys. After six hours of Zen sleep there was no trace she had ever been injured."

"In strength tests she has bested the world records in the bench press, squat and dead lift," Susan continued. "That’s the men’s records, in the heaviest weight class.

"Her senses; sight, smell, hearing and touch are far more acute than human norms. These heightened senses operate on a separate level from her regular senses, so that strong stimuli, loud noises, intense smells and such, do not overwhelm her. As I said she can detect electromagnetic fields. That is how she was able to detect the presence of the cameras and microphones in her room. She has also demonstrated the ability to disrupt those devices, and has done so several times, disrupting the equipment monitoring her room."

"Why would she do that?" Mercer asked. Admiral Hammerstein chuckled at the question.

"Sometimes a girl wants her privacy," was all Susan said before continuing.

"Brandi’s body is designed to be extremely efficient, and to make use of whatever is available for nourishment. She can ingest and metabolize virtually anything. She also eats like a horse, and her body is capable of using everything she consumes and wasting nothing."

"Are you saying she doesn’t produce waste?" Admiral Hammerstein asked.

"Under normal conditions she uses a bathroom just like anyone else," Susan said with a smile. "She does not have to do it as frequently and all the waste she processes is completely sterile. Under field conditions however her body will metabolize everything she takes in.

"Perhaps the most interesting of her recently discovered traits is the fact that she does not leave behind trace evidence. Hair, tissue, blood, waste products…even fingerprints, all break down and dissipate in a very short time after leaving her body. It has made the collection and study of blood and tissue samples from her nearly impossible."

"The perfect covert operative," Mercer remarked. "Entering and leaving without a trace."

"We know Brandi has been adapting at a remarkable rate physically over the past three months, Doctor Covington," Admiral Hammerstein injected, "but how is she doing mentally and emotionally?"

"Well, let me tell you something I observed yesterday by way of an answer," Susan replied. "Brandi was in her room, which of course you know we monitor constantly. She was walking back and forth across the floor, and it took me several minutes to understand what she was trying to do.

"She was trying to walk without swaying her hips…without looking …sexy. She kept at it for an hour, if not actually trying to walk like a man than at least trying not to walk like, as she says, ‘a tease’. She couldn’t do it; her body just is not structured that way. She finally collapsed on the floor crying."

"She certainly didn’t seem to be concerned about looking like a tease before the sparring match," Mercer observed. "And she definitely wasn’t modest about showing off her tits afterwards."

Susan half thought Admiral Hammerstein was going to back hand Mercer, the way his head snapped around at the comment. Instead he just glared icily, making the spook cringe visibly.

"That was a completely different situation," Susan explained. "It’s the warrior genes. The same reason she won’t allow them to cut her any slack in training. To her, training and combat are the same thing. The only difference is how far you take it. And in combat, you fight to win, using every tool and weapon at your disposal. By the same token, she knew that cataloging the extent of her injuries after the match was a necessary part of determining how quickly she heals.

"Emotionally she is in turmoil. She still thinks of herself as a thirty-eight year old man, but she is trapped in the body of a seventeen year old girl, with raging hormones, loose emotions and a monthly period."

"So you’re saying she is unstable," Mercer concluded.

"No I’m saying she’s a teenager," Susan retorted.

"Will she speak to us?" Admiral Hammerstein asked.

"Yes she will," Susan confirmed. "She’s waiting in her room right now. She was a bit apprehensive about seeing you Admiral. She has a great deal of respect for you, and she’s worried about your reaction."

The Hammer merely nodded at Susan’s words. Susan rose from her seat and stepped out of the briefing room to get Brandi.

"Mr. Mercer, I don’t like you," The Hammer said after Susan was gone. "Brandon Anderson was one of the finest Naval Officers I have ever known. I strongly suggest you treat Brandi with the respect she has earned and deserves. If you ever hope to have her cooperation, you had best tread easily."

"With all due respect, Admiral, if she is such an upstanding officer, won’t she do as ordered?" Mercer countered.

"Brandon Anderson is dead," Hammerstein shot back, his voice a low growl. "He died due to complications from wounds received in combat, it says so right here on the citation I have. Brandi is a young woman who never served in the military and is in my opinion under no obligation to us in any way."

"I’ll make a note of your opinion in my report, Admiral."

The exchange was halted before it escalated as the briefing room door opened and Susan entered, followed closely by Brandi. She was dressed in what had become her standard attire, black BDU pants, large white t-shirt and combat boots. Despite her efforts, the outfit did little to disguise her curves.

Admiral Hammerstein immediately rose to his feet. Mercer was slower to rise and seemed annoyed at the display of courtesy.

"Brandi, this is Reginald Mercer and I believe you know Admiral Hammerstein," Susan said as an introduction. She had already told Brandi who Mercer was, withholding her personal opinion of the man.

"It’s good to see you Admiral," Brandi said softly.

"It is my pleasure to meet you Brandi," Hammerstein replied in an uncharacteristically warm tone.

"Well let’s get on with this shall we?" Mercer said once everyone was seated. "As I am sure Doctor Covington has informed you, I am here to evaluate the viability of this project and how it can be best utilized by our military and intelligence communities."

"This project has a name," Susan interrupted.

"I’m aware of the girl’s name Doctor Covington," Mercer said testily.

As Mercer droned on about what was expected of her, Brandi took a metal nail file from her pocket and began filing her nails. She had to use a metal file since her nails were far harder and stronger than normal, and a plain emery board had little impact on them.

Susan nearly laughed out loud. It was like pulling teeth to get Brandi to even attempt to attend to normal feminine grooming practices. The only reason she would do it now was to piss the government man off. Mercer continued to talk, but was becoming visibly agitated by her apparent lack of attention.

"Is she even paying attention to me?" Mercer finally demanded.

Brandi blew noisily on her nails before speaking.

"Duh, like I’m not deaf," She said, "You want me to be, like, a spy and wiggle my cute little butt and, you know, get whatever kind of info you happen to be looking for, and maybe take out the odd bad guy."

Susan groaned inwardly. It was even worse, she was in full ‘dumb blonde’ mode. In the months since her transformation, Brandi’s personality had grown to mirror her appearance, to fit the perception people would have of her. As Susan had said, she was for all intents and purposes a teenage girl. She could be petulant, flighty and downright silly at times, especially when she was stressed or dealing with a situation she did not like. Her behavior told Susan two things; she was very uncomfortable in the presence of Admiral Hammerstein, and she really did not like Mercer.

"See, now I was thinking something, like, more fun, ya know?" Brandi continued. "Maybe a training mission to the local mall…I could, like, infiltrate all the really cool shops and max out Susan’s credit card buying a new wardrobe. I could really use some new clothes."

Susan lost her control for a moment and laughed out loud. She could also be a real smart ass. Brandi had resisted every effort she had made to get her to dress like a girl.

"I think you had best start taking this seriously if you ever want to see the outside again," Mercer said menacingly. "You are a potentially valuable asset, and possibly a tremendous liability. It would not be wise for you to make us think you were going to be uncooperative, or worse, a threat."

Brandi’s violet eyes locked onto Mercer, and there was no longer any hint of mirth in them.

"I think I’ll just avoid the Christmas rush and start not liking you now," She said sweetly, her eyes wide and innocent. "You know they say when a guy acts like a prick he’s compensating for something."

"You may not like was has happened to you missy, but this is bigger than you now!" Mercer exploded. "Your cooperation is expected, and that comes straight from The Man."

"Oooh, The Man," Brandi giggled, her eyes affecting a look of wide eyed awe. "Like, couldn’t anyone come up with a better name than that? I tell you what, why don’t you tell The Man to come down here himself. Then I can tell him in person to kiss my cute, round ass."

"I think we will have this conversation another time," Mercer said, gathering up his papers and storming towards the door. "Perhaps when you feel like being more accommodating."

"Yeah that’ll happen about the time you actually develop a personality!" Brandi called after him as he slammed the door to the briefing room.

"Sheesh I thought he’d never leave!" She giggled, and then noticed the disapproving looks of Susan and the Admiral.

"Sorry," She squeaked.

"Brandi, I know this hasn’t been easy on you," Admiral Hammerstein sighed. "And God knows you deserve to be left to find your own way. But there are powerful people who want to use you, and right now they are running the show."

"I know that sir," Brandi said softly, and then her voice grew harsher. "They are the same people that sent my platoon into the desert with inadequate support and woefully inadequate intelligence. They made me what I am today, but if they think I will just roll over and be a good soldier they have another thing coming. Those days are over."

"I can’t say I blame you for feeling that way," Admiral Hammerstein told her. "You know that Doctor Covington has been pushing them to let you out of here, let you find a way to adapt to your transformation in the real world. If it were up to me…"

"I know Admiral," Brandi said.

"At any rate, I won’t stop trying," Hammerstein said with vigor. "Now, my main reason for pulling some strings to get out here today, besides wanting to see for myself how you are doing, was to give you something. I took the liberty of having this retrieved from your apartment in Gainesville before your effects were packed up."

Susan watched apprehensively as the Admiral stood up and placed his briefcase on the table. He had told her what he intended to do, and she was not certain how Brandi would react.

The Admiral opened the brief case and took out a small wooden case, which he slid across the table to Brandi. She looked at it for a long time before she opened the lid. Inside were Brandon’s commendations, among them the Bronze Star, the Silver Star and the Navy Cross.

"These aren’t really mine anymore," she said quietly.

"Nonsense!" Admiral Hammerstein retorted. "You are who you are inside, no matter what you look like or who you have become on the outside. You earned those medals…but I am afraid they are not complete."

The Admiral took another, smaller case from his briefcase, along with a framed piece of parchment. With measured stride he moved around the table until he stood beside Brandi’s chair, and then he presented the case to her. With trembling hands she opened the box to reveal a blue ribbon from which was suspended a large, bronze five pointed star.

"The President of the United States, in the name of the Congress, takes pleasure in presenting the Medal of Honor to Lieutenant Commander Brandon Anderson," The Admiral read from the citation. "Lieutenant Commander Brandon Anderson distinguished himself by acts of gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty in action with an armed enemy northwest of Baghdad, Iraq, on twenty-seven March, 2003. On that day…"

Brandi sat in stunned silence as the Admiral read the remainder of the citation. She had known that she…that Brandon had been recommended for the medal - had even known that the award was likely. But she had not given it a single thought since her transformation. She felt the tears running down her face as the Admiral finished.

"Dammit, now you made me cry!" She sniffed as Susan handed her a tissue.

"It would be my honor if you would allow me to place the medal on you Brandi," The Admiral said softly.

Brandi stood up, coming to attention and not caring how it made her breasts jut forward. Susan stood behind her and lifted her hair free of the ribbon after the Admiral had placed the medal over her head. Then he stepped back, came to attention himself and snapped a smart salute. Brandi returned the salute with equal precision, holding it until the Admiral lowered his hand. Then she squealed and leapt forward, wrapping her arms about the Admiral’s neck and planting a big, wet kiss on his cheek. The Admiral looked to Susan, who nodded her head, before wrapping his own arms about Brandi, actually lifting her off the floor in a huge bear hug.

CHAPTER 7

"They’ll never let me leave here will they?"

Susan looked up from her desk to see Brandi standing in the doorway of her office. She was dressed in an oversized navy blue sweat shirt, black BDU pants and combat boots, and even in the baggy clothing she exuded a sensual presence.

In the three weeks since Admiral Hammerstein and Reginald Mercer had met with Brandi, she had been a model of cooperation. She had done everything that was asked of her with little or no complaint. That is not to say she still did not persist in asking to be allowed more freedom, to be released from her confinement and allowed to interact with the world outside. But each time she was stonewalled and told to be patient.

"No I don’t think they will, certainly not with any kind of freedom you would find acceptable," Susan said after a moment. She had promised she would never lie to Brandi, not even to make her feel better. "I’ll never stop trying…"

"I know," Brandi whispered, her voice trembling. "I’m sorry Susan."

Before Susan could respond Brandi was across the office, her hands gently gripping Susan’s face as she pressed her index fingers to her temples. Susan felt a sharp tingling through her body, and found she was completely incapable of moving or speaking. All she could do was stare at Brandi in wide eyed shock.

"You’ll wake up with a bit of a headache I imagine but otherwise you’ll be fine," Brandi said softly. The last thing Susan saw as her vision faded to black were the tears streaming down Brandi’s face.

Brandi released Susan’s face and checked her pulse, which was strong and regular. She had no idea how she was able to render Susan unconscious, it was just something she knew she could do. It was one of many new abilities she had discovered, and kept to herself.

Satisfied that Susan would suffer no ill effects from the ordeal, Brandi moved to the next step of her escape plan. She moved quickly to the door way and recovered the duffel bag she had left in the hall, then closed and locked the office door as she stepped back inside. Moving back behind the desk, she took Susan’s limp hand in her own, then closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment. When she opened her eyes, she was Susan’s twin in every way except her clothing. That was easily remedied, as Susan always kept several changes of clothes in the office closet.

Once she was dressed in one of Susan’s spare outfits she moved back to the desk. Gently, tenderly she lifted Susan from the chair and carried her to the couch against one wall of the office. She laid her on the couch, placing a pillow under her head and covering her with an afghan that was draped over the back. She gently brushed a strand of hair from Susan’s face and then kissed her forehead.

Next she took Susan’s ID badge and purse, and then stuffed the clothes she had been wearing into her duffel. She paused for a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror on the wall near the door. While she was physically identical to Susan, there were two potentially major differences; her hair and her lack of makeup. Susan always wore her long dark hair in an elaborate up do and her makeup was perfect. Since Brandi had never taken an interest in Susan’s attempts to teach her about such things, she had no idea how to duplicate them. Any attempt to do so was likely to draw more attention to her than doing nothing, so she did nothing. Slipping Susan’s purse over her right shoulder and the duffel over her left, she exited the office, locking the door behind her with Susan’s badge.

The guards did not even bat an eye as she left the complex and boarded the helicopter that would take her to Nellis. She had timed her move very carefully, knowing that Susan was leaving that night and would be flying to Washington in the morning on a commercial carrier. Susan should remain asleep for at least eight hours, she hoped, and Brandi would be hundreds of miles away by then.

Two hours later she parked Susan’s car at a rest stop on Interstate Fifteen, south of Las Vegas. She took her bag and slipped into the ladies room. Locking herself in one of the stalls, she quickly changed back into her own clothes. Once dressed, she returned to her normal appearance.

A wave of dizziness washed over her and she nearly fainted, sagging to sit heavily on the toilet seat. The strain of maintaining a form other than her own for so long had taxed her considerably, and she knew she would not be able to use that trick again for a while. Once she was sufficiently recovered she slipped her boots back on and laced them up. Then she carefully folded up Susan’s clothes and returned to the car. She opened the trunk so that she could lock Susan’s belongings in it and received a shock.

There was a package in the trunk, a plain brown wrapped package with an envelope taped to it. The envelope had one word written on it.

Brandi.

Her hands began to shake as she tore the envelope open and removed the letter inside. As she read the words there, she began to cry.

Brandi,

I’ve been expecting this day to come for some time. I hope you never have to read this letter, but if you are, I want you to know that I understand why you had to go. Find yourself, my sweet girl, and please be careful.

I’ve done what I can to help you. In this package you will find several complete sets of identification. Hopefully you will only need the primary, in the name of Brenda Williams. Use the others if you have to. They are all completely real and clean…Ryan set them up and he assures me that they will stand up to any scrutiny. He really is a wizard with computers. A bank account has been set up for your primary identity and it has a balance of ten thousand dollars. There are also credit cards should you need them for each of the identities."Ryan, if I ever see you again I swear I am going to kiss you," Brandi whispered.Also in the package is ten thousand dollars in cash for immediate needs. Don’t worry about the money, I can afford it, and you are worth every penny.

Take care of yourself and do not try to contact me…they will most certainly be watching me. Use the email account information in the package to reach me. Ryan assures me that they will be virtually impossible to trace as well but we have to be careful. Even though they can’t be traced, my computers will certainly be tapped and monitored. Use the email only if absolutely necessary.

I miss you already and you haven’t even gone yet. I have never given much thought to having children or a family. I have always been too consumed by my research. But I have come to think of you as a daughter, and the short time you have been in my life has enriched it in ways I cannot describe. I wish I could be with you to guide you and watch you as you blossom into the beautiful young woman I know you will become. I dream some nights of shopping trips and all the fun things mothers and daughters do together. I love you more than words can describe, and my most fervent prayer is that we will have those times someday.

With all my love,

Susan

"I love you too, Momma," Brandi cried softly. She realized now that her escape plan had left a lot of details out. If it had not been for Susan’s foresight where would she have ended up? She would have been on the street, on the run; with no money and no identity. That would have left her few options for surviving, and none of them were appealing.

She took the cash and the documents from the package, placing them in her duffel. Then she took the package and the letter to a trash can and burned them. The rest stop was mostly deserted. A few people did see her, but that didn’t matter at this point. By morning the car would be found and they would know she had been here. What was important was that no one see her leave.

Once she was certain the fire had done its work, she put the flames out with the extinguisher from the car’s trunk, and then piled more trash on top of the residue.

Now all she had to do was find a truck heading in the right direction….

*****

Dearest Susan,

I beg you don’t be too angry with me. I have to find out who I am, and they will never let me do that. They want me as an asset, a robot they can send out to do their bidding. I was never that as Brandon, and I won’t be that now.

Tell them not to try and find me. If I come back…if I come back…it will be on my terms and in my time. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I won’t let them bring me back against my will.

It won’t do any good, I know, but tell them anyway.

I love you Susan. You have been my friend and these last months I have come to see you as my mother in every way possible. You gave birth to me, even if you didn’t intend for it to happen, and you have set me on the road to becoming a woman. I have to finish the journey on my own.

You will always be in my heart, and I promise you will see me again.

Love,

Brandi

P.S. - You look really beautiful with your hair down…you should wear it like that more often.

Susan set the note back where she had found it on her desk, having read it for the hundredth time since she had awakened, nearly four hours earlier. She had not stirred from her office, but she would have to soon. Her flight was scheduled to land in Washington in a half hour, and when she did not meet the driver that would be waiting for her there, the alarm would go out. But she was determined to give Brandi every second she could.

*****

"We found the car at a rest stop south of Las Vegas," Reginald Mercer said to the group assembled in the briefing room. "We believe she wants us to think she is heading west to Los Angeles. It would be the perfect place to get lost…a girl like her will not stand out so much there. So we will concentrate our search efforts to the east. We suspect she will head for familiar ground, back to Florida where Brandon lived perhaps."

"I suggest you do as she asked and let her go," Admiral Hammerstein said.

"Let her go?" Mercer asked, incredulous. "Admiral with all due respect we have an unstable adolescent that is capable of doing a lot of damage on the loose. I hardly think ‘letting her go’ is a good idea."

"Then find her and watch her!" Hammerstein barked, using the voice that had earned him his nickname as ‘The Hammer’. "But dammit leave her alone! Let her come to grips with the person she is, because you’re right, Mercer, Brandi is capable of doing a lot of damage. And if you try to force her back, God only knows the damage she is prepared to do."

*****

Arnold Belcher ran his hand through his thick red hair as he guided his tractor trailer along the interstate. He was four hours out of Vegas and there were miles to go before his next stop. Some company might be nice for a change.

"Darlin’ you’d be a mite more comfortable sitting up front here," He said with a deep southern drawl.

"Shit," He heard softly spoken from behind the curtain in the sleeper compartment. The curtain moved aside and his pretty blonde stowaway crawled out and into the passenger seat.

"You can just drop me off right here," the girl said. "Sorry for sneaking into your rig."

"Now that jes’ wouldn’t be right Miss," Arnie said. "If you need a ride so bad you’d hide in a strange semi I figure you either need ta get somewhere awful bad or get away from something awful bad. Either way I don’t see as it’d be right to just leave ya on the interstate."

"Thanks I appreciate it," The girl said warily.

"Ya know that weren’t all that smart a thing ta do, neither," Arnie continued, his voice taking on a serious tone. "If I was yo daddy I’d tan your backside for a stunt like that."

"I can take care of myself."

"If you say so Miss," Arnie laughed. "But you got no need to be ‘fraid of me. The name’s Arnold Belcher, but you kin call me Arnie."

The trucker extended his right hand and Brandi shook it, her own hand engulfed by the rough flesh. But there was gentleness to his touch, and in that moment of contact she knew he was telling the truth, she had nothing to fear from him. A good thing for him.

"Nice to meet you Arnie, my name’s Brenda, Brenda Williams. My friends call me Brandi though, and I think we are going to be friends."

"So where ya headin’ Brandi?" Arnie asked as he turned his attention back towards the road. Brandi had noted that even as he turned to introduce himself to her, his eyes had never strayed from hers, never dropped down to look at her breasts. She felt even better about the big trucker.

"Depends. Where are you heading?" Brandi asked.

"Riverside, San Diego and LA," Arnie told her. "Then I pick up another load and head up to San Fran. After that, who knows?"

"That’ll do for a start," Brandi whispered.

End of Part 1

Notes:

My heartfelt thanks go out to Janet and Carla for their editorial assistance.Your comments are not only welcome, they are eagerly encouraged...be nice though...I'm fragile.

Synopsis:

Synopsis: Brandi’s journey of self discovery begins with a tour of Southern California. A sinister plan is revealed and an unexpected ally is found. Part 2 of 5.

Warning: This story contains no graphic sexual content but does have adult situations and language. There are also action scenes with graphic descriptions of violence.

Story:

Genomorph Part 2 of 5

By Breanna Ramsey

Edited by Janet Nolan and Carla Winters

CHAPTER 8

Brandi opened her eyes and blinked groggily in the morning light. The vibration of the semi as it cruised up the interstate brought her mind into focus and she remembered where she was. She straightened up in the passenger seat of the semi, noticing that a blanket had been stretched over her as she slept. She smiled at the big truck driver in thanks.

“When you sleep you sho sleep sound,” Arnie Belcher commented with a grin from the driver’s seat.

“I guess I was pretty tired,” Brandi said. In truth, she did not require much sleep, and could go for days without it. But she had learned that she could slip into a deep, restorative sleep when necessary, which she had taken to calling ‘Zen Sleep’. The only disadvantage was that once in that state she tended to stay that way until she had recovered sufficiently, and was for all practical purposes helpless. That she had allowed herself to slip into it in the cab of the truck meant that her escape had taxed her more than she had thought…and that she really did trust Arnie, despite the fact that she had only met him a few hours earlier.

“Where are we?” She asked, looking at passing scenery that was familiar.

“Headin north outta San Diego,” Arnie told her. “Made my stop about twenty minutes ago…you slept through the whole thing.”

“We’re near Coronado aren’t we?”

“Just passed it a few minutes fore you woke up,” Arnie confirmed. “You know San Diego?”

“Not well,” Brandi told him. “I knew someone stationed at the Naval Base…once.”

Brandon had been stationed at Coronado during his first tour with the SEALs. As a young ensign, he had tended to stay close to the base, and now Brandi was wishing she…he…had taken more time to explore the city.

Damn this is confusing. Brandi thought. The world around her looked so fresh and new, and yet at the same time she could remember seeing it all before.

“You mind if I smoke, Brandi?” Arnie asked, reaching for a pack of Marlboro 100’s in the center console. “I know I shouldn’t but sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me awake on these here long hauls.”

Brandi had noticed the cigarettes earlier, and had been staring at the pack off and on for some time; a desire for one had been building within her.

That is too weird, she thought. I’ve never smoked in my life.

As soon as she thought it, she realized it was not quite accurate. Brandon had never smoked in his life. She had really only been alive for four months, and had been born with certain behavior programmed into her, much of which had been gathered from pornographic web sites. In the lab she had never been around cigarettes, so perhaps the behavior had remained dormant until now.

Great, I wonder what other surprises might be waiting for me.

 “I don’t mind, especially if you’re willing to share,” Brandi answered Arnie with a smile. There was no sense in fighting it, especially since it couldn’t do her any harm. Disease; even cancer was no longer a concern of hers. Besides it was far preferable than giving in to other impulses she had been programmed with, at least in her mind.

“Well I hate to see a pretty young lady like yourself messin up her health like me, but ain’t my place to stop ya,” Arnie said. “There’s a buncha packs in the glove box, help yourself.”

Brandi took a pack from the glove box and opened it. She lit one with Arnie’s Zippo lighter and took a deep drag, not sure what to expect. She was surprised that she actually enjoyed it. She had expected it just to be bland, programmed behavior, but apparently the protocol had wired her to receive satisfaction from the vice. But then her programmed sexual desire and the pleasure she got from indulging it was far from bland, so there was really no reason for this to be. It also seemed to ease her tension, quiet the need that had been growing within her since she left the lab. Being in the confines of the truck cab, so close to a man was not making things easier. Arnie was not exactly her type though, but that thought brought little comfort. It meant she actually had a type of man that would appeal to her.

She had only been out in the world a few hours and she was already beginning to wonder if she had made a terrible mistake. In the lab they had treated her like a thing, except for Susan of course, but in the world would she just be treated as a different kind of thing? She knew people would see her body first and foremost. After all, that was the whole point of the Genomorph program. Would that be any better than being seen as a lab rat?

She had one spark of hope, and it was the big trucker. He treated her like a person. No, that was not right; he treated her like a lady. When they stopped he helped her out of and later into the truck. His eyes never wandered nor did his hands. When they talked, he listened to her and did not discount what she said just because she was a voluptuous blonde that acted like a bit of a ditz. And she found that with Arnie she could carry on a normal conversation, like she had with Susan and the Admiral. She did not feel the need to slip into ‘bimbo speak’, though it sometimes still colored her speech. What was different about Arnie? Was it just because she felt safe around him?

She studied Arnie as they drove along the interstate. He was a big man, at least six foot four, but he was in fairly good shape, with just the hint of a ‘spare tire’ around his middle. She guessed he was in his early to mid thirties, and he had a mop of thick, red hair atop his head. She noticed he had a set of dog tags hanging from the rear view mirror.

“So you were in the service?” Brandi asked, gesturing towards the dog tags.

“Yeah, doin the same thing I do now,” Arnie confirmed. “Course, drivin’ in Iraq was a mite more exciting than it is here,” When he said Iraq it came out as Eye-rack.

“I can imagine,” Brandi muttered, the night that forever changed her life coming to mind all too vividly. Reflexively her hand reached down to rub her right leg.

“I really do appreciate the lift Arnie,” Brandi continued after a bit. “And I appreciate you not asking a lot of questions, especially after I stowed away in your truck.”

“Maybe I could, like, pay you somehow?” she continued, her voice taking on a suggestive tone.

Arnie shot her a disapproving look and Brandi’s blood froze. It had sounded like a total come on, and it was not even what she had meant to say. So much for not sounding like a bimbo around him.

“Shit Arnie, I am so sorry,” she told him. “I didn’t mean that to sound the way it did. I meant maybe I could help you unloading. I’m a lot stronger than I look.”

Arnie chuckled and said, “Don’t fret none, just kinda took me by surprise. You oughta be careful though darlin’. A pretty girl like you, well, some fellas would be more’n happy to take advantage when ya say somethin’ like that.”

“I know,” Brandi sighed. “Sometimes I want to say something and the words come out wrong. I really hate it when I do it.”

“Aww that’s nothin’ you got a corner on, Brandi,” Arnie assured her. “My mouth works faster than my brain all the time.”

As they traveled they talked and she learned more about Arnie. He had been born and raised in Alabama, was not married though he had a sweetheart back in Birmingham, and he had been driving since he was eighteen, when he had joined the army. His reserve unit had been activated at the start of the war and then after his tour he had gone back to trucking. His current load was auto parts for various parts houses.

Of course he was curious about her, but he did not pry too much. She told him she had been in a bad relationship and had left, trying to figure out where her life was going. It was basically the truth. She also assured him that she was over twenty-one, which was true as her ID showed that she was six months past her twenty-first birthday. Ryan had used February fourteenth, Valentine’s Day, as her birthday. No doubt he had figured using Brandon’s birthday or the date of her transformation was too risky, providing a potential means of locating her established identity as Brenda Williams. And he probably thought using Valentine’s Day was funny.

An hour later they made their next stop and Brandi insisted on helping Arnie with the unloading. Most of the parts were small; alternators and water pumps and such, and the unloading proceeded swiftly.

There was one stack of boxes left for this stop. Arnie was trying to force the blade of a hand truck under the stack and did not notice a crated transmission, perched precariously above him on the stack to his right. As he rammed the cart blade home, he bumped the stack and the transmission began to fall.

“Arnie, look out!” Brandi cried, yanking the big trucker backwards as she did. The hand truck and its load went with him, back and to the floor as Brandi caught the crate. She eased it gently to the floor and then turned to make sure Arnie had not been hurt when he fell.

“Good God A’mighty girl, you are stronger then ya look!” Arnie exclaimed. “That transmission’s gotta weigh close to two hunerd pounds!”

“Well, I just kinda balanced it against the stack there and let gravity do the rest,” Brandi said sheepishly. She had lifted far greater weights in the lab.

“Well, you sho saved me from a dented skull,” Arnie said. “I’m glad I let ya help now, that’s fo sho.”

With the unloading finished, Arnie went off to the office with the store manager to get his paperwork taken care of. Brandi took a seat at a small break table outside the loading dock and lit a cigarette.

“Hey, I’ve never seen you around here before.”

Brandi looked up at the young man speaking and smiled, a totally reflexive action. He was about her age, her actual biological age of seventeen, and was tall and lanky. He was definitely not a hunk but he was cute enough, with shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. He took a seat on the concrete bench next to her and smiled back.

“I’ve never been around here,” she said sweetly. “I’m Brandi. I’m gonna be movin’ out here and my uncle Arnie is showin’ me around while he makes his deliveries.”

Arnie had suggested the story. Though the rig was his and he could give someone a lift if he wanted, some companies got a little nervous if people hauling for them picked up hitchers. The problem was as soon as she opened her mouth to speak to Jeremy she slipped into character. But even though she did not know this boy, he was certainly no threat to her, so why was she reacting as though he was?

“Nice to meet you, Brandi,” the boy said. “My name’s Jeremy. You plan on going to school out here?”

“I’m not sure what I’m gonna do yet,” Brandi said. Now she could feel herself slipping into ‘tease mode’ as she called it. Already she had adjusted her posture; sitting up straighter and making her breasts jut forward against her t-shirt. She could feel his eyes roving over her and as hard as she tried not to, she loved the attention. She felt her state of arousal increasing under his gaze.

That was the most disturbing thing; she really did love the attention. She did not know whether it was programmed into her or because of her female brain chemistry. In the end, was there really any difference? It was just one type of programming versus another. But with the arousal came terror, and suddenly she knew why she was acting according to her programmed cover personality.

It was fear. Even the calmest, coolest operator felt an underlying current of fear when entering into danger. It was what kept them sharp, gave them an edge. If her programming was keyed to her own fear response, then that would explain why she was acting like she was. She wasn’t afraid of Jeremy, she was afraid of herself. She was afraid of the feelings stirring within her…feelings she did not have with Arnie because he did not react to her the way Jeremy did. And that fear was driving her to act in a way that was only making it worse!

“A good looking girl like you should be modeling clothes or something,” Jeremy said, quite seriously.

Yeah right, Brandi thought. With this body the only magazines that would be interested in me wouldn’t care about clothes.

What she said was, “Really? You think I’m pretty enough for that?”

“Well yeah!” Jeremy said. “I’ve never seen a girl as pretty as you.”

“Aw, now you’re gonna make me blush,” Brandi giggled. And dammit she did start blushing!

She knew she should get up and walk away; tell him she had to go get something from the truck, tell him she had to go to the ladies room…anything. But a very large part of her was enjoying the game and the attention, even amidst the fear it bred within her. And she realized it was a game. She knew that he was hers to take if she chose. He would think he was making all the moves but in reality he was just putty in her hands. She could have her way with him…all she had to do was give in.

Hurry up Arnie…please!

*****

“Nice little road twitch ya got there Arnie,” the store manager said with a grin.

“I’d ‘preciate it if ya didn’t talk about my sister’s little girl that way Max,” Arnie said and the grin disappeared.

Arnie could see Brandi at the break table on the dock, talking with a kid who worked at the warehouse. She seemed to be having a good time. Of course Arnie knew the boy likely had only one thing on his mind. He wasn’t blind; he knew that Brandi was a very beautiful girl. He figured she could handle herself well enough.

While Max was going over the paperwork for the load Arnie pulled his tablet PC from his briefcase and logged onto the Independent Truckers Association website. Though Arnie appeared to most as a simple long haul trucker, he actually had a two year degree in business management and his rig was equipped with all the hi tech gadgets necessary to keep him working all he wanted without tying him to the same trips repeatedly.

Once the site loaded he checked the available freight board and found a suitable load in San Francisco bound for LA, scheduled to be ready for pickup the next morning. It was from a small computer manufacturer and the price was right, so he filled out the required information and submitted his availability. After he logged off he made a quick cell phone call to the company to confirm the load and by then Max had the paperwork ready for him to sign.

As Arnie left the office, another worker from the warehouse walked over to him as he stopped to get a drink from a water fountain, a big smile on his face.

“How’s it goin’, Arnie?” the man asked.

“It’s goin’ Joe, it’s goin’,” Arnie grinned, shaking the man’s offered hand. “Glad to see this job is workin out for ya.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” Joe said. “Max can be a real boor sometimes but everyone mostly ignores him. I heard what you told him about the girl.”

“Yeah well…”

“Seems I remember you don’t have a sister Arnie,” Joe said, still grinning.

“Aww she just needs a little time ta get her head together ‘sall,” Arnie said. “She’s a sweet kid really.”

“Still pickin’ up strays huh Arnie?” Joe asked. “Why do you do it?”

“Fella did something for me once; saved my life,” Arnie said, his eyes looking haunted for a moment. “Since then, I figger I owe it ta him ta help folks out when I can. Anyway this one found me. She snuck inta the sleeper last night while I was makin a pit stop.”

“Well, you know the secret is safe with me,” Joe said, slapping Arnie on the back. “I still remember when I was the stray. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t picked me up. You’ve got a good heart Arnie.”

*****

“I think you’re really cute Jeremy,” Brandi giggled. Her mind was screaming for her to shut up, but instead she slid over on the concrete bench until her body was touching his. The more she tried to deny the feelings welling up inside her the deeper she slipped into her role.

“Say, um, there’s a party at my frat house this Friday night; maybe you’d like to go?” Jeremy asked.

“Oh wow, a party,” Brandi said. “That sounds like it would be really fun!”

“So you’ll go with me?”

Brandi opened her mouth to answer, and she knew the answer was going to be yes. She was spinning out of control now, and the thought of a house full of fraternity boys had driven her into a mental frenzy. There was not even a thought of turning him down. Why should she? She was a hot girl and she deserved to have a little fun.

“Time to go Brandi,” Arnie said as he stepped up to the table. Brandi’s mind snapped out of the fog it was in and she breathed a mental sigh of relief.

“Aww gee, I’d really like to but I don’t know where I’ll be by then,” Brandi answered instead as she bounced to her feet. “It was really sweet of you to ask though. Take care, Jeremy!”

“Well you sho looked like you was havin’ a good time,” Arnie said as they walked back to the truck.

“Oh, I was and I wasn’t Arnie,” Brandi replied, earning her a puzzled look. “Let’s just say I don’t have a lot of self control or common sense when I’m talking to boys.”

“Well, you don’t gotta worry none Brandi,” Arnie smiled, putting his big arm around her shoulder. “Ole uncle Arnie will make sho they don’ give ya no trouble.”

CHAPTER 9

Susan looked up from her desk at the sound of knocking, to see Admiral Michael Hammerstein standing in the doorway to her office.

“I had a feeling I might be seeing you soon Admiral, please come in and have a seat,” Susan said smiling.

“My friends call me Mike, and I think you and I should be friends,” The Admiral said as he closed the door behind him. He took a seat before Susan’s desk and smiled.

“I think you’re right Mike, please call me Susan.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from her,” Hammerstein said without preamble.

“I’m the last person she would contact,” Susan replied. “Brandi will know that I am being watched carefully. This office is secure, though, so you can speak freely. And yes, Mike, before you ask, if I did hear from Brandi I would find a way to let you know. She trusts you, and I know you’re deeply concerned about her.”

“I had been keeping my eye on Brandon for a long time,” Hammerstein told her. “I could see him one day taking my job. But as special as he was, there’s something even more special about Brandi. She has all of his drive…his sense of duty and commitment, but on top of all of that she has such innocence. I hope she can hold onto it.”

“What’s the attitude in Washington?” Susan asked. “I’m afraid I missed my meeting.”

“The ‘Organization’ is running this show for now,” Hammerstein said bitterly. “And they want Brandi back. I have been told in no uncertain terms that my involvement with this affair is over.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Whatever I have to,” Hammerstein said, his voice filled with conviction. “I just feel so damn helpless!”

The Admiral growled, springing to his feet and pacing about the office, “It’s like my daughter is out on her first date or something, if you know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean Mike.”

“Do you think she can do it? Can she…I don’t know…can she come to terms with who she is now?”

“I believe this is the only chance she has to become a real, genuine woman and not some set of programmed responses,” Susan told him. “She needs to be out in the world, to interact with people and learn how to fit in. And yes, she needs to screw up and fall flat on her ass a few times as well. It’s how we learn.

“Brandi was kept in an emotionally and socially sterile environment here. I tried my best but she needs that wide variety of interactions that can only come from living in the real world if she is going to develop.”

“Still, I wish she didn’t have to do it alone,” Hammerstein muttered.

“She won’t be alone,” Susan assured him. “She’ll make friends, probably a lot more easily than she could believe. Despite the environment she was trapped in here, Brandi is a very outgoing person, far more so than Brandon ever was. My biggest concern is that she will have a hard time keeping a low profile.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because one thing she most surely retains from Brandon is a sense of justice and a proactive approach to dealing with conflict,” Susan said. “She won’t back down from a fight if one is forced upon her. And with her heightened combat abilities, she may even seek it out.”

“I would have pitied the poor fool that tried to start something with Brandon,” Hammerstein grunted. “I pity them more if they try it with Brandi.”

*****

“Is Doctor Covington going to be a problem?” the Man asked quietly. He had no name, no identity. Officially he did not exist. And yet he wielded power that made presidents tremble. For forty years he had run the organization, which also did not officially exist, except in rumor, and most of those rumors were fostered to mislead.

“I don’t believe so sir,” Reginald Mercer replied. “She won’t help us in any way, I am certain. In fact I believe if given the opportunity she would help the girl elude us, and we can possibly turn that to our advantage.”

“Cut her loose?”

“Yes sir. The girl will never try to contact her as long as she is associated with the project. But if she were to be removed and were out in public and more accessible, the girl might get careless.”

“You really do have a problem using her name don’t you?” The Man smirked. He had seen the reports Covington had filed, her assertions that Mercer’s obvious animosity towards Brandi and his continued refusal to address her as a person was only making matters worse. It was undoubtedly true. Mercer was a toad, totally lacking in any ability to exercise tact or diplomacy. He would never rise above his current position in the organization.

But he was a useful toad, and why the girl had become rebellious was immaterial. Their intention was to break down her personality and make her a pliable tool. The sooner they had her back in their custody the better.

“Very well, I’ll start the wheels turning. It will take some time, Doctor Covington has friends. She should be off the project by the end of the week. How is the rest of the plan proceeding?”

“On schedule,” Mercer said. “Our operatives are continuing with the sleeper programming and we will be ready to activate them on schedule.”

“Excellent,” the Man smiled.

*****

Kevin Driscoll was looking forward to a weekend off. Most people would see his job, part of the Secret Service detail for the President’s Chief of Staff, as exotic and exciting. Mostly it was routine with an underlying current of tension. There was a lot of traveling which led to lots of jet lag. A weekend was something to be treasured.

As he was on his way home he decided to stop at a bar in Georgetown for a couple of beers. He was on his second when he spied the woman. She was tall and willowy, with long, dark red hair and smoldering eyes. She noticed his gaze and smiled a sultry smile.

 A short time later they were seated in a booth talking and laughing. Kevin thought of himself as a ladies man and he was handsome, and of course his job required him to be fit. He was beginning to think his weekend might turn out even better than he had anticipated.

“That’s an interesting pendant you have,” he commented. The redhead wore a large purple gem on a silver chain about her neck. The chain was just long enough that the pendant nestled in her cleavage, which was where his gaze kept straying. The stone was oval and about the size of a large egg. It was set in a silver frame that looked like some kind of stylized circuit board.

“It is fascinating isn’t it,” she said in a sultry alto. Her hand grasped the pendant and extended it towards him so he could get a better look. Kevin saw a bright purple flash, like the stone had caught a ray of sunlight, and blinked reflexively.

“Be a dear Kevin and go out to your car and wait for me,” the redhead said.

Obediently Kevin rose and left the bar. The woman waited a few minutes and then left as well. She walked out to Kevin’s Dodge Stratus and climbed in on the passenger side.  Kevin remained as he was seated behind the wheel staring ahead blankly.

“Look at me Kevin,” the woman said. Kevin did as he was asked and turned to face her.

The redhead reached into her purse and removed a device which looked like a miniature ophthalmologist’s vision tester, with straps to secure it in place. She settled the device over Kevin’s eyes, secured it in place and then looked through the eyepieces on her side to verify that it was aligned correctly. After a few brief adjustments she sat back and smiled.

“Just relax and enjoy the show Kevin,” she said as she pressed a button on the device.

Kevin awoke the next morning, thinking he was very glad he had decided to come straight home and get a good night’s sleep instead of stopping off for a beer or two. It always ended up being more, and there was no reason to start the weekend off with a hangover. And the sleep had done him good. He felt great. In fact as much as he had been looking forward to the weekend he was eager to get back to work.

He showered and shaved, and after dressing he stopped at his dresser and looked at himself in the mirror, making sure his hair was styled just right. On the dresser top, next to his pistol and ID was a silver case about the size of a thick paperback novel. Kevin opened the case. Inside was an odd looking pair of goggles and a large purple pendant on a silver chain. He took the pendant out and placed it around his neck, and then closed the case.

Yes he really was ready for Monday to arrive. He had a lot of work to do. 

CHAPTER 10

Brandi left the drug store; she had stopped in to pick up some much needed toiletries, and began walking back to the hotel she was staying in for the night. She had offered to get a room for Arnie as well, but he insisted on sleeping in his truck, and could not be talked out of it. She had finally settled on getting two keys from the desk and gave him one, making him promise to use it if he needed the bathroom.

She was very restless, and it had little to do with her sexual desire. In the four months she had been in the lab, she had undergone almost daily testing. Many of the tests were sparring matches to track the development of her combat abilities, and they were the one thing that had kept her sane. Though she had only been gone for a day, her last match had been the week before, and the tension of her escape was only making matters worse. She really wanted to blow off some steam.

And her sex drive did figure into it in a way; the training had always helped her release some of that tension. It provided her with a chance to flirt with her partners without the risk of it going too far, and the satisfaction she got after defeating a group of guys much bigger than her was almost as good as what she felt when she pleasured herself…almost.

Arnie had warned her not to stray far from the hotel; the area to the south was gang territory. An idea formed in her mind and she smiled. It was a little out of character; she would be technically picking a fight and that was not her style. Then she realized it was not Brandon’s style…but she was not Brandon anymore.

She looked at her reflection in the window of the store she was passing. Even in the baggy t-shirt and BDUs she knew she looked hot…but she could look hotter. The proper attire would make her look like more enticing bait.

There was a Target in the shopping center and she started towards it but stopped suddenly as she was passing a small store called Sassy. She gazed for a moment at the tight, sexy clothing displayed in the window and before she knew it she was inside.

Thirty minutes later she was in her hotel room, dressed in a neon pink lycra crop top with a scooped neck. It was the largest size they had carried, and it stopped well above her navel, exposing her slim waist and tight stomach and emphasizing her large breasts as it clung to them. Across the front the word ‘Tease’ was emblazoned in glittering silver. Her BDUs had been replaced by a pair of black spandex pants that looked like she had applied them with a brush, and she wore a pair of short leather boots with wide three inch heels. She found she could walk with no problem in the heels after a few minutes of practice, though she dreaded the thought of wearing stilettos. A small black purse completed the outfit; she would need it as there was no way to fit anything in the pockets of the skin tight pants.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a few minutes, and then looked at the pink makeup kit she had purchased. She opened it with all the care she would have used with a suspicious package, and then sighed and went to work.

“I look like a clown,” she moaned after her first attempt. Fortunately she’d had the foresight to buy some makeup removal clothes and she cleaned her face thoroughly.

Her second attempt was little better, but by the third she managed something that was passable.

“Now I only look like a hooker,” she giggled. Still she expected the look would work for her plan. Now came the hard part.

She spent several more minutes staring at her image in the mirror, working up the nerve to follow through. It was not the danger that bothered her; it was walking out the door looking so obviously like a sexy girl. And there was a part of her that was reveling in the look, the feel of the material against her breasts, the way her nipples were so visible and obvious through the thin top; the way the tight pants and high heels emphasized her round ass.

“All right, girl,” she said to the image, addressing herself by that pronoun for the first time, “let’s go find someone to play with.”

She hailed a cab and once inside asked the driver “Is there a park nearby, something south of the interstate?”

“Yeah, the rec center has a park,” The man said. “That ain’t no place for a girl like you to be this time of night though Miss.”

Brandi pulled a hundred dollar bill from her purse and passed it to the driver.

“Ok honey, it’s your funeral.”

Brandi lit a cigarette and settled back for the ride. She studied every detail of the route, committing landmarks to memory in case she had to make her way back on foot. As Brandon she had always had a good memory for detail. Now she had a true photographic memory. Her brain recorded everything she saw down to the minutest detail, and she could recall it at any time like bringing up a file on a computer. It was one aspect of the change that had made things particularly difficult for her, because she could access Brandon’s memories just as clearly, even those he had long forgotten. Often all it took was something that triggered a memory from long past and she practically relived it in a flash.

The cab pulled to a stop at a small park and Brandi got out, then turned and leaned in to speak to the driver, giving him a clear look down her top. She felt a thrill run through her as his eyes seemed unable to tear away from the sight.

“There’s another hundred for you if you meet me right here in one hour,” Brandi told him. “If I don’t show within ten minutes, leave.”

“Lady you are certifiable, but I’ll be here,” The cabby said.

As she started walking, Brandi began humming a tune. It was ‘Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun’ by Cyndi Lauper, and though she had heard the song many times as Brandon, it was never a favorite. But she found she could recall any song she had ever heard, even if it was only once, as perfectly as though it was playing on a radio in her head. Before long she was singing softly.

I come home in the morning light, my mother says when you gonna live your life right,

Oh mother dear we’re not the fortunate ones,

And girls, just wanna have fun

Oh girls just wanna have fun

She detected her playmates for the night just ten minutes after the cab dropped her off. There were six of them, and she could feel their excitement as they shadowed her at a distance. She left the sidewalk and cut into the park like she was trying to cut the corner. The shadows closed around and she knew they were moving up on her. She started singing louder.

That’s all they really want…

Some fun…

When the working day is done,

Girls, they wanna have fun,

Oh girls just wanna have fun.

“Yo baby, we got your fun right here,” A voice called from behind. Brandi whirled, a look of abject terror coming to her face. The six looked to be in their late teens and early twenties. None of them appeared to be wearing anything readily identifiable as gang colors, but she knew that many of the gangs had stopped displaying colors in recent years in order to avoid the attention of the police.

“Wh..whada you guys wa..want?” She stammered, playing the part and drawing them into her web.

“Whoa, look at the rack on this biatch,” The largest of the six said. He was at least six four, and looked like he worked out. Brandi was surrounded now and she looked wildly about for a way to escape. To the punks she seemed like a frightened girl but she knew she was the predator and they were the prey.

“Yeah cuzz,” a pimply, vole-faced youth said. “I bet she lookin’ to machine. I got what you want right here baby.”

To emphasize his words the youth grabbed hi crotch and howled. Brandi fought back the urge to laugh.

“Yeah, we can party good with this bitch,” The one that appeared to be the leader said. He looked to be the oldest and the others kept glancing at him. “You wanna play, dontcha ho?”

Brandi dropped the frightened girl act and smiled sexily as she dropped her purse to the ground.

“Well I think we’re all kinda big for the swing set,” she purred. “Did you, like, wanna do something else? I mean I was kinda scared you wanted to hurt me, but if all you wanna do is play I’m up for it.”

“It ain’t gonna hurt baby,” the older one said. “You gonna love every minute.”

“Well, ok. But if you really wanted to play you shoulda brought some more friends, ‘cause I’m, like, used to real men, not boys,” Brandi told them. “If you try real hard maybe you can satisfy me…I doubt it though.”

“I’ll show you a real man!” The big one said as he advanced towards her.

Brandi attacked, launching a lightning fast spinning back kick that drove her foot into his diaphragm. His lungs emptied in a whoosh and his feet actually left the ground, his two hundred twenty pound body knocked back several feet. He hit the ground hard and lay there, struggling to draw breath. His friends stopped, stunned.

“Well come on boys, aren’t we gonna play?” Brandi asked, her eyes dancing and her face lit by a mischievous grin.

“Get the bitch!” The leader snarled. The others produced a variety of weapons from their baggy clothing. She did not see any guns, which was good since she really did not want to get shot.

“Aww, are you guys, like, too young to be given guns?” She dug at them. “I bet all the really cool gang bangers have guns.”

Deciding to show off Brandi leapt straight up, kicking out with both legs to catch two in the face, one in front and one behind her. Then she shifted her momentum into a back flip while still in the air, landing on her feet clear of the encircling gang members.

“Look, no wires!” She giggled, waving her hands around her body for emphasis. Then she placed her hands on her hips and pouted severely.

“Like, I don’t think you guys are givin’ me your best effort,” she scolded. “You’re never gonna attract the tourist crowd if ya don’t put on a good show. Maybe I shoulda gone to Disneyland. Those seven dwarves could probably do better.”

The gang bangers regrouped, and a pair with chains rushed forward, swinging simultaneously. Brandi caught the chains, allowing them to wrap around her wrists. Then she planted her feet hard and pulled with all her strength, which was considerable, pulling the two boys off balance. As their momentum carried them towards her she jumped, her legs coming up as she released the chains, her feet catching them each under the chin, snapping their heads back. They flopped to the ground on their backs, unconscious.

“They look so cute when they’re sleepin’!” Brandi giggled as she landed. She knew she was having far too much fun with this exercise, and that point was driven home as she felt a slashing pain across her upper right arm. She turned towards her attacker just in time to catch a return slash from his knife across her right cheek.

“Owww!” She cried, her hand reflexively going to her face. The cuts were deep and blood was running down her face and arm, but already the wounds were tingling and she knew they were healing.

“How do you like that bitch?” The knife wielder snarled.

“This?” Brandi touched her face again. “It’s not even a scratch.”

Before the eyes of her formerly jubilant opponent, the wounds stopped bleeding and closed until they were just red lines. Within an hour there would be no trace they had ever been there.

“H..holy shit!” He cried, and then threw the knife to the ground and ran.

The one she had pegged as the leader and the sixth gang member came in, knives slashing. Brandi deflected or avoided each of the attacks laughing all the while. Then she very narrowly avoided a vicious slash that would have opened up her belly quite effectively, and decided that play time was over. She disarmed the two and threw them to the ground then danced lithely out of their reach.

“Well you guys have been moderately entertaining,” she smiled sweetly. “Now run along before I, like, really have to hurt you.”

She heard a roar of fury and turned in time to catch a full body tackle from the first gang banger she had put down. She hit the ground hard on her back and kicked upwards with her legs, flipping her attacker over her head and continuing the motion to bring her back to her feet, twisting around to face him.

He was definitely big; Arnie’s height though not as burly. As she turned to face him he charged again, swinging with both fists. Brandi ducked below the fists, bending her knees and lowering her center of gravity before hammering his already bruised diaphragm with a series of powerful jabs. Then she hopped back and jumped into a round house kick that smashed him across the jaw. She heard the crack of bone, and blood and teeth sprayed from his mouth. He too dropped to the ground and did not get up.

Turning back to the two remaining, conscious gang bangers, she saw that only the leader remained the other having taken her advice and run. The leader too decided that discretion was the better part of valor and scrambled to his feet, sprinting off.

“Not so fast cutie,” Brandi giggled. He was kind of cute, and she was still feeling a little frisky. She snatched up one of the chains, whirled it over her head and threw it. The chain whipped through the air and caught the fleeing youth at the knees, wrapping around his legs and bringing him to the ground.

As he rolled onto his back, Brandi skipped over to him, dropping to her knees and straddling his hips.

“You are kinda cute,” she said dreamily, then bent forward and planted a warm, wet kiss on his lips. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, probing, darting. Then she broke the kiss and straightened up.

“Time to play that game you wanted to from the start lover,” She said breathily, her hands rising to fondle her breasts. There was no mental conflict now. She had fought and won, and now she wanted her reward. She began pulling the lycra top up slowly, teasingly, as the young man struggled beneath her.

The sound of a horn broke her from the moment and she looked up to see that the cab had returned. He was early, thank God, and she hastily pulled the top back down, her mind snapping back to clarity, horrified at what she had been about to do.

“We’ll get you bitch!” The youth beneath her snarled. “We’ll come back with our homies and you’ll be sorry!”

“Yeah right,” Brandi laughed. “Like you are really gonna tell your homies you got your asses kicked by a girl. They’ll laugh you out of the club house. You guys do have a club house, right?”

Without another word, Brandi crossed his jaw with her right fist and put him out. Then she hopped to her feet, retrieved her purse and ran to the cab.

“You’re early,” she told the driver as she climbed in.

“Well I felt kinda guilty leaving you here,” He chuckled, looking out at the comatose forms of the gang members. “I guess you had the situation under control.”

“No, I really didn’t,” Brandi muttered as she lit a cigarette. “Thanks for saving me from a really bad mistake.”

CHAPTER 11

Arnie pulled the Kenworth and its loaded trailer onto the highway early the next morning and they were bound for San Francisco. Brandi was silent for most of the drive; she had a lot to think about.

For the most part her nocturnal exercise had worked. She had awakened refreshed and feeling far less pent up tension, though she had engaged in some intimate exercise before going to sleep. But she had very nearly given in to the very thing she was trying to avoid.

Maybe it was just adrenaline; I was just caught up in the heat of the moment, she thought. He was really cute after all.

Dammit stop thinking that!

Most troubling was that it had not been like before with Jeremy. Then it had been like she was watching as her body reacted against her wishes. In the park, she had known exactly what she was doing and had wanted it. Was she becoming exactly what she was so afraid she would?

“You been awful quiet this mornin’ Brandi,” Arnie said, breaking her from her introspection.

“I have a lot of issues to deal with,” Brandi sighed.

“You figured out what you’re gonna do?”

“Some,” Brandi said. “I was waiting till later to tell you, but I’ve decided that when you get back to LA with your next load I’ll be staying there. I need to start getting my life in order.”

“Yeah I kinda expected that,” Arnie said. “LA’s a good place for you. Why I bet in no time I’ll be seein’ you on a movie screen somewhere.”

“I don’t think you watch the kind of movies that would want me Arnie.”

“Now don’t you go sellin’ yourself short girl!” Arnie said his voice edged with anger. “You’re smart and you’re pretty and a girl puts them two together and look out world!”

“Arnie, I’m a dizzy blonde, you know that,” Brandi giggled.

“Now, you act all silly most of the time but I been watchin’ you,” Arnie said seriously. “You got a brain and you know how to use it.

“Thanks Arnie that means a lot,” Brandi said sincerely. “I don’t mean to act the way I do…it just sorta happens.”

“Well, ya know sometimes it’s easier to show people a mask than our real face,” Arnie said seriously.

They reached San Francisco by mid morning, and after dropping the load they drove to the electronics warehouse to pick up the trailer there. When they arrived Arnie was told there had been a delay and the load would not be ready until late the next morning. But they did have another load they needed delivered to a distributor about two hours to the east in Oakdale.

Arnie accepted the load saying, “Hey, mo money in my pocket,” and they were off to Oakdale.

After dropping that trailer, Arnie pulled into a hotel, saying they could drive back to San Francisco in the morning in plenty of time to get the LA bound trailer.

“Why don’t we go grab a few beers tonight?” Arnie suggested. “Sorta as a goodbye celebration.”

“You know I haven’t had a beer in a long time,” Brandi said. She was fairly certain she could control how intoxicated she got. The last thing she needed was to get falling down drunk. “That sounds like a great idea.”

 They found a decent little country and western bar just down the road from the hotel, close enough that they could walk. It had a live band that was pretty good, and they found a table far enough away that they could talk. When the waitress came for their orders she asked Brandi for ID, and took a long look at it before handing it back. Brandi smiled and ordered a Killian’s for herself and a Coors for Arnie, having told him already that she was buying the drinks.

They talked for a while and Arnie asked Brandi more about herself. She knew many of her answers sounded evasive, but Arnie never pressed. As the evening progressed the bar began filling up, and several times men came over and asked Brandi if she would like to dance…after making sure it was all right with the big trucker. She politely declined each time, though part of her wanted to accept. Having Arnie nearby helped her keep her desires under control, but he could not help but notice that she appeared conflicted each time.

“It ain’t none a my business but why do you dress like that Brandi?” Arnie asked eventually. “A pretty girl like you should be wearin’ pretty clothes.”

“I just…it’s really complicated Arnie,” Brandi told him. “I guess I just feel safer dressed this way.”

“Ya cain’t hide who you are darlin’,” Arnie said gently. “Hell ev’ry guy in the place is checkin’ you out an wondr’n what you’re doin’ with me.”

“What if you don’t want to be who you are?” Brandi asked. “It’s not even that really. But what if I let myself be…well, like, me…and I don’t like that person?”

“Whoa now we getting’ a bit deep for this Alabama boy,” Arnie grinned. “You can be whoever you set yo mind to be, Brandi. Yeah I’ll always be a slow talkin’ Alabama bred truck driver, but who we are ain’t just about who we were born. It’s about how we treat the folks around us.”

“Well you’re a really nice guy, Arnie,” Brandi told him sincerely. “It’s too bad there aren’t more out there like you.”

“Yeah well I wasn’t always like that,” Arnie said. “I used to be pretty much good fer nothin’. I did purty much jest what I needed to get by an nothin’ more. That’s why I joined the army. I got paid and fed and such and as long as I did what I was told I got by. I wasn’t worried ‘bout helpin’ anyone else…unless it helped me. I figgered I was a good person and didn’t cause no one problems, and I didn’t need to go outta my way for no one else.”

“So what changed?”

“Someone showed me what it really means to be a good person,” Arnie said sadly, and then sighed heavily. “Darlin’ I don’ know what yo runnin’ away from. I don’ think it’s some boyfriend that didn’t treat you right but I do think it’s got you mighty scared. But if there’s one thing I learned in Iraq it’s there comes a time when you gotta stand and you gotta fight.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying,” Brandi told him. “It’s just…it’s different with me. I wish I could tell you all about me. My life is just, like, really complicated.”

Arnie laughed heartily and said, “Life’s got a way ‘o gettin’ like that. You’re a good girl Brandi. You got a good heart, I can tell that even tho’ we only just met. You’ll find your way.” 

They had another round and then walked back to the hotel. Back in her room for the night Brandi thought about the future. Tomorrow she would be in LA and alone. She was beginning to believe that the harder she fought thinking and acting like a girl, the harder her programming worked to make her that way. But the programming was very limited, and she was worried that if she continued to fight, she could wind up being nothing more than a shell driven by that programming.

But if that was true, it meant the only way to stop it was to stop fighting. She was not sure she had it in her to do that. But maybe Arnie was right; it wasn’t that she had to stop fighting…she had to stop running. Maybe it was time to face the girl she was and fight to make that girl someone she could live with.

CHAPTER 12

Brandi and Arnie were on the road at five thirty the next morning, and by eight they were leaving the warehouse with the load bound for LA. Neither of them paid any mind to the black Ford Explorer trailing them at a distance, though Brandi did see the SUV in the mirror. It was one of thousands of vehicles on the interstate and was too far back for Brandi to detect anything about the occupants. An hour and a half later Arnie pulled into a truck stop off I-5 so they could get some breakfast.

“Don’t know how you stay so skinny the way you eat girl,” Arnie said with a grin as he watched Brandi wolf down a huge breakfast.

“Just good genes I guess,” Brandi told him.

After eating Brandi made a side trip to the ladies room while Arnie went out to get the truck started. Though her body was capable of metabolizing everything she ingested without producing any waste, when she had plenty of food available she still used the bathroom fairly normally.

After she was finished she spent several minutes staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her long blonde hair was tied back with a scrunchie, the only way she knew to keep it under some kind of control. While at the lab, just days after her transformation, she had begged and pleaded and finally refused to cooperate with any testing until they had someone come in and cut her hair. She had them cut it short, but Susan had convinced her to keep the style feminine, so she had gone with a pixie cut. Brandi had been quite satisfied with the result, but when she woke up the next morning her hair was once again waist length. Her body had interpreted the cut as damage and repaired it while she slept. Brandi had spent the entire day crying.

She was used to the length now, though she did wish she knew more about maintaining and styling it. She knew that if she was to function she as a girl she needed to know such things. With a sigh, Brandi left the restroom and headed out of the restaurant to meet Arnie.

As she walked outside, the rig sped past her, heading for the access road that would take it back to the interstate, the black SUV right behind it. Brandi sensed three people in the rig; one appeared to be unconscious, and saw two more in the Explorer. Arnie’s truck was being hijacked.

The safe thing to do would have been to go back inside and notify the highway patrol of the hijacking. Brandi of course started running after the truck. It pulled onto the access road and then the ramp which would take it back to the southbound lane of I-5. The ramp curved around in a big loop before passing under the access road and then connecting to the interstate. Brandi turned, running up the access road as fast as she could, thankful for the sports bra that held her breasts tightly confined. She was no sprinter; her body was better suited to endurance running, but the truck could only travel at a slow speed and the ramp was long. She reached the overpass several seconds before the truck passed under.

As the cab came into view Brandi jumped, landing on the forward part of the trailer, going prone to keep out of sight and reduce the drag from the wind as the truck picked up speed. The view of the two men in the trailing SUV was blocked by the overpass, though several passing motorists saw her make the jump. If they called it in fine; the highway patrol would stop the rig and she would deal with the men inside before they could hurt Arnie. No one made the call.

They continued south on the interstate until the truck finally exited and headed west near Bakersfield. The westward journey continued and they eventually turned onto a poorly maintained stretch of blacktop which soon became a narrow dirt road winding upward into the mountains. Brandi wore no watch but knew it was just after noon; since her transformation she had developed an innate sense of time, almost like she had a built in clock.

They stopped at what could only be described as a ghost town. Several ramshackle buildings dotted the dusty street. They appeared to date from the late twenties, though Brandi could not be sure. At the end of the street was a large warehouse which the truck backed into. Inside there was another rig waiting, along with six men. Arnie’s truck was backed up to the waiting rig and the seal and lock was pried off. Once the doors were open a ramp was slid across between the two trailers.

The men in the truck got out, dragging the still unconscious Arnie with them. It took the two of them to move the big man, and Brandi could see from her vantage point atop the trailer that Arnie had a large bump behind his right ear.

The two from the truck were joined by the pair from the Explorer, and one of the waiting men stepped over to them. He wore a light jacket and Brandi detected the outline of a weapon beneath his left arm. There was something about him; the way he carried himself, an air of self assurance about him, that warned Brandi that he was dangerous.

“Where’s the girl that was with him?” The man demanded.

“She never came outta the diner,” one of the men said. “She was just a hitcher Chuck, he probably cut her loose.”

“Max said she was his niece you idiot!” Chuck shouted. “She’s probably already called the cops!”

Brandi’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Max, the manager of the big parts store in LA they had made delivery at. So Arnie’s truck had been targeted.

Moving to the back of the two trucks Chuck barked, “Get your asses in gear! We gotta get the load transferred and get out of here.”

“Take him into the office and tie him up,” he told the two men holding Arnie. “Then get out here and help. We’ll deal with him later.”

Brandi sized up the odds; ten to one. She had taken on six trained opponents at the lab, but none of them had been armed. She did not know how many bullets it would take to drop her, but even one to the right place could seriously slow her down. She had to even the odds and that meant doing something she really did not want to do.

With a sigh of resignation she slipped stealthily from the top of the trailer and into the cab. She retrieved her duffel bag and pulled out the clothes she had bought in LA. In a few minutes she was back in the crop top, spandex pants and high heeled boots. This time there was no fear brought on by her attire. This time she had a mission…and she would go as far as she had to.

Once dressed she closed her eyes and concentrated. She had never tried fighting while in an altered form, and did not know if she would be able to maintain the necessary concentration. Still it was the only option she had, as the four men that had hijacked the truck knew she had been left behind at the truck stop.

When she opened her eyes she gazed at her reflection in the small mirror on the wall of the sleeper. Her hair was now a deep wine red, hanging just past her shoulders. Her face was older, making her look like she was in her late twenties and her eyes were jade green. Instead of youthful innocence she had a sultry, seductive look. She kept her figure the same, not wanting to risk altering her balance.

She slipped the duffel over her shoulder and left the cab, gently closing the door so as to not alert the hijackers. Moving stealthily, she reached the entrance to the garage and then intentionally knocked over a stack of empty wooden crates. The noise drew the men from the trailers and Chuck was quickly at her side, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

“P…please don’t hurt me!” Brandi cried. Her voice was now a smoky alto.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Chuck demanded.

“I…I was just lookin’ for a place to rest outta the sun,” she told him, tears beginning to streak down her cheeks. “I’m tryin’ to get to LA but I got lost and I can’t find the highway. P…please I didn’t see anything…I won’t tell nobody nothin’!”

“Ya know she might be worth keepin’ around Chuck,” one of the hijackers said as he leered at her.

“Shut up Eddie!” Chuck snarled. “Take her into the office and watch her…the rest of you get back to work!”

“Please I won’t say nothin’,” Brandi told Chuck as he passed her off to Eddie. Her tears were gone and she gave him a nervous smile. “We can, ya know, like work somethin’ out honey.”

“Ya know she might be right Chuck,” one of the others chuckled.

“We’ll worry about that later. Get her in the office Eddie and if she gives you any trouble smack her.”

Eddie dragged Brandi to the office and thrust her inside. Arnie was awake, gagged and tied to a wooden chair. As he saw the two enter he stopped struggling against his bonds.

“Settle down pal!” Eddie snarled.

“You don’t gotta be so mean, Eddie honey,” Brandi purred. She turned her eyes towards a doorway leading from the office to another room in which several beds were arranged. “Like I said, I can be lotsa fun to have around. Why dontcha let me show you how much fun.”

“Yeah right, Chuck would break my neck,” Eddie chuckled, but his eyes kept darting from Brandi to the other room.

“I’m not gonna tell him if you don’t,” Brandi said as she moved close and touched his chest. It was too risky to take him down in the outer office as it had a window that placed them in full view of the men moving back and forth between the two trucks. She had to get him into the other room first. For the first time since the transformation she embraced her constant arousal, and her nipples began to harden, making them plainly visible beneath the thin lycra top.

“I been on the road awhile, and its been sooo long since I had any fun,” she pouted, allowing her hands to roam over her breasts. “I haven’t been with a guy in a really long time and, well, you’re makin’ me really hot.”

“Well I don’t know…” Eddie said, his face reddening.

“Come on lover,” Brandi sighed, pouring it on as she gently grasped his hand. “It won’t hurt a bit I promise.”

Arnie watched as Brandi led Eddie by the hand into the other room, and began struggling at his bonds again. As they passed, Brandi turned and gave him a smile and a wink. The door to the room closed and seconds later Arnie heard a muffled cry followed by the sound of wood splintering. A moment later Brandi emerged from the room alone.

“Ok maybe it hurt for just a second,” she giggled. In her hand was a pocket knife which she had found on Eddie. It looked like the type with a thumb stud for opening the blade one handed, but Brandi had seen its kind before. She pressed her thumb down on the side slab and the spring loaded blade snapped open as a hidden release was triggered.

“Arnie listen to me carefully,” Brandi said before cutting his bonds. “I know this is gonna be hard to believe but I’m Brandi. I snuck into your truck two nights ago at a rest stop south of Vegas.

“There are still nine of them out there and at least one is armed. You have to promise you will let me handle this. If you don’t promise I’ll leave you tied up and handle it anyway.”

Arnie shook his head furiously and Brandi tried again.

“Arnie I can take care of myself,” she assured him. “I know you’re a strong man and can handle yourself but I don’t want you in the line of fire.”

Something about her own words struck a chord in Brandi’s mind, and for some reason she had a brief flashback to that night in the desert northwest of Baghdad. She shook it off and returned to the job at hand.

“Arnie do you promise?”

Reluctantly Arnie nodded his agreement. Brandi cut him free, figuring if he tried to get macho she could always disable him the same way she had Susan when she escaped from the lab. She closed the knife and clipped it inside the right waistband of her pants, just behind her right hip.

“What the hell? Who are you?” Arnie demanded as she removed the gag from him.

“Shhhh,” she cautioned. “I really am Brandi. They knocked you out and hijacked your truck. Max set you up.”

Arnie’s eyes hardened and he started to rise but Brandi pushed him back down.

“Just be cool and when this is over I will tell you everything…everything about me. For now you have to trust me. I need you to put the gag back in and sit in the chair and act like you’re still tied up and out cold. If all goes well I’ll be back here in a minute with another of these goons.”

Arnie looked as though he was about to object, and then nodded his head. Brandi smiled and then rose to her feet and stepped over to the door. She grasped the neckline of her top near her left shoulder and ripped, leaving her left breast nearly exposed. Then she took a deep breath, screamed at the top of her lungs and ran into the garage.

She ran right into Chuck’s arms and began sobbing as she fell to her knees. He jerked her up roughly and shook her, demanding to know what was going on.

“H..he attacked me!” Brandi cried. “He said he wasn’t gonna be second to you…h…he was gonna get his first. I got loose and hit him with a chair.”

“Fucking moron,” Chuck muttered, turning to the others and snarling, “Tommy you come with me, the rest of you get back to work! I’ll deal with this.”

Grabbing Brandi by the arm Chuck stormed towards the office, Tommy trailing behind. Chuck shoved Brandi roughly through the office doorway ahead of him and then followed. He took a quick look at Arnie, apparently still out cold and tied to the chair, and then stomped into the other room.

Eddie lay on the floor, pieces of a broken wooden chair scattered about his inert form. Had Chuck taken a bit more time to examine the scene he might have noticed that the chair pieces were under Eddie, since it had in fact broken when he fell on it after Brandi hit him.

“Shit,” Chuck swore, returning to the outer office and turning to Tommy. “When that asshole wakes up send him out. You watch her and keep your fucking hands to yourself!”

Brandi had no intention of letting Chuck or his weapon leave the office, and was preparing to take him down when the chair Arnie was on decided it had been holding up his two hundred thirty-four pounds too long, no doubt sped to its end by his earlier struggles to free himself. With a groan and a snap one of the legs gave out and the whole chair disintegrated as it and Arnie crashed to the floor. His arms flailed about wildly as he tried to break his fall.

“He’s loose!” Tommy cried, pulling a small revolver from the pocket of his jacket. Chuck also reached for his holstered weapon.

Brandi punched out with her right hand, but Chuck was so close it ended up as more of a powerful shove, causing him to stumble back and into the wall. She then pivoted on her left foot and sent her right into Tommy’s sternum. The kick lifted him off the ground and sent him sailing through the office window, the glass was long since gone, and into the garage outside. One of the men working on the trucks saw this and called out.

This is going to be interesting, Brandi thought.

Chuck had his pistol free, an automatic, and was regaining his balance and raising it towards Brandi. She was moving to disarm him when she caught movement from either side; Arnie and Tommy both were getting up and Tommy was raising his pistol towards the trucker.

Time slowed to a crawl for Brandi as she switched gears. Her right hand reached back, pulling the knife from her waist band. As she swung it forward she pressed the right handle scale and the blade flicked open. The knife was never meant for throwing, but as she pivoted to face Tommy, her mind instantly calculated the weight, balance point and flight characteristics of the blade. Attempting to take out his arm was too risky she calculated; he could still get off a shot. This had to be a killing throw. She released the knife underhand, the blade tumbling through the air to bury itself to the hilt in Tommy’s throat. He dropped his gun and sank to the floor.

It had taken only two seconds to eliminate the threat from Tommy but that had been enough time for Chuck to draw his weapon. Even as Brandi turned back to face him he fired. The bullet struck her in the upper abdomen, just beneath her left breast. Brandi staggered back and looked down. Blood was pumping from the wound and she felt a sudden difficulty breathing, which told her the bullet had punctured her lung. Raising her eyes towards Chuck she smiled, a savage, feral smile, and then advanced again.

Wide eyed with disbelief Chuck fired again, snapping off three more shots rapidly. Brandi felt the bullets’ impact her upper abdomen and lower chest as she closed the short distance to him, but she did not stop this time. In fact, she let out an almost animal like snarl and leapt forward, grabbing his right arm by the wrist and elbow. She snapped it downward causing Chuck to howl in agony as his elbow dislocated. The gun clattered to the floor as Brandi brought her right hand up and backhanded him across the jaw and then hit him with a spinning back kick that slammed him once more against the office wall. He slid to the floor and Brandi was on him in an instant.

What happened next was almost a blur. Brandi drew her right hand back and Chuck’s eyes grew wide in horror as her nails grew from their normal half inch length to three inches. As they did so, the tips became razor sharp points. Her hand flashed forward, stopping just as the tips made contact with his throat.

For a few heartbeats Brandi stared at the frightened man. She knew she had been on the very edge of a blind rage and it frightened her. With concentrated effort she shrank the nails back to their normal length and then punched Chuck in the face, knocking him out. Leaving him there on the floor she rose and turned towards the office window.

“Brandi!” Arnie cried as he moved towards her. She spared him a quick glance and a smile forced through the pain, and then dove out through the office window and towards the remaining hijackers as they cautiously approached the office. Her body was in full combat mode now and her pain response lowered to zero. It was an automatic response, intended to allow her to fight effectively even though injured. She still felt the pain but she no longer reacted to it, so her fighting was unhindered.

Arnie watched in stunned amazement as the redheaded woman who claimed to be Brandi hit the garage floor and rolled to her feet. It was like a bizarre and violent ballet as she spun and tumbled in the midst of the seven remaining men. He was reminded of ‘The Matrix’ but without the stop action visual effects. She would leap into the air, spinning about to take down three men with one kick, then land gracefully and dodge a series of attacks from the rest. One by one their numbers dwindled, several going down with broken bones and dislocated joints. This was the real thing, and Brandi had no reservations about hurting any of these men.

When it was over, she stood with the unconscious forms of the hijackers scattered about her. She was laboring to breath, but that was more due to the punctured lung than the physical exertion. Arnie rushed from the office as she turned to face him, and was stopped cold by what he saw.

Before the trucker’s eyes her form changed and the Brandi he knew stood there, her stomach and lower chest covered in blood which still oozed from the four bullet wounds. Her pink top was now mostly red, and blood was splattered about the garage around the fight zone. She took two staggering steps forward and would have fallen if Arnie had not caught her.

“Oh sweet Jesus!” Arnie exclaimed.

“Zigged when I shoulda zagged.” Brandi quipped, and then coughed up bright red blood.

“Hang on darlin’ I’ll call for help.” Arnie said gently as he lowered her to the floor. He started to rise but Brandi held out a hand to stop him.

“Please Arnie no cops,” she pleaded. “Not yet.”

“Cops hell you need an ambulance!”

“I’ll be fine Arnie, I promise.” Brandi assured him. She was not entirely sure that was true; this was by far the most serious injury she had suffered since her transformation. Still she already seemed to be able to breathe a little easier. She could feel the tingling throughout her torso that signaled her body was healing.

“Brandi that’s a suckin’ chest wound.” Arnie said. He did not even know how she was staying conscious. “I seen those before and …”

“Yeah so have I.” Brandi interrupted. “Bullet punctured my lung. Can you find me a first aid kit?”

“Brandi we got to get you some help!” Arnie begged.

“Arnie I’m not gonna die,” Brandi soothed. “You saw…you know now. I…I’m not like you…not anymore. There are people looking for me because of it, and if you call the cops those people will find me. Please just help me patch these wounds up.”

Arnie relented and retrieved the first aid kit from his truck. Brandi removed her top and used it to clean up the blood, which had now nearly stopped flowing completely. Her pain response was back; she could only keep it suppressed for short periods of time which she assumed was a safety precaution, so tending to the wounds made her flinch repeatedly.

Inside the first aid kit was a plastic bag filled with band aids of various sizes. Brandi dumped the band aids out and then exhaled hard. She slapped the bag in place over the wound and held it tightly, and had Arnie secure it with tape on three sides.

“The open side will let the air out when I exhale,” Brandi explained. She then had Arnie cover the bag and the other wounds with gauze pads and wrap her entire abdomen with gauze. When it was done she sat there on the floor, her arms covering her exposed breasts, as Arnie retrieved her duffel bag and got a t-shirt out for her. For the first time she felt self conscious about her body, and blushed in embarrassment as Arnie helped her into the shirt.

She needed sleep, Zen sleep, but she knew this place was not safe. Arnie would have to report the hijacking, and she could not be there when the authorities arrived.

“Help me up please,” Brandi asked and Arnie practically lifted her to her feet. After a few seconds of dizziness she was steady. Brandi took her navy blue sweatshirt from the bag and slipped it on, and then sat down and slipped off the high heeled boots. She had a long walk ahead of her and was not going to do it in three inch heels.

“We need to tie these morons up,” Brandi said as she began donning her combat boots. “Then I’ll get out of here. Give me thirty minutes before you call the cops. Don’t forget about Max.”

“What do I tell the cops?” Arnie asked as he helped her to her feet again. “Good God A’mighty, there’s blood everywhere and a dead body over there!”

“The blood will be gone in less than an hour,” Brandi told him. “I don’t leave traces. You tell the cops the truth; mostly…these guys hijacked you and brought you here. Some redhead showed up and kicked their asses. Then she disappeared. Their stories should back you up. If any questions come up about the blonde you picked up, tell them I said my name was…Tiffany…and you last saw me at the diner.”

Brandi looked around the garage. There were stacks of shipping crates and boxes everywhere.

“From the looks of this place these guys have been at this a while,” she said. “The cops will be ecstatic they can wrap this up.”

“And where will I find you?” Arnie asked.

“I’m not sure you should,” Brandi said sadly. “Maybe we should just say goodbye here.”

“I ain’t goin nowhere ‘till I know for sure you’re ok,” Arnie said, his tone making it plain that he would not hear any argument.

“All right Arnie,” Brandi sighed. “There was a town about ten miles east of here called Carsonville. There’s a Holiday Inn on the east side of town. After the cops let you go stop there for the night and check in. Don’t look for me. I’ll be in the truck by seven in the morning.”

“Brandi you been shot!” Arnie protested. “I don’t know how you’re even standin’ up but you cain’t walk ten miles!”

“I can and I will,” Brandi said. “I can be a real bitch when I’m in pain Arnie and I hurt like hell right now. Please don’t make me knock you out.”

Arnie looked around at the still unconscious men and had no doubt Brandi could take him down with no trouble, even injured. He sighed and nodded his head in resignation.

They found enough rope to tie all the hijackers up. Chuck awoke as Brandi was securing him, crying out in pain as his broken elbow was jostled. Brandi punched him and sent him out again…it was the humane thing to do. Before leaving the office she gathered up the spent casings from the floor and pocketed them. If Chuck tried to tell his story about shooting her four times it would be hard enough to believe and the absence of any spent brass would only make it harder. When she was finished Arnie brought her things to her and she gave him a reassuring smile before heading out of the ghost town.

Arnie settled down to wait, giving Brandi an hour instead of the thirty minutes she asked for. It was another two hours before the first highway patrol car arrived.

*****

Vince Harris, an investigator with the California Bureau of Investigations, surveyed the scene inside the warehouse one more time before joining his partner Angela Morrow.

“So what do you think happened here?” Angela asked him.

“I don’t know Angel,” Harris said slowly. “The trucker’s story fits with what the hijackers are saying. Some mysterious woman showed up and freed him, after taking out these jerks.”

“And you believe that?”

“Arnie Belcher has a spotless record,” Harris said. “The manager of the parts store has admitted he tipped Chuck off when he overheard Belcher setting up this load. This trucker got off luckier than the others.”

“Yeah I saw the graves,” Angel remarked. Behind the garage they had found the graves of eight truckers who had not been as lucky as Arnie. The authorities had been looking for the hijacking ring for over a year. Upon finding out he was an accessory to multiple murders Max had been only too happy to cooperate, insisting he had only passed on information this one time for a promised five thousand dollars.

“The evidence against these guys is rock solid,” Harris continued. “We won’t even need the trucker’s testimony to put them away, and they’ll all go down for murder.”

“So what do we do about the girl?”

“All we have is a description with no name,” Harris said. “We’ll put out a bulletin but as far as I’m concerned she did us a big favor. I wish her well.”

*****

It took Brandi four hours to cover the ten miles back to the town. She had to stay away from the road and the rough terrain slowed her down. She needed rest to heal, and was feeling weaker than she ever had. The sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains to the west as she trudged into the small town.

When she reached the hotel she considered calling up what strength she had left and altering her form, but decided it was likely they would want to see her ID. She seriously doubted she had the strength to change anyway. She got a room for one night, paying in cash, and as soon as she was inside with the door locked she collapsed on the bed and in minutes she was deep in Zen sleep.

She awoke just before four in the morning. She was ravenously hungry, so she packed quickly and slipped out of the room, dropping her key by the office. Arnie’s truck was in the parking lot and Brandi smiled when she saw it. She spotted a waffle house across the street and decided there was plenty of time for her to get something to eat before she slipped into the cab to wait for Arnie.

CHAPTER 13

“Brandi?” Arnie asked quietly as he after he closed the door of the truck. He did not really expect an answer, certain the girl had just promised to meet him here to placate his concerns.

“I’m here Arnie,” Brandi’s voice said softly from the sleeper.

Arnie smiled and put the truck in gear. Once they were out of town and headed east towards the interstate Brandi emerged from the sleeper.

“Are you ok?” Arnie asked as Brandi settled into the passenger seat.

“I’m fine see?” Brandi said, lifting her t-shirt to show him the bandages. There was not a trace of blood to be seen and as she removed the gauze there was no evidence she had ever been shot.

“I guess you have a lot of questions.” Brandi said.

“I guess I do.” Arnie said quietly. “I cain’t deny what I seen with my own eyes but dammit Brandi that stuff jest ain’t possible! God A’mighty there ain’t even any blood on them bandages!”

“Will you let me explain? At least, as best I can?”

Arnie nodded slowly.

“I wasn’t always like this. I guess you could say I’m an experiment. I won’t go into all the details, because most of it doesn’t matter and the less you know the less trouble it can get you into. I was designed, created, to be a weapon basically. And there were people that wanted me to be a tool, they wanted to use me.

“So I ran. You’ve seen some of what I can do, and I used those abilities to escape. All I want to do is find out who I am now. To find out if there is anything even remotely human left in me.”

Arnie was silent for a long time. Then he let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his thick red hair.

“Like I said, I cain’t argue with what I seen,” Arnie said at last. “And yo story makes as much sense as anything else.”

Arnie was silent for some time as he drove. When he finally looked over at Brandi he could see that she was on the verge of tears.

 “Did they do this to you ‘gainst yo will?” He asked her.

“No, not exactly,” Brandi replied. She was trying to withhold as much of the truth as possible without actually lying to her friend. “I was wounded, very badly wounded, and the procedure was supposed to make me whole again. But something went wrong. It made me whole…and a whole lot more. That’s when the…others…government types…stepped in.”

“Sounds like them ole men in black,” Arnie grumbled. “I drive through the so’west a lot. Been to Roswell a few times. I heard them stories. Prob’ly some kind’o alien stuff they found. Hell, I bet they even knew what was gonna happen all along!”

“Hell, mighta even been that stuff they found in Iraq,” Arnie mumbled.

Brandi looked at Arnie with shock. “What stuff, Arnie?”

“Stuff from some bunker in the desert, northwest o Baghdad. Buncha weird, shiny boxes,” Arnie told her. “We flew in with some lady doctor to this place a bunch’o SEALs had secured.”

“Oh my God, you were there…” Brandi whispered, her body beginning to shake. How, of all the truckers on the road, had she happened to crawl into the sleeper of this one? It was like there was someone watching over her…guiding her. Suddenly Brandi flashed to the memory of that night, the driver of the hummer stumbling as he ran for the C-130. His helmet came off and as he rose Brandon saw that he had red hair.

“But I never saw your face….”

“We got hit by a whole company of Iraqis by surprise,” Arnie continued, having missed Brandi’s words. “The hummer I was drivin’ got the engine taken out by an RPG and the gunner got fragged. We all woulda been toast, too, but that SEAL commander climbed up in there, told me to run for the plane and then he jes’ tore into them Iraqis and held ‘em off till the gunships showed up. They were jes’ comin’ in when an RPG hit the hummer square on, blew him right out the top. Nearly took both his legs off, God A’mighty he was a mess….”

Arnie’s eyes widened and he turned to stare at Brandi. “You said you was hurt bad, no, you said you was wounded… and that you weren’t always like this…”

“That’s right Arnie, until a few months ago I was a man,” Brandi said softly. “I used to be Brandon Anderson.”

She told him the rest of the story then, and Arnie listened in silence. After she finished her tale, Brandi lit a cigarette and regarded the big trucker, waiting for him to speak.

“I shoulda stayed,” the big man said at last, his voice breaking. “Mebbe I coulda got the hummer to crank. I shouldn’ta run.”

Brandi reached out and grasped one of his big hands.

“No!” She cried, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. “I saw you down there firing, Arnie. You did stay, until I ordered you to leave. You couldn’t have done anything more.”

“I was ready to die that night you know,” she told him, after a long silence. “I was not ready to live with a broken body. When I was given the chance to be healed, I knew that I would do whatever it took. I just never expected this.”

“Well, they say the Lord works in mysterious ways,” Arnie said. “I’m not much of a religious man, but I gotta believe, Brandi, that there was a reason for this. And I figger someone out there is watchin’ over you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Brandi said. “But I do thank God it was your truck I snuck into.”

CHAPTER 14

Susan took one last look around the office to make sure she had not missed anything. Of course there was very little that she was actually allowed to take. All of the research was classified.

But they could not change what she knew. She had seen wonders, and she knew that incredible, miraculous things were possible. They could force her off the project; she was not even really sorry to go, but they could not take away what she had seen. And knowing a thing was possible was the first step to making it happen.

Besides in the private sector she could make ten times what she had made on the project.

Still, she had no illusions as to why she had been fired. They wanted her out there as bait for Brandi. Susan knew that Brandi would never try to contact her, though; no matter how much either of them wanted it.

When she finally reached the house she was renting outside of Las Vegas, she broke down and began crying. It was tearing her up inside to think that Brandi was out there alone. She had only been gone two days and already it seemed like years.

After she cried herself out, she got out of the car and started walking towards her front door. As she did, a black sedan pulled up in front of the house. Susan experienced a moment bordering on panic, until the door opened and Admiral Hammerstein stepped out.

“Susan there’s not much time,” Hammerstein said seriously. “We managed to lure your shadows away but they will return shortly. I need you to come with me and hold your questions until we reach our destination.”

Susan nodded, grabbed her briefcase and got into the sedan.

“How did you lure them away?” Susan asked as the car sped off.

Hammerstein smiled, “We hired a stripper from Vegas. She had the proper, ah, dimensions and hair and at a distance could easily be mistaken for Brandi, especially when she was seen approaching your home.”

“A stripper?” Susan laughed. “I think Brandi would find that amusing. She once threatened to run away and get a job like that.”

The car took her to a small air strip where a private jet waited. Admiral Hammerstein escorted her to the plane but did not board with her.

“I wish I could tell you more Susan, but this is necessary,” The Admiral told her. “The person you are going to meet is someone that I trust implicitly. I don’t ask you to do so just on my say and she won’t expect you to either. But I do ask that you hear what she has to say and give her a chance.”

“All right Mike, I’ll do that.”

*****

“You shore you wanna do this Brandi?” Arnie asked, his face a mask of sadness. They were standing in the doorway to the hotel room Brandi would be staying in for the next few nights. “LA is a big place and, well, you could get lost real easy.”

“That’s kinda what I’m hoping for,” Brandi smiled. Arnie had picked up another load and planned on working his way back east to Alabama, then would take some time off. “I’ll be fine Arnie; you know I can take care of myself.”

“I know nobody’s gonna rough ya up or nuthin’, but I’ll still worry ‘bout you,” Arnie said. “This can be a tough town for someone all alone.”

“That’s why I’m so lucky I met you first Arnie,” Brandi told him. “You give me hope. I know for certain now that I can find people to trust. I know there are good people in the world.”

“Way I see it you gave me somthin’ a long time ago…you gave me my life,” Arnie said. “I took ever chance I could since then tryin’ ta help folks out. I ain’t done much….”

“Now who’s selling themselves short?” Brandi asked. “Keep doing what you do…touch people’s lives. And if you don’t marry that girl in Birmingham I’ll hunt you down and kick your ass…and you know I can do it!”

“I’m gonna pop the question as soon as I get back,” Arnie promised.

“First thing?” Brandi giggled.

“Well, maybe the second thing,” Arnie said blushing.

“Would it be ok if I gave you a goodbye kiss, Arnie?” Brandi asked.

“Darlin’, I would be honored.”

She gave Arnie a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, and he lifted her off the ground and held her for a long time. Brandi stayed outside watching until the rig was out of sight. She would miss the big trucker a lot.

Inside the hotel room she lit a cigarette and took stock of her life. Her entire worldly possessions were three pairs of black BDU pants, three white t-shirts, a pair of combat boots, her underwear and a cell phone, which she had just bought. Plus the clothes she had bought for her night out on the town the last time she was in LA, minus the torn crop top which she had discarded. The only tie to her previous life as Brandon was the box of medals, the framed Medal of Honor citation and the Annapolis class ring which she had taken to wearing around her neck on a chain. She had the cash Susan had provided plus the money in the bank, which would keep her afloat for a while, but not indefinitely. She needed to decide what she was going to do now.

She had options. The identity Ryan had constructed for her included all the background she would need to get into college. The academic records were really just a mirror of Brandon’s, which had gotten him into the Naval Academy, so they should be good enough for any college she chose to attend.

The idea of college appealed to her. Brandon had continued his education after the academy, earning a Master’s in Political Science and History along the way. But what most appealed to her about going back to college was the chance to interact with others in what was now her age group. The problem was that she could be tracked down at any time. Then she would have to run or fight, depending on the options available. Either way, making any long term plans seemed pointless for now. So it looked like she would need to find some kind of low key job.

Ultimately, her future course would be dictated by her ‘special’ abilities. They were already beginning to define who she was, and she knew that she would never be content in a normal career. A need to use her talents was part of her programming she suspected. Despite everything she had felt a rush of exhilaration during the hijacking, just as Brandon had always felt on a mission.

So the government would likely get their asset, but as she told Susan, it would be on her terms and only when she was ready.

The first task was to find a place to live. She could not continue living out of a hotel. Then she would need to expand her wardrobe and that meant clothes appropriate to her gender. She needed to learn how to be a girl.

She looked at her hand for a long time, making the nails grow and shrink. Every time they grew beyond an inch in length the tips became pointed and razor sharp again, even though she did not try to make them that way. The only explanation was that it was part of the Genomorph program, turning them into weapons. She had very nearly ripped Chuck’s throat out with them, and though killing him would have caused her little concern, doing it like that would have disturbed her. It was not just the means by which she had nearly done it, but the fact that she had been almost blind with rage. She swore she would never allow herself to lose control again.

Brandi crushed out her cigarette in the ashtray on the night stand, and then took a pen and notebook from her duffel that she had purchased at the same time she bought her cell phone. She had decided she would start keeping a diary, and knew exactly how she was going to go about it.

Dear Mom,

I hope you don’t mind me calling you that. I’m going to use this diary to keep a record of my thoughts, and it makes me feel better to do it like I am writing a letter to you. One day I hope I can show this to you.

I’ve thought a lot about you these last few days. I really do see you as my mother, and sometimes that seems a little odd. I just know that when I woke up in this body for the first time and saw you there I felt safe, protected. You looked so worried and tired and yet in your eyes I saw more…I saw love. Maybe it is part of the programming…maybe I was meant to ‘imprint’ on the first person I saw, I don’t know. But I do know that you were the only one at the lab besides Ryan who ever treated me like a person. And like the typical teenager I threw it back in your face most of the time.

I made a friend already, a truck driver named Arnie. He helped me a lot in these first days and no, there was nothing sexual involved. I’m still dealing with those desires, and am far from comfortable with the idea, but I know it won’t be long before I have to explore this aspect of being a woman. I’m sure you know that I pleasured myself often while at the lab; why else would I disrupt the cameras and microphones? I did not mind you guys knowing I was doing it — I just didn’t want you watching. Thanks for not embarrassing me by asking about it though.

So I know what an orgasm as a female is like. Let me reword that — I know what an orgasm in this female body is like. I suspect that, like everything else with this body, mine are enhanced. I’m seriously considering buying a vibrator, God knows I’ve seen enough sex shops here in LA that finding one should not be a problem.

Of course you know by now that I can alter my physical appearance to impersonate someone else. I suspect I was not as clever in hiding my experimenting with this as I had thought, since you obviously suspected at least part of my plan to escape. I have to be in contact with a person to imitate them exactly, but I can also make general alterations to my appearance as well. I have tried changing into a male form but that is not possible, I guess there just isn’t anything remotely male in me anymore except my memories. It tires me, and I can only do it for a few hours before I have to return to my true form. Mimicking a person is actually a bit easier than just altering my appearance as I don’t seem to have to concentrate as hard to hold the form.

I’m ready for the next step, to start dressing like a girl. Hell, even when I don’t, I can’t hide this body. And yes, that means makeup too. And yes, I am really starting to regret turning you down all those times you offered to help me. I just wasn’t ready then. I’m not sure I am even now, but I can’t keep running from who I have become.

I’m scared. I know I will need help, so I will try to find friends, people I can come to trust, and that brings me to a decision I have made.

I know that I agreed to maintain the security of the project, but I believe that agreement is void now. What happened to me is far beyond what was supposed to happen, and there will be things about me that will cause questions to arise that I will have a hard time answering. So I am reserving the right to let those I come to trust know about me, if not the full story than at least enough to answer those questions when the need arises. They will need to know so they understand everything, including the possibility that associating with me could place them at risk.

That is my biggest fear. I don’t trust that toad Mercer or the people he represents. I’m not saying I don’t trust the government or the military in general, just a segment of it. I think these people are operating way beyond their mandate. I don’t know what I can do about it though. But I know they won’t hesitate to hurt anyone close to me in order to get at me. Please be careful. If anything happened to you, I don’t think I could take it.

There’s one other thing I want to tell you about. It may sound a little weird, but I want you to know about it.

I was thinking back to my life as Brandon, and I thought about the first man under my command that I lost. He was a young seaman named Aaron Peck, and he died in a firefight on one of those secret ops that were our stock and trade. And when I thought about him, this flood of emotions came to the surface and I cried.

The thing is that what I felt inside was the same as what I felt inside as Brandon. The pain, the grief, the loss…it was all the same. But when I was Brandon, I just did not have the capacity to let it out. No, we had a beer call after the mission and got drunk and talked about what a great guy he was. I went to his wife and told her that he had been killed in a ‘training accident’ and played the strong commander for her as she cried, even as I wanted to weep myself. I saw his two beautiful little girls and I wanted to tell them that their father died a hero, doing something that was important. I wanted to hold them and cry with them too, but I didn’t because I was a man.

So I cried for Aaron and for all the others…thank God there weren’t that many. I felt the same pain and loss but at last I could release some of it. It was refreshing and freeing in a way. I would have never expected to be saying this just a few months ago, but I think I’m going to like being a girl.

CHAPTER 15

The estate was huge, nestled in the rolling hills of Virginia. It spoke of power and wealth, both old. Yet Susan was surprised that the inside was very much like a home rather than a museum as so many such estates tended to be.

She was escorted to the parlor, and a few minutes later a very distinguished looking elderly woman entered. Susan recognized Amanda Breton immediately. She was a very wealthy and powerful woman, yet she used her influence and power to support a myriad of humanitarian causes, and had a reputation for being generous and gracious, and at the same time definitely not one to be trifled with.

“Doctor Covington, I am so glad you accepted my invitation, I’m Amanda Breton,” She said as she extended her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Breton,” Susan said as she took the offered. “I am here because of Admiral Hammerstein, however.”

“I do apologize for the secrecy, and please call me Amanda,” Mrs. Breton said as she took a seat. “Would you care for some refreshments? I can have Gretchen prepare a tray.”

“That would be very welcome, Amanda, and please call me Susan.”

Amanda turned to the young blonde woman standing just outside the doorway to the parlor and nodded, then directed her attention back to Susan.

“Well, I am certain you are wondering what this is all about,” Amanda began. “First, let me say that I do not expect you to trust me immediately, though I hope I will come to earn your trust. And I want you to know that this estate is completely secure and you may speak freely.

“I have been following your work closely and have been very impressed. And yes, I know all about Brandi. Suffice it to say for the time being that I have certain connections. I am very glad that you are no longer associated with the people controlling the project, even though I realize that your release was affected to further their own ends. That is why we had to bring you here with such secrecy.

“You have now effectively dropped off the radar. I imagine they are becoming a bit concerned over your disappearance. Of course, you are free to leave at any time, but as long as you remain here I can keep you out of their sights.”

“I don’t really understand…” Susan said.

“The device that was recovered from the desert was only the latest. These artifacts have been collected over many years and for the most part simply warehoused under the control of a very secretive agency…it doesn’t even have an official name. Your acquaintance, Mr. Mercer, works for this organization. Their operatives have given rise to the stories of ‘Men in Black’.

“This agency has had free reign for too long. They exploit the technology that has been discovered to cement their power base, when it should be studied and used for the betterment of the world. And that is why I have brought you here. I intend to put an end to this. It’s time to bring the ‘Men in Black’ down…and I will need your help, and Brandi’s, to do it.”

“I’m not sure how we could help,” Susan said cautiously.

“Nor am I,” Amanda admitted. “But first and foremost, Brandi must learn who and what she is, and I am prepared to make whatever resources are needed available to her. To that end I have set up a secure fund that will provide her with money to live as she comes to grips with her situation and for that matter as long as she lives. I am also prepared to provide fifty thousand dollars for immediate transfer to her control so she will have money available until the first fund payments are made.”

Susan considered the offer carefully. The money she had provided Brandi would give her a start, but she did not have the means to support her completely, and any attempt to provide more money on her part was very risky at any rate.

She made a decision. Admiral Hammerstein trusted this woman, and everything she knew about Amanda Breton told her she was a woman of integrity. And if they could do it, if they could bring down the organization, then Brandi would have a chance at a semblance of normality in her life. It was worth taking a chance.

“I can get in contact with Brandi,” Susan stated. “Though I was not a part of her escape directly, I did expect it and took steps to help her after the fact. She has a secure identity and a bank account that the funds could be directed to.”

“I suspected as much,” Amanda smiled. “I don’t want to know the details. I will provide you with the information so you can see that the money gets to Brandi.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but why?” Susan asked. “I agree that the organization needs to be dealt with, and Brandi could be instrumental in that, but I get the feeling that there is something more personal involved here.”

“You’re quite right,” Amanda smiled warmly. “Twelve years ago I was in Africa doing relief work when violence erupted in the Congo. Because of who I am, a team of Navy SEALs were sent in to extract me from the hospital I was working in.”

“Brandon saved your life.”

“He did far more than that,” Amanda continued. “There were twenty-three patients in the hospital. Brandon defied a direct order and loaded those patients and myself onto the helicopters. And I don’t want you to get the impression that I had anything to do with it. I was terrified by the sounds of the approaching forces, and as ashamed as I am to admit it, I would have boarded that helicopter and left those people to their fate. His commander told him to leave the patients. He said the country was going to ‘hell in a hand basket’ and that they couldn’t save the whole damn country. I will never forget what Brandon said.

“He told his commander, ‘Maybe not sir, but I can save the piece of it that’s here.’”

“It took two trips to get them all out, and he and his men held the position until the last were gone, and then remained until the helicopters returned a third time to pick them up.

“Brandon was threatened with court martial, until some not so subtle pressure was applied in the right places. So you see this is not the first time I have used my influence to aid Brandi. She taught me the true meaning of words like honor, courage and sacrifice that day, and I will be damned before I let them get their claws in her.”

*****

Brandi stared at the email in disbelief for a long time. What Susan was telling her was too good to be true. She had stopped at an internet café so she could check the account in case Susan had tried to reach her, and had been overjoyed when she saw there was a message.

She logged into her bank account to check the balance and saw that she now had nearly sixty thousand dollars available. Now she could buy a laptop of her own, and she would be able to make regular contact with Susan. She began crying tears of pure joy.

“Are you ok honey?” A voice asked. Brandi turned to see the waitress standing there with a concerned look on her face.

“I’m great!” Brandi smiled, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. “I just got some really wonderful news and it kind of overwhelmed me.”

“Well I’m glad they’re happy tears,” The waitress smiled. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Brandi said. “I’m good. Really, really good.”

*****

“What is the status on the search?” The Man asked Reginald Mercer.

“We have agents watching all of Brandon’s haunts and his friends in the Gainesville area,” Mercer reported. “He tended to be a loner. We also have a team stationed in his hometown in the panhandle.

“Additionally we have teams shadowing his former Navy buddies, including Admiral Hammerstein. We are monitoring law enforcement for any reports of incidents which may be connected to the missing Genomorph.”

“And yet our most promising bait, Doctor Covington, has mysteriously disappeared,” The Man said.

“Yes sir,” Mercer replied nervously, well aware that it had been his recommendation to release Susan Covington so they could watch her in case Brandi tried to make contact. “She must have had help sir.”

“Undoubtedly. So we can assume that Dr. Covington is in hiding under the protection of an unknown agency, and likely working with the Genomorph to undermine this organization.”

“That is a plausible scenario sir,” Mercer admitted.

“Not a very satisfactory one.”

“No sir. She has only been gone two days, we’ll get her sir.”

“See that you do. That will be all Mr. Mercer.”

Mercer turned to leave the office, a sense of relief washing over him.

“Oh Mercer?” The Man called just as he was about to exit.

“Yes sir?”

“I’m sure I do not have to remind you that this is a high priority matter. We went through a great deal of trouble to set this up once Brandon Anderson had been identified as a perfect candidate for the transformation. A pity that the program modifications we inserted failed to take effect; otherwise she would have been perfectly obedient.

“However that is water under the bridge. Those individuals responsible have learned that there are repercussions for failure. If the Genomorph is not back under our control soon…there will be further repercussions. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

Mercer returned to his own office, sweating profusely, and had to take a moment to recover his composure. He knew he was in a precarious position, but he was not certain how to proceed.

“How the hell do you find someone who can look like anyone they want to?” he wondered aloud.

Covington was the answer. If they could find her, they could use her to lure in the Genomorph. Mercer snatched up his desk phone.

“This is a Stage One alert. All teams are to drop whatever they are doing and concentrate on locating the Genomorph.” He said. “Special effort is to be directed to locating and apprehending Dr. Susan Covington."

End of Part 2

Notes:

I would like to thank everyone for the wonderful and constructive comments I received regarding Part 1.

Feedback is so important, so please let me know what you think of Brandi’s continuing story.

Look for Genomorph Part 3 soon!

Synopsis:

Synopsis: A Navy SEAL is transformed into a sexy female super soldier by an alien machine. After escaping from a secret lab, she sets out to learn who she is. Now back in LA, Brandi finds trouble, friendship and just maybe something more…. Part 3 of 5.

Warning: This story contains no graphic sexual content but does have adult language, situations and violent action scenes.

Story:

Genomorph Part 3 of 5

By Breanna Ramsey

Edited by Janet Nolan and Carla Winters

Dear Mom,

Well I made the news…sort of. Fortunately the CHP took credit for busting up the hijacking ring, and there was no mention of a mysterious redheaded woman. I’m sure the cops have the story; they just can’t believe it.

The smart thing to do is move; ‘clear datum’ as the submarine boys say. Every bit of training I ever had tells me that. So of course I’m going to stay.   LA is a big place, and even if ‘they’ make a connection between the hijacking ring story and me, ‘they’ will expect me to move on. I have no intention of living on the run constantly.

I was looking at my medals today, wondering why I even brought them with me. After all, should someone see them they would be difficult to explain. I guess it’s because they are a connection to my past, and I am still desperately clinging to my past. But there is more to it than that, more than just me trying to hold on to the man I used to be.

It all boils down to fear. As Brandon, I really didn’t know fear. That is not to say I was never afraid. No one can go into combat without some fear, and if they claim to they are lying. But I never really, truly knew fear.

Now, I am afraid all the time. Just walking out the door is a frightening thing. I’m afraid of who and what I have become. I’m afraid of how I will be seen, and how I will deal with people. Fear has motivated so much of my life since I was changed, and so much of who I was is gone. It’s only been four months since I was transformed, but each day Brandon Anderson is more and more like someone I knew, and only exists in my memories.

But the medals remind me of the person I was. Not the man I was…the person…the person I pray is still there inside me….

CHAPTER 16

Melissa Barlowe really wished she had brought a coat to work. The mid August night was chilly, maybe not to some but definitely to her. The short, pink satin waitress uniform was no help at all. She would be so happy when they finally found a new roommate and she and her friend Karen could quit their bar jobs. Karen, who shared a house with her in Venice, had been the lucky one. Maybe Woofers, the bar Karen worked at, was not the classiest place around but it was close to home and in a much better part of town. Melissa sighed; if money wasn’t so tight, and gas so expensive, she would drive. At least she only had a few more blocks to walk to catch the bus.

She was almost to the bus stop when she noticed that the three morons who had been hitting on her all night long were following her. Getting hit on by guys was something she had grown accustomed to working at the bar, though most of the regulars had by now learned that she was not attainable. She had never seen these three before tonight, and they had finally gotten rowdy enough that the bouncers had shown them the door.

“Stupid!” Melissa muttered as she picked up her pace. Her father had been an LA cop for thirty years and he had lectured her on safety often enough. They must have been waiting for her outside, but she had not been paying attention to her surroundings and now she was blocks away from the bar and help; there was not another soul in sight. She prayed the bus would be on time as she rounded a corner and looked hopefully to the bus stop.

The bus was nowhere to be seen, so she continued walking, quickening her pace further. She should have brought sneakers to change into; her feet were already killing her from a long night in the four inch heels she wore for the job.

She was very pretty, five feet six inches tall with midnight black hair and emerald green eyes. She had a fiery personality, but right now she was scared. There was no one in sight except her three pursuers, and as she looked over her shoulder she saw that they were now closing the distance, as if they sensed their prey’s fear.

Relief washed over her as she rounded another corner and saw a group of half a dozen people in the distance. She was almost running now, and she had just opened her mouth to call out when they caught her. She let out a strangled scream before a hand clamped over her mouth and she was dragged towards an alley to her right. She thought she saw a girl in the group turn and look back, and prayed that she had been seen.

Melissa fought as the three men dragged her into the nearby alley, kicking one in the shin. The one holding her spun her roughly and backhanded her across the left side of her face. She cried out in pain but recovered quickly, lunging forward and shoving him with all her strength. He stumbled back into his two friends and Melissa turned and ran the only way she could, further down the alley. As she ran she screamed for help. She had not run very far when she was stopped by a ten foot high chain link fence.

“Shit!” she cried. She turned, pressing her back against the fence, and faced her pursuers. The three men advanced with looks of menacing glee on their faces.

“Keep away you fucking bastards!” she screamed, then turned and tried vainly to climb the fence. Her attackers pulled her down and threw her roughly to the pavement.

“You’re only gonna make us hurt you worse if you keep fighting, bitch,” one of the men said.

“You’ll have to beat me to death, then!” Melissa snarled back, determined to resist at any cost. She had spirit but was much smaller than her attackers, and she knew she had no chance. Still, she scrambled to her feet and tried run, but was caught and yanked back. Turning on her attacker, she raked her nails down the side of his face leaving four deep scratches. The man cursed and punched her, again on the left side of her face, the force of the blow knocking her down again. Her vision blurred as she hovered on the edge of blacking out, and she knew she had lost. Despite her anger she began crying from the pain and fear, but she was determined that she would never beg.

“You know, I, like, really don’t think she wants to play,” a voice called from the entrance to the alley. All eyes turned to focus on the newcomer, a very buxom blonde girl with the face of an angel. She stood with her body cocked in a provocative posture and smiled sweetly.

Melissa was mesmerized. The blonde was without a doubt the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. And her body…even beneath the oversized t-shirt and baggy black pants it was obvious that she had an incredible figure. She moved with an easy, sensual grace as she walked down the alley towards them.

Stopping as she neared the scene, the blonde girl examined her fingernails for a moment, and then looked at the three men again. Her eyes were wide and full of innocent mirth and with a playful flip of her long pony tail she purred sexily, “I’m game, if, like, you guys think you can handle me. I warn you though…I like it rough.”

“Well, well, what do we have here?” the tallest of the three said, walking over to the blonde and reaching out to grab one of her ample breasts roughly. “Another bitch to play with.”

“Oooh, baby,” the blonde purred, “that’s kinda nice, but it’s not the game I was thinkin’ of.”

The blonde’s hands moved so fast they were almost a blur, grabbing the tall man’s wrist and elbow. With a quick twist she forced his arm out and away from his body, his shoulder dislocating with an audible pop. He cried out in pain, cursing loudly as the girl swung him around and then slammed him face first into the wall of one of the buildings lining the alley. He bounced off and flopped to the pavement like a rag doll, lying there and moaning in pain.

“Well, that wasn’t even a decent work out,” the girl pouted, turning her attention towards the other two. “You guys are gonna have to step it up ‘cause I get, like, cranky when my playmates let me down.”

The two men rushed forward towards the blonde. She easily side stepped the clumsy attack of one, a short, stocky fellow with a flattened nose that had been punched one too many times. With a quick swipe of her right leg she took his feet out from under him. As he went over backwards she snapped her elbow into his nose, flattening it further. He went down on his ass hard as she turned her attention to the other man.

The third would be rapist produced a knife and lunged towards her. In one fluid motion she caught his wrist, twisted the knife free and stabbed it deep into his thigh. He fell to the ground, grasping his leg and howling in pain.

The blonde girl moved quickly over to Melissa and helped her up.

“Are you ok, honey?” she asked, her eyes wide with concern. Melissa started to respond, but saw the stocky man rushing up from behind the blonde. Her eyes grew wide, and she tried to cry out a warning.

The blonde merely grinned and said, “This’ll only take a sec.”

A fraction of a second before the man’s hands reached her throat she whirled to face him, snapping her right fist solidly into his nose and flattening it even more. He staggered back, blood streaming from his nose, and then took a swing which she ducked under. He tried again, snapping his left fist forward. This time she caught his wrist as she dodged to his left, twisting his arm behind him as she forced him against the wall of the building to her right. He continued to struggle and she jerked the arm up painfully.

“I’m very disappointed; you guys treated me like a girl,” the blonde said disdainfully. “And I have this rule about being treated like a girl in a fight.”

With a deliberate twist she dislocated his shoulder as well, and then grabbed a fist full of hair and smashed his face into the wall for good measure. She then released him to join his friends rolling on the ground in pain.

“That oughta keep you from causing trouble for a while,” the blonde said. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about attacking someone just ‘cause you think they’re weak…I seriously doubt it though.”

Applause erupted from the group of stunned spectators who had gathered at the mouth of the alley. The blonde beamed a big smile and then bowed theatrically before turning her attention to the battered girl again. Her face took on a serious look as she examined Melissa’s face.

“Do you want to call the cops?” she asked. Melissa shook her head no, dazed over the whole incident.

“Well, let’s get you out of here before they show up anyway,” the blonde suggested. “Personally, I’d rather not answer a bunch of questions tonight from the police. My hotel’s not too far from here if you’re ok to walk.”

“I…I can walk,” Melissa stuttered.

“Cool, we’ll get you cleaned up then,” the blonde said in a bubbly tone. “My name’s Brenda Williams by the way, but you can call me Brandi.”

Melissa stammered out her name as she found herself staring at Brandi’s wide, innocent eyes. She had never seen such a color, a deep violet that was not the product of contact lenses. She could get lost in those eyes.

The girl was much too pretty to be dressing so butch, she thought as Brandi helped her down the street. She wondered if she was a hooker, or perhaps danced at one of the clubs nearby. She certainly had the body for it.

The hotel was only one step above a fleabag, and as Brandi settled her onto one of the beds Melissa began to suspect that maybe she was a runaway. She noticed that the room was very neat, with no loose personal items lying around. On the other bed she saw a duffel bag and what looked to be a laptop computer bag, all packed as though Brandi was ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

It was hard to tell how old she was. She had the face of a teenager, sweet and angelic, but definitely the body of a woman. Her pale, golden blonde hair, even though it was pulled back and secured with a black scrunchie, still had a wild, unkempt look. Its loose curls looked like they got very little attention from comb or brush.

“We need to get some ice on your face,” Brandi said as she rose and walked to the sink. She picked up a plastic ice bucket and stepped over to the door.

“Will you be ok if I pop out for just a sec?”

Melissa nodded silently. Brandi left the room, returning quickly with a bucket full of ice. She took a clean wash cloth, dampened it and piled ice in it before returning to Melissa’s side.

“You were amazing!” Melissa gushed, and then winced as Brandi touched the wash cloth to her swollen face. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“That is a long story,” Brandi smiled. Her voice still had the sweet innocent tone but no longer the playful sexiness. “Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of training.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Melissa said, her voice growing quiet. “If you hadn’t come along when you did…”

Brandi was expecting the tears and when they came, she held Melissa and let her get it out of her system. Even after four months she was still getting used to how easily she herself cried, but she was certainly able to understand Melissa’s reaction. The fear of having sex forced upon her was all too real to Brandi, though in her case it was her own internal programming that was doing the forcing.

“It’s ok, Melissa, you’re safe now.” Brandi soothed. Holding the pretty brunette was causing feelings to stir in her; she had found that while she was technically bisexual she was far more attracted to women, probably because to the remnant of the man she had been it felt natural.

“So, do you work around here,” Melissa asked once she had regained her composure, “or are you just passing through town?”

Brandi considered the pretty brunette a moment before responding. There was something very familiar about her, but despite her enhanced memory she could not recall ever having seen this young woman before.

“Actually, I’m looking for a place to rent,” she told Melissa. “I’ve only been in town a couple of days and I don’t know LA at all, though, so I don’t really know where to start.”

Melissa’s eyes opened wide and a big smile sprang to her face, making her wince.

“I’m looking for a new roommate!” She exclaimed. “I’ve got a great place over on Venice Beach. My friend Karen and I live there and we’ve been looking for another roomie for weeks. It has a beautiful ocean view and you’d have your own bathroom and everything!”

“Melissa, you don’t even know me,” Brandi said softly.

“Well, I know I’d feel a lot better having you as a friend,” Melissa said sincerely. “Oh, come on, at least come and check the place out. I know you’ll love it...unless…well it is pretty pricey. I actually own the house but I rent out the two extra bedrooms to pay for the utilities and taxes and such. I’d be more than willing to work with you on it though. I mean I really owe you.”

“Money is not the problem,” Brandi admitted. “I sort of have a trust fund. And you don’t owe me a thing.”

“Well then, that’s settled,” Melissa stated firmly. “Look, you rescued me; you have to at least see that I get home safely right?”

Brandi reached into the right cargo pocket of her BDUs and pulled out a pack of Marlboro 100s and a Zippo lighter. She lit one and took a long drag and then exhaled slowly, noticing as she did that Melissa was looking at the pack longingly. She extended the cigarettes to her and Melissa smiled and took one. Brandi extended her Zippo lighter and flicked the wheel and Melissa lit her cigarette in the flame.

“I just quit for the third time,” she sighed as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. “After tonight’s excitement I guess I can quit again another time.”

“Melissa, I really appreciate your offer,” Brandi said slowly. “There are things about me though…I don’t think I would be a good roommate for you and your friend.”

“Why, because you’re running from something?” Melissa asked, causing Brandi to give her a startled look. “Don’t worry, I’m not psychic or anything. I just recognize the signs; bags packed and ready to go, trying to look unobtrusive.

“I don’t really care about that, Brandi. Whatever you are running from, you can’t have done anything bad…if you had, you would have never stopped to help me. And I’m pretty good at reading people.”

“I just don’t know,” Brandi said.

“Look, just stay with us for a while,” Melissa suggested. “It’s way better than this place, and I guarantee you will fall in love with Venice Beach.”

“Ok, but it’s just a trial for the moment,” Brandi said. “If it works out, there are things about me I will have to tell you. And then, if you want me out of your life I’ll go with no fuss.”

“Not gonna happen,” Melissa smiled broadly. “I think this is the beginning of a great friendship.”

*****

The lights were burning late in the office of the Commander, Naval Special Warfare. Lieutenant Matt Branch waited outside the office of Admiral Hammerstein, wondering why he had been ordered to report. He was supposed to be on his way to Virginia, where he would be taking part in the testing of the new Advanced SEAL Delivery System. Branch had tried to strike up a conversation with the Admiral’s secretary, a pretty Lieutenant JG named Michelle Trask, but she had only smiled and told him the Admiral would be available shortly.

“You can go in now, Lieutenant,” the Admiral’s secretary told him. Branch smiled and entered the Admiral’s office.

“Have a seat, Lieutenant,” Hammerstein told him.

Branch settled into a chair before the Admiral’s desk and waited for his superior to tell him why he was here. Hammerstein leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“I apologize for interrupting your travel arrangements,” Hammerstein began. “When we are done here, arrangements will be made to get you to your destination, should you choose to continue.”

That got Branch’s attention. Something was definitely up.

“I know I don’t have to tell you about security,” Hammerstein continued, passing a file folder marked Classified: Top Secret to Branch. “After you read this, you’ll understand more.”

Branch opened the folder and was immediately surprised by the name which leapt off the page to catch his eye. As he read the report, his face displayed varying reactions, beginning with outright disbelief, then shocked amazement and finally, a cold, burning rage. If it had not come from Admiral Hammerstein; if he were not in this office reading the incredible tale the report detailed, he would have thought it a sick joke.

“What do you need me to do, sir,” Branch asked as he finished. His voice was hard and determined.

“What I am going to ask you to do is well outside the chain of command,” Hammerstein said. “This is a black op, the blackest. It could cost you your career.”

“Begging the Admiral’s pardon, but to hell with my career,” Branch said, smacking the report with his hand. “This is outrageous! Brandon Anderson was…is…hell I don’t even know how to say it but he’s more than just my former CO. He’s a friend.”

“I thought you would feel that way,” Hammerstein smiled. “The other members of your platoon will be here in the morning. I suspect they will feel the same way. Once you leave here, you will be on your own. Equipment has been pre-positioned. Be ready to move on very short notice.”

“We’ll be ready, sir,” Branch assured him.

The Admiral nodded and rose, walking around and extending his hand. Branch rose as well and shook the Admiral’s hand, then stepped back and saluted.

“Lieutenant Trask has your quarters arranged,” Hammerstein said as he returned the salute. “I’ll see you at 0600 tomorrow.”

A short time later Branch was lying on the bed in his quarters for the night. By this time tomorrow the platoon would be in a safe house in Los Angeles. Then they would watch and wait.

He could not get the picture out of his head, the face of the beautiful young woman that had once been Brandon Anderson. He tried to imagine what it must be like for her; to have everything you were, your gender, the very basis for a person’s identity, ripped away. He realized there was no way he could understand…the concept was simply too alien to even grasp.

But he did see that Brandon, in the form of Brandi, had been given an extraordinary second chance. And he knew that he would do what it took, even if it meant his career, or his life, to see that she got that chance.

He owed her that, and much more.

CHAPTER 17

“This is really nice, Melissa,” Brandi said as they entered Melissa’s house. The house was a contemporary two story, long and narrow, as was the norm for the area. The back faced a street named Speedway, with a two car garage opening onto the street. The front looked out directly on Ocean Front Walk and the beach. They entered through the back door into a utility room and through that into a short hallway.

“That’s Karen’s room,” Melissa said, pointing to a door on the left. “It’s a full master suite. I’m afraid you’ll have the smallest bedroom, but like I said it has a full bath and a walk in closet and it’s fully furnished.”

The hallway opened into the dining room with the kitchen to the left. Beyond the dining room was a large family room with a fireplace. Melissa led her through the family room and out the front door. There was a large porch that looked out on the ocean, and Brandi took a deep breath, the smell of the ocean and the sound of the surf bringing back a flood of memories.

“It’s beautiful, Melissa,” Brandi said, her eyes closed as she let the sounds and scents wash over her. For a moment she could almost forget…almost.

“You really own this place?”

“It was my parents’,” Melissa said. “They died last year in a car accident.”

“Oh, Melissa I’m so sorry,” Brandi said. “I lost my parents too…a long time ago.”

“You must have been very young,” Melissa said. “Brandi, I don’t mean to pry but how old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” Brandi told her. “I know I look young…”

“Brandi, its cool,” Melissa assured her. “Just be prepared to get carded a lot, even with that figure of yours.”

Leading her upstairs, Melissa showed Brandi the room that would be hers. It may have been the smallest in the house but it was larger than the hotel room she had been staying in. It was definitely a girl’s room, with pink walls and a full sized canopy bed. There was a large dresser and a desk as well, and on the wall opposite the foot of the bed was a flat screen television. The walk in closet was very spacious, and the bathroom had a vanity and a large spa tub.

“This is very nice,” Brandi said, setting her duffel bag and computer satchel on the bed. “Is there internet access?”

“Yes,” Melissa said. “It’s wireless, so you can access it from anywhere in the house if your laptop has a wireless card.”

“It does,” Brandi said.

“Well I need to get out of these clothes,” Melissa sighed. “After you’re settled in, why don’t you come downstairs and we can talk if you like.”

Brandi smiled, “Thank you, Melissa, I’ll do that.”

Melissa left Brandi and walked across the hall to her own bedroom. When she was gone Brandi unpacked, a short task considering how little she had. She placed the box containing Brandon’s medals, along with the framed Medal of Honor citation, on a shelf in the closet. Her clothes she placed in the dresser…it did not take much room even though she had picked up a few items since she returned to LA. She set her laptop on the desk. Her meager collection of toiletries went into the bathroom and a few other items into the drawer of the night stand. Last of all she took the nearly nine thousand dollars in cash she had remaining and hid it in the space beneath one of the bottom drawers of the dresser and then placed her empty duffel bag on top of the medals and citation in the closet.

Once her belongings were put away, Brandi stripped off her clothes, sighing with relief as she removed her sports bra. It was designed to provide maximum compression and support for running and was not really intended to be worn all the time. She did not really need the support; her body was modified to carry the weight of her breasts but the bra was more of a security blanket, minimizing her bust somewhat.

She stood for several minutes, regarding her naked body in the mirror over the vanity. She tried to think what she would have thought had she seen a girl like her when she was Brandon. She wanted to believe he would have looked at her as a person, but she knew that if Brandon had seen her walking down the street it would be the body he noticed first. He was a good man, but he was still a man.

Can’t really fault him for that, she thought. This body was made to be noticed.

Deciding she had finished her introspection, she opened the top dresser drawer and removed her most recent clothing purchase, a knit pajama set. She had decided that the easiest way to go was to start dressing in attire appropriate to her gender in a non public setting. She slipped the lavender camisole top and matching long pants on, grabbed her cigarettes and lighter and headed downstairs.

Melissa was still in her room, so Brandi settled into a wicker chair on the porch and lit a cigarette. There was an ashtray on the table by the chair so she figured it would be all right to smoke. Closing her eyes, Brandi let the sound of the surf wash over her again. For the first time in days she felt that she could relax.

“Oh…hello.”

Brandi jumped, literally, up from the chair. That the voice had surprised her was obvious. That she had gotten so relaxed she could be surprised made it even worse. Fortunately she did not attack the young woman standing in the front doorway.

“Whoa there, sweetheart, take a breath,” the girl laughed. She was Brandi’s height, with shoulder length auburn hair, and was dressed in a pair of tight red shorts and a black t-shirt with the word Woofers across the front. She was very nicely built though not as large breasted as Brandi. With a sigh she kicked off her heels as she stepped onto the porch, a wine bottle and two glasses in her hand.

“Sorry, I thought you were Melissa,” she said as she dropped into the chair opposite the one Brandi had been sitting in.

“I’m Brandi,” Brandi said as she sat back down. “Melissa is changing.”

“Nice to meet you, Brandi,” the girl said. “I’m Karen, Melissa’s roommate.”

“Is that where you work?” Brandi asked, gesturing to Karen’s t-shirt.

“Only temporarily, I hope,” Melissa laughed. “Hooters was already taken. So are you going to be our new roomie?”

“I’m considering it,” Brandi said. “Listen, I should tell you Melissa had a pretty rough night.”

“That’s an understatement,” Melissa said from the doorway. She was dressed in a long green knit nightshirt and as she stepped out onto the porch Brandi winced; her face had swollen much more. Karen took one look at her and was instantly on her feet.

“What the fuck happened to you!”

“Calm down,” Melissa soothed. “I’ll tell you the whole story, but first you need to get another glass for Brandi and I’m gonna bum a smoke from our new roomie.”

Brandi smiled and passed the pack and lighter to Melissa as Karen went back into the house for another wine glass. She filled the three glasses, and after taking a deep drag of her cigarette and exhaling slowly, Melissa began telling Karen of her night’s ordeal. She also managed to lavish enough praise on Brandi to make her blush bright red.

“Brandi, I did have a question about the alley,” Melissa said after she finished the story. “Please don’t take this wrong, because God knows those assholes deserved it, but the last guy…”

“Why did I hurt him?” Brandi asked.

“Well, yeah, I mean you already had him beat,” Melissa said.

“No, I had him controlled for the moment,” Brandi corrected. “If I had just let him go, he might have just run off, or he may have kept fighting. Then he might have hurt someone else, or tried something that forced me to really hurt him. I had the chance to end the fight there, so I did. I don’t, like, get off on fighting or hurting people, but when I have to fight, I fight to win.”

“Well, you get no argument from me,” Karen said angrily. “I wouldn’t care if you had killed the bastards.”

Brandi became quiet, wondering what these two young women would think if they knew she had killed before and in fact as recently as three days ago. She had thought a lot about the man she had killed in the garage. It was the first time she had taken a life outside of war, and yet it was the same as any of the others. There had simply been no choice and she had done what was necessary to save another’s life. She knew that it was part of the reason she was who she was now; part of the reason the Genomorph Protocol had been triggered.

“So, are you planning on going to school out here, Brandi?” Karen asked after taking a sip of wine.

“I don’t really have any firm plans,” Brandi said. “I have a lot of stuff about my life I have to figure out, kinda the whole ‘finding myself’ cliché. What about you two?”

“We’re both in the graduate program at UCLA,” Melissa told her. “I’m working on my masters in music and Karen in political science.”

Brandi smiled reflexively; Brandon had a masters in political science. She wondered if she could even carry on an intelligent conversation on the topic, or if her programming would make her words come out like a bimbo.

“Do you know what your thesis is going to be yet, Karen?” Brandi asked, deciding to give it a try.

“Yes,” Karen said, her eyebrows rising slightly. “It’s on the evolving role of the military in the post cold war era, and more specifically in the war on terrorism. It also stresses the importance of understanding the mindset behind groups like Al-Qaeda, in order to effectively counter them.”

Brandi smiled and said, “If you know yourself, but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat.”

“Sun Tzu, I’m impressed,” Karen smiled. Her smile quickly faded as she realized how that sounded.

“Brandi, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok, Karen,” Brandi laughed. “I get that a lot. I’ve gotten used to being seen as, like, a bimbo. We all tend to see the surface first, and once you realize that it can actually be kinda useful.”

The three talked for a while, getting to know one another. Brandi learned that Melissa had been born and raised in Los Angeles. She was an only child and her father had been with the LAPD for thirty years. After he retired he had done some writing, true crime stories, and even acted as technical consultant for some television movies and series. Her mother had sold real estate. They had been comfortable, though far from wealthy. Her parents’ unexpected death had left her with a house to maintain and a stack of student loans to pay off.

While she listened to Melissa talk about herself, Brandi was again struck by the feeling that she had met the girl before. If so it had to have been as Brandon, which she frankly doubted since he had never been to LA in his life.

She searched her memory, unable to shake the feeling, but came up blank. While her vastly improved memory allowed her to recall events from her past as clearly as though they had just happened, it often required the right trigger to access a particular memory if it was buried deeply.

“It would probably be a lot smarter to sell the house,” Melissa sighed. “But I’m just not ready to do that yet.”

“I was lucky in a way, I guess,” Brandi said and then stopped, her eyes widening for a second. She had been about to say that her education at Annapolis was paid for by the government.

“I mean, like, I have my trust fund so I haven’t had to worry about money,” she finished.

“I was just noticing that ring you’re wearing,” Melissa remarked, gesturing to the chain around Brandi’s neck. “Is that your boyfriend’s?”

“Um, no,” Brandi said, holding the ring up so they could see it better. “It’s a Naval Academy class ring. It belonged to…a friend. He died a few months ago.”

“Oh, Brandi, I’m sorry,” Melissa said. “Was he killed in the war?”

“Not directly,” Brandi said, her voice growing very quiet. “It was…complications…he was badly wounded.”

Melissa smiled in understanding and let the subject drop. It was obvious that it was making Brandi very uncomfortable.

Karen Meadows came to LA from Littleton, Colorado six years earlier. She and Melissa had met in their second year at UCLA and had been friends ever since. The two had similar personalities, both determined and spirited; but Melissa tended to be more outgoing and Karen more reserved.

Of course they wanted to know about Brandi as well, and she did her best to be truthful without being too truthful. Finally she had to put a stop to any further questions.

“Look, I’m sure you both know I’m holding stuff back,” she said. “I mean it’s, like, obvious I’m dodging your questions and it’s because the only other choice is to lie, and I don’t wanna do that. Please be patient with me. I promise if I decide to take you up on the offer to stay, I will tell you everything about me, and then it will be up to you guys if I stay or not.”

Melissa and Karen shared a look before either spoke.

“I understand Brandi,” Melissa said. “I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to open up to us soon. We’d really like to help if we can.”

“Just tell us you’re not on the FBI’s ten most wanted list,” Karen added, her smile showing she meant it as a joke.

Brandi giggled, “I can say for sure that I am not,” she said. It was true; the people that were after her were powerful, but they did not want to attract any more attention to their activities than necessary.

“Well, I have the weekend off so tomorrow how about I show you around a bit, Brandi?” Melissa suggested.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Brandi said. “I’m sure you must have a boyfriend you’d like to spend time with on your weekend off.”

Karen laughed heartily, and even Melissa giggled. Brandi looked at them, wondering what she had missed.

“Brandi, I probably should have mentioned this sooner. I’m a lesbian.” Melissa told her. “I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

Brandi did not answer immediately; she was too surprised by her reaction to Melissa’s words. She had been attracted to the pretty brunette from the start, but now her heart was racing and she felt her skin becoming flush and warm. To make matters worse, she could feel her nipples hardening, and knew they were plainly visible through the thin knit cami.

“No…that doesn’t bother me at all, really,” she managed to say.

Melissa and Karen both noticed her reaction; it would have been hard not too.

“Brandi, do you mind if I ask…” Melissa began.

“I don’t know,” Brandi answered, and her voice trembled slightly. “I’m…it’s complicated. Let’s just say that for now sex is something I am trying very hard to stay away from.”

Brandi rose from her seat with a nervous smile before they could ask any more questions and said, “I’m really kinda tired. I think I’ll, like, take a bath and then turn in.”

Melissa and Karen said goodnight and Brandi practically ran upstairs to her bedroom. She started the water for her bath and slipped off her pajamas, and was just about to climb into the tub when she stopped. She made her way back into the bedroom and opened the drawer on the nightstand. Slowly, she reached in and pulled out a waterproof vibrator. She looked at it for several seconds like it was a snake and could bite her at any moment. She had purchased it two days earlier and had yet to work up the nerve to use it. When Melissa had told her she preferred girls, the revelation had sent Brandi into overdrive, and the idea of using the vibrator no longer seemed that foreign. Returning to the bathroom, she slipped into the steaming water and set about relieving tension on multiple levels.

“That’s one very unusual girl,” Karen said after Brandi had left. “I like her.”

“Yeah, me too,” Melissa sighed.

Karen laughed, “That’s obvious. She certainly had a strange reaction there. I mean she was obviously turned on but she looked terrified. Do you think she’s in denial about her sexuality?”

“No, I think there’s more to it than that,” Melissa said. “I don’t think it bothered her that she was attracted to another girl…I think it bothered her that she was turned on, period. It’s like she’s afraid of the very idea sex.”

“Maybe that explains her fighting,” Karen theorized. “Maybe she was raped and took self defense classes.”

“You didn’t see her in that alley, Karen,” Melissa said. “Those moves were like something from a martial arts movie. I think if she had wanted to, she could have killed those guys with out breaking a sweat.”

Melissa drained her glass of wine and then rose from her chair. She said good night to Karen and then went back into the house. As soon as she entered she could hear Brandi, and as she made her way up the stairs the sounds of her moans and cries of pleasure grew increasingly louder.

“Well, maybe she’s not that afraid of sex,” Melissa giggled as she entered her bedroom. She had a strong feeling it was going to be very interesting getting to know Brandi.

After her bath, Brandi stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. She heard Melissa and then Karen drift off to sleep, and decided she would take a walk. She had a lot to think about.

The rest of the quote from Sun Tzu came to mind, ‘If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle’.

She wondered if she would ever know either. Worse, she wondered if they were one and the same.

CHAPTER 18

“Good morning, Susan, did you sleep well?” Amanda Breton asked as Susan Covington joined her in the dining room for breakfast. She was beginning her fourth day at the estate and was beginning to think she could get used to the lifestyle very easily.

“Very well, and good morning to you, too, Amanda,” Susan said smiling. “I got an email from Brandi last night. She received the initial funds and is very excited about the trust. She is also extremely curious as to whom her mysterious benefactor is, but I respected your wish to remain anonymous for the time being.”

“It’s not modesty or anything like that,” Amanda told her. “I just don’t want to add to the stress that is already on her.”

“I think it would make her more comfortable knowing where the money is coming from,” Susan told her gently.

“I suppose you’re right,” Amanda replied after considering it for a moment. “You may tell her the next time you email her. How is she doing if you don’t mind my asking?”

Susan sighed and said, “I am a bit concerned about her.”

She went on to tell Amanda what Brandi had related to her in her last email; the full details of her ‘night out’ in LA and the hijacking of Arnie’s truck.

“The hijacking doesn’t concern me so much,” Susan admitted. “Of course every time she does something like that she risks exposure, but Brandi is going to take action in a situation like that; it’s just her nature to do so. But going out and looking for a fight, well, I feared that she might do something like that.”

“Why is that?” Amanda asked.

“Brandi is still fighting a battle inside,” Susan said. “She’s fighting both the artificially programmed sexual desire and the naturally programmed feminine mentality. The fight was an attempt to redirect those feelings and it very nearly backfired on her. I’m afraid that the more she resists the more the programming will assert itself, and eventually it will overwhelm her.”

“And if that happens?”

“She could very well become exactly what she is afraid she will become; a virtual slave to that programming.”

“I can only imagine what turmoil it is causing within her.” Amanda said sadly.

“It doesn’t have to be that way though,” Susan told her. “Everything I have read concerning Genomorphs in the Forerunner files indicates that while they were certainly very sensual women, they were not slaves to their sensuality. But they had accepted the gender change willingly, not had it forced on them. Brandi must accept that she is now a woman and learn to embrace that. If she can do that, the programming will not fight to ‘convert’ her.”

“I thought she had accepted that she is female?”

“No, Brandi accepted, pretty much from the start, that her body is female,” Susan corrected. “She still has to make the leap to accepting that she is female.”

“Do you think she will?” Amanda asked as Gretchen brought in breakfast for the two women. Susan had been told that she could speak freely in front of the staff.

“I think she is beginning to,” Susan said. “Immediately after the transformation Brandi was very much a forty year old man in a young woman’s body. But she may have made the first step that night in LA. She actually dressed like a girl. Yes, she did it to lure her ‘playmates’ out, but it was a step in the right direction. She even wore makeup, though she said she ended up looking like a prostitute, which probably fit the image she was going for anyway.

“She is beginning to develop a curiosity about the young woman she has become. She’s starting to explore exactly what that means, which of course leads to conflict with her memories as a man. Still, it’s the result I was desperately hoping for; the one thing that could not happen as long as she was confined to the lab. She was safe there, without a need to explore her new femininity. Now she must if she hopes to fit in to the world around her.”

“It sounds like she really has more than the male/female duality to deal with,” Amanda remarked. “It’s very much like having multiple personalities from the sound of it.”

“That’s a pretty accurate description,” Susan agreed. “I believe she has to deal with issues the Forerunners never intended. When they created a Genomorph, it was from a willing person.”

Susan grew very quiet as she toyed with her omelet.

“It wasn’t your fault, Susan,” Amanda said gently.

“I disagree,” Susan said bitterly. “I let my ambition blind me. There should have been more testing and research, years more, before we attempted to use the machine on a person.”

“If you let anything blind you it was your compassion and desire to help someone who had come to mean very much to you,” Amanda countered. “Your heart was pure. And if you made a mistake, then learn from it and move on. Blaming yourself will not help Brandi.”

CHAPTER 19

Dear Mom,

Do you believe in love at first sight? I met someone last night, a girl named Melissa. Three goons were attacking her in an alley and of course you know me. Don’t worry I didn’t hurt them too much.

I feel something when I look at Melissa…it’s more than just sexual attraction, much more. I felt it from the moment I first saw her. She’s not very big, about five six, but she was not going to go down without a fight. Then when we got back to her house and she told me she’s a lesbian…well I had to take a long hot bath and I finally broke in the vibrator I bought. It was definitely interesting. The feeling of having it inside me was incredible. The only problem is now I find myself thinking more of what it will be like with the real thing.

Could it be that even though I am programmed to be bisexual, that I still retain a preference for women? Even in the few days I have been out in the world I have had to fend off plenty of advances from men, and it is by no means easy. But I know that if Melissa were to make a pass at me I wouldn’t be able to resist, and that adds another level of concern. How can I ever know for sure if it’s me or just my programming that is causing these feelings?

The oddest thing about her is she seems very familiar to me. I have searched my memory though and I am sure I never met her before. Of course it would have had to be as Brandon, and it has been years since I was in California. But I can’t shake the feeling that there is something familiar about her.

Her roommate Karen is really nice too. She’s a bit more reserved than Melissa though in no way any less spirited.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. They are looking for a roommate and I am looking for a place to live. I’ve spent the whole night walking up and down the beach, trying to come to a decision. As I sit here looking out on the ocean as the first rays of the sun hit it from the east, I think I could really fall in love with this place. Actually I already have…

Bye for now

Brandi

The sun was well up in the sky when Brandi returned to the house. Melissa was seated at the dining room table, drinking a cup of coffee and browsing through the morning paper as Brandi entered. She looked up and smiled when she heard the door open.

“Have you been out all night?” Melissa asked as Brandi walked in. “I looked in on you when I got up and it didn’t look like you had slept in your bed.”

“I don’t really sleep that much and I had a lot of thinking to do,” Brandi said. “How’s your face?”

“It hurts like hell,” Melissa replied. Brandi stepped over to her, lifting Melissa’s face and gently touching her left cheek. “Karen’s getting dressed right now so she can take me to the ER.”

“You might have a fractured cheek bone,” Brandi said, a look of concern on her face. Melissa’s left eye was now swollen shut and she was obviously in a great deal of discomfort.

“It’s good that you’re having it looked at…”

Brandi cut her words short as she felt a tingling sensation in her fingers; the same sensation she felt when her body was healing. She started to pull her hand away but then saw that the swelling was decreasing. As she watched, Melissa’s eye slowly opened and the discoloration decreased significantly.

Melissa felt the same pleasant tingling sensation, and in seconds the pain in her face was gone. The pressure seemed to ease and she realized she could now see through her left eye.

“Wow, it doesn’t hurt anymore!” Melissa exclaimed, her hand flying to her cheek. It was still a bit tender but the swelling had obviously gone down considerably. Her own eyes widened and she bolted out of her chair, rushing to the bathroom in the back hall.

She was gone for several minutes, and when she returned, Brandi was sitting at the table with a sullen expression on her face.

So much for worrying about when I tell them, she thought bitterly. How the hell did I do that?

Melissa said nothing as she returned to her seat, just stared at Brandi expectantly.

“What’s going on?” Karen asked. She had emerged from her bedroom just as Melissa came out of the bathroom. In answer, Melissa turned her face so Karen could see the left side. There was still some swelling and redness, but the injury was significantly healed.

“Brandi touched it and …,” Melissa said, not sure how to describe what had happened. She and Karen both turned to look at their new friend.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” Brandi said quietly. “You better both have a seat, this is gonna take some explaining.”

Over the next thirty minutes Brandi told them her story. She gave them the whole truth; the mission in Iraq that had left Brandon scarred and crippled; the offer from Susan, everything about who she had been and how she had become the person she was now. By the time she finished she was struggling to keep her tears in.

Melissa was silent for a moment, and Brandi buried her face in her hands. She was hoping she had not just made a terrible mistake, afraid that they would ask her to leave. Then she felt a gentle touch, and Melissa pulled her hands away and then stroked her face.

“Oh Brandi…I knew there was something about you but I had no idea…”

Brandi pressed her face into Melissa’s hand, craving the contact, and then Melissa rose, knelt before her and pulled her into a tight embrace. Karen joined them and they held her as she cried herself out.

Finally, they separated and when Brandi looked into Melissa’s face she saw a strange expression there. Karen looked stunned, but then who could blame her.

“There’s one more thing you need to know,” Brandi said. “The day before I came to LA…I killed a man.”

She told them about the hijacking of Arnie’s truck and then paused a moment before saying, “I understand if you want me to leave.”

“No, no, not at all,” Melissa assured her. “I was just thinking that my whole world view has just been radically altered. Yesterday, I had this neat little picture of the world and now it’s totally changed. It’s like that movie ‘Men in Black’, when Tommy Lee Jones tells Will Smith, ‘imagine what you’ll know tomorrow’.”

At the mention of that particular movie Brandi stiffened noticeably, and Melissa’s mouth formed an O.

“I guess that movie isn’t as funny to you anymore, since you have the real thing after you,” Karen remarked.

“Yes, I do, and that’s why you both have to be very certain about this,” Brandi said with a deadly seriousness to her voice. “These people aren’t going to pull out a ‘flashy thing’ and erase your memory if they come. At best they would lock you away somewhere and at worst they…they…”

“They’ll kill us,” Melissa said, and then she reached out and caressed Brandi’s cheek once more.   There was a look of fiery determination in her eyes. “Then let’s just make sure they don’t find you, because I swear they’ll have to drag you away over my dead body.”

Brandi looked from Melissa to Karen, who nodded her head and put her hand on Brandi’s shoulder.

“Dammit, now I’m gonna cry again!” Brandi said.

CHAPTER 20

Susan logged into the secure email account Ryan had set up for her to see if there was a message from Brandi and instead found one from Ryan himself.

You need to see this!

Ryan

“Damn you, Ryan, if they catch you doing this…” Susan muttered under her breath as she opened the attached file. She had tried to get Ryan to leave the project when she did, but he had insisted that he could be of more use on the inside.

The file was additional information that had been deciphered, pertaining to the Genomorph Protocol. More specifically it described in some detail exactly how the machine transformed the subject.

They already knew that the Forerunner machine used the glowing purple plasma to affect its repairs. The plasma’s energy was able to alter the subject in a variety of ways when applied over a period of time. Simple repairs, even something as major as restoring a severed limb, took relatively little of the energy.

By applying slightly more of the energy, the machine could affect genetic repairs. Genetic errors, whether due to birth defects, age or some kind of damage, could be completely erased. The machine, which the report said was called a Genetic Manipulation Unit, was capable of removing years of aging, as evidence by Brandi.

To cause more radical change, such as altering the subject’s gender, the machine applied a large dose of the energy. Because the dose was so large, the subject’s cell structure remained saturated with the energy for a period of many years, making a basic change of gender long term. To attempt another gender modification too soon would destabilize the subject’s genetic structure, with horrific, and likely fatal, results.

Then, there was the Genomorph Protocol, which saturated the body with massive amounts of energy. The level was well beyond the point at which the subject’s genetic structure was destabilized, and that destabilization was part of the process. But it continued beyond altering the genetic structure, actually altering the Genomorph at the sub-atomic level. The very molecular structure was changed, making muscle, bone and sinew stronger. This massive dose of transforming energy was also what gave the Genomorph her hyper attuned senses and altered the structure of her brain, giving it the ability to process vast amounts of data at incredible speeds.

Once these alterations were completed, tiny cybernetic organisms were introduced into the subject. These were actual living machines, part organic and part mechanical, capable of reproducing and repairing themselves indefinitely. These nanocyborgs were charged with the same plasma the device used to affect genetic change, and each one carried the complete genetic pattern of the Genomorph within them. They acted to augment the Genomorph’s innate regenerative abilities, and as long as some of them remained functioning, any damage suffered would be repaired. The only way to destroy a Genomorph for certain was to inflict so much damage that the body and its nanocyborgs were utterly destroyed. That they had found records that spoke of the heavy rate of attrition among Genomorphs made it clear that the Forerunner’s enemies had possessed weapons capable of inflicting that kind of damage.

It was even possible for the Genomorph to introduce these nanocyborgs into another person to repair damage suffered. In small numbers the machines were unable to sustain themselves for long outside the Genomorph’s body and could not reproduce. If the injury was serious, the Genomorph could only stabilize the patient, as her built in self preservation programming prevented her from introducing too many nanocyborgs and thereby reducing her own ability to self-repair.

There was one instance in which the Genomorph could transfer a vast number of nanocyborgs. The data spoke of something that was translated as the ‘Bonding’. It was entered into by a Genomorph and a person they loved deeply, and was in a very real sense a wedding. The Genomorph in this case could introduce a massive number of nanocyborgs into the other person; nearly half of those currently in her body. This meant that until the missing machines were replaced, the Genomorph was dependent almost entirely on her innate regenerative powers, which while far greater than normal human healing was considerably slower than with a full compliment of nanocyborgs.

After this sharing, the nanocyborgs in the ‘bonded’ person were at the critical mass necessary to reproduce outside the Genomorph’s body, and they would begin making alterations in the person based on their programming. The data was incomplete and lacked any real details on this process, but the sketchy information indicated the result would be that the bonded individual would share the Genomorph’s accelerated ability to heal and with it their immunity to disease and aging. In effect, it allowed the Genomorph to fall in love, and never have to face watching the one they loved grow old and die.

Brandi would need to know about this, even though it appeared this ability could not be used accidentally. Still, she was going to be meeting people and making friends, maybe very close friends, and she needed to be informed of every aspect of her new body.

CHAPTER 21

“What are you smiling about?” Brandi asked as Melissa joined her on the deck. She had given her new friends some time to absorb everything.

“I was just doing a little research online. Can I bum a smoke? Oh, and Karen ran out for some groceries.”

Brandi extended her pack of Marlboros and Melissa took one, lighting it in the flame of Brandi’s Zippo lighter.

“I always fall back on smoking when I get stressed,” Melissa said as she exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“I’m sorry; I really don’t mean to add stress to your life.”

  “Oh, it’s not you sweetie,” Melissa said, and then amended her statement when Brandi gave her a dubious look. “Ok, it’s not just because of you. I was nearly gang raped last night remember. I hate feeling so helpless.”

“I know what you mean,” Brandi told her.

“You, helpless?” Melissa said, incredulous. “I saw you in action girl. You are anything but helpless.”

“That’s not when I feel it,” Brandi said. “I’m fine in a crisis or a fight; it’s the everyday stuff that makes me feel that way. Melissa, I don’t know how to be a girl. I know I need to start dressing more feminine, if for no other reason than it will make me blend in better. But I don’t know how. I know nothing about makeup or what to do with this hair.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you are going through,” Melissa said. “Having your gender changed would be bad enough, but all the other stuff you have to deal with is just overkill. Karen and I really want to help you if you’ll let us.”

“I need your help,” Brandi told her, “I’m through running from who I am. I can never go back, so I either have to move ahead or stand still.”

“Well, Karen and I were discussing that earlier,” Melissa said with a big smile. “When she gets back we’ll tell you what we have in mind.”

“Melissa, you have no idea how much this means to me,” Brandi said, her voice trembling. She fought to control her emotions and Melissa reached out and took her hand.

“Brandi, you don’t have to be afraid to cry,” she said. “We girls do that.”

Brandi nodded as she wiped her eyes, “That’s one of the things I’ve found easiest to adjust to. Just being able to let it out…but there’s still a part of me that wants to keep it all inside.”

“Hey, are you hungry?” Melissa asked, “We can whip up some scrambled eggs and sausage.”

“That would be great,” Brandi said. “Why don’t you let me fix breakfast? I’m a pretty good cook but I warn you; since I was changed I eat a lot.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Karen is getting groceries,” Melissa laughed. “If you want to cook, have at it. I confess I am pretty inept when it comes to the kitchen.”

Karen returned just as Brandi finished preparing their breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage. Melissa and Karen put the groceries away as Brandi set the food out on the table, and then the three sat down to eat.

“Brandi, these eggs are fantastic!” Melissa exclaimed. “What did you do?”

“I just added a few spices. A little dill and marjoram and thyme,” Brandi said.

“We have spices?” Karen said.

“They’re kinda old,” Brandi admitted.

“They were Mom’s I’m sure,” Melissa said. She toyed with her food for a moment and then looked at Brandi.

“Does it ever get easier?” She asked.

“Yes,” Brandi said. “The hurt never goes away completely, but it does get easier.”

“It must have been hard for you, being so far away,” Melissa said.

Brandi gave her a startled look and Melissa smiled, “I told you I had been doing some research on the internet. I looked up Brandon Anderson.”

“I’m on the internet?” Brandi said.

“Of course you are,” Karen laughed. “There are dozens of sites devoted to the Medal of Honor.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Melissa said. “I just wanted to know a little about your past and I was afraid you might be uncomfortable talking about it.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Brandi said. “I don’t really mind talking about it either. It was hard when my parents died. I felt a lot of guilt, like maybe if I had been there I could have prevented it.”

“You know that’s not true,” Melissa said.

“I do now,” Brandi said. “They were just sitting there watching TV when those punks kicked in the front door and shot them. There was no reason; it was totally senseless. If I had been there I would have been killed too most likely. But grief isn’t a rational process, it’s an emotional one.

“Maybe it was fate…that was what made me decide to become a SEAL. I wanted to be out there facing the bad guys, not standing on the deck of a ship.”

“You didn’t tell us you were such a cutie,” Karen giggled, deciding the subject needed to be lightened up. Then she sighed sadly, “Such a waste.”

Brandi looked confused once more and said, “You mean your not…”

“Oh no!” Karen laughed. “I did a bit of experimenting when I started college but I just like men way too much.”

“Way too much,” Melissa echoed, grinning. “Be careful, Brandi, she could rub off on you.”

Brandi had a good laugh at that saying, “More likely I would rub off on her.”

They ate in silence for a bit but Melissa kept looking at Brandi. It was obvious she had more questions and just as obvious she did not know how to ask them.

“You can’t offend me, Melissa,” Brandi told her. “It may not be a comfortable subject but pretending it isn’t part of me won’t make it go away.”

“Well, I was just wondering what it’s like,” Melissa said. “I mean what do you feel?”

“I don’t know if I can describe it properly, but I’ll try,” Brandi said. “I’m basically aroused all the time. That is not as bad as it sounds, because I can control it. But when someone shows interest in me…when a guy comes on to me, then the programming seems to kick it up.”

“That must be pretty horrible,” Karen said. “So any guy that hits on you sends you into overdrive?”

Brandi thought for a moment before answering, “Not exactly. I do have my standards, thankfully. If I don’t find the person attractive it’s not bad. And if they come on like a total jerk it’s a big turn off.”

“Is it the same feeling for men and women?” Melissa asked.

“There is a difference,” Brandi said, hesitantly. “With men it’s like a need, a very powerful need…and it scares me. It’s like being very thirsty, I mean stuck in the desert thirsty, and all you have to drink is some nasty, smelly water. You know you have to drink it, but you really don’t want to.”

“Now there’s a pleasant analogy,” Karen quipped.

“Sorry,” Brandi grinned. “My experiences in survival training brought that out. With women it is definitely different. There is the same need but there is also a very strong desire. I guess there is enough of Brandon left in me to make me want to be with a woman, and that added to the programming makes the feelings more intense with women. This is the first time I’ve been around a girl I knew was…attainable though.”

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Melissa asked. When Brandi hesitated answering, she smiled softly and said, “You can be honest, sweetie.”

“I wouldn’t, like, call it uncomfortable,” Brandi said, feeling a bit flushed. “Maybe too comfortable is better. Like, so comfortable it becomes uncomfortable. I don’t know…it’s very confusing. And I like you too, and that makes it…well…more intense.”

“I like you too Brandi, but you don’t have to worry about me coming on to you,” Melissa said. “I can’t even imagine what you must go through. Men and women are such emotionally different creatures, and to have a woman’s emotions just dumped on you…I think it would drive most men mad.”

Even as she spoke Brandi could feel it building. She could clearly sense the reactions of both her friends. With Karen there was curiosity and sympathy, but no trace of arousal. From Melissa, however, she could sense an elevated heartbeat and a slight rise in her body temperature. She could smell the scent of her arousal, the chemical signals her body sent out that were lost to a normal person. The reaction only served to heighten her own feelings.

“Do I need to get a bucket of cold water?” Karen asked, and they all laughed.

“Ok now I have a question, and then we’ll stop grilling you,” Karen said. “I was wondering about what you felt when you got behind that machinegun. I mean did you think about the possibility you could get hurt or die? What gives someone the strength to do that?”

“It was love,” Brandi told her without hesitation. “Yes, I knew there was a good chance I was going to die; in fact I expected to die.   It was really a miracle that I survived. But it was really all about love. In combat you develop a strong bond, especially in an elite group like the SEALs. We call it camaraderie or the warrior bond or any of a dozen other things, but I can look at it from a new perspective now, from the emotional view point of a woman.

“There’s another quote from Sun Tzu, ‘Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look upon them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death’. I loved those men; they were my brothers, they were my children, and they would have stood by me to the end. But I had to get them out of there. And if getting them out of there required my life then I was willing….I was happy to pay that price. So I made the decision to stay and give them the time to get away.”

“I wish I was that brave.” Melissa said after a moment.

“Don’t you sell yourself short,” Brandi replied. “I saw you; you fought those goons in the alley. You never gave in, even though the odds were badly against you.”

“That was fear,” Melissa said. “I had this flashback in the alley last night. When I was eleven I almost died. We were in San Diego visiting my dad’s brother and we went to the beach. I wandered away from my parents and then ended up caught in a riptide.”

Brandi stared at Melissa as she related her story, a story that had triggered a memory from Brandon’s past with crystal clarity. Suddenly she knew why Melissa seemed so familiar.

“But someone pulled you out,” Brandi said in a stunned voice. “He was jogging along the beach and heard you screaming. He swam out and got to you as you were going under and pulled you back to shore.”

“That’s right!” Melissa exclaimed. “They said he forced the water out of my lungs and did rescue breathing until I started breathing on my own. Then the paramedics showed up and, well, I never even really saw him…”

Melissa stopped and stared, her mouth open. It took Karen a moment longer to put the pieces together and then she too looked at Brandi in stunned amazement.

“There is no way!” Melissa exclaimed.

“I knew there was something familiar about you,” Brandi grinned. “I just couldn’t place your face…that was almost fourteen years ago. You’ve certainly grown up.”

“This is too weird,” Karen said slowly. “I mean what are the odds…with everything you’ve been through…”

“What are the odds that I would sneak into the sleeper of Arnie’s truck?” Brandi asked. “Like you said, so much has happened to me, so much that is beyond belief…what’s one more?”

“I guess being transformed into a woman is enough to make you take things in stride but I am still…I just can’t believe it!” Melissa said.

  

“Well, maybe it is fate,” Karen offered. “Maybe you two were supposed to be together. I mean just look at it this way, fourteen years ago Brandon saved Melissa’s life. Then one day Melissa realizes she likes girls, not guys, and here we are fourteen years later and Brandon is now Brandi and nineteen years younger.”

“Actually twenty-three years younger,” Brandi said sheepishly. “Biologically I’m seventeen.”

“Well I think age is definitely relative with you,” Karen said.

Brandi turned to Melissa and put her hand on her arm.

“Don’t let the fact that you were afraid in the alley fool you,” she said. “Fear and courage go hand in hand. All of us feel fear. In the end, courage is just finding the strength to overcome that fear and not let it overcome you.”

They finished breakfast and cleared the table, loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Brandi saw that most of the groceries Karen had picked up were frozen entrees and such, and decided she would do some shopping of her own. Brandon had always enjoyed cooking and she felt good thinking she could contribute something useful to the household.

“Now are you ready to see what else I picked up?” Karen asked with a big grin. “I had to guess your size but I’m pretty good about that.”

“Once we get you fixed up we can go do some serious shopping,” Melissa added.

“How fixed up?” Brandi asked, a sick feeling growing in her stomach.

“Nothing extreme,” Karen assured her. “I think you’ll like what I got. And I got some basic makeup.”

Brandi sighed, “All right, let’s get it over with.”

“Oooh nice attitude,” Melissa laughed. “I know it’s hard for you sweetie, and you can tell us to back off anytime you feel uncomfortable.”

The clothes were not bad at all, a pair of black military style cargo pants and a white button down shirt; very similar to what Brandi had been wearing. They were cut for a woman though, the pants were much slimmer fitting and were capri length, and the blouse likewise was tighter and had three quarter length sleeves.

“I got a pair of flats and some pumps with low heels too,” Karen said.

Brandi considered the shoes for a moment before saying, “Well hell, might as well jump in the deep end and wear the heels. I’ve actually got some boots with four inch heels, but I’ve only worn them once.”

“So you have tried going out in girl’s clothes before?” Melissa asked.

“Like I said only once,” Brandi explained. “My first night here in LA I was very restless, sexually and, well, I’m made for other kinds of action too. So I got some sexy clothes and even some makeup, which I totally made of mess of using. Then I went to this little park and trolled for some trouble. I got in a fight with six gang bangers and nearly ended up having sex with one of them right there…I totally lost it for a bit.”

“That is really wild,” Karen remarked as Brandi slipped off her shirt and bra. “Would you like us to step outside?”

“I don’t mind if you stay,” Brandi said. “Modesty was not part of my programming.”

The clothes looked good on her, and were not so different from what she was used to wearing that she felt too uncomfortable. They did emphasize her curves much more, and with the two inch black pumps and her exposed calves her legs looked very long and sensuous.

Once she was dressed Karen did her makeup, telling her that for the sake of time she would do it all and later they could coach her as she applied it herself. She did not let Brandi look at herself as she worked, waiting until she was finished to turn her to face the mirror over the vanity.

“Wow,” Brandi said softly. She looked the same and yet different. Karen had done a marvelous job, and her face looked more mature.

“You don’t need a lot of makeup unless you’re trying to look dramatic,” Karen told her. “Your complexion is absolutely perfect; but a little makeup never hurts.”

“You look incredible, Brandi,” Melissa told her with a big smile. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” Brandi said, still staring at her reflection.

“Uh huh, and how do you really feel?”

“Ok, I am, like, totally terrified,” Brandi admitted.

“Let’s go out on the balcony and we can tell you what we have planned,” Melissa suggested.

Brandi picked up her cigarettes and lighter from the night stand and started to stick them in one of the cargo pockets on her pants when she noticed her friends giving her a disapproving look.

“What?” she asked.

Karen only smiled and pulled a black canvas purse from the bag the clothes had been in. Brandi sighed and took it, putting her cigarettes and lighter and other items in it. It was a casual type purse with lots of zippered and Velcro secured compartments to organize everything. Once she had the purse filled, including a few essential makeup items Melissa and Karen insisted she needed, she slipped the strap over her right shoulder, turned and stuck her tongue out at them.

“Satisfied?” she asked.

They left Brandi’s room, crossed the hall and entered Melissa’s bedroom. It was larger than the living room downstairs. Brandi noticed among the other furnishings a treadmill and a very elaborate electronic keyboard. She had noticed the night before that there was an upright piano in the living room.

“Do you play, Melissa?” she asked, gesturing towards the keyboard, and then smacked her head and answered her own question. “Duh, blonde moment. You’re working on your masters in music.”

“Yes, piano is my main instrument,” Melissa laughed. “I also play guitar and cello, plus a few others.”

“Brandon played the guitar,” Brandi said as they stepped out onto the balcony. “He had a Yamaha twelve string acoustic.”

“He?” Melissa asked. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you refer to Brandon like he was someone else.”

“It feels like that sometimes,” Brandi admitted. “More right now than ever before. Maybe it’s the clothes.”

“We saw a picture on a website of you playing on stage,” Karen said as they sat down. Brandi lit a cigarette and handed the pack to Melissa.

“That was probably at Underway,” Brandi said. “It’s a club near the base in Norfolk that caters to the navy crowd.”

“We have a band,” Karen told her. “I sing lead and Melissa plays keyboards. Our friends Cyndi, Renee and Ami are the rest of the band. We’re called the Post-Modern Bimbos.”

Brandi began laughing so hard she could not speak for several seconds. When she at last found her voice she said, “They sound like my kind of girls.”

“We’re getting together tomorrow,” Melissa said. “You should come and meet the gang. Being around other women can only help you adapt.”

“That sounds like fun,” Brandi said.

“Well, I’m sure you’re anxious to hear what we have planned for you today,” Karen said with a wicked grin.

“Please be gentle with me,” Brandi begged.

“No promises,” Karen told her.

CHAPTER 22

Doctor Barbara Currant, the new head of research for the Forerunner project, looked up from the stack of reports on her desk at the knock on her office door. She was an attractive woman of thirty, though she looked much younger, and though very young for such a position she was one of the leading researchers in the world in genetics. And other than Susan Covington no one knew more about the Forerunners and their ability to manipulate genetics.

“Come in Mr. Sanders.”

The door opened and Ryan Sanders, lead programmer, entered the office carrying a file folder. He took the chair she gestured to and waited for her to speak.

“I’m very busy Mr. Sanders, please make this brief,” Currant said curtly.

“Of course Dr. Currant,” Ryan said, fidgeting nervously. “I’ve been working on the reconstruction of the Genomorph Protocol and I found something disturbing.”

Ryan offered the folder to her, and Barbara took it, scanning the pages within for several seconds before looking up.

“I’m a geneticist not a programmer, what exactly is this?”

Ryan rose from the chair and moved around behind the desk so he could show her what he was speaking of.

“These are lines of undamaged code I was able to recover from the program,” Ryan said, gesturing to the pages. “Only about thirty percent was actually lost, so there is a lot of code still existing.”

Ryan flipped to another page of code, “These are also recovered code lines, but there is something wrong with them. There are errors. The Forerunner programming language is very complex, and they are errors that would be easy enough to make if someone was not one hundred percent fluent in it.”

“So you are saying the program was flawed from the start?”

“No, I’m saying someone altered the program,” Ryan told her. “These lines come from the portion of the code that governed behavioral modifications. These lines were intended to remove the subject’s free will, make them totally obedient.”

“I’m not sure I follow you Mr. Sanders.”

“Someone wanted Brandi to be a robot!” Ryan said angrily. “If this had worked, she would have lost the ability to do anything except what she was ordered…the perfect soldier in someone’s eyes.”

“But how could anyone modify a program no one knew existed?” Currant asked.

“That’s just it, someone did know it existed!” Ryan shouted. “And if they knew it existed, and made these alterations, then they knew that Brandon would trigger it. This was done intentionally!”

“Calm down Mr. Sanders,” Currant ordered. “Please sit down.”

Ryan did as she asked. He knew he had to keep his emotions in check. He was far from sure that he could trust this woman, but he was all alone on the project with Susan gone.

“So these errors prevented the added programming from taking effect?” Currant asked.

“Actually no,” Ryan told her. “The errors are more or less cosmetic. They are just what caused me to notice the addition. The syntax and flow of the Forerunner’s computer language is very elegant and concise, these additions were clumsy and tedious, but there were no errors that would have prevented the program from working.”

“So why didn’t it work?”

“Because I believe it violated, conflicted, with other programming,” Ryan said hesitantly.

Dr. Currant looked at Ryan intently for a moment, “You mean Brandon’s own genetic programming, the warrior genes.”

“It makes sense,” Ryan said. “Look at the attributes we know of that the Forerunner’s prized in a Genomorph; a sense of duty, loyalty, resolve, self-sacrifice and compassion. The very type of person they were looking for, what they saw as the ultimate expression of a true warrior, would totally reject the idea of blind obedience and enslavement. The control program failed because a love of freedom is encoded in Brandi’s very genes. And ultimately, that’s why she ran. She knew what they intended and it went against everything she is.”

“And with such a warrior, they never had to fear their power being abused,” Currant said. “In fact, the very presence of Genomorphs would provide a strong incentive to maintain a free society.”

“A pretty powerful incentive,” Ryan agreed.

“Why did you come to me with this?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Ryan admitted. “But I had to tell someone. I’m out on a limb…you were brought in to replace Susan and for all I know you are part of this too. It had to come down from the top.”

“I suspect that you don’t really care about being out on a limb,” Currant commented, leaning back in her chair and regarding Ryan intently. “You’ve made it no secret that you share Dr. Covington’s views on the way Brandi was handled.”

Ryan looked sharply at Currant. No one, other than himself, ever referred to Brandi by name. They preferred to keep it clinical, calling her the Genomorph, as though that could distance them from what had been done.

“I like Brandi,” Ryan said slowly. “And though I only knew him a few days, I liked Brandon too. He didn’t deserve this. What really sickens me is all they had to do was ask. Brandon hated what his life had become. If he had been offered the chance to be healed, even if it meant becoming a woman, he would have taken it. He would have worked for them.”

“I suspect you’re right, he would have done as he was asked, for a time,” Currant replied. “Until he was asked to do something that conflicted with his convictions. Then he would have rebelled, just as the Forerunners intended.”

“That’s called freedom of choice,” Ryan said bitterly. “It’s supposed to be what this country is all about.”

“Perhaps, at any rate you are correct; this would have come down from the highest level,” Barbara said. “And as such my options are extremely limited. I thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“What you have been doing,” Currant told him. “Don’t draw any attention to yourself and under no circumstances speak of this to anyone. You are invaluable to the research here, Mr. Sanders. That you caught this demonstrates that you know more about the programming language of the Forerunners than any other. But that won’t protect you if the power behind this decides you are a threat. Remember that.”

“All right, Dr. Currant, I will.”

Ryan rose and walked towards the door. As he was about to open it, Currant spoke once more.

“And Ryan, please be very careful. I would hate to see anything happen to you,” Barbara said.

After Ryan left Barbara studied the pages of code and smiled. It was deliciously ironic. The organization had sought to create the ultimate weapon; assassin, spy, saboteur, unstoppable and perfectly controlled. Instead, they had very likely created the instrument of their own destruction.

*****

Brandi looked at the display window of the shop and swallowed. The place was called Nikki’s, and the mannequins in the window were clothed in a variety of lacy, ultra feminine lingerie.

“Breathe, sweetie,” Melissa whispered as they entered the shop.

Brandi drew in a deep breath and said, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Suddenly, Brandi felt as though the room was closing in around her. She began backing out the door, shaking her head.

“Like, no way! I…I can’t. This is, like, so totally wrong…I don’t belong here.”

Melissa gently placed her hands on Brandi’s shoulders and gave her a gentle shake as she looked into her eyes.

“You can do this,” she said gently. “It’s there inside you, Brandi, the courage to overcome the fear.”

Brandi bit her lip and nodded slowly, allowing Melissa to pull her back into the shop.

“Just try to relax,” Karen told her. “Nikki and her girls are really nice. You even know one of her employees already.”

“Oh really?” Brandi asked. “Um, like who? You guys are the only people I know in LA.”

“Me, silly,” Karen said, putting her arm around Brandi’s shoulder. “You really are freaked out about this, aren’t you?”

“On so many levels,” Brandi nodded. “My brain, like, totally shuts down when I get this way. So you really work here?”

“Three nights a week and every other weekend,” Karen said. “I also get most of my lingerie here. I’m not as hard to fit as you, but the double D stuff you can get off the rack in most stores is just plain ugly.”

Brandi looked around the shop, her eyes wide. There were racks of lingerie of all types, all very beautiful. She had no idea what to call most of it; she thought of lingerie in terms of bras and panties, and had never realized there were so many different kinds of each.

“She’s gonna think I’m retarded or something,” Brandi whined. “I don’t even know what most of this stuff is for!”

“I’ve got it covered,” Karen assured her.

As they approached the counter a middle aged woman emerged from the back room. Her hair was silver but her face had a youthful appearance that looked like it was from years of careful care and not surgical aid. She smiled broadly when she saw the three young women.

“Karen, Melissa, so good to see you both,” she said. “And who is this lovely young lady?”

“This is our new roommate, Brandi,” Melissa said.

“A pleasure to meet you, Brandi,” Nikki said with a disarming smile. “I am Nicole Aubrey but please call me Nikki. Welcome to my shop.”

Brandi greeted Nikki and smiled. The older woman’s demeanor helped to put her more at ease but she still felt terribly out of place. Every remaining vestige of the man she had been was screaming that she did not belong in this place.

Melissa pulled Brandi off to show her some of items while Karen remained at the counter. When they were across the shop, she leaned close and spoke to Nikki in a low voice.

“Brandi is a bit of a special case,” Karen told her. “She was raised by her dad and older brother. Her dad was kind of strict and overprotective, and he really didn’t know what to do with a little girl. Mostly, she had to wear hand me downs from her brother and the only bras she has ever owned are sports bras. Now she’s out on her own and she has a trust fund from an aunt who died, but it’s like she doesn’t know how to be a girl. And she’s a little skittish about all this.”

“Oh, that is a shame!” Nikki lamented. “A girl that gorgeous simply needs to be wearing pretty things.”

“That’s why we’re taking her shopping,” Karen smiled. “We figured it was best to start at the foundation though. And with her figure she’s not going to find anything nice at the mall.”

“Well, let me get her in back and have a look and take her measurements.” Nikki said. “I do hope that having Brandi as your roommate will allow you and Melissa to quit those dreadful bar jobs.”

“I put in my notice today,” Karen smiled. “Melissa did too and her jerk boss told her not to bother coming in on Monday, which is just as well.”

Melissa and Brandi returned and Brandi seemed a bit more at ease. Of course she had heard every word that was exchanged between the two while they were gone, so she was prepared to play along with the story.

Nikki led them into the back, where a young woman with bright red hair styled in a pixie cut was unpacking items and hanging them on rolling racks to move out onto the sales floor. She saw Karen and smiled.

“Hiya, Karen, enjoying the weekend off?” she asked. She had a very freckled face and a cherubic look to her, and her hazel eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint.

“It’s been fun so far, Berni,” Karen replied. “This is my friend, Brandi.”

Brandi smiled shyly and Bernie giggled, “You’re really pretty, Brandi. Nikki will have a field day dressing you up.”

“Thank you, Berni,” Brandi said. “That’s an unusual name for a girl isn’t it?”

“It’s short for Ibernia,” Berni explained. She had an even more girlish voice than Brandi, and she tended to talk very fast.   “It’s Irish, and it means ‘from Ireland’, which is kinda funny ‘cause I’m from Santa Monica.”

“Ibernia, be a dear and watch the counter,” Nikki said.

“Sure thing, Nikki! Nice to meet you, Brandi.” Berni said and practically skipped out of the back room.

“She’s very cheerful,” Brandi remarked.

“Berni is always like that.” Karen said. “She has a bit ‘o the leprechaun in her I think.”

“Well, let’s see what we have here,” Nikki said. “Brandi if you don’t mind I need you to remove your blouse and bra. If that makes you uncomfortable I can get the measurements while you are clothed, but it helps me fit you better if I can get a look at your body. Usually I would have you keep your bra on but that sports bra you’re wearing would throw the measurements off.”

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” Brandi assured her. “Is it all right if Melissa and Karen stay?”

“Whatever makes you comfortable, dear.”

Brandi removed her clothes until she was standing naked from the waist up. It amazed her that she could be so unnerved by entering the shop but standing there naked did not bother her at all. Even if the Genomorph programming had not left her with any sense of modesty regarding her body, she had endured enough examinations in her four months at the lab to have eliminated it anyway. Still, she fidgeted and gave the appearance that she was nervous to bolster the story Karen had spun.

Nikki quickly and professionally took Brandi’s measurements. The only truly uncomfortable moment was when Brandi gasped involuntarily as Nikki settled the tape measure over her nipples.

“It’s all right honey; no one has ever died from embarrassment yet,” Nikki told her.

After Nikki had her measurements she gave Brandi a robe to put on while she waited.

“You could go with a 36 F or G depending on the brand,” Nikki said. “With your bust an improperly fitted bra would be very uncomfortable.”

“Daddy tried but he just didn’t know what to do,” Brandi said shyly, playing her part. “I think he was kinda embarrassed ‘cause I got…well so big, so young.”

“I’m sure he meant well sweetheart,” Nikki said. “I’ll go pick out some nice items and be back shortly.”

“How are you holding up, kiddo?” Melissa asked when Nikki was gone.

“All right,” Brandi told her. “I’m just glad she took my reaction for surprise. Besides that jerk in the alley the only person who has ever touched my breasts is me, at least while I was conscious. It kinda caught me off guard.”

“If you’re up to it after we’re done shopping I’m sure I could line up some volunteers,” Karen said.

Brandi stuck her tongue out at her and said, “Thank you…not!”

Nikki returned a few minutes later with a selection of bras, panties and even several corsets and bustiers plus an assortment of garters and stockings. For the next hour and a half she tried on items and Nikki grilled her about the fit and feel of each, discarding those that were uncomfortable and setting those that felt good aside. When they were finished Brandi was wearing a new white lace underwire demi bra and matching panties under her clothes and had three bags full of additional lingerie.

“Do you participate in any high impact sports, Brandi?” Nikki asked as they were totaling up the purchases. Karen rolled her eyes and Melissa giggled.

“I jog and do martial arts,” Brandi said. She turned and glared at her friends before returning her attention to Nikki.

“Well I would recommend you get some sports bras from Enell,” Nikki said. “They will serve you far better than the one you were wearing. They don’t stock them in your size but they will custom make them for you.”

“Could you order half a dozen for me?” Brandi asked.

Nikki smiled and nodded, “Of course, dear. I’ll give you a call when they come in. If you like, I can also recommend some excellent custom dress shops. With your figure you will have to have any evening dresses and such custom made if you want them to fit properly.”

“Thank you, Nikki, that’s very kind of you.” Brandi said. “I don’t think I’ll need any formal wear any time soon but it wouldn’t hurt to have some options.”

“You never know, my dear,” Nikki said as she handed Brandi several business cards. “These are all personal friends of mine, and through them you can get anything from formal cocktail dresses to club wear. Just let them know I sent you and they will take good care of you.”

The three girls left the shop and began walking down the block to where Melissa’s Ford Escape was parked. Karen and Melissa watched Brandi for a few minutes and then both began giggling hysterically.

“What?” Brandi asked, looking down to see if she had come undone.

“You jiggle a lot more,” Karen said. “But you really look gorgeous. You just need one minor adjustment.”

They stopped and Karen unfastened the top two buttons on Brandi’s blouse and opening it up some.

Brandi looked down at the cleavage she was now displaying and said, “Oh wow.”

“I can’t believe you just spent nearly twelve hundred dollars on lingerie,” Melissa remarked.

“Hey, it’s all good,” Karen grinned. “I get credit for the commission.”

CHAPTER 23

Dear Mom,

  

I am glad we can use the email to communicate regularly now. I guess you have read my earlier diary entries that I sent. I am going to continue writing them - they are really helping me sort things out. Its just great knowing that you are getting to read them, almost like we are actually talking…almost.

I really like Melissa, and even though I’ve known her less than two days, it is already hard to imagine not having her in my life. I really think I am falling for her. Karen is great too. She reminds me a lot of you; very driven but very caring as well. Karen is working on her masters in political science, and it’s nice to be able to talk to her and not sound like a ditz. Really both of them are amazing. I mean here they were going to grad school and working two jobs. True, Melissa’s other job is as a teaching assistant, but she was putting in a nine hour day at the university and then working at the bar. Thankfully they have both been able to quit those jobs.

I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised that I am falling for another girl. After all I was a man for forty   years and I’ve only been a girl for four months. I know I am programmed to be bisexual, but I’m learning that there is a difference between sexual attraction and emotional attraction, and I believe it may be even more of a distinction for me. I have to admit that I enjoyed the attention I was getting from guys as we shopped, especially once I was properly dressed. But at the same time, I knew that what I was feeling for Melissa, and my pleasure at her obvious admiration for my new look, was different. It was deeper and far more intense.

I’m still dealing with knowing that she was that little girl I pulled from the water all those years ago. Do you believe in fate? I mean, look at my life since the transformation…the people who have helped me; Arnie, Melissa, Amanda Breton and of course you. If their paths had not crossed Brandon’s where would I be now? Of course if I had not been on that mission in Iraq I would not be who I am now…or would I? I wonder.

Shopping was definitely an experience, and after I got over my initial nervousness I really started enjoying it. I even enjoyed trying on all the clothes…I guess I am a bit of an exhibitionist. Ok, more than a bit.

By the time we were through the back of Melissa’s SUV was packed. I even picked up some bathing suits, mostly one pieces but Melissa and Karen insisted that I get a couple of bikinis as well. I think it will be a while before I wear them though, they didn’t really have anything for my…dimensions…and so they are pretty skimpy. Still I guess I have seen plenty of girls wearing less here so I would not draw anymore attention then I usually do. I miss the ocean and the long swims I used to take, kind of a part of being a SEAL. It will be nice to be able to do that again.

I am so lucky that I have Melissa and Karen to help me out. At first we tried to just go by what naturally appealed to me in the way of clothes. But when I just let myself go and picked something based on my first impression, I always went for the skimpiest, sexiest stuff. If I had been on my own…well let’s just say my wardrobe would have been interesting and would certainly have drawn plenty of attention my way.

In the end, Melissa and Karen kept me in check. I have a nice selection, mostly conservative, some sexy but tasteful outfits and a few down right racy ones. Hey, a girl’s gotta cut loose sometimes.

Well I have a makeup lesson scheduled, then we are going to take a walk along the boardwalk, and you know what? I’m actually looking forward to it.

Oh one more thing, I’m afraid Amanda Breton was not entirely truthful about our meeting. She had a son, fresh out of medical school, with her at the hospital, and she was very concerned for his safety.   If she had been alone, I suspect I would have had to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the chopper. She is a good person, and a classy lady. Knowing we have her on our side makes me feel a lot better.

*****

“Are you sure you’ve never worn heels before today?” Melissa asked. They were walking along the boardwalk as the sun was starting to dip low towards the Pacific. It was just the two of them as Karen had told them she needed to work on her thesis. Melissa suspected that her friend was playing matchmaker. “You sure didn’t have trouble with those heels Karen got you.”

“Just the boots,” Brandi giggled. She had gone from the two inch heels Karen had gotten for her to a pair of white sandals with no heel for their walk. She was feeling more girlish than she had since the transformation, and she wondered if finally taking the plunge and dressing feminine had triggered something in her programming. Then again, perhaps it was just that the programming was backing off with her growing acceptance.

“It’s this body; it adapts and learns very quickly.” Brandi said. “You should have seen me the first time I got out of bed. The, ah, difference in weight distribution and the tendency of parts of me to bounce made me really awkward for a couple of days.”

“And how are you dealing with your outfit?”

Brandi looked down at her body. She was wearing a dark pink, mid length ruffled skirt and a white satin blouse with long bell sleeves. The outfit was not overly sexy, though the blouse had a v neck that revealed a good bit of cleavage, which was only emphasized by her new demi bra.

“It’s…different,” Brandi said carefully. “Wearing a skirt and stockings definitely feels strange. Not bad, just strange. And I’m still getting used to looking down and seeing my boobs so exposed. How does my makeup look?”

“You look gorgeous,” Melissa said, a bit shyly. “Your makeup is a little on the heavy side but it’s very good considering how little practice you’ve had. The question is how do you feel?”

“I feel really good,” Brandi said after a moment’s contemplation. “It’s like, I don’t know how to describe it exactly, almost a giddy feeling. I feel free, like I’m not trying to hide anymore. The biggest difference besides the skirt and stockings is not wearing a sports bra. I seem to be, um, bouncing a bit more than usual.

“Of course, there’s still this undercurrent of stark, raving terror. If I dwell on it, I can hear a voice in the back of my mind screaming, ‘What the hell are you doing!’ But there is a sense of relief too that outweighs the fear. I’ve fought this for months because I was afraid I would feel like this; I was afraid I would like it. But I think the only way I can really be at peace with who I am now is to be who I am.”

“So, what do you think about a trip to the salon this week?” Melissa suggested. “You could get your hair shortened and styled. Personally I love the way it looks but you have to be comfortable with it.”

Brandi touched her hair self consciously. Melissa had shown her how to form two braids on either side of her head in front of her ears, and then use the braids to wrap under her hair and around it, fastening the braids at the top with a pink butterfly shaped clip. The braids were long enough that they wrapped around several times, and it looked much more stylish than the simple scrunchies she had been using.

“Well, a style maybe, but getting it cut is pointless,” Brandi told her. “It would grow back out overnight. I have to admit I’ve gotten used to it now, and I do like the way it looks. Now that I know some tricks to styling it I think I’ll be fine.”

“Well, never underestimate what a day of pampering can do for you,” Melissa told her with a smile. “And you could really freak a manicurist out with those nails of yours.”

As they were walking, a young man passed by on a skateboard. He looked to be about eighteen and was very cute, and Brandi flashed him a big smile as she caught his eye. A moment after he passed there was a loud crash and a cry of surprise from behind them. Brandi and Melissa whirled around to see the young man sprawled on the ground after having run right into a trash receptacle. Brandi rushed over to where he lay, moving surprisingly fast in her heels and bouncing the whole time. Melissa just stood there laughing.

“Are you all right, honey?” Brandi asked sweetly, kneeling down beside his stunned form. “That was some header!”

“Uh yeah…yeah, I’m ok,” He stammered, his face red with embarrassment. Brandi helped him to his feet, feeling what was becoming a familiar desire spreading through her body.

“You need to be more careful, you could hurt yourself,” Brandi said seriously, wondering why Melissa was giggling beside her. “It’d be a shame to mess up such a cute face.”

“Yeah, I guess I should watch where I’m going,” He mumbled, blushing even more. “My name’s Kevin by the way.”

“I’m Brandi, and this is my friend Melissa,” Brandi told him. She clasped her hands behind her back and gave her head a shake, tossing her hair and making her breasts jiggle.

“Nice to meet you,” Kevin said, smiling as he began to recover his composure. “So you live around here Brandi? I don’t think I’ve seen you before and I’m sure I would have remembered.”

“Well, as a matter of fact….”

“Yes, we do live around here,” Melissa interrupted. “My friend just moved out here and I’m showing her the sights, which we really should get back to. Nice meeting you, Kevin, and try to watch where you’re going, ok?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Kevin said. “Nice meeting you ladies, too. Maybe I’ll see you around Brandi.”

“Oh, I plan on being around for a while honey,” Brandi giggled. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you sweetie!”

Melissa began tugging her by the arm and Brandi reluctantly followed. When they were out of earshot of Kevin, she turned to her friend and pouted.

“That was kinda rude wasn’t it?” Brandi said. “I mean, like, the poor guy was embarrassed enough as it was. It was kinda cute the way he was blushing though.”

“Earth to Brandi!” Melissa said, rapping her knuckles on the top of Brandi’s head for effect. “You are in full blown bimbo mode. Did you want me to let you just go off somewhere with him?”

Brandi thought a moment, her big violet eyes blinking and widening. It was like Melissa could see her shifting gears. “Yes, I … I did. I really did.”

“And if you had gotten alone with him some place, what would you have done?” Melissa asked gently. “Even if he is the nicest guy in the world, do you think he could have said no when you started throwing yourself at him? When you were Brandon, at that age, could you have turned down a girl like you that was begging for sex?”

“I doubt it,” Brandi admitted after another moment’s thought. They walked in silence a while before Brandi spoke again. Brandi could sense that Melissa was bordering on anger, and the reaction confused her for a moment.

“Were you, like, jealous?” she asked quietly. “I mean, like, I really didn’t mean to make you mad.”

Melissa stopped and regarded her friend for a moment, and then she sighed.

“Yes, I was a little jealous,” she admitted. “Ok, it was more than a little. I like you Brandi…more than like you. I mean I know we just met, but I feel a very strong connection to you, and it’s more than just because you saved me. And I admit, knowing what happened to you is kind of a turn on. It’s exotic, and I like exotic.

“The anger I felt…well it wasn’t so much directed at you as it was at what was done to you. The rest was at me. You told us what you got like around guys…but until I saw it there, I really didn’t understand. You switched gears so fast it was scary. I wasn’t ready for it.”

Melissa put her arm around Brandi’s shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“I feel responsible for you, too. You can do so much, you are so capable in many things but you are emotionally and socially a teenage girl. I know what it’s like to feel those hormones raging, and from what I have just saw it is ten times stronger for you. You worry yourself about what new abilities you may discover and yet you have no clue about the one you already have, the power of a beautiful girl. You don’t even realize that the reason he hit the damn trash can in the first place is he was checking you out!”

“Really?” Brandi said, and then she giggled. “Ooops!”

Melissa laughed, “Every guy that we have passed has practically wrenched their neck when they saw you. You’re the kind of girl most of them have only seen in a magazine, or on stage at a strip club…or in a porn movie. The kid barely even noticed me.”

“Melissa, you are gorgeous!” Brandi protested. “I mean, I know I’m pretty but am I really that pretty?”

“Yes, you really are that pretty,” Melissa said. “But it’s more than that. It’s your presence. You exude sensuality. Last night, when I saw you for the first time I felt it. Even without makeup and dressed in those baggy clothes it was there, radiating from you. You come across like the girl next door and a centerfold all rolled into one. You are a walking, talking wet dream.”

“That’s what I was made to be,” Brandi said sadly. “I care about you a lot, too, Melissa. When I see a cute guy, what I feel is a plain, basic need for sex. What I feel with you is deeper than that. It’s deeper than what I feel even around another girl. I guess maybe in part it’s because of the connection from our past.”

“Look, I don’t know where our relationship will go,” Melissa said as they began walking again. “I know where I want it to go right now, but I don’t want to rush you into anything. But I do know that I want to be your friend and to help you.

“And that means we need to get you a doctor’s appointment this week. I assume you are not on any kind of birth control?”

“Shit, no, I hadn’t even thought of that!” Brandi exclaimed.

“I didn’t think you had,” Melissa said. “Will there be any problem if you have an exam? I mean, will the doctor notice anything?”

“Only if they did a DNA test with some pretty sophisticated gear. Sophisticated as in alien technology,” Brandi assured her, and then she laughed. “Or if they took some blood. A standard blood test wouldn’t show anything, but samples from me disappear within about an hour of being taken.”

“That’s pretty bizarre.”

“All part of the package,” Brandi told her. “I mean you don’t want your assassin leaving behind trace evidence now do you?”

“You are not an assassin Brandi.”

Now it was Brandi’s turn to stop and regard her friend.

“Don’t be so sure Melissa. I can and have killed, from a distance and up close and personal. And I did it without remorse because it had to be done. I’ve seen a man’s face through the scope of a rifle, seen the beads of sweat on his forehead, and then the look of shock on his face as I put a bullet in his brain. And then I lined up my next target and did it again.”

“Brandi, I…”

“I’m not trying to scare you,” Brandi said. “I just want you to know who I am and who I was. That part was not programmed into me by the machine; it’s why the machine chose me, at least part of it. I would never hurt anyone intentionally that didn’t try to hurt me or someone else first, but if it comes to killing I can and will do it and not shed one tear over it. Those three assholes in the alley last night have no idea how close to death they were. I let them off light. If the same thing were to happen now…if someone tried to hurt you or Karen…well, let’s just say I don’t like it when someone messes with my friends.”

CHAPTER 24

Candace Deveraux was pissed at being awakened at five-thirty on a Sunday morning by someone pounding on her door. She was a civilian employee at the Naval base in Norfolk, Virginia, and she liked to sleep in on Sunday. Cursing under her breath she wrapped a robe around herself and stormed out of the bedroom. At the front door she peered through the peep hole and saw two men in dark suits standing outside.

“What the hell do you want?” she demanded.

“Federal agents, Miss Deveraux,” one said, holding up a badge. “We need to speak with you.”

Candace opened the door but kept the chain fastened and peered out through the opening. She wondered what federal agents would be doing at her door at any hour, and was suspicious.

“Could I see your identification again?” she asked.

“Certainly,” the man smiled, holding up a black leather badge case. As he flipped it open Candace saw a brilliant purple flash, then blackness.

She awoke again when her alarm went off at nine. She stretched, vaguely recalling a dream about someone being at the door. She could not recall anything else about the dream, and quickly dismissed it.

As she was having breakfast she thought about Brandon Anderson. It was odd that she would think of him now; he had died nearly five months ago. They had dated quite a few times, and she had hoped their relationship would go further, but then Brandon had been wounded. After that he had been different. It wasn’t anything dramatic, but he had become quieter, almost sullen. It was to be expected, of course, and she had tried to be understanding. Finally one day Brandon had told her they were through; that he had to focus all his energy on his recovery.

It had not fooled her for a minute. Brandon felt incomplete, and he was cutting her free so she would not feel obligated to him. And rather than argue with him, she had meekly accepted it and never seen him again. In a way she had been grateful.

As she thought about their time together, the image of a beautiful young woman with blonde hair came into her mind. It was not anyone she knew but the picture was so clear in her mind it was eerie.

She was supposed to watch for this person, why she did not know. Just watch for her and then make the call. That wasn’t very hard. She could do that.

*****

“Do you realize what this means?” Susan asked Amanda Breton after showing her the email she had just received from Ryan. She had found Amanda having tea in the parlor, and was rather perplexed by the older woman’s rather blasé demeanor once she had read the message.

“Yes I do,” The older woman replied. “Brandon’s transformation to Brandi was not accidental. Susan I’m sorry I kept this from you but I suspected as much from the start. I had no actual evidence to base my suspicion on other than my familiarity with the people involved.”

“Well I can understand why you wouldn’t say anything,” Susan sighed. “This just makes me furious. I played right into their plans.”

“You were played, Susan,” Amanda corrected her. “They manipulated you; that’s what they do.”

“Someday you are going to have to tell me how you know so much about them,” Susan said.

“Let’s hold that for another time,” Amanda suggested. “When we eventually bring Brandi here, then I will tell you both.”

“Do you have people watching her?” Susan asked.

Amanda regarded her for a moment before speaking. “No. We are watching the people that are looking for her. Specifically, we are watching the ones which will be used to attempt retrieval should Brandi’s location be discovered. I did not want to place people on her, both for fear that they may lead her enemies to her, and out of concern that she would notice them. She deserves her space.”

“Thank you for that,” Susan said. “I told Ryan, again, to be careful. If they find out he has been funneling information out of the lab I hate to think what they would do to him.”

“It tells me a lot about Brandi that she has engendered such loyalty in people who only knew her for a brief time.”

“That’s Brandi. One minute she would be sparring with a half dozen experts in the martial arts, and thrashing them thoroughly. Then she would be sitting in front of the TV with Ryan playing a video game and squealing like a school girl.”

“I’m quite anxious to meet her.”

“I’m anxious for this to be over so she can have a normal life,” Susan whispered.

“Susan, you know that Brandi will never have a truly normal life.”

“Yes, I know that,” Susan sighed. “She will want to use her abilities…she will need to use them. But she can at least to be free to choose when and how.”

“Susan there is something more I need to tell you,” Amanda said, rising from the sofa. “In fact I have something I must show you first.”

“All right, Amanda.”

Amanda led Susan from the parlor, through the foyer and into the back hall. She opened a door there and they went down a short flight of stairs to the basement. At the bottom of the stairs was a large, steel door with an electronic lock.

“The biometric reader is already programmed for you,” Amanda told her. “Just press your thumb to the pad to unlock it.”

Susan did as she said, and there was a buzz followed by a muffled metallic clang as the door unlocked. The room beyond was the size of a three car garage, and there were shelves from rising from the floor to the ceiling, stacked with seamless silver cases.

“The organization does not have the only collection of Forerunner artifacts,” Amanda smiled. “Though theirs is far larger.”

Susan looked at the cases with awe. True, the warehouse in Nevada was many times larger, but to have access to even a few artifacts outside the control of the organization was unexpected and very welcome.

Amanda led Susan to a counter against one wall, and picked up a device which looked like something an eye doctor would use.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Amanda asked. Susan shook her head.

“This device is capable of implanting programming within a persons mind,” Amanda told her. “It uses the optic nerve as the path way to establish a connection. The information is transferred in flashes of colored light. This particular device is useless with out access to one of the Forerunner’s computers to program it.”

“They have computers in Nevada,” Susan said, the impact of the device dawning fully on her.

“And they have several of these devices,” Amanda nodded. “They have had them for some time, but now they are using them. The device can implant programming in the brain which remains dormant, until activated by a signal. The organization has been using them for some months now.”

“Creating sleepers,” Susan said dully.

“Yes and when they have all of their sleepers in place, they will send out the signal from satellites already in orbit,” Amanda said. “And with the pressing of a single button, they will be able to take control of the United States without firing a single shot.”

CHAPTER 25

Brandi started off her morning preparing for dinner. She had another project that would take her most of the day so she had decided to make spaghetti. She started off by chopping the vegetables; onions, celery, green peppers and mushrooms while the olive oil heated on the stove. Next she chopped and then browned a pound of Italian sausage and then added that to the pot and a pound of ground chuck and drained the fat. Setting the meat aside she heated more olive oil and then added the vegetables, stirring them as she added basil, thyme, oregano and parsley. Once the veggies were tender she added the meat back in, stirring the mixture and then letting it simmer as she set up a five quart crock pop. To the crock she added two big cans of diced tomatoes and another of tomato sauce. As the crock pot heated up she went back to the meat and vegetables, adding the last ingredient, fresh minced garlic. She gave it a few quick stirs and then transferred the contents to the crock pot and covered it. Brandon had learned the value of a good crock pot years ago; turn it on, fill it up and when you came home dinner was waiting. She already had garlic bread prepared, so all she had to do when she got back was put it in the oven and cook the spaghetti.

By nine she had finished all the housework and had taken time to smoke two cigarettes before she changed into a pair of tights and a sports bra. She slipped a cotton blouse on over it all and tied the front loosely, then grabbed her purse and headed out of the house. She still felt odd carrying a purse, but considering the clothes she was wearing it made sense.

She had been asking around, looking for a gym or dojo where she could get in some sparring and one place in particular had been recommended repeatedly. It was called Keller Karate and the owner, Dylan Keller, had either won or placed in every competition he had entered for the last five years. He had two national titles and was a strong contender for the next world championship. Brandi had checked out the place a few nights before and liked the style; he did not go in for the hard core approach, but all of the students had seemed well disciplined and competent.

At this time of day the place should be nearly deserted. The last thing she needed was a crowd watching her. She set off jogging at a brisk pace down Ocean Front Walk. The gym was only two miles away and she figured a little run could help her burn off some excess energy before she got there.

There were half a dozen guys in the gym when she arrived, and every one of them stopped to stare at her as she entered. Brandi felt the now familiar thrill run through her, but fought it down.

“Don’t mind me boys, just go ahead with what you were doing,” she said cheerfully. The guys returned to their workouts and Brandi looked around the interior of the gym.

It had a large open area with a padded floor for sparring, and there were the usual bits of equipment one would expect to find in such a place. Brandi walked up to a canvas heavy bag that was not being used and gave it a half hearted punch. She realized that it would just take a momentary lapse of concentration and she could punch right through the bag.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, she thought.

“Can I help you Miss?”

Brandi turned and found herself face to face with Dylan Keller. She had the sudden thought that the posters of him on the wall did not do him justice. He was six foot two, the same height she had been when she was Brandon, and had a well toned, muscular body. His face was ruggedly handsome, and his hair was a dark brown and wavy. He gave her a roguish smile and Brandi felt her pulse quicken.

Breathe, dammit! She thought. You can run thirty miles and barely get winded and one cute guy smiles and you start to melt!

“Weren’t you in here the other night?” he asked.

“That was me.” Brandi admitted.

“So are you interested in taking some Karate classes?” Dylan asked. “We have a women’s self defense class that meets Tuesday and Thursday nights. I highly recommend it. A pretty girl like you should know how to defend herself.”

“No I don’t need classes,” Brandi told him. He had a bit of a condescending air and she hoped it was just him trying to be a salesman.

“What I am looking for is some sparring, full contact.” Brandi told him.

“Really, well my ladies instructor, Kathy, doesn’t come in until two.” Dylan said. “I’m sure we could arrange some one on one time with her though if you’d like to come back.”

“Actually I am more interested in sparring with you.”

“Look Miss, I don’t know…”

“My name is Brenda Williams, but everybody calls me Brandi.”

“Well Brandi I’m afraid I would be way out of your league.” Dylan said. “I wouldn’t want to see a pretty lady like you get hurt.”

That’s it, he is going down.

“You mean a two time National Champion is afraid to spar with a little thing like me?” Brandi said in her most girlish tone.

“All right Brandi, if you insist, I’ll show you a few moves.” Dylan said, his voice betraying his irritation. “Let’s get you padded up.”

“Are you going to pad up?” Brandi asked sweetly.

“I honestly don’t think I need pads for you sweetheart.” Dylan smiled. “I’ll just get some gloves so I don’t hurt you.”

As Dylan walked back towards his office he turned to a burly young man sweeping the far side of the gym.

“Jerry could you get this young lady some pads and help her get them on?”

Jerry nodded his head and stepped over to a closet. Brandi continued to stare after Dylan, fuming. She knew she had to get it under control or she would put him in the hospital.

“Miss?”

Brandi turned to see Jerry standing beside her, holding a collection of pads.

“Thank you sweetie but I am fine just like this.” She told him. “I’ll just take the gloves so I don’t bruise your boss.”

Dylan returned a moment later with his gloves and looked at Brandi in confusion.

“Didn’t Jerry stay to help you get padded up?”

“I told him it wasn’t necessary.” Brandi smiled. “I’ve got plenty of padding already.”

“Ok this has gone far enough.” Dylan said, his voice edging with anger.

“Oh come on Mr. Karate champ, I’ll make it easy on your male ego.” Brandi laughed. “You don’t have to hit me, just drop me to the mat and show me how much better than me you are.”

“If you insist.” Dylan said and moved forward. He tried to use a hip throw to put Brandi down but she easily avoided his attack, and gave him a sharp slap on the butt for good measure.

Wow he has a really nice ass, Brandi thought.

“So you have had some training,” Dylan smiled. “What style?”

Brandi shrugged, as she tossed her purse aside, “All of them.”

“Ok let’s go again.”

Dylan came at her again and launched a few half speed punches and a very weak kick, all of which Brandi avoided easily.

“That’s strike one Dylan.” Brandi growled. Her voice had lost the teasing tone she usually affected around men. “I don’t like being treated like a girl when I fight.”

“You’re just so beautiful I can’t help myself.” Dylan grinned.

Dylan came on again, a little faster this time but still no where near what he was capable of. Brandi once more dodged all of the attacks easily before dancing out of range.

“That’s strike two. If you don’t come on full speed with the next series, I promise you I will hit you so hard it will take your breath away.”

“Ohh, show me what you got baby.”

Dylan came forward again. He had to admit that the girl had talent. He launched his third series and picked up the pace a bit more. A look of concern crossed his face as he saw the almost contemptuous way the blonde was deflecting his punches and kicks.

“Strike three.” Brandi hissed, and her hand moved so fast it was a blur. She hit Dylan in the diaphragm with her open palm, pulling the blow at the last second. Still it landed with enough force that every bit of air was forced from his lungs and Dylan was knocked backwards off his feet. He landed on the mat and skidded about three feet, then rolled to his knees, clutching his diaphragm as he struggled to draw breath.

“This was a total waste of time.” Brandi muttered, throwing the gloves to the floor and snatching up her purse. She shot what was suppose to be an angry glare at Dylan but came out as more of a petulant pout and then stormed out the door.

She was walking back up Ocean Front smoking a cigarette when she heard Dylan calling her name. She stopped and turned, glaring at him as he ran to catch her.

“Good God, you smoke too?” Dylan exclaimed.

“A pack a day and climbing,” Brandi told him.

“That’s great!” Dylan moaned. “I just got put on my ass by a teenage smoker with implants.”

“I am not a teenager! I’m twenty-one…and these are not implants!” Brandi shouted, stomping her foot, all the while realizing how childish it made her look. “You are really starting to annoy me now.”

“Ok, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” Dylan said in a subdued tone. “It’s just I..well, never mind. Look, I’m sorry I took you at face value. I get a lot of people, never a girl before, but a lot of guys come in wanting to take on a ranked fighter. I made a mistake.”

Brandi sighed, “It’s not your fault Dylan, and I forgive you.”

“That was some shot you gave me.” Dylan grinned. “I’ve fought guys that couldn’t hit me that hard.”

“I hate to break it to you Dylan but I can hit a lot harder than that.”

“Well, I’m not going to make the same mistake twice and doubt you.” Dylan said. “Why don’t you come back to the gym and give me another chance. But we both have to pad up…I have my pride you know.”

It turned out to be a decent workout. Brandi still had to hold back, she knew the padding would not save Dylan from injury if she hit him full force. But Dylan was true to his word and gave it his all. He even managed to score a few hits, nothing that Brandi couldn’t have taken without the pads, but the workout accomplished what she had wanted. For the last week she had been feeling a need for action, just as she had her first night in LA. She had even snapped at Melissa and Karen a few times for no good reason, and of course apologized immediately.

They stripped off their pads and Jerry came over to gather them up. Then Dylan showed Brandi to the office so she could collect her blouse and purse which he had put there for safe keeping.

“Can I offer you a bottle of water?” Dylan asked.

Brandi was feeling decidedly aroused and her mind was screaming at her to say no. That was not the kind of workout she had come here for. Yes, Dylan was cute, and even nice once you got past the bluster, but she was definitely not going to let her libido carry her away.

“Sure, that would be great.”

Dylan pulled two bottles of water from his mini fridge and passed one to Brandi.

“Have you ever competed?” Dylan asked after taking a swig of water. “I mean, I’m not kidding, you could beat any woman in the world, hell I think you could beat any man.”

“It’s not about competition for me Dylan, it’s about survival,” Brandi told him, a bit testily.

“I’m sorry, I just seem to say the wrong things to you,” Dylan said.

Brandi sighed, “It really isn’t your fault. I’m just a little on edge. That’s why I was looking for someone to spar with.”

“Yeah, I can understand that,” Dylan said. “A good match always helps me when I need to blow off some steam. I hope you’ll come back and give me another chance. And I confess, you pulled some moves out there I’ve never seen before. I’d be interested in seeing you in action some more.”

Brandi regarded him for a moment before deciding that last line was a compliment and not a come on. She actually found that she was a little disappointed that he had not come on to her. He really was a nice guy, once some of the bluster had been taken out of him.

“I tell you what,” Brandi said slowly. “Why don’t you sign me up for a three month membership.”

“Great!” Dylan smiled. “I look forward to our next match.”

*****

“Excuse me Mr. Mercer, but I have something you might want to see.”

Reginald Mercer looked at the man with annoyance and extended his hand for the printout. He scanned the page and his annoyance quickly turned to rage.

“This is two weeks old!” he bellowed. “Why wasn’t this brought to my attention sooner?”

“The description didn’t match the subject so the report was given a low priority, sir,” the man stammered.

“And just what part of ‘able to alter form and appearance’ didn’t you people understand!”

Mercer stormed into his office and read the report in detail. It had started with a bulletin from the California Bureau of Investigation looking for a young woman with red hair for questioning involving a truck hijacking ring. According to a follow up, the girl in question had, according to the hijackers themselves, taken on ten men, killing one and injuring several others seriously. And all that after she had reportedly been shot four times. There was no further follow up as the investigators had discounted the story due to a total lack of evidence.

Two fucking weeks ago! Mercer raged inside. And in California!

They had put enormous resources into finding the bitch and all the while they were looking in the wrong place! They had even pulled resources from the overall plan to reprogram anyone Anderson might have attempted to contact.

Mercer snatched up his phone and began giving orders to redirect numerous teams to California. The incident had occurred west of Bakersfield, but by now she could be anywhere. But the fact that she had been in California then, the place they had been certain she wanted them to think she was going to as misdirection, made him confident she was still there. They would concentrate their efforts in Los Angeles but just to be safe he sent teams to San Francisco and San Diego, as well as a few more to canvas the areas in between.

Mercer looked out through the glass of his office windows and saw the head analyst looking nervously in his direction. He smiled and picked up his phone again, buzzing the man’s desk.

“Yes, Mr. Mercer?”

“I apologize for snapping at you Mr. Martin,” Mercer said, his tone conciliatory. “That was good work to catch this after all this time. This information is very sensitive and it needs to be delivered to Evan Mitchell at the lab in Nevada. I’d like you to deliver it personally.”

“Certainly, Mr. Mercer!” Martin said, relief evident in his voice.

“Arrangements will be made for your travel immediately,” Mercer said and hung up, giving the man a thumbs up.

The lab people had been asking for a test subject, now that they had restored partial function to the Forerunner machine. He was certain that Miss Martin would be a lovely secretary once they were done.

CHAPTER 26

Brandi saw Dylan drop his right hand slightly, grinned, knowing he was about to launch a right kick. She stepped aside a fraction of a second before he did and the kick sailed into empty air.

“You knew I was going to do that!” he exclaimed.

“You’re still dropping your right hand,” Brandi told him. “It’s barely noticeable but a good opponent will pick up on it, and in a match, they’re not gonna just step aside.”

Brandi had developed a routine over her first month with Melissa and Karen. She readily took on the daily chores of keeping the house in order. It only made sense since her friends were both working and going to school and their weekdays were very full. Since Brandi rarely slept more than two or three hours a night, it was easy for her to be up in time to make sure they had a decent breakfast before starting their day and have a meal waiting when they came home. She did have to be careful with her cooking; most of what she was familiar with preparing were the high calorie dishes Brandon had enjoyed and the girls reminded her regularly that they did gain weight and when she prepared a lavish meal they had to squeeze in the time to work the extra calories off.

She had also developed a close circle of friends, starting with the rest of Melissa and Karen’s band, the Post-Modern Bimbos. They were a fun group and Brandi enjoyed going to their practices. The band had begun playing at some small clubs a few times a week and their mix of pop, folk rock and country was very well received. Listening to them had generated a different kind of yearning in Brandi, and she had gone to a music store Melissa told her about and bought a Fender acoustic/electric twelve string guitar. Her half inch nails had given her a bit of trouble when she first tried to play, until she thought to shrink them down until they no longer extended beyond her finger tips. She began practicing regularly and gradually lengthened them until she could keep them at their normal length.

She had hoped that she would be able to play as well as Brandon had; he was a decent rhythm guitarist which was why he had favored the twelve string, but had never been accomplished enough to finger pick. To her delight, she quickly discovered she was far better, and shortly after getting the twelve string she purchased a six string as well and started teaching herself to play more complex lead and accompaniment parts. Her mind’s ability to multitask was very beneficial, and she also found she had perfect pitch. She could instantly tell if a string was out of tune in the slightest.

The most startling discovery of all was her voice. Brandon had a nice tenor singing voice and Brandi had expected her voice to be a soprano based on her speech. When Melissa tested her range with the piano, she was easily able to reach from C2 to C7 on the keyboard, and even above and below that by a few notes with effort, giving her a good five octave range and then some. Brandi was certain it was due to her ability to alter form and assume the appearance of another woman. Her voice had to be flexible so she could to pass as someone else. She suspected that with practice she would be able to hit any note within the human vocal range, and quite possibly a few outside it.

She thought about how far she had come in the last month as she gave Dylan some suggestions about his habit of telegraphing his kick. Dressing like a girl no longer brought on any anxiety, though she was still disturbed by the attention she received, or more accurately the feelings that attention caused within her. And since she was in hiding, any attention tended to make her nervous. It might have been more sensible for her to keep out of sight as much as possible, but she had done that in the initial days after her escape and it just was not in her nature. And there was a growing part of her that genuinely liked the attention she got, as long as it was polite.

Daily exercise was another part of her routine, and she alternated time between jogging and sparring at Dylan’s gym. Her runs were long, generally lasting between two and three hours, and she usually ran the full length of Ocean Front several times. Three times a week she went to the gym, and she and Dylan worked out in a private room he used for training.

“Ok let’s give it another go,” Dylan suggested.

They circled each other warily, Dylan feinting several times but failing to draw Brandi out. Then he launched a rapid series of attacks, he had long since stopped holding back with her, and when Brandi saw his right hand drop she shifted left and easily deflected the kick and gave him a slap on the rear for good measure.

“You’re still telegraphing honey,” she said, her voice playful. “Next time I’m gonna spank you harder.”

They continued the bout and Dylan again prepared his favorite kick and Brandi saw him drop his right hand once more. She stepped to the left and Dylan promptly dropped down and swept her legs, taking her down to the mat and rolling on top of her.

“Misdirection is a valid tactic, too,” Brandi giggled, fully aware that she had been suckered in.

“I guess it’s my turn to spank you,” Dylan said, grinning.

For a moment they simply stared at each other, Dylan grinning that incredibly cute, roguish grin of his and Brandi finding herself mesmerized by his deep blue eyes. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Brandi responded, parting her lips and kissing him back. At first she thought nothing of it; it was like kissing him was the most natural thing in the world. It was not like it had been in the past, her body was not acting while her mind resisted. Both were quite in harmony and for a moment she felt like she was going to lose all control. Then Dylan’s lips moved down to her neck and she found her voice.

“Dylan, please stop,” Brandi moaned softly, her tone not quite pleading.

Dylan pushed himself up and looked at her, saying, “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you.”

He leaned close again but Brandi summoned all her will power and held him back.

“Dylan, I like you, I really do,” she said, and now she was pleading, tears brimming her eyes, “but if you don’t stop I won’t be able to stop. I’m not ready for what comes next, and I don’t think you would want it to be like that.”

Dylan pushed himself up and looked at her, his eyes filled with resignation. But Brandi also saw compassion in them.

“I’m sorry, Brandi,” Dylan said. “I don’t know who hurt you, but he has to be the biggest asshole in the world.”

Brandi summoned up a grin as he helped her to her feet and said, “That’s very sweet of you to say, Dylan. I wish it was that simple.”

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me about it.” Dylan said hopefully.

“Maybe I will, but not today,” Brandi replied. “I really have to get going.”

Brandi collected her fanny pack from her locker and left the gym. It was still early so she decided to run a bit to burn off some excess steam.

She reflected on the kiss. It had been far from unpleasant; in fact it had felt like the most natural thing in the world to kiss a man, especially a strong, handsome man like Dylan. But even with that, she had felt no emotion, no desire, only need. But as she ran she remembered the feel of his arms about her, their lips pressed together and their tongues entwined, and a smile crept across her face.

Tonight was a big night so she kept her run to one hour. The band was playing at a big club called The Backbeat, and all the girls would be over for dinner before they headed out. And for the first time, Brandi was going to hear them play in an actual performance instead of just practice. She knew it was a risk; exposing herself to a club full of people…a lot of them men looking to score. Just the night before she had almost convinced herself she should not go. But now she was looking forward to it. She had spent four months in a hole in the ground and another rarely leaving the house. Her seventeen year old nature was asserting itself with a vengeance and demanding some release. To put it plainly, she wanted to party.

Brandi entered the house from her run, her body coated in a thin film of perspiration. She did not really need the exercise; her body never gained weight no matter how much she ate, but she was able to detect a difference. Her muscle tone had been good but now it was better, and she believed the regular exercise was helping her improve her already considerable endurance.

She went into the kitchen and checked the roast she had put in the oven before starting her run and saw that it was ready, so she turned the oven off. Humming softly she went upstairs and stripped out of her tights and sports bra and started the water for a bath. Nikki had been right about the Enell sports bras; they provided much better support and their front hook closure made putting one on and removing it much easier.

Once the bath was full she removed her water proof vibrator from the drawer next to the bathroom sink. It was time for her other workout, and the running had not helped at all. She now had to pleasure herself two to three times a day to keep her sexual urges in check. It was still as pleasurable as always, but the desire was coming back much faster. Her programmed desire for sex was really the last hurdle she had to deal with, and she knew she would have to take another step in her journey soon.

After her bath she slipped into the knit pants and camisole that she liked to wear lounging around the house and sat down at her desk to send out a quick email to Susan. After opening the word processor, she paused for a moment to compose what she was going to say in her mind. Her hands were resting on the front keyboard and she felt them tingle slightly. She was about to pull her hands away when the words in her mind began appearing on the screen, but her fingers were not even moving!

Well that’s a new trick, she thought, and even as she thought it she saw the words typed across the screen. She decided she would explore this new ability for a bit.

Dear Mom,

Well the girl just keeps getting stranger. I am writing this to you and my fingers are not even moving. It appears that I have interfaced with my laptop and as I think the words they appear on the screen. I guess it’s the same process as normal…I’m just by passing the whole manual process. It’s actually way cool, I mean I type pretty fast but this is going out at blazing speed and as soon as I think the words there they are and I don’t even have to think about the spelling or anything like that and it makes me wonder what else I could do with this like could I interface with an ATM machine or something like that or maybe the electronic ignition on a car and ok now I am rambling] …I’ll have to watch that.

It is cool though. I’ll have to explore it further. I can only assume it has something to do with my ability to detect and disrupt electronic devices. Do you think it is possible that the nanocyborgs are able to enter an electronic device, like they did when I healed Melissa’s face? The sensation I am feeling in my fingers is very much like what I felt then. Of course it’s unlikely they are what allow me to disrupt a video camera ten feet away, unless the little buggers can fly.

Well, tonight is the big night and, yes, I am more than a little scared. There are going to be a lot of people there and the level of emotion is no doubt going to be high. But it’s a really important night for my friends, and I really want to be there to see it. Also, I am going nuts just hanging around the house all the time and it’s not like it makes it any easier to deal with my sex drive. I want to have some fun.

Why don’t I just do it? Karen asked me that a while back and the explanation still is the same. I don’t want to be that girl…the one that goes out to clubs looking for a one night stand. I mean as far as men go, that would be all I’m looking for…but I’d like to at least have some connection to the guy. I want to know his name and at least know I like him, even just a little. As far as women go, I still see pretty girls all the time and feel a strong attraction…but there’s only one girl I want to be with and I can’t even do that because I’m afraid it’s just because of the programming and I don’t want my first time with Melissa to be because I’m so horny I can’t stand it I want it to be special and mean something and here I go rambling again…

Anyway, other than my raging desire for sex and my absolute fear of having it, everything is going well. I’m glad you liked the pictures I sent. Yes Brandi is pretty much all girl now…though sometimes Melissa and Karen still have to jump on me when I act a little too much like a guy. Generally these days it revolves around eating. I’m getting better. I have started spreading out my eating and doing judicious amounts of snacking between major meals. I think chocolate might have been created for Genomorphs. Rocky Road ice cream too!

I miss you terribly, and though I know it won’t do any good I’m going to say please don’t worry about me. I have wonderful friends, and they are taking good care of me. I haven’t gotten in an altercation since the hijacking. Ok, not a serious altercation. Melissa and I were out for a walk the other night and this group of obnoxious jerks started hitting on us. Of course that sent me into bimbo mode and Melissa finally had to dissuade them by saying she just was not into guys. I nearly decked one of them when he called her a dyke but she stopped me. Too bad, a broken nose might have done him some good.

Love,

Brandi

Brandi pulled her hands away from the laptop, and then used the more traditional method of clicking the mouse to send the email. She had heard the garage door opening and recognized the familiar sound of Melissa’s Ford Escape. It was a gas-electric hybrid, but that did not figure into her ability to recognize its engine signature. She was able to recognize the little knocks and pings unique to any engine.

I’d make a great sonar operator on a sub, she thought wryly, if they let women on subs.

At her request Melissa and Karen had both stopped using the bus and started driving. It was a security precaution; if her location was discovered, they might try to get to her through her friends, and she felt more comfortable knowing they had a means of escape nearby wherever they were.

Brandi closed the laptop once the mail was sent and went downstairs. She was just taking the roast out of the oven as Melissa entered through the through the door from the garage.

“That smells wonderful!” she said as she stopped at the kitchen counter. “So how has your day been sweetie?”

“Great,” Brandi replied as she drained the drippings from the pan into a pot on the stove top. She turned the burner on and added some water before turning to give Melissa a big smile.

They talked for a bit, though Brandi did not share with Melissa what had happened at the gym, and then Melissa went upstairs to change as Brandi began setting the table. The rest of the girls arrived within the next half hour and they were soon settled around the dining room table.

“It’s really great you’re coming out to see us play tonight, Brandi.” Amber Galloway said. The petite blonde was the band’s drummer and in her fourth year as an undergraduate in the UCLA school of engineering. She acted a lot like Brandi, and like Brandi it was mostly an act, as she was one of the top students in the department. Her blonde hair was short and spiked and she had a small diamond stud in the left side of her nose, as well as a larger one in her belly button. Though Brandi had never seen them she knew Amber had a few other piercings as well.

“I’m pretty excited about it myself,” Brandi said truthfully. “It has been, like, so long since I really went out.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to worry about buying your own drinks,” Cyndi Dalton grinned. “The guys will be tripping over each other.”

Cyndi was the lead guitarist for the Bimbos. She was taller than Brandi, about five nine, and had straight, dark red hair that reached the middle of her back. She had a trim, athletic figure and piercing hazel eyes. At twenty-six she was the oldest of the group, and was doing post graduate work in history.

“Just be careful,” Cyndi’s girlfriend, Renee Fallon cautioned. “Watch out for the sharks; they’re always on the lookout for fresh meat.”

Renee played bass guitar and she and Cyndi had been together for two years. She was about Brandi’s height of five foot eight. She had dark brown hair that was cut to shoulder length. Like Cyndi she was trim, but a bit curvier. She was twenty-four and also in the post graduate program, working on her masters in psychology.

Though the three girls did not know about Brandi’s secret, Melissa and Karen had told them about her ‘condition’. Without going into a lot of detail, they had told them that Brandi had an uncharacteristically high sex drive and had to constantly fight to maintain control. They had all promised to help keep an eye on her.

“Maybe they won’t be the only ones on the prowl,” Brandi giggled, pushing her chair back from the table. “I’m gonna start getting ready!”

As Brandi practically ran upstairs Melissa and Karen exchanged worried looks. The night before she had been so tense she had talked about not going. Now she was eager…far too eager.

“Are you guys sure this is a good idea?” Cyndi asked.

“I’m beginning to wonder,” Melissa said.

“Keeping her in a box won’t make things any better,” Renee told them. “Have you talked to her about seeing a therapist?”

Melissa sighed, knowing Renee meant well and just as certainly knowing there was nothing a therapist could do for Brandi. Though her behavior could easily be viewed as an emotional problem, her personality swings were very similar to someone who was bi-polar; there just were not any therapists out there that dealt with helping someone deal with programming inflicted by an ancient alien artifact.

“It’s complicated Renee,” Melissa said. “But you’re right; we can’t keep her locked up. She’s going to need my help getting into that outfit she picked out so I’ll talk to her.”

*****

Reginald Mercer was wading through a dozen reports of possible sightings of the Genomorph, none of them promising, when his desk phone beeped. He stabbed the intercom button impatiently.

“What is it, Miss Todd?”

“Agent Reynolds would like to see you Mr. Mercer,” a very sexy voice replied through the speaker. “He says it’s urgent.”

“Send him in.”

A moment later the door opened and Agent Reynolds stepped in, carrying a file folder.

“What is it, Reynolds?”

“I think we have a definite sighting, sir.” Reynolds replied, opening the folder. “We found a citizen report to the LAPD of an incident that occurred the night before the truck hijacking. A young blonde woman was seen fighting with half a dozen gang members in a park in south LA. According to the witness she handled them easily. The police discounted it as a crank report.”

Reynolds handed the report to Mercer, who scanned it quickly. It did look promising, but he did not see where it helped them.

“This gets us no closer to a current location,” Mercer grumbled. “She could have gone anywhere after the hijacking.”

“Sir, we know that Arnold Belcher, the driver whose truck was hijacked left Las Vegas the same night the Genomorph escaped,” Reynolds said. “He then made several stops, ending up in Los Angeles on the night of this incident. During the day, he made a delivery at a parts house.”

“Get to the point please.”

“The manager of that parts house, a Max Duggan, was the one who set Belcher up for the hijacking. He told the police that a young blonde woman was traveling with the trucker, supposedly his niece. Arnold Belcher has no siblings.”

“You think he picked her up at the rest stop?” Mercer asked.

“Yes sir,” Reynolds replied. “She then traveled with him to San Francisco, and was present when the truck was hijacked. After the authorities let Belcher go he spent the night in Carsonville, just ten miles from the scene. The next day he returned to LA, and then headed west. He could have easily driven to LA the day before, but for some reason he stopped.”

“And she may have been injured foiling the hijacking,” Mercer said. “One of the hijackers claimed to have shot her four times. She would have needed sleep to recover fully.”

“Yes sir,” Reynolds nodded. “I believe the first night in LA she may have been scouting out the city with the intention of returning there to lay low. We know that after Belcher left LA he was alone.”

“All right, concentrate all the teams in LA,” Mercer ordered.

“Yes sir,” Reynolds said. “I have already initiated a detailed search of LAPD and LA county sheriff’s records for the days since Belcher left. She seems to have a tendency to find trouble whether she’s looking for it or not.”

“Good work, Reynolds,” Mercer said. “Keep me informed.”

After Reynolds left Mercer smiled. They were closing in, he was sure of it. The bitch did have a tendency to stick her nose into things; if she saw someone being mugged she would not be able to stand by and do nothing.

Mercer decided a celebration was in order. He punched the button on his phone again.

“Miss Todd, please come in here.”

The door opened and Martina Todd, his new secretary, walked in, a big smile on her face. She was dressed smartly in a black knee length skirt, white silk blouse and black blazer. Her legs were clad in black nylons and the three inch heels she wore accentuated their length.

She tossed her head, flipping her long, black hair back and making her large breasts jiggle enticingly.

“Can I do something for you, Mr. Mercer?” she asked sweetly as she locked the door.

“You certainly can,” Mercer grinned as she stepped around the desk and dropped to her knees.

In a deep recess of her mind, the former supervisor of the intelligence section Todd Martin, or rather what was left of him, cried.

CHAPTER 27

“A little tighter, Melissa, I can still breathe,” Brandi quipped as Melissa tightened the laces up the back of her white bustier top. “I don’t know why you won’t let me wear the one that laces in front.”

“Because I want you in something that will take a little work to get you out of,” Melissa said, giving the laces a final tug. “Just in case, you know.”

The bustier stopped an inch above Brandi’s navel, leaving plenty of skin exposed between it and the top of the matching skirt she wore. The bustier and skirt were trimmed in pink lace and the skirt had an asymmetric hemline that went from mid calf on her left leg to just above her right knee, with lacey pink fringe around the hem. Her legs were clad in sheer white stockings and she wore a pair of hot pink snake skin cowboy boots with soft slouch uppers and two inch heels. As she stepped back, whirling for Melissa to see, she looked like an angel, albeit a very sexy, provocative angel.

“How do I look?” Brandi asked.

Melissa opened her mouth to speak but for a moment the words would not come. Brandi looked at her and grinned.

“That good, huh?” she giggled.

“Brandi, you are the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen,” Melissa said at last. “I wish I had a cowboy hat for you, it would be perfect.”

Brandi grinned even more and slid into the closet. A moment later she stepped out wearing a pink snakeskin cowboy hat that matched her boots.

“You know, it’s hard to believe that a few weeks ago you wouldn’t wear anything but baggy shirts and pants,” Melissa said. “And your makeup is perfect, too.”

“Once I started dressing fem it was like a dam broke,” Brandi smiled. “I mean I can look at myself in the mirror and know what a guy is going to think looking at me.”

“How do you feel about that?” Melissa asked.

“It’s still a little scary,” Brandi admitted, and then she smiled sexily, “Not so much tonight though.”

Melissa’s eyes drifted to the diamond stud that now adorned Brandi’s exposed navel and shook her head, “I still can’t believe you put that in yourself.”

“It only took three tries to get it just right,” Brandi grinned, making Melissa wince. “The first two times it was crooked and I had to pull it out and let it…”

“Stop!” Melissa pleaded. “And may I say…ewwww!”

“I’m only kidding sweetie,” Brandi told her, just to make her feel better. “And it really didn’t hurt at all. I just turned down my pain response for a few seconds. I did the same thing with my ears.”

“Well, that’s handy,” Melissa commented. “Now did you, um, work out your tensions today?”

“Three times,” Brandi grinned.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Melissa asked.

“I’m sure that you should, like, stop asking me that,” Brandi whined, and then she was smiling. “Now tell me I look pretty!”

“Pretty does not even begin to describe you, honey,” Melissa said with total honesty. “I know I’ve been being a pain, but I’m just so worried about you. You’re acting very bimbo like and I just know if something happens you’re going to hate yourself in the morning.”

“I’ll be fine,” Brandi assured her. “You need to focus on the gig and stop worrying about me. I have no intention of letting some guy get into my pants tonight.”

Melissa reached out and caressed her friend’s face gently and smiled, “Neither did I the first time, sweetie. That’s why I’m worried.”

An hour later they were at The Backbeat. It was a very upscale and popular club and they only selected the best bands to play there regularly. The music director had seen the band playing at another club and had been impressed enough to offer them a prime opening slot before the main band started. It was a Friday night so the crowd would be considerable.

Brandi stayed close to the girls until it was almost time for them to go out on the stage. Then she gave them each a hug and a kiss and made her way out into the club. She was right down in front as the band was introduced and the lights came up on the stage. The crowd reacted very enthusiastically, with a good number of wolf whistles and appreciative shouts. Karen was radiant in her black keyhole mini dress, fishnet stockings and calf boots. By the time they finished their first number, Heart’s ‘If Looks Could Kill’, the crowd was roaring and Brandi had a drink. Who it came from she was not sure, the waitress had pointed but there were about a dozen guys in the indicated area and all were looking at her and grinning.

“I could get used to this,” Brandi said with a grin.

The band started up another song and Brandi was bouncing with the beat when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw a young man smiling down at her.

“You should be dancing,” he said, extending his hand. Brandi had already turned down several offers to dance but this time she smiled and took his hand, letting him lead her out onto the dance floor.

Brandon had never been much of a dancer, so Brandi at first watched what the other girls were doing and emulated them. Soon however she had the general idea and let herself go, gyrating sensuously with the upbeat rhythm.

“I’m Kyle,” her dance partner called over the music.

“Brandi,” she replied, smiling. “You’re awful cute, Kyle.”

Up on the stage Melissa looked to the table after the song was finished and saw that Brandi was gone. She tried not to be too concerned; there was nothing wrong with Brandi dancing, but she still had not returned by the time they started the next number.

Brandi was at a table with Kyle and his two friends, Dave and Sean. They were all handsome and well built. They attended USC and were apparently regulars at the club.

“I know I have never seen you here before,” Sean said, grinning wolfishly. Instead of feeling uncomfortable at his leering, Brandi relished in it.

“This is my first time here,” Brandi said. “My girlfriends are playing up there. I’m kinda, like, an honorary Bimbo!”

For the rest of the band’s first set Brandi was only stationary long enough to throw back the numerous drinks they kept buying for her. She never even considered the risk of coming back to the table and accepting a waiting drink from three guys she did not even know. Fortunately, they were not the type who would slip her something. She did not limit herself to dancing with just the three of them either.

“Man, Kyle, her eyes are all over you,” Dave said while she was out on the floor with Sean. “You have got to tap that tonight.”

Kyle smiled, “She seems really nice. Kinda dumb but sweet, you know?”

Dave grinned, “That’s the best kind my man.”

In between sets Melissa went in search of Brandi. She found her at a table with Kyle and his friends, laughing and carrying on in a very animated fashion. As Melissa approached Kyle leaned over and whispered in Brandi’s ear and she began giggling.

“That sounds like fun, sweetie, but my friends have one more set to play,” Brandi told him. “It just, like, wouldn’t be right to bail on them.”

“Hi guys, could I borrow my friend for just a minute?” Melissa asked.

“Oh, boys, this is my best friend Melissa!” Brandi squealed. “She is, like, so awesome and she writes all the band’s songs, well, you know except, like, the ones that other people wrote.”

Melissa smiled as the guys told her how much they liked the band and thanked them as Brandi slipped out of the booth. Melissa led her a short distance away and looked at her intently.

“You’re drunk!” she exclaimed. She knew that Brandi could regulate her level of intoxication, and just as surely knew that she was not doing it now.

“Melissa, please!” Brandi pleaded. “For the first time in so long I’m havin’ fun. Please don’t be mad and don’t make me stop.”

“Would you stop if I asked you to?” Melissa wondered.

Brandi looked genuinely hurt as she said, “I’d do anything you asked me to. If you want me to go home right now I will.”

“No, sweetie, I don’t want that,” Melissa said, instantly sorry. The look of pain in Brandi’s eyes was more than she could stand. “I’m just worried it’s not you having fun; that it’s your programming making you act this way.”

“It’s not, I promise,” Brandi assured her. “I just decided to dip my toe in the water. I know I’m flirting outrageously and, yes, I let myself get a little tipsy, but I’ve got to know if I can handle myself.”

“All right, but could you do something for me?” Melissa relented. “Ask the guys to join you at the table up front.   The club was nice enough to set it aside for us, and I’d feel better if I could see you.”

“I’ll do that right now!” Brandi giggled, and then kissed her on the cheek.

The last set went as well as the first, and Melissa was much more relaxed because she could see Brandi the whole time, at least for the brief times she was not dancing. She certainly did appear to be having fun with her admirers and Melissa knew she should be happy, but she was very worried that Brandi was treading a very fine line.

After the set they retreated into the back, but quickly returned for an encore. There was no denying that the Post-Modern Bimbos had been a big hit. As they started backstage after the encore Melissa turned and saw that Brandi was heading towards them with a big smile. She breathed a sigh of relief and stepped through the door into the back room

“Where’s Brandi?” Karen asked.

“She’s heading this way,” Melissa said with a smile.

Amber stuck her head out the door and looked around, then turned to the girls.

“I don’t see her anywhere,” she said.

“All right girls fan out and check every dark corner,” Melissa said. “Renee, take the parking lot. Dammit, I should have kept a closer eye on her.”

It was Renee who found her; actually the first thing she found was her bustier, lying on the pavement. Then she heard the moans coming from a short distance away. She managed to reach her, locked in a passionate embrace with Kyle behind his car, before she had shed any more clothes. She was too busy trying to get his pants unbuckled to worry about the rest of her clothes.

“Um, Brandi, are you sure you should be doing this, you know what the doctor said,” Renee admonished, hands on hips and a stern look on her face. “You don’t want to give this poor guy, you know…”

“Wh…what?” Kyle stammered.

“Listen, sweetie, you two haven’t…you know…all ready, have you?” Renee continued. “’Cause if you have, I suggest you get to your doctor and get checked out first thing tomorrow. You, um, wouldn’t want anything to fall off would you?”

“We just kissed, I swear it!” He proclaimed.

“Well, you should be all right then,” Renee told him, not sounding at all certain. “At least I think you should…”

Kyle could not get away fast enough, not even sparing a glance back as he ran. Renee chuckled as she watched him and then turned back to Brandi, who promptly grabbed her and kissed her firmly on the lips. Renee felt Brandi’s tongue dart into her mouth as she placed her hands on the blonde girl’s face and gently pushed her away.

Brandi’s eyes flew wide, suddenly realizing what she had done, and then she turned to run, but Renee grabbed her arm.

“Sweetie, you’re half naked,” Renee said as though nothing had happened. “Let’s get you laced back into this thing and we can meet the others around back.”

Melissa sighed with relief as she saw Brandi approaching, Renee walking beside her with her arm around her shoulder.

“What happened?” Melissa asked, worried.

“Nothing serious, just some major kissing,” Renee said, grinning. “Oh, she was half naked and kissing some guy too.”

“I’m such a pain in the ass, I’m sorry guys,” Brandi muttered.

“As long as you’re all right,” Cyndi said, and then turned to Renee, “Is she as good a kisser as she looks?”

“Much better,” Renee laughed, and even Brandi joined in.

“I’m sorry…I just lost it,” Brandi said. “If Renee hadn’t found me when she did…”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, honey,” Amber said. “I mean it’s not like I’ve never gotten wasted and woke up in some strange bed the next morning. I tell you the last one was a whole lot better looking when I was drunk. But when I woke up, it was a real coyote ugly moment.”

“Amber, that is not helping,” Karen said, and then turned to Brandi. “Everything really is ok, Brandi, we love you and we have your back. That’s what friends are for.”

“Brandi, have you considered taking yoga?” Renee asked. “Maybe learning some meditation techniques and exercises could help you find your center.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Brandi admitted. She already knew that she could control her body in many ways. Perhaps learning how to meditate could help her.

Karen and Cyndi went inside to talk to the club’s music director while Brandi and the others started packing up their equipment. They were just about finished when the two young women returned, their faces lit by big smiles.

“Well, they want us back,” Karen told them. “They want us to play Tuesday and Thursday nights every other week and are going to put us on the rotation as headliners for Friday and Saturday.”

“We should get a weekend every other month,” Cyndi said. “And, he’s going to put in a good word for us with some other mainstream clubs.”

The girls all began talking at once. It was a big deal for them, as even one weeknight slot at The Backbeat would pay more than two nights at the places they usually worked.

“We are going to have to sit down soon and decide how far we want to try and take this though,” Cyndi cautioned. “When we started this band none of us were looking to make music a career and we are a long way from that still. But we need to think things over really well.”

With the equipment packed up, they said good night and Karen told Melissa and Brandi that she was going home with Cyndi and Renee so they could talk for a bit. Brandi was very quiet, and did not notice that Melissa and Karen had stepped aside for a hushed conversation just before that.

She did not say a word on the drive back to Venice Beach. As soon as they got into the house, Brandi began crying and Melissa held her. She let her cry herself out, and for nearly a half hour Brandi’s body was wracked by sobs.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Melissa asked once Brandi had calmed down.

“Not really,” Brandi said, “but I think I need to.”

“I guess you weren’t as in control as you thought,” Melissa said as they sat down on the living room sofa.

“No, I was,” Brandi said. “That’s the whole problem. Before it’s always been like I was watching what was happening but I couldn’t make my body stop. It wasn’t like that this time.

“I was following you guys to the back and he asked me if I’d like to go somewhere a little quieter, and I said, ‘yes.’ My mind and my body were in total agreement. Well we didn’t get far out of the club and we were kissing, and I knew I should stop but I didn’t really want to. I will admit that all the emotion I was picking up from the people around me was having more of an effect than I told you. And I think maybe…well, I didn’t tell you but earlier today Dylan kissed me, and I kissed him back.”

“How did you feel about that?” Melissa asked.

“I liked it…a lot. And I wanted more, but I asked him to stop and he was very sweet about it.” Brandi said. “

“Are you glad Renee stopped you?”

“God yes!” Brandi cried. “I wanted it…but I didn’t want it. I knew I should stop, and I knew I could stop but I didn’t want to. I know that probably sounds weird.”

“No, it sounds just like a young woman overcome by passion,” Melissa said. “You know I may be into girls now but that doesn’t mean I was never with a guy. And it happened just that way to me, I got caught up in the fun and the emotion…only I didn’t have any friends there to hose me down.”

“What was it like for you?” Brandi asked.

“It was actually very nice,” Melissa smiled. “Of course it was awkward too…we were only fifteen. And the next morning I felt like garbage, not because of what we had done but because I realized I didn’t feel anything for the boy. And to make matters worse I decided that since I had slept with him I owed it to him to try and make a relationship work, even though I really knew I didn’t feel anything for guys. I had known it for a long time, but I was in major denial over my awakening sexuality.”

“But, once you accepted that you were a lesbian, you didn’t have to deal with lusting after guys anymore,” Brandi said. “No matter what I do, that will always be part of me.”

“Don’t be so sure it’s not part of me sweetie,” Melissa laughed. “I can still feel it when I see a good looking guy, especially if he’s a nice guy too. But it is different with me…I don’t have it hard wired into my brain, and I don’t have an artificially induced hyper sex drive.

“But I do understand the conflict you are feeling. There is still a part of you that sees yourself as a man, and that man was not attracted to other men. So you fight it, just like I fought my attraction to other girls. We all have programming that we sometimes find ourselves in conflict with. We get it from our family and society, from our friends and the media, and when we realize that it isn’t who we are we have to fight it.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Brandi admitted.

“Don’t get me wrong, though,” Melissa cautioned. “I’m not minimizing what you face in any way. I had to deal with programming from the way I was raised that told me it was wrong for me to be attracted to girls, but that was still programming I put there, and I could overcome. You may never be able to break free of what that machine put in you, but I believe you can come to terms with it.”

“I wish I believed that,” Brandi said.

“You have friends, and we are going to love you no matter what. We’ll get through this together.” Melissa said. “Now, let’s get you out of this bustier.”

Melissa followed Brandi into her room, watching the pretty blonde closely. It was obvious that Brandi was still tense; the incident with the guy in the parking lot had served only to heighten her desire and compound it with frustration. No doubt when Melissa left her alone, Brandi would seek the solace of her vibrator. But Melissa had no intention of leaving her alone tonight.

She knew it was a risk; that Brandi might feel betrayed by what she was about to do. But Melissa could not stand it any longer, could not bear to watch her friend in turmoil.

They sat on the edge of Brandi’s bed and Melissa thought it was fitting, almost poetic. It had once been her bed, and was the very place where she had lost her virginity. She thought back to that night; two fifteen year old kids lost to passion. They were fumbling and clumsy and despite all that when it was over she had felt a wonderful, satisfying glow. Then the glow had faded, and she looked at the sleeping boy and knew that she did not love him. Even more, she knew she would never love him or any other male. It had taken another two years for her to find the courage to come out, but she had never looked back since then.

“God, you’re so tense, Brandi,” Melissa said as she began gently massaging the muscles of her friend’s neck and shoulders. She could feel Brandi trembling, almost twitching with tension. “I wouldn’t have thought you could get like this.”

“Oh, I can,” Brandi mumbled dreamily. “That feels wonderful.”

Melissa stopped the massage, eliciting a whimper of protest from Brandi, and began slowly unlacing her bustier. Once she had it removed, she laid it on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and resumed the massage. Brandi’s head sagged back and she began breathing a bit heavier.

Melissa took a deep breath and slipped her hands down along Brandi’s arms, stroking them softly. Then she slipped them under her arms and began gently massaging Brandi’s breasts. Almost since the moment they had met she had longed to know what they would feel like, and she was pleased that the sensation was just as she had imagined; they were firm yet soft to the touch. The skin was smooth and perfect and as her fingers reached the nipples Brandi let out a long, soft moan of pleasure.

Suddenly, Brandi tensed and sprang up from the bed, her right arm coming up to cover her breasts as she turned to stare at Melissa.

“Melissa, no, not like this!” she pleaded as she backed away, her eyes wide with fear.

“Not like what, Brandi?” Melissa asked gently as she rose and stepped towards her. There was no turning back now. “Not when it’s the very thing you need so you don’t lose your mind?”

Brandi stopped as she backed against the opposite wall and she began trembling. She looked so lost and frightened, and Melissa almost relented and left the room. But it was too late for that, and to leave Brandi now could irreparably damage their friendship. Instead she reached out and took Brandi’s hand, pulling her arm away from her breasts and drawing her back to the bed. She turned her so that her back was to the bed and then touched her breasts gently, lovingly. Then she brushed Brandi’s hair aside and began kissing her shoulder, working her way up to her neck.

“Melissa…” Brandi pleaded.

“Shhh, it’s all right, sweetheart,” Melissa whispered as she kissed Brandi’s neck. Her touch was driving Brandi to heights she had never known were possible.

“I know you have some notion about wanting it to be right, perfect. Well, that may never happen,” Melissa said. “But, you need this. It wasn’t just the crowd tonight, was it? It wasn’t the kiss from Dylan either. The vibrator isn’t enough anymore.”

Tentatively Brandi slipped her arms around Melissa’s waist, her eyes closing as Melissa fondled her breasts once again. Her nipples were engorged and hard and the sensation was gloriously excruciating.

“No, it’s not,” she admitted breathlessly, her lips seeking Melissa’s, her resistance melting.

“That’s because you need the touch of a lover,” Melissa whispered. “And we can be that, even if we find out later that this isn’t really love. To be honest I don’t know myself; I’ve never been in love before really.”

Melissa cupped Brandi’s chin in her hand and tilted her head down slightly so she could look into her eyes.

“But, I know I have never felt for anyone what I feel for you,” she told her. “If it is love, we’ll know soon enough. And if it’s not, we’ll know that too. No matter what I will always be your friend, and right now my friend needs me. I want to be with you, Brandi, and you need to be with someone. Let it be me…let me help you.”

Brandi bit her lip and nodded her head slowly, allowing Melissa to lower her gently to the bed. With the help of her friend, she took the next glorious step in her journey.

End of Part 3

Notes:

As always your comments are welcome and encouraged!

Synopsis:

Synopsis: A Navy SEAL is transformed into a sexy female super soldier by an alien machine. Now romance blossoms for Brandi, and she takes a major step in accepting the girl she has become. But her adversaries are on to her, and will stop at nothing to recover the weapon they desire…Part 4 of 5.

Warning: This story contains no graphic sexual content but does have adult situations and language and scenes of graphic violence, including an extended gun battle.

Story:

Genomorph Part 4 of 5

By Breanna Ramsey

Edited by Janet Nolan and Carla Winters

CHAPTER 27

Sunlight flooding in through the window awakened Brandi late Saturday morning, and she opened her eyes and felt Melissa behind her, arms wrapped around her. She smiled and thought it was a very good way to wake up. She closed her eyes again, pulling Melissa’s arms tighter around her and sighing contentedly.

She was content, but she was also quite confused. She and Melissa had made love the night before; it had started out more as frenzied sex but Melissa had gradually worked her down from where she had been after their night out and into a more steady, tender pace. The end result had been more passionate, more fulfilling than anything she had ever known before and was certainly a far cry from what she had experienced as Brandon. As the pleasure of orgasm had swept through her body, brought on by the tender ministrations of someone who truly cared about her, she had never felt more whole, more complete in her life as man or woman.

It was afterwards, when Melissa had drifted off into a contented sleep that the confusion had come. Brandi had lain awake, trying to hold on to that feeling of contentment, but it began slipping away and the fear returned. For the first time since the transformation she had allowed herself to be a woman, completely and eagerly, and the memory of how good it had felt frightened her. One more piece of the man she had been had slipped away, but should she even be trying to hold on to it? For better or worse, she was Brandi now; she could never go back.

There were more complications as well. She knew she was in love with Melissa, as surely as she had ever known anything in her life. She was certain that Melissa felt the same way, but she was not ready to acknowledge those feelings. Brandi suspected that it had a lot to do with the death of Melissa’s parents; she was not ready to open her heart to someone yet because she was not ready to face the possibility that she might lose them. She understood those feelings; Brandon had gone through the same thing. It was very hard to give so much of yourself to anyone after having suffered such a loss.

And of course I bring a whole world of complications with me, Brandi thought.

She felt Melissa stir behind her and despite her thoughts she smiled again. It was good to feel the warmth of her body pressing close, the softness of her skin. She felt Melissa gently brush her hair aside and kiss the back of her neck. She could be confused later; right now she just felt too good to let any of that bother her.

“Good morning beautiful,” Melissa whispered, “You’ve been asleep for a whole eight hours; it’s almost noon.”

Brandi rolled over so she could face Melissa. She touched her friend’s cheek and then gently kissed her lips.

Melissa smiled and asked, “How do you feel?”

“I don’t think I can describe it properly; wonderful, fantastic, elated…none of them seem to be enough,” Brandi sighed. “Thank you Melissa. You were so right. I needed to be with someone and I’m so glad it was you.”

“Your welcome, but believe me it was my pleasure” Melissa said. “Now tell me what else you’re feeling.”

“I am a little confused,” Brandi admitted.

“A little?”

“Melissa I don’t want to hurt your feelings…”

“Sweetie telling me what you feel won’t hurt my feelings,” Melissa said. “I know what you felt last night; I know you enjoyed what we did because nobody could have reacted the way you did if they weren’t enjoying it.”

“Enjoy hardly does it justice, it was the most incredible thing I have ever felt,” Brandi said. “But afterward I felt really scared by how much I enjoyed it.”

“And you felt guilty too, right?” Melissa asked. Brandi nodded her head and looked as though she were about to cry.

“That’s what has me so confused,” she said. “Is it wrong for me to feel that way? Am I giving in to the programming?”

“Brandi we are all programmed to enjoy sex, it’s one of the nicer parts of being human,” Melissa said. “It makes sense that you would feel some confusion. I wish that one night of love making could take it all away, but I’m afraid it’s not that simple. You have a whole new perspective to explore, and I really think you need to explore it; all of it, when you are ready.

“I feel guilty too; I feel like I used you. I’ve wanted to be with you since the night we met, and seeing what was happening to you…well I convinced myself it was the right thing to do. I was so afraid you would be angry. I knew I could…seduce you. I’m sorry I took advantage of you, but I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“Stop it,” Brandi said. Her words were firm but she still smiled and her voice was soft and gentle. “You did the right thing; you did what had to be done. I’m not sorry about what happened, and I’m very lucky to have found such good friends. I guess you and Karen were plotting this whole scene last night.”

“Oh you did see that?” Melissa said. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear what we were saying.”

“I was more out of it than I realized,” Brandi admitted. “Even after Renee found me and stopped me it didn’t stop; if anything it got worse. Part of me was very glad that she had found me, but another part was so frustrated. Like I said, I had pretty much totally given in; I was going to say yes to whatever he wanted me to do. To have the brakes put on me like that…well I think if you hadn’t been there for me I would have slipped out and found the first willing guy I could.”

“Yes we noticed, and we decided that something had to be done,” Melissa said. “Karen even volunteered to be the one.”

Brandi’s eyes widened, “She did?”

“She’s still as straight as ever,” Melissa laughed. “But she loves you sweetie, and seeing you like that was hurting her too. And she knows I…I care about you a lot. She didn’t want me to risk hurting our relationship.”

“I love you, Melissa,” Brandi said softly.

Melissa looked at her, filled with conflicting emotions. She did not know what to say, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt Brandi. She did love her, but she was not sure she loved her, not yet.

“Brandi…”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything,” Brandi smiled. “I know you’re not sure. I can wait. But I wanted you to know how I feel; I wanted you to hear me say it. And I want you to know that no matter what, nothing can ever come between us, even if you find you can’t love me the way I love you.”

Brandi snuggled up close and laid her head on Melissa’s shoulder. She felt different, and she knew she had cleared a hurdle in her path to truly accepting who she was. Yes, there was confusion but as she lay there in Melissa’s arms it did not seem to be so bad. Really, there was only one more hurdle left, one very big one. But for now, she was perfectly content to lay there and cuddle with her friend.

“So tell me, truthfully, how was it?” Melissa asked after they had lain there in silence for a while.

“It was wonderful…really…it’s just…”

“You can be honest Brandi,” Melissa smiled.

“Well it’s just that I was, like, on autopilot,” Brandi said. “I was so hyped up…I mean I don’t know how good I was.”

“You have nothing to worry about there,” Melissa sighed. “You were absolutely incredible. You may not be entirely comfortable in a woman’s body, but you certainly know your way around one in bed.”

Brandi started giggling hysterically. When she regained control she said, “At least I have experience with that.”

“I’d say a whole lot of experience,” Melissa said with another contented sigh. “Still, if you’re really that concerned, I think I’m rested up enough for another go; if you’re in the mood of course.”

“Silly girl,” Brandi giggled as she slid her hand slowly down Melissa’s stomach. “I am always in the mood.”

And to hell with the confusion, she thought.

*****

Susan was surprised as she entered the parlor late in the morning to see Amanda talking to a very attractive redheaded woman.

“I’m sorry, Amanda, I didn’t realize you had a guest,” Susan said as she turned to leave.

“No that’s quite all right, Susan dear, please join us for some tea,” Amanda smiled. “This is my neighbor Sabine Rosseau. Sabine, this is my dear friend, Susan Covington. She’s staying with me for a few weeks.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Susan,” Sabine said in a warm alto. She was young, certainly no older than thirty and her dark red hair and deep green eyes gave her a very sultry appearance.

“Sabine was just telling me about a charity fund raiser she is holding next month,” Amanda said as Susan sat down.

“It’s for the Pediatric AIDS Foundation,” Sabine explained. “I was hoping to enlist Amanda’s support.”

“That’s certainly a worthy cause,” Susan said.

“I will be glad to contribute,” Amanda agreed. “I think it’s wonderful that you are doing this Sabine. If you like, I can make some calls and get the word out to the right people.”

“I’d really appreciate that, Amanda,” Sabine said. “I don’t have anywhere near your status and connections, and, well you know how it is.”

“Of course,” Amanda smiled.

Gretchen brought in a tray of tea and coffee and served the three women, who exchanged small talk for some time. Inevitably Sabine became curious about Susan.

“Have you known each other long?” she asked. “I don’t mean to pry…”

“Not at all, dear,” Amanda smiled. “Susan is a genetics researcher. We met through one of the foundations I help and became friends. I’ve contributed to her research on several occasions.”

“That sounds fascinating, what kind of research?” Sabine asked.

Susan took her cue from Amanda and stayed as close to the truth as possible, “It mainly involves the regeneration of tissue as a means to fight disease and heal injuries.”

The explanation was basically the truth; before becoming involved with the Forerunner project Susan had been doing research along those very lines. It was one of the things that had drawn her to the project, once she had been allowed to see some of the data deciphered from the Forerunner files. Their understanding of genetics was incredibly advanced.

“That does sound interesting,” Sabine said. “I had no idea genetics were involved in healing injuries.”

“Well we are still trying to determine how involved they are,” Susan said. “People heal at different rates; a cut that may take a week or more to heal on one person can heal on another in a matter of days. There are many factors involved of course; the overall health of the person, age, physical condition and even diet, but there is still a genetic link. Some people are born with a more robust immune system than others; they never seem to get sick, or if they do they recover much faster. If we can discover the genetic link to this, we could develop treatments that could have far reaching results. Eliminating or reducing disease in humans could conceivably extend the natural lifespan by decades.”

“Won’t you stay for lunch, dear?” Amanda asked Sabine. “I’d love to have a chance to chat more. It’s been so long since we visited.”

“I would really like to but I’m afraid I must decline,” Sabine said. “I have several appointments today and I really need to be going.”

They rose and walked Sabine to the door. Her limousine was waiting out front, and Amanda gave her a warm hug before she walked down to the waiting car.

“I’m sorry, Susan,” Amanda said as they walked back to the parlor. “Sabine’s visit was a bit of a surprise. Gretchen was away in town picking up some groceries and I was unable to let you know she was here. When she got back, she did not know to go and tell you.”

“I don’t see how it could do any harm,” Susan said. “I’m sure she has no idea who I am. What I told her about my research is public knowledge.”

“Sabine is a dear girl,” Amanda said. “Her mother was a very good friend of mine and Sabine has had a rough go since she lost her a few years back. To be honest, she went a little wild. I’m glad to see she is finding purpose in her life now.”

As the long black car wound its way along the drive, Sabine sat in the back, smiling as she idly fingered the pendant that hung from a silver chain around her neck. She regarded the purple stone for a moment, and then picked up the car phone and began dialing.

*****

Karen came home shortly after Melissa and Brandi had finished a very late breakfast. The three girls went out on the deck and talked for a long time about the night before. Mostly Karen and Melissa talked about the band’s performance and ways that they could improve upon it in the future. Brandi made a few comments, but mostly they were limited to things such as “Yeah, I really like that song”.

“Brandi what’s wrong?” Melissa asked. “You seem like you’re in another world.”

“I guess I am,” Brandi smiled. She lit a cigarette as she collected her thoughts, regarding its glowing tip for a moment before speaking.

“I never told you this but I didn’t start smoking until the day I met Arnie,” she said. “But when I saw his cigarettes, something inside me clicked, and I wanted one; more than that I needed one. And when I took my first drag, I felt very content, like I had passed a test.

“I felt the same thing yesterday when Dylan kissed me and I responded, and again last night. I’ve been sitting here thinking back, and I see now that I felt the same thing every time I have taken a step towards accepting who I am. The first time I explored my body; the first time I dressed like a girl, even the first time I altered my appearance. I think the programming in me has a kind of checklist, and I have to accomplish certain tasks on that list, like it’s trying to verify that I’m operating like I’m supposed to. And the longer I resist, the more it pressures me to act.”

“And there’s only one more thing on the checklist,” Karen said.

“Well there’s only one thing I feel pressured to do,” Brandi smiled. “What bothers me though is I still don’t know who I am. Is everything I do based upon behavior that was programmed into me? Am I just a weapon that acts like a person?”

“Brandi if you can ask that question I think you have the answer,” Karen said. “If you were nothing more than a weapon, a human looking machine, you wouldn’t have these doubts and fears.”

“I guess you’re right,” Brandi said.

“After last night do you feel different towards girls?” Melissa asked.

Brandi considered the question carefully before answering, “No, not really. It’s very hard to explain. What I feel about sex is one thing; there is this very powerful attraction to both men and women. The thought of being with a man still scares the hell out of me, but after last night…after we were together, well I’m not afraid of being with a woman, and I still very much want to be. I really wasn’t afraid of it before; I was more afraid of giving in to the sexual desires I feel in any way.

“So, no, I don’t feel different towards girls, and yet I do. If anything, I know more than ever that emotionally I am far more attracted and comfortable with another woman…one in particular.”

Melissa blushed and Brandi smiled at her lovingly.

“Maybe once you take that last step, you won’t feel attracted to men anymore,” Karen suggested.

“I don’t think so,” Brandi said. “The sexual desire is designed to allow me to perform the missions a Genomorph was created for, and to do so convincingly. I think I will always find men attractive; I just hope that there won’t be a constant, driving need to be with a man. I find myself thinking about it more and more everyday. Worse, I find myself wanting it.”

“So were you in that Zen sleep thing last night?” Melissa asked, deciding she better change the topic before Brandi got too worked up. “You were sure out, and then when you woke up you were ready to go.”

“Ready to go huh?” Karen grinned.

It was Brandi’s turn to blush now and her cheeks turned bright red, “Yes, part of the night I was in Zen sleep. It beats waking up hung over.”

“You drank enough to float a frat house,” Melissa giggled. “I’m surprised you could even walk.”

“Even when I don’t control it, there seems to be a limit to just how drunk I can get,” Brandi said, “though I was certainly acting the part.”

“Well, except for the end, did you have a good time?” Karen asked.

Brandi smiled warmly, “I had a good time, even at the end. I was enjoying every minute of it even then…but I’m glad Renee found me. I’m still not ready to sleep with a guy.”

She blushed again before adding, “After last night though I think I’m a lot closer to it than I was before.”

CHAPTER 28

“Susan if you have a moment I have something you should see,” Amanda said from the base of the stairs to the basement. Susan had spent many hours the last few days looking through the artifacts that Amanda had collected, and had stumbled across something she had seen before.

“Sure, I have something to show you too,” Susan said. She retrieved a large canvas bag from the work table and slipped it over her shoulder as she joined Amanda.

They made their way to Susan’s office, and upon entering she saw that there was a large crate on the floor.

“This arrived by courier from my source in Nevada this morning,” Amanda said. “I believe it is very important.”

Susan stepped over to the crate, and upon seeing that the top was already pried loose she lifted it away. The inside was lined with a thick layer of foam, and once the top piece was removed Susan saw a gleaming silver cube; a storage case for Forerunner technology.

The cube was two feet on each side, and as with other such containers, was seamless with no apparent way of opening it. Generally, such cases had a small black square on top, which when pressed caused the lid of the case to open, in actuality the lid would simply disappear. Another square on the side was used to reseal the case.

This one was different, however. Instead of a square there was a black hand print on the top. Next to it were some lines in Forerunner script and one word in English….Brandi.

“This came from the cache at the lab?” Susan asked.

“Yes,” Amanda confirmed. “My contact found it while cataloguing some of the artifacts. There were several other identical cubes, but only this one had Brandi’s name on it.”

“Whoever your contact is, they took a big chance smuggling this out,” Susan commented.

“Yes and I was not at all pleased,” Amanda said, a frown on her face.

“Well it is obviously connected to the Genomorph Protocol, and intended for Brandi,” Susan said. “When I saved her data file, the computer must have transmitted the data to this container and encoded it for Brandi.”

“Shall I make arrangements to get it to her?” Amanda asked.

Susan nodded, “I have no idea what it is, but it must be important, or at least highly useful.”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Amanda said. “I was just about to have tea on the veranda, won’t you join me? You can show me what you found then.”

A few minutes later they were sipping tea and enjoying the lovely fall day. Susan reached into her bag and pulled out what looked like a large PDA and set it on the table.

“I found this in your collection,” Susan told Amanda as she showed her the device.

“It looks like a tricorder,” Amanda smiled.

“I should have known you would be a Star Trek fan,” Susan grinned. “As a matter of fact that is basically what it is. It’s a miniature computer and scanning device. We had several in Nevada but this has one major difference…it’s fully functional.”

“Can you operate it?” Amanda asked.

“Now that it has been interfaced with my computer and has translated itself, yes,” Susan said. “With this we can scan for changes made by the brainwashing device, and program the device you have to remove those changes, even after the sleeper has been activated, as long as the programming has not been active for too long.”

“You should scan me, and Gretchen as well,” Amanda said.

“Amanda I trust you,” Susan said.

“Trust is not the point, Susan,” Amanda said. “If we have been programmed, we wouldn’t even know it. The only way to be sure is to scan us.”

Susan ran the scan, finding Amanda clean. She then scanned Gretchen who was likewise clean. After that was done, she showed Amanda how to run the scan so she could verify that Susan was free of the sleeper programming.

Amanda ran the scan and gasped, “Susan…”

Susan looked at the screen, which displayed a list of programming that was buried within her mind. She could not tell what she was programmed to do, just that there was code embedded in her sub-conscious. She stared at it for a long time before speaking.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said quietly. “They had ample opportunity to get to me in the four years I was working for them, I just have no idea when this was done.”

She began shaking, and soon she was crying as Amanda held her.

“It’s like being raped!” she cried. “They violated my mind! Those fucking, evil bastards got into my head!”

“But we can fix it, Susan,” Amanda soothed, though inside she was seething. It was, just as Susan said, a kind of rape; even more perverse and violating than a physical assault in many ways.

“I feel like I know some of what Brandi must feel now,” Susan said once she had regained her composure. “I mean intellectually I understood it before…but to really know that something has been put in you to make you act in a certain way…it’s a very uncomfortable feeling. The one thing we truly can call our own is our thoughts, and yet these people have no problem invading that sanctuary and shaping it to fit their design.”

“I imagine the programming is intended to make you obedient and supportive of their agenda once they initiate their plan,” Amanda said. “They would still want your knowledge available to them.”

Susan shuddered, wondering just how obedient the programming would make her.

“Why didn’t they just activate me and use me to get to Brandi?” Susan wondered.

“We caught them by surprise,” Amanda said. “I do know they can activate individual sleepers, but it requires them to be close. In order to activate you now, they would have to use their satellites to send out a general signal and activate all the sleepers. They are not ready to do that yet.”

“So they don’t know about you?”

“They don’t perceive me as a threat,” Amanda told her. “I have been very careful to cultivate that impression, and it has required me to turn a blind eye to some things they have done.”

“He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight,” Susan said, smiling.

  Amanda smiled as well, “Sun Tzu also said, ‘All warfare is based on deception’, and we must never forget that our enemy is a master of deception.”

“Yes, indeed,” Susan agreed. “Now let’s get this garbage out of my head.”

Susan rose and then turned to Amanda, a smile crossing her face.

“Wait, I have a better idea,” she said. “A little deception of our own. But we’ll need some help.”

CHAPTER 29

It was early Monday morning as shadowy figures began taking positions near a condominium building in Las Vegas. The sun would be up in about two hours, and the street was quiet and deserted. Petty Officer First Class Mark Lewis peered through the scope of his weapon at the black sedan parked outside the condominium complex. The Condor air rifle was a far cry from the weapon he generally used, but it was up to the task at hand. Capable of launching a twenty-two caliber pellet at over twelve hundred feet per second, it was more than enough to puncture the tires of the car without making a sound or the risk of over penetration or ricochets that could endanger innocent civilians. Three more of his platoon mates were in concealed positions around the vehicle and on his command they would disable it.

Inside his condo, Ryan Sanders woke to the sound of his phone ringing and looked at the clock. It was just after four in the morning and he muttered angrily, wondering what was wrong at the lab now.

“This better be good,” he grumbled as he picked up the phone. “Yeah what is it?”

“Ryan there’s no time to explain,” Susan’s voice said in his ear. “You know you’re being watched. I need your help. A black Excursion is pulling up out front right now. Move!”

Ryan dropped the phone and quickly donned a pair of jeans and a shirt, and then slipped on his sneakers. Rising he grabbed his laptop computer and a brown leather duffel bag; he had kept the bag packed and ready for weeks now, and sprinted out of his condo. He ignored the elevators and took the stairs, flying down three flights and out of the building.

The black Ford SUV was pulling up just as Susan had said. It slowed to a crawl but did not stop as the back door opened. Ryan launched himself and was pulled in by strong hands. The door slammed shut and the SUV sped away. Ryan’s shadows started the engine of their car to pursue.

“Take ‘em.” Lewis whispered into his radio. The car had barely begun moving when all four of its tires went flat. By the time the two agents were out of the vehicle, the four SEALs had disappeared into the night.

*****

Brandi, Melissa and Karen entered Keller Karate Tuesday evening and immediately drew stares from all the men who were working out. It was much later than Brandi’s usual workout time and there were more people there, but tonight she was not here to work out. Dylan had called her the day before and asked if she could fill in for his women’s self defense instructor, who was out with the flu. Brandi had been reluctant at first, but Melissa and Karen had convinced her it would be good for her to interact with other women and that she could provide them with information that would be very valuable to them.

“Don’t worry about the boys, they do that all the time,” Brandi said. “Just smile and try not to make eye contact.”

“Speak for yourself, kiddo,” Karen said. “There are some real hunks here.”

Brandi was about to reply when she saw Dylan approaching. She held her comment and smiled as she greeted him.

“Well you are certainly raising the class of this place, Brandi,” Dylan said. Melissa and Karen shared a look as Brandi greeted Dylan with a warm hug.

“These are my friends Melissa and Karen,” Brandi told him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Dylan said, flashing them his roguish smile. Brandi felt a tingle rush through her, and fought the sensation down. She really liked Dylan, and her growing friendship with him was making her sexual urges even harder to resist. Besides Arnie Belcher, she had not develop a close relationship with any man since her transformation until she met Dylan.

“I really appreciate you taking Jenny’s class tonight, Brandi,” Dylan said. “Jerry will be your ‘dummy’ tonight. He’s getting suited up now.”

Brandi led Melissa and Karen to the smaller room that Dylan used for private workouts and small classes. Her friends both began giggling as they entered at the sight of Jerry, his six foot frame encased from head to toe in red foam padding. Brandi explained that the protective suit allowed the class members to practice on the ‘dummy’ as though it was a real attack, without actually hurting him.

Brandi stripped down to her sports bra and tights and began limbering up as several women of various ages slowly filed into the room. When the time for the class to start arrived, there were twelve women there including Melissa and Karen. Dylan came in to start the class off and introduce Brandi to the women.

“Our regular instructor, Jenny is out with the flu so Brandi here has graciously agreed to take over for tonight,” Dylan told them. “Now you may think she looks like a model and not a martial arts instructor, but I can tell you she has taught me a thing or two, most importantly to never underestimate someone based on appearance.”

Brandi blushed slightly and thanked Dylan as he turned the class over to her. She then had everyone introduce themselves and passed out a handout them that listed some basic tips and the defensive moves they would be learning over the course of the class.

“The first thing I want to stress, before we talk about anything else or learn any defensive techniques is preparedness and awareness,” she told the class. “I’m not trying to scare you, but we are all targets. There are predators out there, and they see us as prey; weak and vulnerable. The plain fact is that it’s true; the average woman is smaller and weaker than the average man. The trick is to turn that against an attacker, because he won’t be expecting you to fight back.

“Awareness is your number one weapon. By being aware you can avoid potentially dangerous situations. Always be aware of your surroundings and if a situation feels wrong, get out of there. Think about where you park your car, where you are going. Look around before you get out of your car, even if it’s at home. Never park in a dark, secluded area. When walking out to your car, have your keys ready in hand. If you can, get a remote keyless entry system.”

Brandi saw several heads nodding, knowing she was relaying information many of them had heard before. It was really no different than what Brandon had learned as a SEAL, only he had always known when he was going into danger. She felt a bit awkward preaching to them about the importance of awareness; with her enhanced senses she did not have to think about it, her mind was aware on a subconscious level constantly.

“With awareness you can hopefully avoid getting into a situation,” she continued, “but even if you can’t, it can give you enough warning to allow you to react. That’s where being prepared comes in. The moves you will learn here are part of that, but they won’t do you a bit of good unless you make up your mind, right here and now, that you will not be a victim.”

For the next two hours Brandi worked with the women, first demonstrating a technique with Jerry and then allowing each of them to practice it several times. She stuck to Jenny’s outline; the moves were basic enough to learn easily but very effective. She also stressed that the goal of each was to stop the attacker long enough for the woman to make an escape and that she was not teaching them to fight it out with a man.

“Once you put him down, don’t give in to the temptation to kick him while he’s on the ground,” she told them. “Run as fast as you can and scream as loud as you can. In most situations, the combination of your unexpected resistance and the commotion you make as you flee will convince him to retreat.”

Brandi was quickly over her initial nervousness and actually had fun. By the time the class was over she felt truly sorry for poor Jerry and was certain he probably had a few bruises despite the heavy padding; some of the women had been quite enthusiastic. Brandi could tell, thanks to her enhanced sense, that many of them had very personal reasons for taking this class.

“I’m glad I told Dylan I would do this,” Brandi told Melissa and Karen after the class. “It felt really good.”

“You did a great job,” Karen told her. “I think you made a big impression on everyone. Of course, we already know you’re wonderful.”

“It makes me think,” Brandi said. “I’m really lucky; I’ve never had to deal with that kind of fear. The one thing I wasn’t worried about when I came to LA was being attacked.”

“Well that’s obvious,” Melissa giggled. “You are the only woman I’ve ever met that came to LA looking to be attacked.”

Brandi blushed at the reminder of her first night in Los Angeles, when she had taken a taxi to an area virtually controlled by street gangs to basically pick a fight. She realized now how foolish that had been; though not because she had been in any real danger of being hurt, at least not physically. Instead of helping her resist her growing sexual urges however, the fight had very nearly caused her to give in to them.

Dylan was working with a group of young boys as the three girls entered the main room. Brandi waved and smiled as they walked towards the door, and Dylan left the group and jogged over to catch them. Brandi felt a definite thrill run through her as he neared, followed by a surge of fear and apprehension. She could feel her mind ‘changing gears’ as her anxiety tried to shift her into ‘bimbo mode’, but she took a deep breath and fought it off.

Calm down, you can handle this.

“Jerry tells me you did a great job,” Dylan said as he neared them.

“It was fun,” Brandi told him.

“Well you know we have a lot of interest in the class,” Dylan said. “I wouldn’t mind starting one on another night.”

“I’m happy to help if I can like I did tonight, Dylan,” Brandi said. “I couldn’t commit to anything more. For all I know I could be gone tomorrow.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Dylan said, leaning forward quickly and kissing her on the cheek. “That would be a very sad day.”

Dylan said goodnight and returned to his students and the three girls left the gym. As soon as they were outside Brandi reached into her purse and took out a cigarette. Melissa and Karen both notice her hands trembling slightly as she lit it.

“I win,” Melissa said. “It was under five seconds.”

“You’re right,” Karen said. Brandi looked at them both in confusion.

“We made a bet about how long it would take you to light up once we were outside,” Karen explained.

“Very funny,” Brandi said, exhaling smoke in their general direction.

“You have been smoking a lot more lately,” Melissa said.

“I know,” Brandi said. “It’s not even like I really enjoy it that much. I mean I get a sense of satisfaction because it is programmed into me, but I do it mainly as a distraction. I can focus on that rather than…other things.”

“Dylan is very handsome,” Melissa said. “It’s obvious he likes you a lot.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Brandi said, her voice betraying a hint of bitterness. “I was made to be desirable. That is the hardest part about the feelings I have, and the attention I attract; I don’t know if any of it is real.”

“Brandi, listen to me,” Karen said. “What you are feeling is nothing new; we women face the same questions all the time. Is he interested in me or my body? The trick is to give it time, get to know a guy. If he’s just after a quick tumble, he’ll lose interest if you don’t put out fast enough. If he really cares, if he really wants to know you, he won’t give up.”

“There’s more to it for me though,” Brandi said.

“True, you have an artificially elevated sex drive,” Karen said. “Men are largely driven by their bodies when it comes to sex, where women are more driven by their emotions. But you are driven by both, and it causes conflict. I can’t tell you how to balance the two, but I believe you will find a way.”

“You’ve lived with those feelings for months now,” Melissa added. “If you were going to be ruled by them, it would have happened by now.”

“It’s come close,” Brandi said. “Fortunately I have people looking out for me.”

Brandi’s head snapped to the right as a sound reached her hyper sensitive ears, and she began walking purposefully up the sidewalk in the opposite direction of their house.

“Trouble,” she said as Melissa and Karen followed.

Soon they could hear a young woman’s loud protests and ahead they could see the altercation. One of the girls from the class, Sally Prescott, was being confronted by a man who was yelling at her angrily. As they neared the scene, he reached out and grabbed Sally’s wrist and started pulling her towards a car.

Sally dug the nails of her other hand into the back of his hand and with a cry of pain he released her. She turned to flee but he quickly wrapped an arm around her throat and pulled her roughly back.

“I suggest you let her go,” Brandi growled as they reached the scene.

“Get lost, this is none of your business,” the man shouted back.

“I disagree,” Brandi said. “You are on a public street assaulting a young woman. I’m making it my business.”

The young man sized Brandi and her friends up and did not seem terribly impressed. Brandi knew she could step forward and take him down in less than a second, but she saw something in Sally’s eyes, a very deep fear. She knew this was a crucial moment for the young woman.

“Sally, it’s time to make your choice,” Brandi said softly.

Sally’s eyes hardened at her words, and she acted. She smashed her right foot down on his toes even as she snapped her head back into his face, squarely on his nose. His grip loosened slightly and she grabbed his thumb, prying it away painfully and twisting free from him as he tried to balance on one foot. He lost the fight and fell to the sidewalk as Sally rushed away, stopping when Brandi was between her and the man.

“You bitch!” he screamed. “You broke my fucking thumb!”

“I seriously doubt that,” Brandi said. “At the most she dislocated it.”

“It’s over Craig, why can’t you get that through your head?” Sally said.

“It’s over when I say so!” Craig shouted, rising to his feet and taking a step forward.

This time Brandi did step in; Sally had done what she had been taught. She had acted to defend herself and stopped the assault, and then gotten clear of her attacker and found help. He would not touch her again. Brandi did not try anything fancy; she simply punched him in his already bloody nose hard enough to send him staggering back. Craig snarled in rage and launched a punch of his own. Brandi caught his fist and twisted, forcing him down to his knees and then shoving him away. He sprawled to the sidewalk once more.

“You’re lucky, a few weeks ago I would have broken your arm on principle, but I’ve grown since then,” Brandi said. “If you try to touch her again though I will put you in the hospital.”

“I’ve already called 911,” Karen said, wiggling her cell phone for him to see. “I can call an ambulance while I’ve got my phone out too if you want.”

A look of fear crossed Craig’s face and he scrambled to his feet and got in his car. With squealing tires he sped away from the curb. After he was gone Brandi turned to Sally.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes,” Sally nodded. “He didn’t hurt me…this time.”

“We all saw the assault,” Karen said. “When the cops get here we can give them a statement.”

“I already have a restraining order against him,” Sally said.

“Good, that means they will pick him up with no problem,” Brandi said.

The police arrived and twenty minutes later had taken their statements. Brandi was able to give them a detailed description of Craig’s vehicle and the tag number, and within minutes of putting out a bulletin on the radio the officers informed them that Craig had been picked up a few blocks away after running a red light. He was being taken to the emergency room to have his injured thumb treated and then would at least be spending the night in jail.

“I’ve seen you at Keller Karate, haven’t I?” one of the responding officers asked Brandi. His name tag said Montoya on it.

“Yes I work out there a few times a week, Officer Montoya,” Brandi said. She had thought he looked familiar; he was one of the regulars at the dojo.

“Yeah I heard you put Dylan on his butt a few times,” Montoya laughed. “He’s a great guy but he can be a little cocky at times; I would have loved to see his face when that happened. Were you the one who messed up this guy’s hand?”

“No that was all Sally,” Brandi said. “She showed him a few things she learned in tonight’s self defense class. I only stepped in when he didn’t get the message.”

“Well with the prior incidents and his violating the restraining order the judge will probably throw the book at him on this assault charge,” Montoya said, turning Sally. “If he gives you anymore trouble be sure and call us.”

“Thank you officer, I will,” Sally said.

“You know I could go for a drink,” Karen said after the police had left. “Why don’t you join us, Sally?”

“That sounds nice,” Sally said. There was an air of confidence about her that had not been there before. “We aren’t going to be picking up any guys are we…I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

Brandi put her arm around Sally’s shoulder and smiled, “You and me both, Sally.”

CHAPTER 30

Three days after he had been pulled from his condo, Ryan entered Amanda Breton’s Virginia estate with an awed look. He had spent two of those days at the safe house the SEALs had in California while they made certain that no one was tracking him, and then he had been flown to Virginia.

The house was not quite what he had expected; it was certainly opulent enough but there was a definite warmth that such mansions often lacked. Many of the walls were decorated with paintings, but rather than pieces from famous artists they looked like something one might find at a local art show. It felt like a home, not a museum, and Ryan’s initial nervousness quickly vanished.

Like many, he knew of the wealthy woman through her work in humanitarian efforts around the world. She was one of the few wealthy people he found truly admirable; always ready to use her influence when it mattered but never flaunting it. Amanda and Susan were waiting in the foyer to greet him, and he was more than a bit surprised when Susan gave him a big hug. He had always liked her, but she had never been a person who went in for emotional displays; at least not before Brandi had come into her life.

“I’m so glad we got you away from that place safely,” Susan said. “Let me introduce you to our benefactor and someone I have come to regard as a close friend, Amanda Breton.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Breton,” Ryan said as they shook hands.

“Please, call me Amanda. Being called Mrs. Breton makes me feel like an old lady.”

Ryan laughed, knowing that Amanda was well into her seventies, though she did not look a day over fifty. They went into the parlor and Gretchen brought in a tray of refreshments. The pretty blonde gave Ryan an uncharacteristic smile as she served him, and actually blushed when he thanked her.

“Gretchen likes you, Ryan,” Amanda said as the girl left the parlor. “She’s rather shy around men. I’m afraid she had a rather traumatic childhood.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard her speak,” Susan said.

“She is quite fluent in English, as well as her native Dutch and French and German,” Amanda told them. “As I said, she’s very shy.

“I found her five years ago. Her parents had died when she was very young, and when she was twelve the administrator of the orphanage she was in sold her to a wealthy Dutch business man. She was his plaything for six years, until some people I was working with freed her. Her former ‘master’ as well as several members of the orphanage staff were arrested and imprisoned.”

“It sounds like they got off lucky,” Ryan muttered, outraged that someone could do such a thing to human being, not to mention someone as lovely as Gretchen.

“Indeed they did. I brought in counselors and teachers to work with Gretchen. Naturally, after being treated as a sex object for so long that was how she saw herself. She had a long road to travel, and she has made tremendous strides. Of course she will deal with issues arising from her treatment for the rest of her life, but she is a remarkable young woman.”

“She must be incredibly strong,” Susan said.

“I hope she and Brandi can meet,” Amanda said. “In many ways Gretchen has had to deal with programmed behavior of her own.”

“I think that would be wonderful,” Susan agreed. She then turned to Ryan, an apologetic look on her face.

“I’m sorry we had to whisk you away like this, Ryan,” she said. “The situation is far worse than we ever suspected, and we desperately need your help. But first, I need to run a scan on you.”

Susan reached into her bag and took out the Forerunner handheld scanner. The scan revealed that Ryan was free of any mental programming. She quickly explained to him what she had learned about the programming of the sleeper agents and showed him the scan results revealing the programming within her mind.

“I guess they had bigger fish to fry than me,” Ryan said, relief obvious in his voice.

“You’ve only been with the project a little over a year,” Susan said. “From what Amanda has told me, they have been stepping up their efforts to program people in power. They likely reasoned that you would be easy enough to get to once they enact their plan.”

“What do you want to do?” Ryan asked. “I assume you’re after something more than just removing the programming they put in you.”

“Yes I am,” Susan said. “What we need you to do is write a new program, one that will leave their programming in place so that I will know when they activate the sleepers, but still allow me to act under my own free will. I need to know what the programming is trying to make me do.”

“If they had any sense at all it will require you to make contact for instructions,” Ryan said. “It probably includes code words too so they will know you are under their control.”

“Can you do it?” Susan asked. “The only Forerunner computer we have is this hand unit.”

Susan passed the device to Ryan and he examined it for several minutes.

“Yes I can do it with this,” he said. “My laptop has custom interfaces attached that will hook up to this unit. I can use it to enter the data, which will speed up the process. It’s going to take time though.”

“Is there anything else you need?” Amanda asked.

“Lots of coffee and sweets,” Ryan grinned. “I don’t plan on sleeping much until this is done.”

“I’ll have Gretchen keep you supplied,” Amanda said, smiling. It would be good for her to have contact with this charming young man.

CHAPTER 31

It was a pleasant early October day a week later as Melissa pulled her SUV into the garage, with sunny skies and the temperature in the upper seventies. It had been her usual day; nine hours split between her own classes and her work as a teaching assistant in the music department, mostly tutoring undergraduates in piano and cello, which was often maddening to say the least. Yet as she walked in through the garage door she felt a smile spreading across her face. Coming home to Brandi always made her smile, no matter how tired she was.

It had been nearly two months since the night they had met; the night Brandi had saved her and turned her world upside down in a wonderful way. For the past two weeks they had been lovers, but Melissa was still uncertain of her feelings. Being in love with Brandi brought with it a host of unique complications. She could deal with the fact that Brandi was in hiding, and that perhaps one day they would be on the run. She actually found that somewhat exciting. But could she deal with growing older while Brandi was forever young? Could she see her own body age and wither and not feel her love turn into resentment?

Who are you kidding? She asked herself. She’s everything you want.

It was not Brandi’s looks, although Melissa was not ashamed to admit that she had been physically attracted to Brandi the instant she saw her. But more than anything it was her innocence. Some of that had been programmed into her by the alien machine, a behavior designed to lull an enemy into believing she could not possibly be a threat. But more than that, it came from the fact that Brandi was seeing the world through a new set of eyes. Every experience for her was fresh and new, and Melissa loved watching her grow. There was also a definite strength that came through when Brandi became comfortable with someone and no longer felt the need to hide who she was. She was the most fearless person Melissa had ever known, and that too was not a product of her transformation; if anything it was one of the reasons she had been transformed.

Still Melissa felt she had to be sure, and so she was waiting for some indefinable sign that would let her know for certain that she really and truly loved Brandi and wanted to be with her for the rest of her life.

She got it sooner than she expected.

Brandi was nowhere to be seen as she passed the kitchen and entered the living room. She wasn’t out on the deck either, so Melissa went upstairs and checked her bedroom. She was not overly concerned, but Brandi was always there when she and Karen got home, and usually had dinner in the works. And today they were going to the range for some shooting practice, and Brandi was always ready for that.

Her bedroom was empty but the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar, and Brandi generally kept it wide open if she was not in there. Melissa stepped up to the door and knocked gently.

“Brandi I’m home,” she called. Of course with her enhanced senses Brandi should already know that.

“Brandi?” Melissa called again when there was no reply. Finally she decided that Brandi must not be home and swung the door open wide.

The sight before her caused her heart to freeze in her chest. Brandi was in the bathtub, completely submerged beneath the water, her eyes open and staring at the ceiling. Her skin had a pale, squalid look to it, and her chest was not moving.

A thousand things flashed through Melissa’s mind at once but what came out of her mouth was a heart rending scream of anguish, bellowing up from the depths of her soul. She felt as though a dark pit had opened beneath her and she was falling into eternal blackness. It seemed as though hours passed as she stood there, feeling that her world was coming to an end, though it was only seconds. In those seconds it was as though she could see her life stretching before her, empty and barren without Brandi in it.

The moment was broken as Brandi literally exploded from the water, leaping from the tub, dripping wet, her eyes darting about to find what had frightened Melissa so she could kill it. All she saw was Melissa, standing there, eyes wide in horror.

“Melissa?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Melissa screamed, finding her voice at last. “Do you have any idea what you just put me through?”

“Melissa I’m sorry… I was…”

Melissa slapped her, hard, across the face, and though it barely stung physically, to Brandi it was as though she had just had her heart ripped from her chest. Melissa slapped her a second time and tried for a third but Brandi caught her wrist and gently forced her hand down. Melissa began shaking, tears streaming down her face.

“I…I’ll go…” Brandi whispered, choking back her own tears. “Thank you for being my friend.”

Brandi slipped past the stunned Melissa and began looking about the room, trying to decide what to pack first. She wanted to fall down on her knees and beg Melissa to forgive her, but the anger and hurt she had seen and felt in her friend was too much. Brandi was certain she had destroyed the one chance she had to hold on to her humanity.

“Don’t you dare leave me Brandi,” Melissa said softly from behind her, and as Brandi turned she saw Melissa rushing towards her, colliding with her and knocking her to the bed.

Melissa grabbed Brandi’s face in her hands and kissed her. She kept her lips tight against Brandi’s, their tongues dancing, even as her hands moved to her blouse, ripping it open. She felt Brandi responding to her, helping her undress, and all the while her mind was shouting with joy. She knew now, beyond any doubt, that she loved this strange, wonderful girl and whatever time she had she wanted to spend it with Brandi!

*****

Karen was feeling a bit nervous as she approached the office of her advisor, Dr. Richard Evans. She had turned in her thesis a week earlier and was surprised when he had asked her to stop by his office this soon. The quarter was not even half over and her thesis would not even be presented for review for several weeks. The process of turning it in to her advisor early was simply to allow him to review it and give her some preliminary advice on any revisions she should make.

“Come in and have a seat, Karen,” Dr. Evans told her as she entered the office. “I’m sure you’re dying to know what’s up.”

“I am a little curious,” Karen admitted as she sat down.

“Well let me put your mind ay ease by saying your thesis was masterful,” Evans smiled. “What I want to talk to you about is your future. What do you want to do?”

“I hope to work in international relations,” Karen said, breathing a mental sigh of relief. “I’ve already had contact with several corporations.”

“What about the government?” Evans asked. “Have you put in a resume with the State Department?”

“Yes I have,” Karen said. “Working for the State Department is my dream really, but I’m certain I’ll need some experience in the field before I have a chance at a job there.”

“I’d like to give your name to some people I know,” Evans said. “I would also like to send them your thesis. The State Department is forming a new threat assessment group and they are looking for fresh, young minds. I can’t really tell you a lot about it, as I don’t have that many details. I do know this group will work closely with the Department of Defense and the intelligence community.”

“Dr. Evans, I don’t know what to say.” Karen said. “Thank you.”

“I can’t promise you anything, Karen,” Evans said. “All I can do is put a few words in the right ears. If they do take you, it will mean you’ll have to go to Washington, probably before the quarter is over. That shouldn’t be a problem as all your work is done. Your thesis still has to be reviewed by the board but I can assure you that is only a formality. As I said, I can’t promise you anything, but you might want to start making arrangements; they’d be fools not to take you.”

“I will,” Karen said, looking at her watch. “If they want me, I’ll do the very best job I can.”

“I know you will, Karen, you have a bright future ahead of you,” Evans said. “I have to get back to reviewing more papers so I won’t keep you any longer.”

Karen left the office and walked to her car in a daze. She really knew nothing about what the job would entail, but she was already excited. Dr. Evans would not have even mentioned it if it was not something he felt was important and rewarding.

The only bad part was telling her friends, Melissa and Brandi in particular. She knew they would take it hard; she and Melissa had been friends for six years, and though she had only known Brandi for a fraction of that time she loved her like a sister. It never ceased to amaze her that despite Brandi’s awesome abilities, emotionally she was tremendously fragile. Brandi was a warrior capable of tremendous destruction packaged in the body of a young woman who could so easily be broken. The last thing Karen wanted to do was hurt her, and yet there was no way she could turn down an opportunity like this.

“Well, there’s no sense in getting them worked up yet,” she muttered as she started her car. “I’ll wait until I know something definite.”

*****

“Next time can we skip the whole fight part and just make up?” Brandi giggled as she and Melissa lay entwined in bed.

“I love you Brandi, but don’t you ever scare me like that again.” Melissa said, her voice cracking. “I thought you were dead. I’m sorry I slapped you…I just lost it. It was like my whole world was coming to an end when I saw you there.”

“I’m so sorry Melissa.” Brandi whispered, pulling Melissa’s head onto her breast. “I…I didn’t mean to. I would never hurt you…I love you too.”

“I know you do, silly blonde,” Melissa smiled, and then her smile turned to a frown. She pushed herself up and smacked Brandi on the shoulder.

“What the hell were you doing anyway?”

Brandi rubbed her shoulder before answering.

“I was seeing if I could regulate my body’s oxygen consumption,” Brandi explained. “Since I started taking those yoga classes like Renee suggested, I’ve really learned a lot. I’ve found that I can actually visualize the parts of my mind; it’s like my brain is partitioned like a hard drive. Every aspect of who I am has its own part; my personality, my combat abilities…even my sensuality. When I meditate I can actually isolate and examine those areas and I’m learning that I can regulate all sorts of things, like my heart rate, my body temperature and my respiration.

“I guess I went too far ‘cause I slipped into something really close to Zen sleep. I knew what was happening around me but it was like through a fog. I heard you come in, and I heard you call my name and I was coming out of it slowly.”

“And then I screamed.”

“That woke me up fast,” Brandi said, her voice pained with the memory. “It wasn’t just the noise…I could feel you in that scream…oh God Melissa please forgive me for putting you through that!”

“Hey, I do forgive you love,” Melissa assured her. “Just promise me you won’t try anything like that by yourself again.”

“I promise,” Brandi said.

“So how long were you underwater?” Melissa asked, settling back down to snuggle with Brandi.

“A little over three hours,” Brandi said.

“I ought to slap you again,” Melissa sighed. “So you were holding your breath the whole time?”

Brandi nodded, “Those yoga classes have really opened up a lot of new possibilities to explore. The other day I lowered my respiration to one breath every ten minutes. So I figured if I could get into that state and take a really deep breath I should be able to hold my breath a long time.”

“That’s very interesting love, but what good is it really? I mean if you are as helpless as you get in Zen sleep, what can it do for you?”

“Well for one thing if I ever get buried alive it could be useful,” Brandi offered. “I am pretty sure though with more practice I’ll be able to control my bodily functions while still being able to move. I just need to learn to put one part of my mind into that state, while the other parts remain active.”

“Like you can when you lower your pain threshold?”

“Exactly,” Brandi said. She still had not told Melissa exactly how her pain management ability worked. “It’s all a matter of training, not just my body but the nanocyborgs in me. I think they start out with some basic functions, but are capable of doing much more.”

“It is amazing, everyday you seem to grow,” Melissa said, then started laughing. “I’ll never forget the look on those guys’ faces at Muscle Beach last weekend when you bench pressed two hundred pounds.”

“Imagine what they would have looked like if I’d really decided to show off,” Brandi grinned. “In the lab I benched over six hundred, and I lifted nearly a thousand in the squat. As Brandon I could never come close to that, not even at my peak.”

“My girlfriend is Buffy the Vampire Slayer on steroids,” Melissa giggled.

“Actually none of that is superhuman,” Brandi told her. “There are weight lifters that can lift that much. Of course they are all men and are huge, but my strength is not outside human capabilities.”

“Well it’s still pretty cool,” Melissa said. “I get that thing women are supposed to long for; a pair of strong arms to hold me, all wrapped up in a cute, sexy, cuddly girl package.”

“That’s funny,” Brandi said. “When I’m in your arms I don’t feel strong, but I do feel safe. Right now, I feel protected by your strength.”

“You do tend to be a bit submissive when it comes to making love,” Melissa said. “Probably you’re supposed to be that way, but I think it’s mostly because you’re never more vulnerable than when you open yourself to someone else, and making love is the most open two people can get. I also think that maybe it’s the one time you really feel comfortable as a girl.”

“Whatever,” Brandi smiled, snuggling close to Melissa. “I just know I could stay here with you holding me forever.”

“That may be but we have to meet Karen at Gary’s shop,” Melissa reminded her.

Brandi was out of the bed in a flash, pulling Melissa with her.

“That’s right, I forgot!” she exclaimed.

“Oh sure, stay in bed with me forever she says,” Melissa said in mock disgust as Brandi began hurriedly dressing. “But give her a chance to go blast some holes in paper targets and I am totally forgotten.”

Brandi grinned mischievously, “I’ll make it up to you tonight. Wait ‘till you see how hot I get after a session at the range.”

*****

Dear Mom,

It’s hard to believe over two months have passed since I made my escape. Living with the constant fear that they will find me is hard, but I have decided I have to get on with my life. I know it’s going to happen one day, but I try not to let it worry me too much.

I have some interesting news I’m sure you’ll want to hear….

I’m in love! And what’s even better … she loves me too! I’m sure I don’t have to tell you but yes, it is Melissa.

I know there are all kinds of issues involved with this, not the least of which is the fact that I will likely live a long time and have to face watching her as the years take their toll, but I don’t care about that. What can my life be like if I allow those concerns to deny me happiness?

And I realize we have only known each other for a short time. I knew she was attracted to me from the start, but I wasn’t sure if it was just a sexual thing or if she really had feelings for me. It all kind of exploded today, and I do mean exploded. I’ll tell you about that later.

It really is mind blowing to think that the eleven year old girl I saved from drowning fourteen years ago is now this beautiful young woman that I am madly in love with. Where would I be without her? Melissa has helped me so much in becoming more comfortable as a girl. Hell if it wasn’t for her I’d be dressing, well, like a slut. I still dress sexy, I just can’t help it, but she at least keeps me under control. And it’s not just with fashion that she helps me. She corrects me when I start acting like a guy…I still have a tendency to come in and flop down on the couch with my legs splayed out and stuff like that. She has also helped me get my eating under control. I still take in calories like crazy, but she pointed out that since calories are just energy to me if I eat the right things regularly I don’t have to pig out at meals. I think chocolate may have been created for Genomorphs. Of course I have to keep that away from Melissa…she has a definite chocolate addiction and she can gain weight. I can’t wait until you can meet her.

I still have a lot of doubts and fears, not the least of which is the big M word. I’m not as afraid of it as I used to be, though now I have a new worry. If I give in to my urges to have sex with a man, I know I’ll feel horrible, like I am being unfaithful to Melissa. Oh well, one complication down and another pops up.

It kind of brings up a bit of confusion too. I mean, what am I? Am I really a lesbian now, since I’m in love with another woman? When it comes to sex, inside I still see myself as male, so being in love with Melissa feels like the most natural thing in the world. In everything else though, I look, act and even think like a woman now. It’s confusing, but I can see the wisdom in it. By setting the Genomorph program up so that it altered the subject to sexually accept both genders, the Forerunners left us free to decide for ourselves who we would love. In the end, that’s all that really matters. Being open to sex with a man was necessary for the primary mission of the Genomorph; to infiltrate a male dominated society and get close to the men in power, but we can still choose who we will care about.

I think if I were really to be truthful though, the thing about having sex with a man that frightens me the most…the thing about being female that frightens me the most…is the idea that I can bear children. That is something that nothing in my past experience can even begin to help me deal with. Yet even though it scares me, it excites me too…does that make sense? Logically, if the Forerunners had not wanted Genomorphs to reproduce, it would have been simple enough to make them incapable of bearing children. So the fact that the transformation made me fertile means that childbearing was probably something they desired. I wonder if I will desire it someday. Right now I can say for certain that when I look at a man, I am not evaluating them as a breeding partner, I am evaluating them as a sexual partner. That’s enough to deal with for now.

Well I have to go for now. I’ll write again soon. I love you.

CHAPTER 32

Gretchen entered the room where Ryan was working on the modified control program carrying a tray piled high with food. He did not even stir as she set it down on the table behind him.

“Mr. Ryan, you must eat,” Gretchen said.

Ryan turned, a smile coming to his face. He had been working on the program for nine days, and Gretchen had kept him well supplied with caffeine and sugar, as well as more substantial food, but this was the first time she had ever spoken. She had a lovely, soft alto with just the barest hint of an accent.

“Thank you, Gretchen, you’re right,” he said. “I could use a break. Would you join me?”

“I really should get back to my duties,” Gretchen said, blushing.

“I’m sure Amanda wouldn’t mind if you kept me company for a bit,” Ryan said. “I’d really like to have someone other than my computer to talk with for a while. And please, you can drop the mister and just call me Ryan.”

“All right…Ryan, I would like very much to stay for a while,” Gretchen smiled shyly.

Ryan thought she had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. He stepped over to the small table and sat down, eying the food hungrily. Gretchen moved to serve him and he held up a hand.

“Please, you’re on a break,” he said. “I can dish out my own food. Have a seat.”

Gretchen sat in the chair opposite him, her posture very straight and proper. Ryan realized sadly that while she had come far from the girl Amanda had taken in, she still had a long way to go. In effect, she had replaced one type of programming with another; from sexual servant to domestic servant. Now she hid behind that programming.

“If I may be so bold, you are working too hard,” Gretchen said hesitantly. “You never leave this room. The grounds are lovely, and I find that taking walks helps me to relax.”

“That sounds nice,” Ryan smiled. “Would you take a walk with me later on?”

“I…I could not,” Gretchen stammered. “I have much work to do.”

“I guess I’m not the only one who works too hard.” Ryan grinned.

“It…it is hard for me, Ryan,” Gretchen said softly. “I know Mrs. Breton told you where she found me…what I was. Even after all this time…I am never far from that place.”

Ryan’s eyes softened and he almost reached out to take her hand, but somehow knew it was too soon for that. Instead he said, “I can’t begin to imagine what you went through, and I would do anything in my power to make those memories go away. I don’t have a lot of friends, but I would like to be yours, Gretchen.”

“I…I would like that too, Ryan.”

*****

Gary Rand was an old friend of Melissa’s father who ran a gun shop and indoor shooting range that drew a lot of business from law enforcement. Melissa had introduced Brandi to Gary when she had asked about gun shops a few weeks earlier. In addition to selling guns Gary was also a gunsmith and did custom work, and Brandi had talked with him at length about getting some special work done.

Security was something that concerned Brandi a great deal, with good reason. While the people that were pursuing her were technically government agents, they operated outside the law. The very fact that they had held her in the Nevada lab and were pursuing her now that she had left was a violation of the law; she had done nothing wrong and had in fact fulfilled the agreement she had signed before she was transformed. That the machine had done something unexpected was irrelevant; she had demonstrated that she was no threat and several of the scientists had said the same.

Still, that would not stop them from trying to force her back, and they would not hesitate to hurt or use those she had become close to. She was not worried about herself, but Melissa and Karen were another story, so a few weeks earlier she had asked them how they felt about guns.

“My dad’s guns are in the closet in my room,” Melissa had told her. “They’re registered in my name now. I’ve fired them before; he took me to the range several times when I was younger. They haven’t been used in several years though.”

“I have no problem with guns,” Karen had said. “I’ve never touched one in my life but I understand that they are not inherently evil. I’ve just never had a reason to touch one before.”

The next day Brandi and Melissa had gone to see Gary, taking her father’s pistols with them. He had used a pair of Colt Python revolvers; one with a four inch barrel as his service weapon and a second with a two and a half inch barrel as a back up and concealment piece. They were in good shape and well maintained but had been sitting in a case for over two years. Brandi had asked Gary to give them a full check and make any repairs necessary, and then had talked with him for some time about a special order.

It had only taken a few days to get the Pythons back into pristine condition, and in the three weeks since then they had returned to Gary’s regularly, using his indoor range. Brandi worked with Melissa and Karen on becoming familiar with the revolvers, loading them with thirty-eight special rather than full magnum loads so they could become comfortable with them. She had also encouraged them both to apply for concealed weapons permits so that they could carry them when they were away from home.

Brandi had been pleased that her skill with weapons had improved just as her hand to hand combat skills had. It was not surprising, but she had been uncertain as to just how much better she would be. Mercer had never allowed her to have any contact with weapons of any kind in the Nevada lab, probably because he feared she would try to escape.

A lot of good that did them, Brandi thought with a smile.

They drove to Gary’s in Brandi’s newly purchased car. She had wanted to get something practical, along the lines of Melissa’s Escape hybrid, with good cargo capacity and fuel economy, so that if they had to run they could load up and go.

She had ended up with a bright red Pontiac Solstice convertible. The little sports car had just been so adorable and sexy and she had just known that she would look absolutely hot driving around in it. It was impractical at best, and yet on another level it was perfectly within the character she presented to the world. A girl like her looked much more natural behind the wheel of a sports car than an SUV.

“We can use yours if we have to bug out,” she had told Melissa sheepishly when she brought the car home. “What can I say….I’m just programmed that way.”

Brandi had become far more comfortable with the behavior that was programmed into her. Fighting it only led to stress, and a stressed out Genomorph tended to break things. She dressed like a sexy girl and even enjoyed it, though Melissa often had to rein in her more risqué selections. It wasn’t that she minded the way Brandi dressed; in fact she loved that her girlfriend was not afraid to show off her body. But she knew that there was still that last bit of behavior that Brandi was struggling with; her attraction to men, and dressing too provocatively would only make them notice her more. It was not like Brandi actually tried to dress sensually either; I fact the opposite was true. When Brandi had first been transformed and escaped the lab, she had thought about her appearance constantly and dressed to hide it. Now, she tended to dress without thinking about how she looked, and her programmed nature led to her dressing in a way to best display herself. Usually all it took was a raised eyebrow from Melissa and she would correct her look.

Being with Melissa helped her deal with her desires a lot, but it was getting harder. Brandi knew it was only a matter of time before she succumbed. As for her flashy car and dress, well, she thought of it as hiding in plain sight when she gave it any thought at all. If the people looking for her were around, they would have in mind the frightened, insecure girl from the lab who tried as hard as she could not to be a girl. They would be unlikely to think the hot blonde in the flashy red sports car was the fugitive they were looking for.

She silently thanked Ryan Sanders again for the identity he had constructed for her. Her credit history was spotless and that had smoothed the transaction. Her paying cash for the car had smoothed it even more.

You get at least two big wet kisses when I see you Ryan, Brandi thought with a grin. And who knew, by then she may be over that last hurdle and he could get a lot more. Ryan was a geek, but he was a really cute geek.

Of course she would not even have the car were it not for the money from Amanda Breton. The trust fund provided her with a monthly allowance that more than covered her expenses, and she could access larger sums for major purchases, like buying the car. She had already replaced the cash she had spent from the ten thousand Susan had provided her, and added more to it. They now had twenty-five thousand dollars in cash hidden in the condo in case they had to run. In addition, each of their vehicles had a ‘bug out’ kit in it, which included an additional five thousand dollars, so they could make a getaway without ever having to return to the house if necessary. She had also given Melissa and Karen the information necessary to access the numbered account should something happen and they became separated. Should the worst happen and they had to flee while they were separated, Amanda had provided them with the location of a secluded house in the mountains north of Los Angeles where they could meet and regroup.

She thought of all the people in her life now; Susan, the Admiral, Mrs. Breton, Arnie and now Melissa and Karen. How could she survive without them? And how had she been so fortunate, with so much arrayed against her? What about the connection to Brandon? Amanda, Susan, Arnie and even Melissa…all people whom Brandon had crossed paths with and saved. It certainly did seem that fate was working overtime in her life.

“Do you believe in fate Melissa?” Brandi asked as they drove to Gary’s shop.

“I believe you are fated to get a ticket if you don’t slow down.” Melissa told her. Brandi grinned and dropped her speed down from sixty to the posted forty-five.

“Sorry, some of the old me is still there.” She giggled. “I always was an adrenaline junky.”

“Now to answer your question, yes I believe there is such a thing as fate.” Melissa said. “I believe there is something out there, something greater than us, that subtly guides us. Why do you ask?”

“Just thinking...” Brandi said growing quiet. The wind was whipping her hair back and in her mirrored shades, tight jeans and low cut blouse, Melissa had to admit that this was the perfect car for her. She looked like she belonged in a music video.

“So much has happened to me, and I thought I was in control, but now I wonder.” Brandi continued. “Someone or something was looking out for me during my carefully planned escape. If they hadn’t been, I’d be locked up in that hell hole in Nevada right now.

“And even before then, there are so many people that through some strange twist of fate crossed Brandon’s path at just the right time, you especially. If I hadn’t been on that beach in San Diego to pull you out of the water….I can’t even think about what my life would be like now.”

“You are in control Brandi.” Melissa said. “You control your destiny. Fate is what life hands us; sometimes it’s good and sometimes it’s bad. Destiny is what we make of it; and I believe that some people, those that have the capability to handle it, get handed more by fate, so that they can forge a greater destiny. Fate put all of those people in your path, but you made the choices, you took action and you set the course of your destiny.”

“That still puts a lot on me then.” Brandi said.

“Yes it does.” Melissa admitted.

“Good. I don’t like being controlled.” Brandi said, and then flashed one of her sunburst smiles. “Gently nudged in the right direction from time to time I can tolerate.”

CHAPTER 33

Gary Rand looked up as the door chime sounded and smiled as he saw the two girls entering his gun shop. Karen was already there, waiting at the counter as her friends entered.

“Melissa, Brandi how nice to see you!” He greeted them. Brandi giggled happily and bounced up to the counter, leaning over to give Gary a kiss on the cheek.

You would never guess she was a man less than a year ago, Melissa thought.

It was true; in the two months that Melissa had known Brandi she had changed completely. Once she had made up her mind to embrace being a woman she had launched herself into it with a passion. That did not mean she did not still have doubts and fears, but she was dealing with them. And there was still one last thing that she had to deal with. Melissa felt it would be soon. At least she was on birth control, having opted for a Depo-Provera injection, which would protect her for twelve weeks. Two weeks after getting the shot Brandi had told her that she would not need them in the future, because her body now knew how to duplicate the effect.

“I got your message that my pistols are ready.” Brandi said to Gary. She was practically hopping with excitement.

“Yep, and the paper work is all set.” Gary smiled. “You can take ‘em home with you.”

“Cool.” Brandi said.

Gary left the counter and stepped into the shop in back, returning almost immediately with two boxes. He opened them and grinned as Brandi practically squealed with glee. She was an odd girl, he thought. Kind of dizzy but she sure knew her firearms. And she could shoot like no one he had ever seen.

“A matched pair of Heckler and Koch P2000SKs in .357 Sig. I replaced the stock sights with Trijicon night sights and tuned the trigger pull to minimum weight just like you asked. They’re Heckler and Koch so they are pretty nice out of the box, but I tweaked the action a bit. They should shoot real smooth.”

“Sweet!” Brandi exclaimed. She examined the weapons, working the slide to feel the action. “Wonderful work Gary.”

“Those are kind of cute,” Karen said as Brandi admired the pistols. “It’s nice that they make guns for little girlie hands.”

Brandi glared at Karen, who was grinning wickedly, and stuck her tongue out.

“Hey I got some info you might want to hear,” Gary told them. “I was talking to one of my friends on the force. When I heard about those punks that tried to hurt you Melissa I put some feelers out.”

Brandi stiffened noticeably at his words.

“Turns out those three had several outstanding warrants and pretty extensive rap sheets. They were very nasty dudes. I’m glad someone helped you out there Melissa.”

“Actually it wasn’t just someone.” Melissa smiled. “Brandi is the one that saved me.”

Gary looked at Brandi with a new respect. “They said those three were messed up pretty bad. You did all that damage?”

Brandi nodded and smiled, looking embarrassed as she said, “I’ve taken martial arts classes since I was old enough to walk practically. Daddy was a hand to hand combat instructor for the Navy at Little Creek.”

“So your dad taught Navy SEALs how to fight,” Gary laughed. “And his little girl too. Smart man; looks like those guys got off lucky.”

You have no idea, Brandi thought as she smiled sweetly. The story was close to the truth, though Brandon’s father had been a submariner. But the hand to hand instructor at Little Creek had always delighted in asking, ‘Who’s your daddy now?’ after having thoroughly embarrassed one of his trainees on the mat. At any rate the explanation seemed to satisfy Gary’s curiosity.

“Now let’s see what you three can do with these weapons,” Gary smiled. “I’ll buzz you through to the range and bring them around with some ammo.”

*****

Susan was seated in the office Amanda had provided for her pouring over the latest data from the Genomorph project. How Amanda had gotten her hands on the documents Susan did not know and did not ask. Amanda had simply assured her that she had a trusted source, the same person who had sent the package with Brandi’s name on it.

The files contained decrypted information on the capabilities of a Genomorph. The more Susan read, the more stunned she was.

Immediately upon completion of the process a Genomorph was physically perfect…by human standards. But many of the abilities could be fine tuned, and others only manifested after the subject had adapted both physically and mentally to their new body. She knew from Brandi’s emails that she was almost, if not fully, adapted already. And she knew she was already unlocking many of these new capabilities, and developing her body as well, even if she did not know why.

The last document was a direct translation of a file regarding the seven warrior genes.

There are many factors that combine to distinguish a true warrior from an ordinary soldier. A man or woman may be molded into a soldier through training and discipline, but the foundation of a true warrior is there from birth. These are the genetic traits of the warrior, those which distinguish them from mere soldiers.

Warriors must posses a physical and mental superiority that sets them above the average. They must be faster, stronger, hardier; they must be decisive and adaptable. Above all they must be committed and resolute, capable and willing to wreak terrible destruction but never reveling in the act.

Even among warriors, there are genetic traits that set some apart, in particular the seven warrior genes. To be considered for the Genomorph Protocol, a warrior must possess at least one of these markers; the Mother. Those warriors possessing more than three are truly formidable and able to accomplish great deeds. But only those possessing all seven will transcend greatness and become legends.

The Leader - Warriors with this genetic trait are gifted, natural leaders. They are able to inspire others through word and action and engender great loyalty and devotion in their comrades and fear and hatred in their enemies. Genomorphs possessing this gene have the ability to sense the motivations of others as well as inspire them to exceed their own perceived limitations.

The Destroyer - This genetic trait renders the warrior capable of acts of great violence and destruction. Unbalanced it is found in the most monstrous individuals of society, but when balanced by other traits it gives the warrior the ability to carry out the violence necessary in warfare, yet not be ruled by it. Genomorphs possessing the destroyer will generally develop natural weapons, most often expressed as claw or bone blades. The Genomorph must exercise great care in dealing with this dark aspect of their nature, as they constantly tread a fine line between darkness and light.

The Tactician - This trait gives the warrior an innate grasp of tactics and strategy. This is not simply limited to warfare, and can be found in those who are successful in many varied endeavors. They know the value of careful planning, and yet are not bound to it. They are masters of improvisation as well, and can adjust to changing situations readily. Genomorphs with this gene have highly developed minds; compartmentalized and capable of multitasking better than the finest tactical information systems.

The Just - Also called The Defender, warriors with this trait will naturally resist that which is wrong and defend that which is right. It should be noted that right and law do not necessarily equate, and warriors with this trait can be expected to rebel against unjust rulers. They will also have no fear of skirting the rules, as they are governed by an innate sense of what is right and what is wrong. They detest seeing power abused and the weak trodden on. This trait renders the Genomorph highly resistant to attempts to control them and cause them to act against their principles.

The Cunning - Shrewd and adaptable, these warriors are able to use guile as well as force to accomplish their objective. This gene gives the warrior the ability to overcome in the face of adversity, and to salvage victory from the very precipice of disaster. This gene suits the spy and assassin, the thief and the saboteur, but is also found in great leaders and generals. This gene is prized for Genomorphs because it augments their ability to mimic another’s form by allowing them to independently alter their appearance.

The Resolute - This trait gives the warrior the resolve to do what must be done - regardless of personal cost. This is the mark of the true hero, who will give the last full measure of themselves for others, and never seek fame or recognition. However it can also be found in the worst tyrants, who will stop at nothing to accomplish their own selfish ends. This trait allows a Genomorph to continue to function even when badly hurt, and to control the way her body responds to pain.

The Mother - Most prized of all, this most feminine trait is rare in males and yet seems to be disproportionably represented in warriors. At first, this may seem odd until one considers the nature of this trait. It is the gene of the nurturer, the lover, the caregiver and bringer of life; yet it is also the gene of the protector. One has only to consider a mother in the wild, protecting her young from a fierce predator to understand. To the warrior, all are their children and they will fight to the bitter end to protect them. With the transformation, this gene is fully enabled in the Genomorph, and as she grows will express itself in a strong maternal drive. This will provide the added benefit of producing future generations of warriors from the Genomorphs who will bear them. The Mother gene also serves to make the transformation less traumatic for the warrior, allowing a part of their nature which was never fully expressed to be freed.

Above all it must be stressed that the transformation is voluntary, and a warrior must be fully informed of every aspect before agreeing to be transformed. To take one of these proud individuals and subject them to this against their will could lead to unforeseen consequences. The mental reprogramming required necessitates a willing subject who is prepared and will not resist the changes. This is especially true of those warriors possessing the Just genetic trait, as they are inherently resistant to such reprogramming and the power required to overcome this resistance could damage the programming and result in unintended difficulties.

Susan smiled, finding it ironic. Deep within the greatest of warriors was a little piece of feminine instinct, which shaped their potential for destruction into a desire to preserve and protect.

It also explained more about her attraction to men. It was quite likely that the Mother gene, now fully expressed in Brandi, was in large part responsible for her desire to be with a man. It was more than sex; it was a mating drive.

The last paragraph was both enlightening and disturbing; Brandon possessed all of the warrior genes and had undoubtedly resisted the mental reprogramming instinctively. It could explain why Brandi was struggling with her sexual desire; if the programming had been corrupted it was possible she was faced with less control of the urges she faced.

It also raised another question; if the Forerunners were so determined that a subject volunteer to be transformed, why had the program been designed to trigger automatically? It was contrary to their stated purpose, and to everything she knew about these people. There was only one logical explanation; the trigger was not placed in the programming by the Forerunners. They already knew that the programming had been altered in an attempt to make Brandi compliant and controllable, and that Brandon had been targeted for transformation years ago, so it stood to reason that the program had been intentionally altered to make it look like an accident.

Susan opened up her email program and began typing a note to Brandi. There were many answers in the data, and little of it would be comforting, but Brandi had a right and a need to know it all. She already knew from Brandi’s latest email that the thought of bearing children frightened her, and in fact she was already beginning to deduce that a maternal instinct had been programmed into her. Susan wondered how she would take it when she found out that instinct had always been there, buried in Brandon’s male genetic structure.

CHAPTER 34

Once they were on the range, Brandi fired a few test rounds through the HKs to get the feel for how they fired. She had selected the .357 Sig chambering because it offered a good balance of penetration and stopping power. She knew the people looking for her were no fools; jerks perhaps but not stupid. When they came, they would come in force, and likely she would be facing men in body armor. The Sig round was becoming popular amongst law enforcement because of the increasing prevalence of criminals wearing body armor, and it had a one shot stop rating of better than ninety percent.

The guns fired well; consistent and accurate as she had expected. Satisfied, she unloaded them and set them aside for the time being.

“Just getting a feel for how they shoot,” she smiled.

Karen stepped up to the shooting station first. Though the Pythons that had belonged to Melissa’s dad were fine weapons, Brandi had gotten them each more modern Smith & Wesson 386PDs, a medium frame seven shot revolver in .357 magnum. The alloy frame and titanium cylinder made for a strong, lightweight revolver and the two and a half inch barrel made it easily concealable. To help with accuracy Gary had replaced the stock grips with Crimson Trace Lasergrips. Though a snub nose revolver was not ideal for novice shooters, they needed something that could be easily concealed. The integral laser sight would allow for fast target acquisition and accurate shot placement, and the magnum loads would guarantee a one shot stop. Even though body armor existed that could stop a .357 round, the target would still feel like they had been hit with a hammer.

Over the next hour Melissa and Karen worked with the pistols. Brandi had them load up with .38 Special rounds so that they could become comfortable with them, explaining that once they were proficient they could step up to full power magnums. The main thing they were working on was getting comfortable with the pistols, especially the considerable muzzle flash produced by the short barrels. Brandi had told them that the flash was not entirely a minus; if they were facing an opponent wearing night vision gear, the flash would temporarily overload it at close range, buying precious seconds for a follow up shot if they missed.

She was not too concerned about them missing at the ranges they would likely be engaging an opponent. With the laser sight, Karen was a very competent shooter. Melissa, however, was approaching gifted. On her last target, Melissa put seven rapid fire rounds from the snub nosed revolver into a five inch group, dead center in the target at a range of ten yards. Anyone of them would have been lethal in most cases.

“Pretty good sweetie.” Brandi said.

“Pretty good? Hah!” Melissa exclaimed. “Let’s see what you can do blondie!”

Brandi smiled sweetly and clipped a fresh target to the carrier. After running it out to its maximum distance of twenty five yards, she loaded the two HK pistols and began humming ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’. Once loaded, she chambered a round in each and set them down on the bench.

“Say when,” she said as she smiled at Melissa.

“When!”

Brandi snatched the two pistols from the bench, firing as she brought them up on target. Another reason she had chosen the HK pistols was their Combat Defense Action, which basically meant that the pistols had no manual safety. The act of pulling the trigger disengaged the safety and allowed the first round to be fired quickly, yet the pistols were still safe against accidental discharge if dropped or struck.

Brandi alternated her firing, first the right and then the left pistol, squeezing rounds off so fast it sounded like one continuous explosion in the range. When the slides locked back on empty chambers the roar continued to reverberate for several seconds.

Brandi resumed humming the tune as she punched the button to bring the target back to the firing line. There were nine neat holes in the center of the target’s chest, eight forming a circle and the ninth dead center. A similar pattern was in the center of the face.

“Holy crap Batman!” Gary exclaimed.

“Show off,” Melissa mumbled, sorry that she had goaded Brandi into a display in front of Gary. The girl was just incapable of backing down from a challenge.

“Let’s see Mel Gibson do that,” Brandi giggled.

“I have never seen anyone shoot like that,” Gary said, awestruck. “I guess your daddy taught you more than hand to hand.”

Brandi realized her display had probably not been a good idea. Gary had already seen her shoot and knew she was very good, but now she had shown him she was even better.

“Well, like, he did take me to the range a lot,” Brandi said, her nervousness over the slip causing her to slip into character. “He said I was, like, a pro…prosti…um, I mean a protestant?”

“I think you mean prodigy, sweetheart,” Melissa said.

“Yeah, that’s the word!” Brandi giggled. Inside she was still furious; both over the foolish mistake and that it was causing her to act like a ditz.

“There’s a gun show coming up in a few weeks,” Gary said. “I bet I could set up a shooting exhibition if you were game.”

“I don’t think so, Gary,” Brandi said. “I really don’t, like wanna advertise, you know? I’d rather be an enema.”

“Enigma,” Karen corrected.

“Oh, yeah,” Brandi said. She did not laugh this time. It had stopped being funny.

“Ok Brandi I’ll back off,” Gary said. “Hey before you go, I want to show you something. Wait right here.”

Gary left the range, returning minutes later with two gun cases. He set them on the bench of the firing station and opened them up. Inside were two compact submachine guns. They were styled along the lines of the Israeli Uzi but had a much more futuristic look. The matte black receiver was made of a steel reinforced polymer, and the weapons had a telescoping stock and a fold down fore grip.

“Now those are pretty,” Brandi said, regaining her composure. She was certain Gary thought she was schizophrenic; sometimes she wondered herself.   “MP-7 from Heckler & Koch right?”

“I had a feeling you would know them,” Gary smiled.

“I’ve never actually seen one, just read about them,” Brandi admitted. “I would guess you have these for demonstration purposes.”

Gary nodded and told her, “LAPD is considering getting a few.”

“Don’t they have enough guns already?” Karen quipped.

“The MP-7 is a personal defense weapon designed to defeat body armor,” Brandi told her.

Brandi picked up one of the 4.6 x 30mm rounds and showed it to Melissa and Karen.   The cartridge was a bottle neck design and the bullet was sharply pointed. She explained it had a steel core to increase penetration. The round did not have much stopping power, but it could punch through twenty layers of Kevlar and a titanium trauma plate.

“Yep, ever since the North Hollywood shootout in ninety-seven they have wanted something that could punch through body armor,” Gary said. “There’s stuff out there that can even stop a two two three round from an M-16.”

“I remember that shootout,” Melissa said quietly. “Dad was there. He wasn’t hurt but he said it was the most intense thing he had ever been in.”

Brandi did not speak, but Melissa saw the sad, far away look in her eyes. She knew when she saw that look that Brandi’s mind was in the Iraqi desert on a dark, overcast night. Gary too noticed the sad look on Brandi’s face. It was so out of place that he wanted to do anything to make the sad look go away.

“Care to burn through some magazines?” Gary asked.

The big smile that returned to Brandi’s face was worth the cost of the rounds.

“I would love to,” Brandi said.

She picked up one of the small weapons, it was not much larger than a large frame autopistol, and slipped a forty round magazine into the well in the grip. The magazine extended about three inches below the grip.

“I’m glad you have the extended magazines,” Brandi commented as she checked that the safety was on before pulling back the charging handle.

“Yeah the twenty-five round magazines go pretty quick,” Gary said.

Brandi extended the stock and sighted at the target down range through the holographic sight. She flipped the selector from safe to semi-automatic and fired three quick rounds, each impacting in the center of the target’s face. She then flipped the selector to full auto. She fired several three round bursts and then some longer six round bursts, each precisely controlled. The center of the target’s chest quickly disintegrated leaving a gaping hole.

“I like it!” Brandi laughed. “The recoil is very light.”

“So do we get to play?” Melissa asked.

As much fun as Brandi had shooting the MP-7s, watching Melissa and Karen as they experienced firing a full auto weapon for the first time was even better. Their targets looked like Swiss cheese afterwards, but they both had huge smiles on their faces.

“There’s just something about capping off some rounds on full auto,” Brandi told them. “It’s a great stress reliever.”

Thirty minutes later they were back in the shop and Brandi was as giddy as a school girl. She settled up with Gary for the custom work and the range time, and then they said their goodbyes.

“Oh wait, I almost forgot,” Gary called as they were almost out the door. He ducked into the back and returned with a package.

“I got that double shoulder rig you asked for,” He told Brandi.

“Oh great, how much do I owe you for that?” Brandi asked, reaching into her purse.

“This is on me sweetheart,” Gary said. “Just promise me your not gonna be carryin’ those pistols concealed without a permit.”

“I promise you Gary,” Brandi said as she accepted the package. “If I have need of those guns, they won’t be concealed.”

“I’ll meet you guys back at the house,” Karen told them outside Gary’s shop. “Oh and dinner is on me tonight.”

“Oooh what are we havin’?” Brandi asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Karen grinned, “but I thought of it just for you.”

Melissa and Brandi parted with Karen and climbed into Brandi’s car. As they headed back to the house Melissa asked, “Could you always shoot like that?”

“Yes and no,” Brandi replied. “First of all, for Brandon a pistol was a secondary weapon. He could have come close to that, with a single pistol in a two handed stance. The rate of fire would have been slower though. And he would have never considered using a pistol in each hand.”

“Why not?” Melissa asked.

“Well when you empty both of them what do you do?” Brandi asked. “Reloading with a pistol in each hand can be a problem; I know I can do it though. Also, once I know how a weapon shoots I don’t really need the sights. I can feel where the bullet will hit. Brandon would never have fired from the hip unless there was no choice.”

“Do you know what you just did?”

“No, what?” Brandi asked, looking back to see if she had run a stop sign.

“You referred to Brandon like he was another person,” Melissa told her.

“I guess I did,” Brandi said. “I…I have to think really hard to remember what it felt like to be Brandon. And even then, I remember most vividly the Brandon since the war. The way he…I was before that night in the desert…it’s very vague. Most of the time it’s like he was someone I knew…a long time ago.”

Brandi became quiet, and Melissa knew something was bothering her, but did not want to press. Finally she could stand it no longer.

“Brandi what’s wrong?”

“Melissa I want you to promise me something,” Brandi said, keeping her eyes locked on the road ahead. “If something happens, if I…if I don’t come home or something…promise me you won’t try to find me. Just run, you and Karen throw your bags in the Escape and run.”

“Brandi what are you…”

“Don’t go anyplace they can connect to you,” Brandi continued, her voice taking on an almost frantic tone. “Lose yourself, disappear. I swear to you, I’ll find you.”

“Brandi has something happened that you haven’t told me?”

“No honey, nothing has happened. And if something goes down I hope I will be able to get word to you.” Brandi said. “I just have a really bad feeling its coming soon.”

“I...I don’t know if I can make that promise Brandi.”

“You have to Melissa!” Brandi pleaded. “If they have you, they have me! I’ll do anything they want to keep you safe.”

“All right Brandi, I promise,” Melissa told her.

She hoped it was a promise she never had to keep.

They arrived back at the house before Karen, wondering what she was planning. Thirty minutes later they heard the garage door open, and a few seconds later Brandi sprang to her feet.

“I smell barbecue!” she exclaimed and rushed to the door. She disappeared into the garage and Melissa heard a squeal. A minute later Brandi and Karen came into the house, each carrying several large bags from Baby Blues Bar-B-Q. Brandi watched in awe as Karen laid out racks of ribs; Baby Back and Memphis style, along with barbecued chicken, pulled pork and beef brisket. There were numerous side dishes and when Karen set out one in particular Brandi squealed again.

“Collard greens!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Karen. “I think I wanna have your baby!”

“Honey, if any other girl said that to me I’d tell them it was flattering but impossible,” Karen laughed. “With you, anything is possible so I’d watch what you wish for.”

The meal was fantastic and accomplished what Karen had hoped it would; Brandi was so excited about the food that she did not pick up on Karen’s uneasiness.

“Brandi, did they ever tell you anything about how you can eat so much?” Melissa asked as she pushed her plate away. Trying to keep up with Brandi at the table was worse than pointless. “By the way, you did great tonight. You still eat a lot but you don’t shovel it in like a guy anymore, and I know you were tempted.”

Brandi grinned sheepishly as she pushed her plate away, “Thank you, love. Right after I was transformed, they thought my appetite was because my body was just starved for calories. After all, I went from over one eighty to one hundred twenty-five pounds in under two hours, and then slept for three days.”

“But it didn’t stop,” Melissa said.

“No, so they did lots of tests. I’ve only really found out a lot of the results since I ran away, from the emails Susan sends me. They still aren’t even close to understanding how my body works, and I’m no scientist, but I can try and explain.

“When I was transformed, it was more than just my genes and gender. I was altered at the molecular level. The way my body processes food is totally different from the way a human body does.”

“You make it sound like you’re not human,” Karen said.

Brandi was silent for a moment before she continued.

“I’m not really. I look and act and feel human, but at the most basic level, my body is nothing like yours. When you eat, your body takes the food and converts it into sugars which it then uses for energy. If you eat too much, the excess sugars become fat, which can then later be converted back into energy but it requires a lot of exercise to burn it off. My body skips all that and converts what I eat, even the parts a human body can’t digest, into pure energy, and then stores that energy. Since energy has basically no mass, I can store huge amounts without gaining any weight.”

“So that’s how you can take on the form of someone who is physically larger than you,” Melissa said. “You can convert that energy back into matter.”

Brandi nodded, “But it’s very hard…and it hurts. It’s much easier to alter my form within the basic shape and mass I normally have. Then it’s just a matter of rearranging what’s there.”

“Well I think your parts are arranged perfectly,” Melissa said. Brandi giggled and blushed at the compliment. Melissa smiled, thinking that one thing the alien machine had certainly gotten right in Brandi was a woman’s love for being told she was pretty.

“Well we better get this food in the fridge before you two get overcome by passion,” Karen said. “This was supposed to feed twelve people so it should last through tomorrow the way Brandi eats.”

Brandi stuck her tongue out at Karen and began gathering up the leftovers.

“It almost worked,” Brandi said to Karen as she loaded the dishwasher in the kitchen.

“What’s that, sweetie?” Karen asked.

“Your attempt to distract me with food,” Brandi smiled. “I can tell you’re tense about something Karen. I can also tell you’re not ready to talk about. Just remember we love you and are here for you.”

“I know that, and I love you guys too,” Karen said, realizing she should have known better. “When I can, I promise I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

CHAPTER 35

The next week and a half went by with little excitement; the fall quarter at UCLA was half over and Melissa and Karen were usually occupied with their graduate work. Brandi happily played the role of housekeeper and cook, and was almost able to suppress the worry that she would be located by the organization. She relished in the sense of normalcy the domestic chores provided.

She continued with her physical training as well, working out with Dylan three times a week and jogging almost everyday. She had stopped taking the Yoga classes because she had gotten all from them that she could; the class was really more about fitness than meditation. But the techniques she had been introduced to had allowed her to explore further on her own and she was becoming more comfortable with what she had become.

As Brandi walked into the living room after a Monday afternoon run, she saw that Melissa and Karen were waiting for her. Even without her enhanced senses, Melissa’s eyes, red and puffy from crying, were enough to tell her that something was going on.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. She knew Karen had been uneasy since their barbecue feast almost two weeks earlier, but had not pressed her about it.

“Sit down sweetie,” Karen said gently, patting the couch next to her. “I have to tell you something.”

Fearfully Brandi took a seat next to her friend and waited for what she was sure was some kind of horrible news. As she waited for Karen to speak, her anxiety was only heightened by the signals she was getting from both of her friends.

“You know that I love you, both of you, so very much,” Karen said. “We’ve only known each other a couple of months and I just can’t imagine life without you Brandi.”

“Please, Karen, just tell me what’s wrong!” Brandi pleaded.

“I’m leaving honey,” Karen said, her own eyes glistening. Brandi’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“Karen…why?” she asked, feeling the tears as they began spilling from her eyes. She could not help but think that she had done something, though she could not imagine what.

“You know I showed my thesis to my advisor a couple of weeks ago, Brandi,” Karen said and Brandi nodded. “He showed it to a friend of his and, well I’ve been offered a job with the Department of State in Washington.”

Brandi’s face lit up through her tears and she threw her arms around Karen.

“That’s fantastic, Karen,” she told her. “I’m so happy for you…I just can’t stop crying yet!”

“I know sweetie,” Karen said, holding Brandi tightly. “God I am going to miss you guys so much.”

“When do you have to leave?” Brandi sniffed.

“Thursday,” Karen said.

“No, Karen…why so soon…”

“I’ll be back the day before Thanksgiving,” Karen told her. “There are a lot of things that have to be done though and they want me to start in December, the Monday after commencement. I wish it didn’t have to be this way…I never thought anything like this would happen, not this soon.”

“Do you know what you’ll be doing?” Brandi asked.

“Some,” Karen said. “It’s actually very highly classified, and I won’t be given the full details until I pass all the security checks, but you’ve already shared your secret with me, and I have no worries about sharing mine with you.

“The group I’ll be working with is new; it’s called CTAG for Combined Threat Assessment Group. It will include people from the military, state department and intelligence communities, and we will be assessing potential hot spots around the world in the hopes of identifying threats before they get out of hand.”

“It sounds really great. I really am happy for you, Karen,” Brandi said, still crying. “I just don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

Karen held Brandi’s face in her hands and told her, “You will do just fine, I know you will. You don’t need me; you’re a beautiful, capable young woman and you will be all right.”

“But I’ll miss you so much,” Brandi said, and the tears started again. It was at moments like this when it was so obvious that despite having the memories of a forty year old man and the body of a mature young woman, Brandi was emotionally a teenage girl. Her mind told her that this was a good thing, a wonderful opportunity for her friend and something that had been inevitable. Her heart only knew that she was losing someone she had come to depend on and loved like an older sister.

It was some time before any of them could speak again. Brandi truly was happy for her friend but she could not get past the profound sense of loss she felt. Then she remembered that the Bimbos were scheduled to play their regular Tuesday spot and then again Friday and Saturday at The Backbeat, their first weekend as the main band.

“The band!” she cried.

Karen turned to Melissa and smiled, and then looked back to Brandi.

“We were just talking about that before you came in,” Melissa said. “Karen has a wild idea.”

“I was hoping you would take my place,” Karen said.

“Karen I…I can’t! I can’t be the lead singer for a band…it’s too dangerous!”

“Maybe if you were the lead singer,” Karen smiled. “But I was thinking more of you literally taking my place…as me. And I want you to do it tomorrow night.”

*****

“Andrew Stewart?”

Andy looked up from the table he was cleaning at the two men in dark suits. It was well after the dinner crowd had come and gone and the restaurant was nearly deserted.

“That’s me,” he said nervously. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Agent Reynolds,” the man said, flashing a badge. It identified him as an FBI agent and though technically fake it would stand up against any records check. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about the night of August nineteenth.”

Andy knew exactly what he was talking about. He had just gotten off for the night and was on his way home when he had happened upon an altercation in an alley. Several other people were there, watching in awe as a young blonde woman fought three men who had tried to attack another girl. He still could not get the image of that gorgeous blonde out of his mind. And the way she had taken down those three jerks in the alley had been amazing.

“I already told the police everything I saw,” he said. It was a lie, a white lie. He and the other witnesses had told the police what they had seen, but none of them could agree on exactly what either of the women involved looked like. The cops had not been too concerned, as all three of the men in the alley had outstanding warrants. He had also not mentioned that he knew the girl that was attacked.

“This is just a follow up,” Agent Reynolds said. “You’re not in any trouble and neither are the two girls involved. We’d just like you to take a look at this photo.”

Reynolds pulled something from his coat pocket, but instead of a photo it was a large, flat, purple gem. It flashed with light and Andy felt a little strange.

“Now, what did you forget to tell the police?” Reynolds asked.

“The girl was blonde with really big tits,” Andy said. “She was very beautiful.”

“Anything else?”

“The girl that was attacked is named Melissa. I don’t know her last name but she used to work at a bar a few blocks away.”

An hour later the agents had the name and address of Melissa Barlowe in Venice Beach.

CHAPTER 36

“You seem kinda nervous, Karen,” Amber asked as the Post-Modern Bimbos waited backstage at The Backbeat on Tuesday night. “Are you ok?”

“I just haven’t been feeling too well today,” ‘Karen’ replied. Brandi had taken on Karen’s appearance two hours earlier, and was dressed in one of her friend’s signature skin tight mini dresses. She desperately wanted a cigarette, but Karen did not smoke, so she could not either.

“Can you make it through the show?” Cyndi asked, concerned.

“I’ll be fine once I’m out there,” Brandi said.

Melissa pulled Brandi aside and pretended to be checking her outfit.

“You’ll be fine,” she whispered. “You know all the songs as well as Karen and you sound just like her.”

“It’s not the performance that worries me,” Brandi whispered back. “I’ve never held a form more than five hours. I’ve already been Karen for two and the show will last at least two. Then we have to breakdown.”

“They already think you’ve been sick,” Melissa said. “After the show, tell them you’re really feeling bad and need me to drive you home.”

“I don’t like lying to my friends!” Brandi hissed.

“It’s only for these last shows,” Melissa said. “Then we’ll be on break and have nothing scheduled until after New Year’s.”

“We’re on girls!” Cyndi called, and they made their way onto the stage. Brandi experienced a moment of extreme anxiety and then the music started and as soon as she began singing, she felt the fear vanish.

Brandi was quickly immersed in the performance and forgot about any other problems. She had not been concerned about her ability to pass herself off as Karen; she was designed to do things just like that. She was surprised at how much fun it was, and she really got into both performances; playing Karen and just being in front of the crowd. At one point she looked out and saw a blonde haired girl wearing dark glasses and a long, black dress, smiling and moving to the music. She smiled; Karen’s disguise was pretty good too.

It was exhilarating being up on the stage; the last time she had done anything even close to this had been years before as Brandon, singing Jimmy Buffet tunes at a navy bar near Norfolk. Now she was performing songs by Avril Lavigne, Michelle Branch and other contemporary female pop stars, as well as several numbers Melissa had written for the band. It was nothing like the music Brandon had performed or even listened to, and yet she found she identified with the songs far more, and her connection to the audience was much greater.

The crowd was not thinning out as they neared the end of their last set and the management asked them if they would play a little longer. Two hours stretched into three and by the time they finally retreated backstage Brandi was feeling increasingly weak. She was concentrating so hard to hold her form that she nearly collapsed and would have fallen if Cyndi and Renee had not caught her.

“You better get her home, Melissa,” Renee said, solving that problem for them. “We’ll take care of packing up.”

As soon as they were out of sight of the club Brandi lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, sighing as she exhaled.

“Can you hold on until we get home?” Melissa asked in a worried tone.

“I hope so, otherwise I’m gonna ruin Karen’s clothes when my boobs expand,” Brandi said, in her own voice. It sounded very odd coming from Karen’s body.

Karen was waiting for them as they entered, having left the club before the show ended. As soon as they walked through the door she and Melissa stripped the clothes off Brandi and with a whimpering cry she returned to her own form and passed out.

None of them had noticed the black sedan parked a short distance away from the house. Brandi had been far too out of it to have any hope of detecting the two men watching them. They reported that three young women had entered the house, none matching the description of the Genomorph.

“Do we maintain station?” one of the agents asked his superior over the radio.

“Negative,” came the reply. “It’s too risky, she could spot you. Return to the safe house. We’ll come up with a plan to flush her out.”

  The car started and pulled away slowly, disappearing into the night.

CHAPTER 37

The next morning Melissa awoke and saw that Brandi was not there. They had been able to awaken her enough the night before to get her upstairs, but as soon as they had lain her in bed she was out again.   Though they knew she was in Zen sleep, the way she had collapsed had frightened them both.

Melissa followed her nose downstairs and found Brandi at the bar in the kitchen. Before her was a plate piled high with diced potatoes, sausage, bacon and fried eggs, all topped off with sausage gravy, which she was devouring with gusto. Brandon was raised in the south, and while for the most part Brandi’s culinary sense was very diverse, she still preferred very southern style breakfasts.

“Are you ok love?” Melissa asked.

Brandi looked up and grinned, “Just very, very hungry. And feeling very stupid too.”

“Why sweetie?” Melissa asked. “You did great.”

“It’s not that,” Brandi said. “I should’a spent time these last weeks working with my shape shifting abilities. But of all the things I can do…well, like, that part creeps me out the most. Well that and the claws.”

“Brandi we can cancel the performances on Friday and Saturday,” Melissa said. “Karen and I talked about it last night and it’s just not worth it. You’re too vulnerable like that.”

“I don’t want you to cancel them,” Brandi said. “I have a better idea. I want to tell the band everything. If they are in on it, then I won’t have to change until just before we go on. I can take clothes with me to the club. That will add a good hour and a half to two hours to my time.

“Are you sure?” Melissa asked. “I know you can trust the girls, but there’s always a risk they’ll freak out or something.”

“I don’t think so,” Brandi smiled. “Amber will think, like, ‘That’s so cool!’, and Cyndi and Renee will be all, like, ‘Fascinating Captain.’”

“Have I told you recently that I love you?” Melissa grinned.

“Not this morning,” Brandi beamed. “I love you too.”

For a moment Brandi was too busy kissing Melissa to eat. Then she heard the door to Karen’s room open and turned and smiled at her.

“Good God look at all the food!” Karen exclaimed as she came into the kitchen. She walked over to Brandi and kissed her on the cheek and then wrapped her arms around her and squeezed.

“I love you too sweetie,” Karen said. “You were fantastic last night. If I hadn’t known it was you I would have sworn I was going nuts. I never knew I looked so hot up there!”

“Oh believe me you do,” Brandi grinned. “I need to work on shape shifting, and I am gonna do that between now and the weekend.”

Karen took a seat on the stool next to Brandi and asked, “Are you sure you’ll be able to take my form if I’m not here for you to touch?”

In answer, Brandi altered her appearance until she was Karen’s twin, and then quickly shifted back.

“Once I have the pattern, it’s stored permanently,” she said. “I can still look like Susan if I want to.”

“It was so amazing last night, and I admit at times a little creepy,” Karen said. “When you were on stage and even when you weren’t; it was like looking at my life from outside. Sometimes you would do something or say something and I would think, ‘I don’t act like that!’, but then I would realize that I do. It was very surreal.”

“If I hadn’t known what was going on I would have never suspected anything,” Melissa said. “Did you get all that from touching Karen?”

“No,” Brandi said, shaking her head for emphasis. “When I touch someone I am getting their genetic information to help me physically duplicate them, but that is really only a small part of the process. The rest comes from observation, and the longer I have had to observe a person the better I can mimic them. I remember everything, even if I’m not trying to.”

“Then you can actually imitate someone without touching them?” Karen asked.

“It’s harder but I can do it,” Brandi said. “The genetic information gives me a blueprint to work from.”

“Well our DNA determines what we can look like,” Melissa said. “But what we actually look like is really up to us and how we treat our bodies.”

“Exactly,” Brandi said. “The DNA gives me a shortcut, but it’s my observations of the person that fine tune it. The GMU does something similar, though in reverse and at a much more complex level. In its most basic use, it uses a scan of the DNA of a subject to shape them into a perfect representation of their DNA. If there are any problems with their DNA; say they are genetically disposed to obesity or heart disease, it corrects those flaws.”

“It pisses me off,” Karen said. “That machine could end so much suffering and they are keeping it a secret.”

“I understand what you mean, Karen,” Brandi said. “But remember there is only the one machine. It needs to be studied so that we can learn how it works and make more like it. Until then, it has to stay secret.”

“Getting back to the band, how do you want to break it to the girls?” Melissa asked.

“Well I was thinkin’ about that,” Brandi grinned mischievously. “I think we’ll let Karen tell them.”

Before she could explain further she turned towards the back door, her grin disappearing.

“Someone’s here,” she said, and seconds later the doorbell rang.

“Stay out of sight,” Brandi said, and once more took on Karen’s form. She walked down the hall and through the utility room to the back door, looking out through the peep hole. A man stood on the porch, dressed in the uniform of an overnight delivery service, but Brandi could sense tension and alertness in him. There was also something very familiar about him, but she could not see his face clearly.

“Can I help you?” Brandi called out in Karen’s voice.

“I have a delivery for Brenda Williams,” the man said. “He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.”

Brandi opened the door and accepted a large, heavy package from the man, setting it down in the hallway and then signing the form on his clipboard. She looked up at the man’s face as she handed the clipboard back to him and stifled a gasp.

Matt Branch smiled pleasantly as he said, “Have a nice day, miss.”

Brandi closed the door and leaned against the wall for a moment, her entire body tingling. There was no doubt that Matt was a handsome guy, but seeing him as a woman she now realized just how absolutely gorgeous he was. She was also upset that she had appeared to him as Karen and not herself.

Get a grip, girl, she told herself as she shifted back to her normal appearance. Even if he knows what happened he wouldn’t have recognized you.   She picked the package up and took it into the living room.

“Is that the package you’ve been expecting?” Melissa asked, and then noticed that Brandi was very flushed. “Are you ok, sweetie?”

Brandi started giggling and when she finally got herself under control she told Melissa and Karen about her encounter at the door.

“I swear I wanted to grab him and kiss him,” Brandi said.

“Ok if you’re going to act that way you can’t be me anymore,” Karen laughed.

“Yeah, like it would really hurt your reputation,” Melissa told her friend. “So do you have any idea what this is?”

“Not a clue,” Brandi said as she began opening the package.

*****

“This is very risky,” the driver of the black sedan said.

“It’s necessary, Blake,” Agent Reynolds replied. “Trying to maintain round the clock surveillance is too risky; she would spot us eventually. If the Genomorph is staying with the Barlowe girl, this will smoke her out, literally.”

Across the street from the parked car was a four story apartment building. Hidden within wall outlets in the first and third floor laundry rooms were tiny incendiary devices. Once triggered, they would be totally consumed in a blinding flash of heat and flame, leaving no trace behind. Before that happened, they would send a surge of power through the building’s wiring that would cause it to overload in dozens of places. The authorities might suspect arson, but there would be no hard evidence to prove it was anything other than old wiring.

“That kid on the fourth floor won’t have a chance,” Blake said in a nervous tone. “That building will go up like a torch.”

“That’s the idea,” Reynolds told him, glancing at his watch.

“Five more minutes.”

*****

“That is really wild,” Melissa said as they stared at the silver cube.

“There are no seams at all,” Karen said. “How does it open?”

“Usually there is a square you press that opens it,” Brandi informed them. “This one seems to need a hand print, and since it has my name on it, I assume it needs my hand print.”

“And how exactly did it get your name on it?” Melissa asked.

“When I was transformed, Susan saved the data file under the name Brandi. She believes at that time the computer sent a signal to the box, encoding whatever is in here for me. It says Genomorph Biomorphic Adaptive Armor right above my name.”

“You can read that?” Karen asked.

Brandi blinked, realizing what she had just done. The Forerunner script was as plain to her as English.

“I guess I can,” she said. It was not the first time she had discovered knowledge she had previously been unaware of. She strongly suspected that if she had been given access to the stockpiles of Forerunner technology collecting cobwebs in Nevada she could have learned much more.

Just as Brandi was about to press her hand to the cube she stopped, her eyes narrowing. She rushed from the living room and onto the deck, her head swinging around to look north up Ocean Front Walk. There was a fire; she could hear a building’s alarm system and the screeching wail of dozens of smoke detectors. There was no smoke visible, and even to her keen senses the smell was barely detectable, but all that was not what had alerted her. It was a scream; the terrified scream of a child crying for help.

Without a word Brandi was moving. She vaulted the deck railing and hit the ground running as fast as she could. She was barefoot and dressed only in her knit pajamas as her legs pumped, propelling her up Ocean Front. Her breasts bounced wildly and painfully until her body compensated for the lack of a bra and tightened up her internal support structure.

Behind her she heard Melissa and Karen calling out but there was no time to respond. As she neared the four story building she could see the thick, black smoke rising. The first floor was already fully involved by the time she reached the scene and there were flames visible at the windows on the third floor. A cold fear gripped her as she saw the flames, a sudden realization coming to her.

Fire could kill her.

*****

“It is done, finally,” Ryan said as he entered Susan’s office. “I’m sorry it took so long, but the control programming they used is very sophisticated. It still has the same cosmetic errors in it that the stuff they tried to use on Brandi did; it was probably written by the same person.”

“What’s important is that it be done properly, not fast,” Susan told him. “You did well. It probably took them months of work with a team of programmers.”

Ryan grinned at the compliment, pushing his glasses back on his face.

“Well I don’t like to brag,” he said.

“Since when!” Susan laughed. “How soon can we use it?”

Ryan held up the programming mask, “It’s your turn now, Doc.”

Ryan set the eyepiece on Susan and activated it. When he seemed to remove it almost immediately, Susan looked at him curiously.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Nope, all done,” Ryan smiled.

“I thought it would take longer,” Susan said.

“It took almost two hours, Susan,” Ryan said.

“Oh,” Susan said. She did feel a bit odd, and Ryan noticed the look on her face.

“The feeling will pass in a few minutes,” he told her. “The original programming included instructions to ignore the missing time. I imagine it’s a bit disorienting when your brain tries to reconcile the gap. If we had just been removing the programming it would have only taken thirty minutes at most. Apparently it’s a much more complex process to put the programming in than it is to take it out.”

“So what happens when they activate me?” Susan asked.

“You will receive the instructions and programming as intended,” Ryan explained. “But you will not be compelled to follow it. It will be more like getting a report. The programming included some major personality alterations, to make you more like their kind of people. Those will require a bit of effort to control, as they will dominate your own personality to a large extent. I had to leave them in like that, otherwise you might have gone schizophrenic on us. The difference here is you will remember who you were. It will still be tough to deal with, and we can’t let you stay like that for more than a few weeks. ”

“What happens if it stays in too long?” Susan asked.

“The personality modifications will eventually supplant your personality entirely,” Ryan said. “You will be a different person.”

“Let’s hope we can put a stop to this before they are able to go that far,” Susan said.

“You know I can’t help but wonder why the Forerunners would even have a device like this,” Ryan said. “It seems contrary to their nature.”

“That’s because you’re seeing it misused,” Susan said. “I was curious myself, until I thought it through and then did some digging to confirm my suspicions. The Forerunners were very much like us; they were technologically and socially more advanced, but they weren’t perfect. They still had crime and mental illness. They could correct a lot of problems before birth with their ability to manipulate genetics, but they couldn’t prevent someone from making a bad choice, or eliminate mental and emotional trauma. This device was used as a rehabilitative measure. They could treat both mental and emotional problems and correct behavioral issues.”

“So like the GMU, they have perverted what was intended to be a healing device,” Ryan said.

“They’re tools, and any tool can be misused,” Susan said. “Don’t forget the Forerunners were not perfect. They fled here from a world that had been devastated by war. I can only imagine the extent of that devastation considering the technology we have seen.”

Ryan shuddered at the thought. It was true; the Forerunners could manipulate genetics and even alter the molecular structure of a living being without destroying the person in the process. Considering the power of their healing machines, the thought of a device built for destruction falling into the wrong hands was too frightening to contemplate. There was enough potential for destruction in the ability to reprogram a person’s mind like a computer, an ability they already knew was being used. Just how far it went, they could only guess.

*****

Secret Service Agent Kevin Driscoll removed the ocular device from the President’s Chief of Staff and placed it in its case. He then set the case, along with the crystal pendant, on the desk and returned to his post, unaware that he had ever left it. Had his absence been noticed by one of the other agents on the detail it would not have mattered, they had already been programmed.

The Chief of Staff blinked several times, and then looked at the case on his desk. He picked it up and slipped it into his coat pocket, and then picked up his phone.

“I need to schedule some time with the President,” he told his assistant. “It’s a somewhat urgent matter and we’ll need approximately two hours, uninterrupted.”

While he waited, his fingers kept drifting towards the case in his pocket, though he had already forgotten placing it there.

“Yes, Friday morning will be perfect,” he smiled.

*****

The knowledge that fire presented a real danger to her caused Brandi to hesitate for less than half a second. Then she sprinted past the swimming pool and the gathering crowd of spectators and plunged into the lobby of the converted hotel. The stairwell was blocked by a wall of flames, but instead of stopping she picked up her pace and charged through, lowering her pain response as she did. A burn was no different than any other kind of damage to her, but she knew if the building were to collapse around her or she became trapped under burning rubble she could be burned so badly that her body would be unable to heal.

The girl had stopped screaming, but Brandi had already pinpointed her location on the fourth floor. She took the stairs two at a time as the thick smoke burned her lungs. It was impossible to see a thing, until her vision shifted spectrum and the smoke seemed to disappear. In her eyes the world became shades of grey, darker for hot and lighter for cool, like the view through a thermal imaging system. She also noted that her respiration had slowed, despite her heavy exertion, to about one breath every minute. Her lungs pulled every bit of oxygen from each breath before she expelled the smoke and gas.

As she reached the fourth floor smoke was pouring from the wall outlets and she could see that there was tremendous heat within the walls.

Shit, it’s traveling through the wiring! No wonder the place went up so fast.

Reaching the end of the hall, she did not even stop to check the door. Her thermal vision showed her that the door was not dangerously hot yet, so she kicked it open and charged into the apartment.

She found the girl in the back bedroom, lying on the floor in front of a wheelchair with a wet towel wrapped around her face. Towels were also stuffed under the door to block the smoke.

Smart girl, Brandi thought.

She looked to be around fourteen and to Brandi’s great relief, she was still breathing. She snatched a blanket from the bed and knelt down, wrapped the blanket around the girl and then lifted her limp body in her arms. She paused just long enough to scan the rest of the building for signs that anyone else was trapped, and thankfully detected no one. If there had been others, there was no way she could have saved them. Carrying the girl she rushed back into the hallway as flames began erupting from the walls of the apartment.

The hallway was now engulfed in flames as well and the fire escape was at the opposite corner of the building; but the pool was just twenty-five feet beyond the window at the end of the hall. Even if she missed, Brandi was certain she could shield the girl from injury in the fall; though she did not dwell on what it would do to her own legs.

Pulling the girl close to her body, she wrapped her arms around her tightly. Then she ran, her legs pumping as hard as she could make them. At the last second she pressed the girl’s face into her breast and leapt for all she was worth.

Melissa and Karen reached the burning building just in time to see Brandi come flying through the fourth floor window, her legs still moving to keep her body upright as she arced through the air, shattered glass trailing in her wake. She cleared the concrete between the pool and the building and landed squarely in the middle of the deep end with a huge splash. She plunged all the way to the bottom and immediately pushed off, breaking the surface and pulling the unconscious girl to the side. A half dozen pairs of hands reached down and pulled them both out, and Brandi dropped to her knees beside the girl.

“Come on honey, wake up,” she said, gently shaking the girl. She began coughing and then opened her eyes and looked about wildly. As she started screaming Brandi pulled her up and held her tightly.

“You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart,” Brandi told her as she rocked her.

She could hear sirens in the distance and moments later paramedics arrived. Brandi let them take charge of the girl and started to walk away, coughing violently.

“Miss we need to check you out,” one of the paramedics said. “You’ve got some nasty burns there and smoke inhalation from the sound of that cough.”

Brandi turned, her eyes catching sight of a news van pulling up.

“I’ll be fine, you just take care of the girl,” she said, and started towards her friends.

“Wait please!” the paramedic pleaded. “At least give me your name. She should know who she owes her life to.”

“She doesn’t owe me a thing,” Brandi smiled.

The paramedic watched as the beautiful blonde walked away, shaking his head. A short distance away, Agents Reynolds and Blake watched as well.

“Do we take her?” Blake asked.

Reynolds gave him a withering look, “Do you want to die? She’d tear us into little pieces. We report in and wait for orders.”

Brandi did not argue at all when Melissa and Karen had her lean on them for the walk back to the house. Her feet were cut and blistered, as were her arms and legs. Her pajamas were scorched and totally ruined.

“Damn, and these are my favorites,” Brandi said as she looked at her pajamas.

“So do you need to take a nap?” Melissa asked as they had entered living room.

“No but I need to sit down, my feet are killing me,” Brandi said. “Could you get me some towels so I don’t ruin the couch?”

“Fuck the couch, sit down,” Melissa said.

“I’m sorry I took off like that but there was no time,” Brandi said as she dropped onto the couch, legs splayed wide.

“Ahem, young ladies, even those with third degree burns on their feet, do not sit like that,” Karen said with mock severity. Brandi stuck her tongue out and put her knees together in a more lady like fashion.

“Do you want me to get something for those burns?” Melissa asked.

“Well a couple of damp towels would feel nice,” Brandi admitted. “I’ll be fine within the hour, but they hurt like hell right now.”

Melissa disappeared into the bathroom down the hall and returned with several dampened towels. Karen had a pair of scissors and was cutting Brandi’s pants away as she returned. Once her legs were exposed, Melissa wrapped towels about them, and then wrapped her feet and arms as well, trying to be as gentle as possible. The action still caused Brandi to wince.

“I thought you could turn off pain,” Melissa said as she sat down next to her.

Brandi looked a bit guilty as she said, “I haven’t been totally honest about that. What I can control is my response to pain, and then only for a short period of time. I still feel the pain; I just don’t react to it. I was able to turn it off so I could pass through any flames without the pain bringing me down, but it’s back now, with a vengeance.”

“Well that makes sense actually,” Karen said. “Not feeling pain could lead you to aggravate an injury. Can I get you anything sweetie?”

“A beer would be heavenly,” Brandi sighed.

Karen went into the kitchen and came back with three bottles of Killian’s. Brandi took a long drink and closed her eyes for a moment.

“I have to tell you guys something else,” Brandi said, her eyes still closed. “As I went into that building, for the first time since I was transformed I knew that I could die. When I saw the flames it was like something clicked again; some part of the programming opened up and I knew that fire could kill me.”

“And you still went in,” Melissa said.

“I had to,” Brandi said. “I could hear her screaming for help…I just couldn’t stand by and let her die.”

“No you chose to go in,” Karen said. “Just like you chose to dive in and save Melissa fourteen years ago and you chose to stay behind in Iraq so your men could escape. Remember that, Brandi. That’s what makes you who you are, what makes you special; not a bunch of behavior that was programmed into you.”

“Thank you,” Brandi said. Despite her statement that she did not need rest, she was beginning to think that a little nap would not hurt.

“Why don’t you lay your head in my lap and rest,” Melissa suggested. Brandi smiled and did so, and in seconds she was sound asleep.

CHAPTER 38

“We have a positive ID on the Genomorph’s location,” Reginald Mercer told the Man.

They were deep within the Nevada site, having moved all essential personnel from the main office in Washington. Preparations to activate the sleeper agents were well underway, with only a few left to be programmed. If the effort with the President was successful it would make things easier, but it really did not matter. His entire Secret Service detail was already programmed, as were those of the Vice President and the Chief of Staff, along with most of the other members of the cabinet. The protective details were programmed to act should anyone attempt to reach their principles before the plan was enacted.

The main pieces which still had to be taken were the Joint Chiefs and the Genomorph. Having her on the loose was just too dangerous, but it would not stop the plan from going forward.

“Where?” The Man asked Mercer.

“Los Angeles,” Mercer replied nervously. “Venice Beach to be precise.”

“So her misdirection was itself misdirection,” The Man smiled. “She is everything we hoped she would be.”

“Except controllable,” Mercer commented, anxious to steer the conversation towards others’ failures.

“And you’re certain of this?”

“Yes, sir,” Mercer said. “We have a positive visual ID by Agent Reynolds. She is staying with two young women, a Melissa Barlowe and Karen Meadows. Both are graduate students at UCLA.”

“Begin assembling a full tactical unit,” The Man ordered. “I’ll handle any fall out from the locals. I want her taken at all costs.”

“Understood, sir,” Mercer said. “The team commander is working on assault plans for the house and for the campus.”

“Take the time and do it right,” The Man said. “We don’t want anything to alert her until we are ready to move.”

“I’ve pulled all surveillance off her for now,” Mercer said. “Everything will be ready to move by the weekend and we plan on taking her Monday. We’re going to hit both locations at once. If she slips away at the house, we’ll still have her friends.”

“Excellent,” The Man said. “I have also received information on the location of Susan Covington. She is at the estate of Amanda Breton in Virginia. I suspect that Ryan Sanders is there as well.”

“Do you want us to plan an operation to retrieve them?” Mercer asked.

“No, there’s no need,” The Man said. “If we capture the Genomorph in LA, then Dr. Covington will be activated along with the rest of the sleepers. If not, we can activate her locally. Then she can help us bring the girl in.”

*****

“Well, here goes nothing,” Brandi said, pressing her hand to the top of the silver cube. The two hour nap she had taken had done wonders, though she was still a bit aggravated over the loss of her favorite pajamas. She had changed into a pair of jeans and a halter top after she had awakened.

As her hand made contact with the hand shaped area on top of the cube there was a buzzing sound. Brandi pulled her hand back and the top of the cube seemed to melt away from the center.

The cube was filled with what appeared to be thick, black tar. The three girls looked at each other, and then back at the goo.

“Ok, like, I don’t have a clue here,” Brandi said.

“Alien milkshake mix?” Karen offered. “Maybe some kind of Genomorph super food?”

“I am not eating anything that looks like that,” Brandi said, her nose scrunching up in distaste. “Besides it said it was some kind of armor.”

“Nothing clicked when you touched the box?” Melissa asked.

“Nope, not a thing,” Brandi said. “If it is armor I’m gonna, like, need a brush to put it on.”

Cautiously Brandi stuck the index finger of her right hand into the thick mass. When she pulled it back, the goo came with it, and then she plunged her hand deep into it.

“Brandi!” Melissa exclaimed.

“I didn’t do it,” Brandi said, her eyes looking unfocused. “It pulled my hand in.”

“Well pull it out!” Karen shouted.

“No it’s all right,” Brandi assured them. “I understand now. I just hope I’m not about to ruin another set of clothes. Get as much of these off me as you can.”

The viscous black material began slowly creeping up Brandi’s arm as Melissa and Karen helped her out of her jeans and panties. There was nothing they could do about the halter top she wore but she had put on a strapless bra which was easy enough to free her from.

The goo was moving faster now, and at her shoulders it began spreading across and down her body. The sensation was very erotic as it formed itself about her breasts, beneath her halter. It was even more so when it reached her crotch and she let out a little moan.

“Are you ok?” Melissa asked.

“Oh yeah,” Brandi grinned. “That was really odd though.”

Within minutes the cube was empty and Brandi was covered from her neck down in what now looked like a glistening black cat suit. The material seemed to adjust itself somewhat, forming the outline of calf high boots and long gloves. Then the area about her torso thickened and formed a denser bodice. Once the alterations were complete, the material faded to a dull, matte black. Brandi was then able to remove her halter top without damage.

The suit had the feel of soft leather, and was very flexible. The bodice, boots and gloves were thick and heavy while the parts covering her arms and legs were much thinner. The boots also had wide, three inch heels.

“The aliens were into high heels?” Melissa asked, dubious.

Brandi looked down at the boots and giggled, “I think I did that. What can I say? I look really sexy in heels.”

“That outfit is going to make it real hard to move around without attracting attention,” Karen said. “Can you take it off?”

“Sure,” Brandi said, and as she spoke a seam appeared down the front as the suit opened up. “I can do better than that though.”

The seam disappeared, the garment resealing itself. Then the suit itself vanished, seeming to absorb into her skin. After a few seconds, it reformed about her body.

“That is a handy trick,” Karen remarked. “It’s kind of creepy too.”

“I could have really used this earlier,” Brandi said, her eyes looking a bit unfocused. Her mind was being flooded with data regarding the armor. “It’s fire resistant.”

“It’s, um, very sexy too,” Melissa said.

Brandi looked at her with an expression of shocked dismay which quickly became a provocative smile.

“Why Melissa, I had no idea,” she purred. Melissa’s face turned bright red.

“Well other than being fire proof and turning your girlfriend on, what does it do?” Karen asked.

“Fire resistant,” Brandi corrected. “It’s light armor, I can’t really translate the figures in the specs, but it appears it would stop a handgun round. About like Spectra body armor.”

Melissa and Karen gave her blank looks and Brandi explained, “Spectra is a synthetic fiber, about forty percent stronger than the Kevlar used in traditional body armor.”

Brandi’s mind was still awash in information about the armor. She knew that while it could stop a small projectile that was no more than a secondary benefit. The Forerunners had not been concerned with protecting Genomorphs from firearms; their enemies had far more lethal weapons, energy weapons based on laser and plasma beam technology. These weapons had been capable of virtually destroying a Genomorph with just a few good hits. The armor was an ablative material that reduced the damage from such weapons.

But even that was secondary to its primary purpose, that of aiding a Genomorph in infiltrating an enemy stronghold. Brandi knew that with practice, she would be able to change the form of the armor, just as she could alter her own form, into any type of clothing she needed. The matte black body suit was its basic combat configuration, but the color, texture and even the opacity could be altered to virtually anything.

“Oh that reminds me, shopping!” Brandi cried out, startling and confusing both Melissa and Karen.

“What reminds you of shopping?” Melissa asked. “You’ve been sitting there in a daze for five minutes.”

“We have to take Karen shopping,” Brandi said, ignoring the question. “She needs some really classy outfits for DC.”

Karen’s eyes narrowed and she glared at Brandi as she said, “You have the audacity to stand there in what amounts to a fetish outfit and imply that my wardrobe needs an update?”

Brandi looked down at cat suit and giggled. The seam had reappeared while she was absorbing data on the armor and now the suit had a plunging V neck that extended to her navel and exposed a good deal of cleavage.

“I guess it kinda responds to my programmed fashion sense, what can I say? But I do have some experience dealing with the crowd in Dark City. You have a lovely sense of professional style, Karen. You just need some upgrades in the label department.”

“Most of your stuff is all suited to California too, sweetie,” Melissa pointed out. “It’s going to be a lot chillier in Washington.”

“You’re right, I hadn’t thought about that,” Karen admitted, shuddering at the thought.

“The average temperature this time of year is in the mid fifties and it’s only going to get colder,” Brandi told her. “Where are you staying?”

“The State Plaza Hotel,” Karen said. “Dr. Evans suggested it.”

“That’s a good spot, it’s less than a mile from the State Department,” Brandi agreed.

“Have you ever been to the State Department?” Karen asked.

Brandi shook her head, “I did meet the Secretary of State once, back during Desert Storm. I had to give an after action report at the White House.”

“You gave a report to the President?” Melissa said. “What was it about?”

Brandi grinned, “I’ll tell you about it someday. Let’s just say for now that finding an alien machine that eventually transformed me into a woman may have been the weirdest thing that ever happened on a mission, but it wasn’t the only weird thing.”

*****

The three girls returned to the house from an afternoon of shopping and had just enough time to get ready for the rest of the band to arrive. They had picked up several nice suits for Karen, which Brandi had insisted on paying for. They had also stopped by the lingerie shop Karen worked at and Nikki gave her a bag of designer lingerie as a going away present.

“Where’s Brandi?” Amber asked as the girls settled down on the deck to watch the sunset and hear what Karen had to tell them.

“She’ll be joining us shortly,” Melissa said, barely suppressing a laugh. She wasn’t entirely sure Brandi’s way of revealing her secret to the band was the best way, but it would certainly be interesting.

After a bit of small talk, Karen told them her news. They were all happy and sad both, but they understood what an incredible opportunity this was for their friend.

“I guess we’ll need to cancel the weekend performances,” Cyndi said. “We better call the club right away so they’ll have as much time as possible to schedule a replacement.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Karen said. “Brandi will take my place.”

“Look Brandi is a fantastic singer I know,” Cyndi said. “But the club will not be happy about a change in the roster this late. They’ll probably cancel us anyway.”

“They won’t even know. You see, she sang in my place last night.”

The three girls looked at her incredulously, while Melissa struggled to hold in the giggles. Karen went on to tell them Brandi’s story, and exactly how she had performed in Karen’s place the night before.

“So you’re saying that Brandi used to be a guy?” Renee said.

“A forty year old Navy SEAL,” Karen nodded.

“Ok the joke has gone far enough,” Cyndi said at last. “I really don’t know what made you think this was funny, but it isn’t.”

“Yeah I knew you wouldn’t just believe me,” Karen said, picking up a pack of Marlboro 100s from the table and lighting one. She took a long drag and said, “That’s why we set up this little show.”

“Since when do you smoke, Karen?” Amber asked in confusion.

“I don’t,” Karen, the real Karen, said from behind them. They all turned to see her standing in the doorway to the living room, a huge grin on her face.

“And I’m not Karen,” Brandi giggled. As they turned back to her, she transformed before their eyes. They had made sure to dress her in clothes that would stretch enough to accommodate the differences in their figures.

“That is so cool!” Amber exclaimed. Cyndi and Renee both looked shocked, yet curiously fascinated.

“See I told you,” Brandi told Melissa.

Brandi was suddenly inundated with questions from Renee and Amber, and she did her best to answer them all. It was a great relief to no longer have to hide from her friends. Cyndi however was silent and Brandi did not need her enhanced senses to tell her she was disturbed.

It was Melissa who brought them all back to reality when she said, “You all must understand that Brandi has just entrusted you with her life. You can’t say anything about this to anyone.”

Amber and Renee both nodded, but Cyndi stared long and hard at Brandi before speaking.

“You’ve also put us in danger, isn’t that true?” she said at last.

“Cyndi, I’m sure Brandi…” Renee began.

“No she’s right,” Brandi said. “If they find me, they would not hesitate to use you all to get to me.”

“And you have been around us for weeks,” Cyndi said. “It wouldn’t have mattered to them whether we knew what was going on or not, would it?”

Brandi shook her head, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes.

“Cyndi, back off,” Melissa said. “Brandi had to get to know you first. She can’t go around just telling people what happened and you can’t expect her to just cut herself off from humanity. Karen and I only found out because Brandi healed my face. She had to tell us the whole story then.”

“Yes, and we’ve known each other for almost five years,” Cyndi said. “You should have trusted us. You both should have let us decide if we wanted to be a part of this.”

“It wasn’t for us to tell,” Karen said.

“Babe, Karen’s right,” Renee said. “They couldn’t tell us if Brandi wasn’t ready. You know she doesn’t want to put us in danger; she never asked for this.”

“How will that make me feel any better if something happened to you?” Cyndi asked.

Brandi’s head was spinning. More than anything else she still found her emotions the hardest thing to deal with. Cyndi’s reaction had thrown her and she found it impossible to think clearly.

“I’ll go away!” she blurted, tears flowing. “I’ll go away and you won’t have to worry…I’ll…”

“Like hell you will!” Melissa shot back. “Cyndi, if you can’t handle this, fine. We’ll cancel the remaining performances and you don’t have to have anything more to do with us. You’ll be safe enough; if they had found Brandi they would have made a move already. But you will not drive the woman I love away.

“What was she supposed to do, Cyndi? Let those people control her? Or should she go hide in a cave until they get tired of looking for her? She wants a life; she wants to be around people. Is that so wrong?”

Cyndi let out a heavy sigh and her expression softened.

“Why not go public?” Cyndi suggested. “You can certainly prove your story. Walk right into one of the network affiliates and do your fast change on national television. They wouldn’t be able to touch you then.”

“Maybe not,” Brandi said, her tears under control for the moment. “Or maybe they would. Maybe enough people out there would see me and react like you’re reacting and want me locked up. Whatever happened, my life would be hell from that point on. I’d never have a moment’s peace.

“Then there’s the technology itself. There is so much we can learn from it given time and study. But if the world knew it existed it would seriously hamper any effort to do real research. Everyone would want a piece of it and nothing would ever be accomplished.”

“There must be something that can be done,” Cyndi said, her anger redirecting towards the people who were after Brandi. “What happened to you is wrong. They have to answer for it.”

“I have friends working on that right now,” Brandi said. “The question right now is what do you want to do, Cyndi? I understand your feelings. I wish I had told you all sooner. I wish that being my friends didn’t put you all at risk. But I can’t change what happened.”

“We’ll do the shows this weekend,” Cyndi said. “After that, I need some time to think. Maybe we should just step back for a bit and give it time.”

Brandi nodded; it was not the answer she had hoped for, but at least Cyndi was not ending their friendship outright.

Cyndi and Renee said goodnight a short time later and promised they would be at the airport in the morning to see Karen off. After they had left, Amber came over and sat down next to Brandi, putting her arm around her shoulder and squeezing her.

“I’ll always be your friend, Brandi,” she said. “Give Cyndi a little time. She has a tendency to over analyze things way too much, but she has a good heart.”

“Thanks, Amber,” Brandi said.

“Hey we blondes have to stick together,” Amber giggled. “I do have another question for you, if it’s not too personal.”

“You can ask me anything,”

“Can you tell me…well, what is it like?” Amber asked. “I mean you were a man and now you’re a girl, and a girl with a hyper active sex drive at that.”

“Think about who you are,” Brandi said, her voice growing quiet. “All the things about yourself, good and bad. The things you like and the things you hate. Everything that makes you …you, at least in your own eyes.

“Now take it all away. You go to sleep and you wake up someone else…someone you don’t understand at all. You’ve had your whole life to learn who you are, and now you have to start all over again. You think things and feel things that you don’t understand. You see the way people look at you and know they see you as someone completely different from who you feel you are. That’s what it’s like.

“Most of the time I’m all right, but when I get, well, moody, it’s because I’m struggling. I was female for four months before I wore anything feminine other than underwear. Every time I give in and let myself accept who I am more, I feel a tremendous sense of relief and at the same time an equal sense of loss. Melissa and Karen tell me I’m doing well, that no one would ever suspect that I used to be a man. But deep down inside I still don’t feel like a girl. I still don’t understand the person I have become.”

“Brandi, let me tell you a secret,” Amber said. Her voice was very serious; not the ditzy blonde that acted so much like Brandi was programmed to, but did so because she chose to act that way. “Sometimes I don’t understand who I am. I think a lot of what you’re dealing with has nothing to do with gender; it has to do with being thrust backwards in time. As Brandon you had forty years of growing and maturing behind you. If you had been changed into a teenaged boy, you’d still be having problems adjusting because things are very different from when Brandon was younger. The world has changed a lot in twenty years.”

“That’s true,” Brandi said.

“Don’t get me wrong, you were thrown a wicked curve,” Amber said. “Two of them really; you were changed into a girl, and a girl with fantastic abilities. If it makes you feel any better, I never suspected for a moment the truth. I knew there was something different about you, but I never had a clue that you were once a guy. Really I thought you were doing the same thing I do; acting like a dumb blonde.”

“Why do you do it, Amber?”

“Well, part of it is because I’m a pretty girl who wants to be an engineer,” Amber said. “It’s a very male dominated field, and I know that people are going to look at me and judge me on my looks. If I act the way they expect me to act, it disarms them; they think they know me, and so when I show them who I really am, that I’m intelligent and talented it catches them off guard.”

“That sounds a lot like what my programming is intended to do,” Brandi said.

Amber giggled, “Mostly I do it ‘cause it’s fun.”

“Thanks Amber,” Brandi said, giving her friend a hug.

“Like I said we blondes have to stick together,” Amber told her.

Karen disappeared into the house and returned a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and some glasses. The four girls talked until very late, and three bottles later when Amber had fallen asleep Brandi carried her up to the bedroom she had used when she first came to stay with Melissa and Karen and put her to bed.

“Are you ok, love?” Melissa asked, when Brandi came into the master bedroom.

Brandi nodded, “I’m fine. Tonight was a bit more emotional than I anticipated but I don’t blame Cyndi for feeling the way she does.”

“Amber’s right, she’ll come around,” Melissa said. “Cyndi is very protective of her friends, and especially Renee. You’re her friend too, and she’ll protect your secret.”

Brandi smiled, “I was just wondering what I ever did to deserve such great friends.”

“Just being yourself, love.” Melissa smiled as she took her by the hand and led her to their bed.

CHAPTER 39

They drove Karen to the airport Thursday morning and had another good cry all around. When Brandi and Melissa returned to the house in Venice, it seemed empty. Brandi knew that Melissa had to be feeling it more than her; she had known Karen for six years after all.

“Do you want to talk?” Brandi asked once they were inside. They walked into the living room and sat down on the couch.

“It’s just, we always knew this day would come,” Melissa said, fighting tears. “And it had to be soon…I just wasn’t ready for it to be this soon.”

“And Karen was there for you when you needed her most,” Brandi said.

Melissa nodded, “I wouldn’t have made it this past year without her. Dammit she’s my best friend and I’m happy for her, so why do I feel so lousy?”

“Because you love her, silly,” Brandi told her as she wrapped her arms around her. “It always hurts to say goodbye.”

“I’m so glad I have you,” Melissa whispered, burying her head in Brandi’s hair. “I love you so much.”

“It’s exciting too,” Brandi said. “I remember how Brandon felt as he reported to Coronado after training. The feeling of being out there on the front and having a chance to really make a difference in the world. I’m so happy for Karen.”

“I know,” Melissa said as she nuzzled Brandi’s neck.

“Keep that up and you’re gonna get me started,” Brandi moaned softly.

“That’s my plan,” Melissa whispered. “Let’s go upstairs.”

*****

Friday morning dawned sunny but cool in the nation’s capitol. Even though she had most of Thursday free Karen had stayed in her hotel, reading through several stacks of material that had been sent to her by the State Department. None of it actually pertained to the Combined Threat Assessment Group; it was all mundane information on benefits and such, but she devoured every word. She was so excited when night fell that she had a hard time getting to sleep.

She was up early and had breakfast in her room; her expenses were being covered by the government, which was also a big thrill. After eating she showered and dressed and then headed out to meet the director of CTAG, Kyle Laughlin.

Karen paused for a moment as she approached the entrance to the Harry S. Truman building, home of the United States Department of State.   As she looked up at the impressive structure she took a deep breath and wondered if she was really ready for this.

She was definitely dressed for it. She wore a chocolate brown wool knee length skirt and matching tie front blazer over an off white silk blouse. It was a designer suit and even though they had found it for half price it still cost three times what her other outfits had. She had three of them thanks to Brandi, the other two in black and red. She was a little worried about overkill, but she had to admit she looked sharp.

Karen took a deep breath and entered the building. She checked in at the security desk and after reviewing and signing several documents on security she received a visitors badge and was told that someone was coming to escort her. She turned to walk over to the waiting area and collided with a tall man and found herself flat on her butt on the floor.

“Ow,” Karen said.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” the man said as he helped her up. “Are you ok?”

“Well I think my pride is a bit bruised but otherwise I’m fine,” Karen replied.

He was handsome; not a Brad Pitt certainly but he had a boyishly charming face that was countered by piercing grey eyes. His short hair was thick and brown and while it was neatly styled it had a hint of wildness to it; definitely not the standard gel cemented look of most men she had seen in DC so far. He looked to be in his late twenties or perhaps just over thirty, and he smiled rather sheepishly as he extended his hand.

“I had hoped our meeting would be a little less abrupt,” he said in a warm tenor. “I’m Kyle Laughlin, head of the TAG Team.”

Oh nice, what a way to make a first impression, Karen thought as she shook his hand.

“Karen Meadows,” she said, feeling her face getting warm. The last thing she wanted to do was blush. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Laughlin.”

“The pleasure is all mine and please call me Kyle,” he laughed. His demeanor was very relaxing and Karen felt herself developing an instant liking for him.

“I’ll do that, Kyle,” Karen said as he ushered her through the security scanner. “Please call me Karen.”

“So where are you staying?” Kyle asked as they approached a bank of elevators beyond the scanners.

“Just over at the State Plaza,” Karen said.

“Ah, good choice, it will make your commute easier the next couple of weeks.” Kyle said. “Is this your first time in DC?”

“Not exactly,” Karen said as the elevator doors opened. “I was a delegate to Girl’s Nation from Colorado.”

“Ah I see,” Kyle said. “And how did you like it?”

“It was a lot of fun and very informative as well,” Karen said. “I think it gave me a far better understanding of politics than I would have had otherwise.”

“So do you see yourself on the Hill one day?”

Karen shook her head, “Understanding politics is good, but I don’t have aspirations in that direction. I’d rather be part of the machine that makes everything work.”

“Good answer,” Kyle said as the elevator began descending. “I think we have just the place for you.”

The elevator descended to a sub-basement and immediately outside the car was a security checkpoint. The guard, a Marine, checked their badges and had Karen sign in and then buzzed them through. Kyle first led her to a secure door and swiped his badge. Inside the large room were numerous cubicles and one wall which held several plasma display screens.

“This is what we on the TAG Team euphemistically call the Pit of Despair,” Kyle told her.

“I see,” Karen said. “You wouldn’t by any chance have six fingers on your right hand?”

“That depends,” Kyle smiled, “on whether your name is Inigo Montoya.”

Karen laughed, sure now that she was going to like Kyle. Anybody in his position who was a fan of The Princess Bride had to be all right.

“So what exactly is the TAG Team?” Karen asked as they left the Pit.

“Let’s talk in my office,” Kyle suggested. “Not that the halls here aren’t secure, but it will be a lot more comfortable.”

Kyle’s office was spartan, like the rest of the basement area.   There were a few pictures, one of Kyle in Navy uniform, next to several framed decorations. Prominently displayed on the wall to the right of his desk was a framed newspaper article. The headline immediately caught Karen’s eye. It read, ‘Navy SEAL awarded Medal of Honor posthumously’. The picture with the article caused Karen to stare momentarily in shock. She quickly hid the look, but Kyle had noticed it.

“Did you know Brandon Anderson?”

Karen shook her head, but realized she could not deny the look of recognition.

“Not personally,” she said. “I know someone who was a friend of his though.”

“I keep that there as a reminder,” Kyle said. “I was in Naval Intelligence when he was wounded. We had information about the presence of Republican Guard units watching the objective, and we sent it up the line. Somewhere along the way it got squashed and never made it to the people who needed it.

“That’s what CTAG is all about. We are the Combined Threat Assessment Group, charged with identifying threats before they become threats. But more than that, we are here to cut through the interagency bullshit and see that information gets to the people who need it, before someone flies a plane into a building or sets off a nuke at the Super Bowl...before another good man has to lay down his life because of a screw up.”

Kyle looked for a long moment at the framed article, his eyes haunted.

“One ghost is all I ever want to have to deal with,” he said.

Karen spent the rest of the day going through a variety of orientation procedures. Kyle showed her around the facility, which was not very large, and introduced her to several people she would be working with. She was given a cubicle in the Pit where she would work from. Her primary duties would be to analyze intelligence from a variety of sources and look for patterns or warning signs. Each piece of intelligence would be reviewed jointly by multiple analysts, each with a different area of expertise. As they made notes they would instantly go into the system and be viewable by everyone.

There were a number of complex computer protocols to learn, and CTAG’s chief computer technician Mira Gallo went through them with Karen at length. Mira was a very pretty young woman; her Italian heritage was plain to see in her dark complexion and long, silky black hair, but she obviously went to great pains to look as plain as possible. She wore big glasses that were not particularly attractive and had her hair pulled back tightly in a functional but not very flattering bun. She was also very good with computers and had a mannerism that was very easy going. Karen strongly suspected that in her off hours the mousey look vanished and Mira literally let her hair down.

Much of the orientation material concerned the history of the State Department’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research, or INR, to which CTAG was attached. INR was founded as the Research and Analysis Branch of the Office for Strategic Services in World War Two. After the war, it was renamed and attached to the State Department while the OSS itself went on to become the foundation of the Central Intelligence Agency.

With less than two hundred analysts, INR was only about a tenth the size of the CIA, yet they turned out nearly two million written reports a year. And though the intelligence community had been widely criticized for its failures leading up to the war in Iraq, the INR was credited as having been ‘the least wrong’, and on more than one occasion the little agency with no spies and no satellites had outperformed their larger counterparts, delivering assessments that contradicted the bigger agencies…and ultimately proved to be accurate.

It was a matter of quality over quantity; most of the analysts had been with their particular region of expertise for a decade or more, and many had advanced degrees. They were encouraged to specialize in a particular region so they could more accurately read the meaning behind events.

The world was a changing place, however, and new threats that were well outside the bounds of reason were now all to real. A new approach and mindset was needed to counter these threats, but one that was willing to work with the more seasoned analysts. CTAG was quite in contrast to the rest of the INR. Most of the senior analysts were in their forties at least, but the Team members had an average age in their late twenties. Their mission was to think outside the box. They were there to follow up on leads uncovered by the more senior analysts as well as that from other agencies, and Kyle had told Karen that there would likely be field work involved, especially for someone like her who was multilingual. Through college Karen had taken numerous language courses and was fluent in Arabic, Russian and Chinese and had a working grasp of several other languages.

It was a long day, with a lot of information to absorb, but by the evening Karen’s visitor pass had been replaced by a security identification granting her Level Three clearance, an intermediate level common to the majority of the Pit crew. Her thumb and hand prints were scanned and stored as well as a retinal image, voice print and several full facial images for the photo recognition system.

On her way out of the Pit at the end of the day Karen ran into Kyle again, though not so literally as at their first meeting.

“So how did your day go?” Kyle asked.

“It was amazing,” Karen said. “There is so much to learn it’s like being a freshman in college again. It’s very exciting though, I can’t wait for Monday.”

“Do you have any plans for the weekend?” Kyle asked.

“Nothing special, probably just some sight seeing,” Karen replied.

“If you like, I’d be happy to be your guide,” Kyle said. “I think I can promise you some sights that aren’t on the usual tourist routes, but they will be very interesting.”

“That would be wonderful, but I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Oh yes, escorting a beautiful young woman is such an imposition, but I think I can endure it,” Kyle said. “Why don’t you let me take you to dinner tonight?”

“I’d like that very much,” Karen said, hoping the flush she was feeling did not show on her face. “Can you give me an hour to freshen up?”

“Sure, I’ll pick you up at your hotel,” Kyle said. “It’ll be a semi casual place so you don’t have to get dressed up.”

“I’ll see you in an hour then,” Karen said.

*****

The Post-Modern Bimbos arrived at the Back Beat on Friday afternoon and set up their equipment, with Brandi’s help. She even went through several numbers with them for a sound check. It did not draw any unusual attention from the staff, Brandi had been seen with the band on several occasions and had done the sound check before when Karen was not able to be there early enough.

They returned to the club an hour before the performance was to begin and Brandi slipped into the backstage area unseen through the back door. She stayed out of sight in the dressing room until just before the show was to begin, and then transformed into Karen and quickly dressed and did her makeup. She had been spending a lot of time of the last few days with her form altered and could already tell that it was making a difference. The transformation was much faster and they were more than half way through the night before she started feeling the first hint of strain. Once the show was over she switched back to her natural appearance in the back of Cyndi’s van.

“You certainly don’t seem uncomfortable about your body,” Renee remarked as Brandi dressed.

“Modesty was not part of the programming,” Brandi said. “If anything, the opposite is true. For a Genomorph to accomplish her mission, she couldn’t be worried about being naked in front of others.”

“Yet you’re uncomfortable about sex,” Renee said.

“Sex with a man,” Brandi corrected, blushing as she looked at Melissa. “The programming for that is there, very strongly there. But it’s at war with forty years as a perfectly straight male. My body wants it and even my mind wants it, but the part of me that is still Brandon fights it.”

“You did really great tonight,” Cyndi told her. “If I hadn’t known, I would have never suspected you weren’t Karen.”

“It’s not like it’s talent,” Brandi said. She knew Cyndi was still uncomfortable about her and did not want to focus on her abilities too much. “I’m just mimicking her and thanks to my enhanced memory I can mimic every nuance.”

“That may be true when you’re being Karen, but when you did the sound checks you were being yourself,” Cyndi said. “I know your voice range is a product of the changes, but you have a presence that is all your own, and very, very powerful.”

“Thank you, Cyndi that really means a lot.”

“Brandi, I find what has happened to you both fascinating and tragic,” Cyndi said. “My problem was never about you.”

“Actually Brian the music director, was asking about you,” Amber said. “He wanted to know if you were going to be joining the band, or if you had your own.”

“I couldn’t even think about doing that as long as they are looking for me,” Brandi said. “I believe in hiding in plain sight, but that’s a bit too out there to be safe.”

“You won’t always be a fugitive,” Cyndi said.

No, but I may never really be free either, Brandi thought.

CHAPTER 40

“So where are you taking me?” Karen asked as she climbed into Kyle’s Lexus. When he had picked her up for dinner the night before in the luxury car he had explained it came with the job, as it was well above his salary.

“Someplace you will need to become very familiar with,” Kyle said. “We’ll hit some of the more tourist oriented sights this afternoon, but this morning we’re going to continue with your orientation.”

Kyle refused to say anything further about their destination as he navigated through the streets of Washington and turned onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway. He took the parkway north and as they drove he shared little bits of trivia about life in DC. Karen had a suspicion as to their destination, which was confirmed about fifteen minutes later when they exited the parkway. A few minutes later they passed a sign that read, ‘CIA: 1 Mile’. Soon they were turning onto the long drive that was the entrance to the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency.

Once they had parked Kyle led her to the main entrance of the Old Headquarters building, and Karen was filled with a sense of awe as they crossed the famous CIA Seal inlaid in the floor of the lobby. To their right as they entered was the CIA memorial wall, adorned with eighty-three stars commemorating CIA officers killed in the line of duty. Below the stars was a glass encased book. Karen scanned the book, noting the forty-eight names marked with a gold star and another thirty-five stars with no names.

“Why are some of the names missing?” she asked.

“The others are classified, even in death,” Kyle said. “It takes a special person to accept a dangerous task, knowing that should they fall, their sacrifice will never be known.”

Karen nodded silently. She knew someone with that very dedication.

On the opposite wall to the south was another memorial. This one was dedicated to the Office for Strategic Services. On the wall was a single star, and on a pedestal to its left was a glass enclosed book with the names of one hundred sixteen men and women who had given their lives during World War 2. Standing watch to the right of the book was a statue of Major General William J. Donovan, head of the OSS.

“They called him ‘Wild Bill’, a name he earned playing football for Columbia University,” a voice said from behind them.

The voice belonged to an attractive woman in her thirties, with shoulder length brown hair. She was dressed smartly in a black tweed skirt suit and had a definite air of confidence as she spoke.

“In World War One he commanded a regiment and was awarded the Medal of Honor after leading a successful assault against the Germans despite being seriously wounded. After World War Two and his time as head of the OSS, he served as a special assistant to the chief prosecutor at the Nuremburg Tribunal, and took great pride in seeing Nazi leaders who had ordered the torture and murder of OSS agents brought to justice. Today he is acknowledged as the Father of Modern American Intelligence Gathering.”

“Karen Meadows meet Maxine Andrews,” Kyle said. “Max works in operations and has graciously volunteered to be your guide this morning. She will also be acting as CTAG’s liaison with the Agency. Now I have to speak to a few people while I’m here and will meet you back here a little later.”

For the next four hours Max showed Karen around the sprawling complex. They walked through the Cold War Exhibit and viewed espionage artifacts from that period, and then moved on to the New Headquarters Building and the CIA museum. Max introduced Karen to at least a dozen people in different areas of the building, and they eventually found their way out to the courtyard where they sat on a bench to enjoy the fall morning.

“I take it Kyle has not brought all of the CTAG people here like this,” Karen said.

“No, just you. I think he has plans for you.” Max said. She felt fairly certain after seeing Karen that Kyle’s plans for her might be as much personal as they were professional.

“Well I have to confess it’s all more than a little overwhelming,” Karen said. “A few days ago I was a college student and now here I am seeing things that most people are not allowed to see.”

“You’ll get into the swing of things,” Max said. “I envy you really; it’s been ten years for me but I still remember a bit of the excitement that was there when I first started working here.”

“I have a question about this morning,” Karen said, and when Max nodded for her to continue she did. “Everyone you introduced me to was polite and friendly, but I felt there was an undercurrent of hostility. Am I way off base?”

Max looked at her intently before saying, “No, you’re not.”

The courtyard was mostly empty; it was a popular spot for having lunch but was still a little early for that. A few of the weekend staff were out getting some fresh air, and Max looked around subtly to make sure no one was within earshot before she continued.

“They don’t want you or CTAG to succeed. You’re the competition in their eyes; upstarts that are just out to steal their thunder. You’re going to find the same thing at NSA, Defense and likely even within the INR and every other intelligence agency.”

“I don’t get that from you though,” Karen said.

“I believe in what Kyle wants to do with CTAG,” Max said. “There have been a lot of changes for the good over the last four years but there still needs to be more. The agencies are still too territorial. I know Kyle too, we’ve been friends for several years. He’s not interested in making a name for himself. Tell me, what draws you to this line of work?”

“Honestly, until my advisor mentioned the possibility to me, I had never considered it,” Karen said. “I always saw myself working in the private sector in international relations and then one day perhaps in the diplomatic corp. But when he told me he was showing my paper to some people here, well it all became so clear. This was a chance to make a difference.”

Of course Karen did not mention Brandi, or that when she had met the young woman and learned of her past and the things Brandon had done, she had felt a desire to emulate her. It was ironic; Karen knew Brandi saw her as a big sister and the role model of the woman she wanted to be and yet she saw Brandi as the role model of the person she wanted to be. The kind of person who made a difference.

Max looked at her watch and then smiled at Karen, “Kyle should be on his way to meet us back in the lobby, shall we go?”

Kyle was indeed waiting for them, and after Karen had thanked Max for the tour they signed out and returned to the car. They were back on the Parkway before Karen spoke.

“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

Kyle grinned, thinking he had been right about this young woman. He had suspected she would pick up on the attitudes at the Agency.

“Swimming upstream never is,” he said. “We’ll have to fight the current for some time.”

“I prefer a more direct approach,” Karen said. “If you don’t want to fight the current, change the way the river flows.”

CHAPTER 41

The estate was located a few miles north of Los Angeles, secluded enough and yet with easy and quick access to several major transit arteries. It was not a flashy estate, but it was large and had several out buildings, making it an ideal safe house.

A convoy of vehicles, several vans and moving trucks along with a black Lincoln entered through the heavily gated entrance. The vans and trucks moved on to the collection of outbuildings while the Lincoln stopped in front of the main house.

Through binoculars Senior Chief Charlie Wright watched as four men got out of the sedan. They were dressed casually, like business men arriving for a retreat, but Wright was not fooled. Their close cropped hair and obviously excellent physical condition was not the real give away, it was the way they scanned their surroundings and the way they carried themselves. These men were soldiers, well trained and disciplined. Wright switched from the binoculars to a 100X spotting scope with an attached video camera and began recording the scene.

The vans unloaded close to a full platoon of identical looking men, who moved into the out buildings which Wright knew had been set up as barracks. They all carried simple luggage, no military looking duffel bags or such, but again there was no mistake as to who they were and what they were here for.

The arrival of the tactical team did not necessarily mean that his former CO had been found. In fact there had been activity at this location before. The organization had several such houses and had been stationing teams at each of them for faster deployment. The team that had been here previously had moved out a week ago, probably being shifted to another location. Since the estate was officially listed as a retreat for business leaders, keeping a team there too long would potentially draw suspicion.

Wright switched off the video camera and carefully withdrew from his concealed position on a ridge overlooking the estate. The observation post was distant enough that it would be hard to spot, but these men were professionals. The last team had regularly sent out patrols, pairs that to the casual observer would have appeared to be simply taking a stroll around the grounds. Undoubtedly the estate was routinely swept for electronic devices as well, which is why they had chosen not to plant any while it was empty. The organization was paranoid to the extreme, and they could not afford to tip them off to the fact that the estate was being watched. That would be a dead giveaway that Brandi was in LA.

Brandi. The thought that his former commander, the finest warrior Wright had ever served with, was now a beautiful young woman named Brandi was something that Wright still found incredible. Still, when he had read the reports detailing the events behind the transformation, the warrior genes that had made Brandon a desirable candidate for the Genomorph Protocol, he had not been surprised. Anyone who had served with him would have readily agreed that there was something different about Brandon Anderson. In a fraternity of elite warriors he stood out as someone very special.

Wright rose from the ground once he had crawled over the ridge and returned to the Ford Excursion concealed in the trees. He climbed into the passenger seat and Petty Officer Enrique Vasquez started the engine.

“What do you think, Chief?” Vasquez asked.

“It’s a new team, same size as the last one,” Wright said. “Other than that, I can’t say. You go back and report to the Skipper and I’ll maintain surveillance and get some more video.”

For the rest of the day Wright observed the estate but did not see anything that indicated the tactical team was up to anything. He managed to get video of the four men from the sedan who were undoubtedly the officers of this team, as well as shots of several of the others. Late that afternoon Vasquez returned and along with him were Petty Officers Lewis and Darrow, the SEAL platoon’s snipers. Wright briefed them both on what he had seen throughout the day and then he and Vasquez returned to their safe house with the video he had shot. The estate would remain under constant surveillance and the SEALs would be on alert until the mercenaries left. If they made a move, the SEALs would be ready to respond immediately.

*****

Brandi and Melissa spent Sunday just relaxing. Melissa shared a lot of funny stories about the times she and Karen had as undergraduates, but said she was saving the best for when Karen made it big in Washington; timing was everything with the really juicy dirt.

Brandi also spent several hours Sunday altering her form. She mimicked Melissa and Karen and Amber, who had gladly allowed her to record her patterns for practice; she thought it was ‘so cool’. Amber was the hardest, as she was four inches shorter than Brandi and very petite. Brandi found it required much more effort to hold a form that was so physically different from her own, and the process of actually becoming shorter and smaller was in fact very painful, as was returning to her normal form. Still she endured the discomfort knowing that it was like physical training and trusting her body to let her know before she went too far.

In addition to practicing altering her form, Brandi experimented with changing the form of her biomorphic armor. The first attempts were less than dramatic; she was able to change the basic design of the garment, but changing the appearance of the material was much more difficult. What she ended up with were variations that all looked like leather; tight fitting pants and a halter top or bodice were fairly easy. Forming the material into something like a skirt was very hard, as it tended to want to cling to her body.

Melissa had an idea, and asked Brandi to mimic her. She then showed her pictures of different hairstyles and Brandi tried each of them out, varying the color and length of her hair so Melissa could see how she would look with a variety of styles.

“This could be very useful,” Melissa said after Brandi had returned to her own appearance. “It’s like having my own life sized Barbie doll!”

That evening Brandi grilled steaks, one of Brandon’s specialties. They had been marinated all day in teriyaki sauce and fresh garlic. She prepared baked potatoes for a side that were large enough to be a meal on their own. After dinner the two girls sat on the deck in each others arms and watched the sun set over the ocean, a beautiful end to a beautiful day.

CHAPTER 42

Monday morning Brandi fixed a light breakfast for Melissa before she headed to the campus. Like Karen she was technically already finished with her graduate work, but she still had students to tutor and work to do for her advisor to help finish up the quarter.

Brandi spent the early part of the morning tidying up the house, as she had let it go the last few days. By midmorning she was done and she dressed in her workout clothes and jogged down to Keller Karate for a workout with Dylan.

“Hello beautiful,” Dylan called as he saw her enter. As usual, every male in the gym stopped what they were doing and looked at her. This time it did not bother her as much as it had in the past.

They had a good workout. In the few weeks she had been working with Dylan he had shown great improvement, not that he had been bad to start with. Now he was definitely world class, and Brandi felt certain he had a good chance at going all the way at the worlds.

“So when do you leave for Ontario?” Brandi asked as they sat down on the sofa in his office. She took the towel Dylan offered her and wiped away some of the perspiration from her face and neck, hoping Dylan would not notice the way her nipples were displaying prominently through her top. She always felt a strong sense of arousal after one of their sessions, but today it was stronger than ever before, compounded by the fact that she had really grown to like Dylan.

“Friday,” Dylan answered. “The competition doesn’t start for two weeks, but I want to be there early and get acclimated.”

“You’ll do great,” Brandi smiled. “In fact, I think you’ll win.”

“I feel better than I ever have going into any competition,” Dylan admitted, his arm slipping around Brandi’s shoulder. “Only one thing would make me feel better, and that’s if you were there with me.”

“Dylan I….”

Whatever she had been about to say was forgotten as she leaned over and kissed him. Dylan was surprised by her sudden move, but he readily returned the kiss. His surprise was nothing compared to Brandi’s. The most surprising part was it was not forced by her programming. Maybe nudged a bit, but not forced.

After several seconds they separated, Dylan smiling as he said, “Does that mean you’ll come?”

“No, that means I care about you very much,” Brandi said. “But if you’re looking for a girlfriend, I can’t be it. You see, I have a girlfriend, you met her, Melissa…I’m sort of a lesbian.”

“Ok, now I’m really confused,” Dylan said.

Brandi stood up and walked across the office. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Dylan, because she really had grown to like him. She had grown to like him so much in fact that she knew she wanted to be with him and wanted it to be now. But she would never love him, and she had to make him understand.

“I can’t blame you, I’m confused all the time,” she sighed. “Dylan I’m really complicated. I am madly, deeply, passionately in love with Melissa, but sometimes I just…I want…I need…”

Dylan rose and walked to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking down into her eyes.

“Sometimes you need a man?”

“Dammit I sound like such a slut!” Brandi cried. “I’m not like that, not really. I can’t help these feelings! And I don’t know how to explain it in a way that sounds good. I’m not emotionally attracted to men but I can’t stop thinking about sleeping with a man…I just really wanted it to be someone I see as a friend.”

“Brandi I care about you,” Dylan said gently. “And I won’t pretend I don’t have some fantasies about the two of us getting together. But I’m not looking for a steady relationship now myself. Asking you to come to Canada wasn’t a come on…ok, it was sort of a come on, let’s face it…you are hot and I am a man. But I really just wanted you to be there when I win, since you are a big reason why I’m going to win.”

“This was a mistake…I should leave,” Brandi said, crying softly. “I hope you won’t think too badly of me.”

She turned to go and was almost to the door when she was stopped by his hand on her shoulder. She turned and was in his arms, kissing him again. It was not compulsion and there was no conflict in her now. It was like Melissa had said when they first made love; she needed to be with a man, and she wanted it to be Dylan. Maybe her feelings were prompted in some way by the emotional turmoil she had experienced over Karen leaving. Whatever the reason, she knew that if she walked away from Dylan now she would totally lose control.

“My apartment is just a few blocks away,” Dylan said. “No strings, no expectations, ok?”

Brandi bit her lip, nodding her head and smiling. Dylan took her by the hand and led her out of the office, and she took another step forward in her journey.

*****

Chief Wright and Vasquez had been back at the observation post for less than an hour when a vehicle approached the gate, another black Lincoln. After the car pulled up to the main house Wright zoomed the spotting scope in to get a good look at who got out.

His heart began beating faster as the face of the man exiting the passenger side came into focus. He was average height, slightly balding and a bit overweight. His face was very distinctive; he looked somewhat like a toad.

“Mercer,” Wright whispered, recalling the name that went with the face from their briefing files. The driver of the car looked familiar also, but it took a bit longer for Wright to place him. He was very average looking, the kind of face that makes a perfect agent. Chief Wright finally put a name to his face as well, Reynolds, one of the organization’s senior field agents. Their presence here with the team of mercenaries could mean only one thing.

“Pack it up,” Wright told Vasquez. “They found her. We can’t make a call until we’re clear of the area so let’s move.”

CHAPTER 43

A dark grey Ford van was parked a block away from Melissa’s house in Venice. The interior of the van was a small operations center, with electronic monitoring equipment and communications gear. Spaced throughout the neighborhood were over a dozen agents in civilian clothing.

A brown delivery van pulled up to the house and the driver disappeared into the back. He reappeared a moment later with a package and walked up to the back door. In the back of the delivery van were a dozen heavily armed mercenaries from the tactical unit.

The fake delivery man reached the door and rang the bell. He waited several minutes, ringing twice more, before stepping off the porch. He took a quick look through the garage window and then returned to the van, taking the package with him. As the van pulled away from the house he spoke into his radio.

“There was one vehicle in the garage, I couldn’t see the plate,” he said. “Subject is not on the premises.”

Reginald Mercer cursed softly in the operations van.

“All right, pull everyone back from here,” he said. It was too risky to maintain surveillance around the house.

“Agent Reynolds reports the girlfriend is under surveillance,” the man at the comm panel reported.

“Have all units move to the campus,” Mercer said. “Tell Reynolds to maintain watch and wait for my arrival. We’ll grab the Barlowe girl there. Send word to the Washington team and tell them to be ready to move on the other one at a moment’s notice.”

“The Washington team wants to know if they should send a team prepared for a full tactical response,” the communications technician said after he had relayed the message.

“No, she’s just a girl not a Genomorph,” Mercer said. “Tell them to keep it low key.”

*****

What have I done?   Brandi thought as she left Dylan’s apartment building. She lit a cigarette, her hand shaking so badly she almost could not do it.

She was filled with conflicting emotions; far worse than she had felt after her first time with Melissa. There was a definite elation that she had finally gotten past a major milestone in her transformation and definitely shock over how wantonly she had thrown herself at Dylan. She felt dirty, cheap, and yet wonderfully satisfied. Most of all she felt guilty and unfaithful, even though Melissa had assured her repeatedly that she understood Brandi’s need and would not be upset when she gave in to it.

She saw the red and white awning of her favorite café ahead and decided to stop for a coke. She needed some time to think. She knew she loved Melissa and that Melissa loved her; but could their relationship last if she continued to have a need to be with a man? She desperately hoped it could. She had received a tremendous sense of sensual gratification from Dylan, but it was only when she was with Melissa that she felt truly whole.

She found a table outside and had a seat, lighting another cigarette as she did.

“Hi Brandi, having a late lunch?” The waitress asked as she walked up to the table.

“Just a coke today Sally,” Brandi told her.

As she sipped her soda she thought about what she had done. Did she feel any different? Yes, she did. It was as though a great weight had been removed, like she had faced a right of passage and come through the other side. She now knew in her heart that whatever memories, whatever experience she carried with her from Brandon she was now and forever a woman. She had experienced the same sensation she had before, whenever she had reached a milestone along the path to accepting herself as a woman. But did that mean that sex with a man was what defined her?

“Hi Brandi how are you today?” A voice said, breaking her from her reverie.

“Oh hi Sam,” Brandi said, smiling as she greeted the café manager. “I’m ok, have a seat!”

“Thanks,” Sam said as he joined her at the table. One thing Brandi immediately noticed was that she felt almost nothing in Sam’s presence. Of course, she had just had sex with Dylan…more than once actually, so it was no surprise her libido was sated for the moment.

“Listen, I just wanted to tell you something,” Sam said in a hushed tone. “A couple of suits showed up here about two hours ago flashing your picture and asking questions. I got a real bad vibe off them. I told them I had never seen you before.”

Brandi’s eyes grew wide and she felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Before she could say a word her cell phone began ringing. She pulled it from her bag and opened it to see a text message from Susan. It said one word.

Run!

*****

Melissa had an hour to kill before her next class, and as was her custom stopped by the coffee shop in Kerckhoff Hall for a cappuccino. She took the beverage outside and sat at a table, enjoying the California sunshine. She was engrossed in a book when the two men in dark suits approached. They looked about for a moment, and when they spied her, one of them pulled a picture from his coat pocket and examined it. He nodded to the other man and they walked up to Melissa.

“Miss Barlowe, we’d like you to come with us please,” one of the men said.

Melissa looked at the two men, both wearing dark glasses that obscured their eyes. One was fairly short, about five seven with a toad like look to his face and a significant gut. The other was tall and fit and he gave Melissa an arrogant leer.

“Unless I see a badge and a warrant I have no intention of going anywhere with you,” Melissa told them flatly. She cursed the fact that her permit had not come through yet. Her gun was back at the house.

The toad faced man leaned close and whispered menacingly, “There are a lot of innocent people here Miss Barlowe. If you don’t want to see them get hurt you’ll do as you’re told.”

Melissa looked around at the students laughing and talking and knew that these men were prepared to hurt, even kill every one of them. Her cell phone began vibrating in her purse which was sitting on the ground next to her leg, and she knew it was Brandi calling to warn her, but it was too late.

Brandi I need you!

*****

Brandi dropped her cell phone into her purse and thanked Sam, giving him a twenty dollar bill to cover the coke and dashing away from the café. She sprinted the entire distance from the café to the house, and was actually a bit winded when she burst through the door into the living room. She had known even as she was approaching that the house was clear, though she was well aware they could be watching from outside of her range. She detected no foreign electronic emissions either coming from the house or going into it so she knew they had not left any bugs behind.

But they had been here; she knew it even though there was no evidence. They had tried to take her at the house and when they did not find her they had gone to their alternate plan. They were after Melissa.

She bounded up the stairs and into the master bedroom, stripping her exercise clothes away as she entered the huge walk in closet. She already knew what outfit she was going to wear, and with an energy that bordered on frantic she grabbed clothes from the closet and then hefted her black duffel bag to her shoulder. It had almost everything she needed, and as she quickly dressed and applied makeup she planned her next move.

In less than five minutes she was bounding back down the stairs, the duffel over her shoulder as she raced through the house. As she settled behind the wheel of her Solstice she tried Melissa again, and again got no answer. They either already had her or were close and Melissa did not want them to know Brandi was calling. She dropped the cell phone and threw the convertible into reverse, rubber squealing as she exited the garage while the door was barely high enough for the little car to pass under it.

Gary’s shop was closed on Monday’s, which was just as well. What Brandi was after she could not buy anyway. She was about to do something that went against everything she believed but she did not waver in her resolve for an instant.

She parked her Solstice a few blocks away and made her way around to the back of Gary’s shop. She knew he had an alarm system; she also knew it would not cause her any problems. Using her ability to detect electromagnetic fields, she located the sensors for the alarm on the door and placed her hand over the area. It took a few seconds to establish a connection, and then she was able to override the system without alerting the monitoring service.

Once the alarm was dealt with, she turned her attention to the lock. She was not sure if her nanocyborgs were capable of picking the lock but it was worth a try before she simply forced the door. She placed the index finger of her right hand over the deadbolt and grasped the doorknob with her left hand. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on unlocking the door and immediately felt both hands tingling. Seconds later both the locks clicked and she opened the door.

She used the same method to open the gun safe and took the two MP-7 sub-machineguns from it, along with half a dozen loaded magazines for each. She felt terribly guilty; Gary was a friend and had been very kind to her. Now she was rewarding that kindness by stealing from him. If all went well, she would not even need the guns and would have them back before he ever knew they were gone. If not…she left a note explaining why she had taken them. No doubt by the time he saw it the story would be all over the news. With the note she left a stack of cash that would more than pay for the weapons and ammunition.

She placed the MP-7s, the magazines and pouches for them and the straps and clips for carrying the weapons in the black duffel bag with her pistols and other gear. In less than ten minutes she was out of the shop and had relocked the door and re-enabled the alarm system.

She made her way quickly to her car, tossing the bag in the passenger seat as she slid behind the wheel and started the engine. Rubber squealed as she released the clutch and pressed the accelerator of the Solstice to the floor. She would try to do this with as little violence as possible, but if they hurt a hair on Melissa’s head she would make them wish she had never been created.

“They wanted to know what a Genomorph is capable of,” Brandi muttered as she sped along the streets of Los Angeles. “They’re about to find out.”

*****

“I don’t really think you want to create a scene in a public place like this,” Melissa told the men, stalling for time. She knew Brandi was coming, she just knew it.

“Look missy, we don’t care who we kill here as long as we draw that blonde freak out.” Toad Face growled.

“I know you,” Melissa smiled at the man. “You’re that jerk Mercer! Brandi described you perfectly. You do look like a toad.”

Reginald Mercer’s face clouded and he grabbed Melissa roughly by the arm. She responded by throwing her cup of cappuccino in his face. Mercer cried out in pain and recoiled from the hot liquid, releasing his grip on her arm. Melissa shoved him away and into the other man and turned to run. His partner recovered too quickly and grabbed her by her pony tail, causing her to cry out in pain as he jerked her back by the hair.   Several of the students seated around the area began looking at the altercation and a few even shouted for someone to call campus security.

“Just bring her Reynolds!” Mercer snarled, wiping his face with a napkin from the table.   Melissa began screaming and fighting as the men dragged her south towards the street, until Mercer told her he would kill someone if she did not keep quiet. He turned to the angry students and flashed a badge.

“We’re Federal Agents and this is a matter of national security!” he shouted. “Do not interfere!”

Reynolds began dragging Melissa roughly along the sidewalk, heading south from the courtyard. She fought him every step, until Mercer again threatened to start shooting students if she did not cooperate. Melissa ceased her struggling but kept her pace as slow as she could.

They were nearing the street, a dark sedan parked and waiting there, when Melissa saw the girl approaching. She was oriental, with long, silky black hair that reached below her waist. She was dressed in a very short, black miniskirt and white blouse, with knee socks and a pair of patent leather Mary Janes on her feet. Melissa smiled; she recognized the outfit and even more she recognized the girl’s figure. When they were nearly even with the girl, Melissa could not help herself.

“You guys are so fucked,” she crowed.

Understanding came to Mercer and Reynolds too late. Brandi was already in motion, two lightning fast kicks catching both men in the face and knocking them back. Melissa dashed forward out of the combat zone so Brandi would not be hampered.

Reynolds, younger and much more fit than Mercer, recovered fastest, his hand diving under his coat. Brandi caught his wrist and twisted, the gun he was grasping falling as his hand went numb. Reynolds was good though, and punched forward with a left jab to her face, bloodying her nose.

“Brandi, look out!” Melissa cried, seeing Mercer leveling a weapon at her girlfriend. Brandi started to dodge to her left but Reynolds caught her with another hard jab and slowed her down just enough.

Mercer fired, the weapon making a slight popping noise as compressed air was released. Two tiny darts streaked forward, wires trailing behind, and struck Brandi squarely in the back. Her body convulsed as the taser discharged its fifty thousand volts, overloading her nervous system. To Melissa’s horror Brandi’s body went limp and she slumped to the ground. Brandi reached around to her back and pulled the darts free and then tried to rise but Reynolds hammered her with a vicious blow to the side of the head, knocking her back to the ground.

Mercer popped the cartridge off the front of the taser and fumbled in his pocket for another as Reynolds continued to beat Brandi. It was as though she could not get her limbs to respond, just as had happened at the lab when Evans used the taser on her.

Mercer snapped the new cartridge in place and was raising the weapon to fire again when Melissa spun him around. Before the surprised man could respond she drove her knee into his stomach. He grunted in pain and doubled over as Melissa twisted the taser from his hand and then kicked his legs out from under him, sending him to the ground. She smiled with satisfaction, glad that Brandi had been working with her on self defense.

“Damn you bitch!” Mercer snarled as he struggled to rise.

“Yeah, whatever,” Melissa said and fired the taser into his right buttocks. Mercer jerked and then fell to the ground, immobilized.

Reynolds’ attention was still occupied by Brandi, who had managed to get to her feet but was still struggling to defend herself. Melissa noted that she had lost control and returned to her normal appearance as well.

Melissa looked at the taser in her hand; she had seen them before. Her father had shown her how the defensive weapons worked. She knew that in addition to the darts, the pistol had a secondary contact stun capability. She popped the spent air cartridge free and walked up behind Reynolds.

“Leave my girlfriend alone!” she screamed as she jabbed the tip of the weapon into his back and pulled the trigger. Reynolds did a jerking dance and then fell to the ground.

Melissa tossed the taser aside and rushed to Brandi, catching her lover before she fell to the ground. Her face was bloodied and bruised from the beating she had taken, but she looked at Melissa and smiled.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Brandi asked.

“Not since this morning, babe,” Melissa said and then kissed Brandi passionately.

“We gotta run, love.” Brandi said after the kiss. “They always hunt in packs.”

“You almost had me fooled,” Melissa said as she helped Brandi towards her car. “I was looking for a blonde in a black cat suit!”

Brandi giggled and said, “I decided to try the subtle approach.”

“Yeah a Japanese schoolgirl with those boobs is real subtle,” Melissa laughed.

“Well the outfit woulda been too big if I made them smaller!”

By the time they reached the car Brandi was much stronger, and she started around to the driver’s side. She caught a glint of light from the roof of the math sciences building across the street and saw several dark shapes rising. She dove back and knocked Melissa to the ground behind the car, throwing herself on top of her as a hail of automatic weapons fire tore into the street…and Brandi’s car. The tires on the left side and the engine compartment were riddled.

“Ok now I am pissed!” Brandi screamed.   

Brandi opened the passenger door and grabbed her duffel bag and pulled it out. She set the bag on the ground and began stripping off her clothes as her armor formed around her body. She did not have to worry about the shoes; they were shredded as her boots formed and expanded on her feet.

“You look way sexier in that outfit than Kate Beckinsale in Underworld,” Melissa said, grinning.

“Thank you, sweetie!” Brandi said.

“Why did they stop shooting?” Melissa wondered as Brandi slipped her combat harness and weapons on.

“They just want to keep us pinned down until their friends can flank us,” Brandi said. She passed the bag to Melissa, who reached in and removed her Smith and Wesson revolver. She clipped the holster to the waistband of her jeans and slipped a half dozen speed loaders into her purse. She then slipped the strap of the bag over her left shoulder. She could tell by the weight that Brandi had stopped by the house and collected their emergency cash.

Brandi slipped the shoulder rig for her pistols on, the pistols carried butt down for faster drawing. Pull through snaps through the trigger guards held the guns in place, and were released with a firm tug when drawing. Once she had the pistols secured, she took the MP-7s and slipped the straps for them over each shoulder, and then snapped them into clips on her belt to secure them at each hip. Melissa saw the MP-7s and moaned.

“Brandi you didn’t talk Gary into giving those to you?”

“No I stole them,” Brandi grinned. “I would never get Gary into trouble.”

Melissa sighed and rolled her eyes. She supposed they really couldn’t be in any more trouble then they already were.

“Just try to keep the felonies to a minimum please,” Melissa said.

“I will,” Brandi said, and then looked sharply at Melissa, “Is doing one-ten in a forty-five zone a felony?”

Melissa groaned again, knowing better than to ask if Brandi was serious.

Brandi scanned the area behind them, back the way they had come. There was no sign of enemies, and most of the students had sought cover within the buildings as soon as the first shots were fired. She guessed they probably had at least two teams; one here and one that had tried to get her at the house, but missed when she was not there. They were likely somewhere on the campus already.

“We have to move,” Brandi said. “I’m going to go left towards Moore Hall and draw their fire. You run back towards Kerchoff and take cover in the trees; I’ll cut through Moore and meet you in the courtyard. We’ll work our way around to one of the parking garages and steal a car to get out of here.”

“Are you recovered enough?” Melissa asked. “You really had me worried.”

“I’m fine,” Brandi assured her. “Now you know my weakness. The taser screws up my nervous system just like it does anyone else, but it also stuns my nano-cyborgs. All I needed was a little time to get my balance back, but as long as that bastard was hammering me I couldn’t recover. They must have pieced that together after Evan Mitchell beat the hell out of me in Nevada.”

“What about the police?” Melissa asked. “Won’t they respond to the gunfire?”

“I imagine they have already been told to back off,” Brandi said. “They’ll probably have the LAPD sealing the campus. If we run into them, great, we’ll try to slip by and if we can’t, we’ll surrender. Susan sent me a warning so they know what’s going down. They should be able to delay any attempt to move us until I can get us out.”

“Ok,” Melissa said.

“I’m sorry about this, love,” Brandi told her. “I never should have gotten you involved in my mess.”

“Don’t you dare!” Melissa snapped. “I wouldn’t give up one second with you. We’ll get through this…together.”

Brandi nodded, “Wait till they open up on me and then run like hell. If any of them get in your way, you shoot to kill. Remember, you have an advantage; they want you alive as leverage to use against me. Use that advantage.”

Melissa nodded, a look of fierce determination in her eyes. Brandi kissed her and then sprang to her feet, an MP-7 in each hand as she ran. The men on the roof tracked towards her and she fired, even as they too fired. She saw two go down before several bullets found her, stitching up her back and pitching her forward to the ground. She rolled with the fall and came back to her feet, hardly slowing her forward momentum. The men on the roof were armed with assault rifles, and the rounds had penetrated her armor though they had been slowed down somewhat. Even as she continued to run, returning fire all the while, she felt the armor sealing over the wounds. It would stop the bleeding like a tight dressing and allow her body to heal more effectively.

Melissa was on her feet and running as soon as the men on the roof opened fire. She did not dare look back, and she ran for all she was worth until she was under the cover of the trees between Kerchoff and Moore Halls. Ducking behind a tree, she stopped and looked back. Brandi was already out of sight.

“Well, well, look what we have here,” a voice behind her said.

Melissa turned to see the man named Reynolds standing there, an automatic in his right hand, held down at his side. He was wearing that same arrogant smile, which quickly vanished as Melissa raised the revolver in her right hand, the red laser dot settling squarely on his chest.

“Drop the gun and get on the ground,” Melissa ordered. She knew Brandi would have probably just shot the man, but she could not bring herself to do it without giving him a chance to surrender.

“I don’t think you have the balls to pull the trigger,” Reynolds said. “Your girlfriend would, but not you. You’re not the killer she is.”

Reynolds slowly began raising his weapon. At the last second, he realized he had underestimated Melissa, as he saw her eyes harden. Frantically he tried to bring his pistol on line to fire.

Melissa was surprised by the ferocity of the muzzle flash and the recoil; Brandi had neglected to tell her she had loaded the gun with magnum rounds, but the shot was still on target. Reynolds was dead before he hit the ground.

Melissa tracked the gun to the right, where Reginald Mercer was struggling to his feet.

“I’m unarmed!” he screamed as the laser dot settled on his chest. He opened his coat to show that he wore no weapon.

“Run or die, little man,” Melissa told him. Mercer ran.

*****

Karen was seated in her cubicle reviewing a file on her computer screen. A smile crept across her face.

My cubicle…my computer…

She noticed several people moving about the Pit hurriedly, and knew something was going on. She rose from her desk, and looked over the wall of her cubicle.

Every one was crowding around the television in the lounge area, and Karen walked over to see what was going on. The picture showed the Fox logo, and she could see a helicopter view of several LAPD cars forming a barricade across a street. As the view zoomed out, she recognized the location as the campus of UCLA.

“What’s going on?” she asked a young woman beside her.

“Some kind of shootout on the UCLA campus,” the girl told her. “They think it might be a terrorist attack.”

A sense of dread filled Karen as she walked slowly back to her desk. She knew it was not terrorists, at least not in the way the media was thinking. She tried calling the house in Venice but only got the answering machine. When she tried Brandi and Melissa’s cell phones, she got their voice mail.

There was no doubt in Karen’s mind that Brandi had been located. She knew her friends were now fighting for their very lives and she felt totally powerless to help them. There she was in the middle of a state of the arts intelligence gathering center and she did not know what to do. Then inspiration struck her. She was reaching for her phone when it rang.

“Karen Meadows,” she said after lifting the receiver. A smile crept across her face.

“Admiral Hammerstein, I was just about to give you a call.”

*****

Brandi crashed through the doorway into Moore Hall to the screams of frightened students. She dropped the spent magazines from the MP-7s and reloaded the weapons, looking about at the cowering figures.

“Stay down and don’t go near the windows,” she told them. This was already going much farther than she had anticipated. She had expected them to come in force; she had not expected them to bring an army. She and Melissa either had to get off the campus quickly or surrender. She could not let innocent students and teachers get hurt because of her.

Weapons reloaded, she ran down the hallway and then turned left and headed outside into the courtyard between Moore and Kerchoff. As she did, she heard the unmistakable sound of Melissa’s magnum discharge and headed for the noise. She arrived just in time to see Mercer running away as though the hounds of hell were chasing him.

“Are you ok?” she asked her lover when she saw Reynolds’ body.

“I’ll cry like a baby about it…later,” Melissa said, and then she looked down at Brandi’s right leg, seeing blood there.

“Your bleeding! I thought that armor was supposed to stop bullets.”

“Handgun bullets,” Brandi corrected. “They are using assault rifles. I’ll be fine; the armor has already sealed the wounds.”

Gunfire tore into the trees and both girls ducked low, seeking cover. Brandi stole a glance around the tree she was concealed behind and saw a half dozen men dressed in black BDU’s advancing cautiously from math building. She popped out in a crouch and triggered a burst from each of the MP-7’s. Two of the men dropped as the rest returned fire.

Melissa was relieved to see that the students outside Kerckhoff were gone, most likely taking cover inside. In fact the campus was nearly deserted. In the distance she could hear the wail of sirens, but they did not seem to be getting any closer.

In the distance two of the commandos appeared, creeping around the far corner of Kerckhoff Hall. Melissa stabbed her revolver forward and squeezed the trigger. Her three rounds missed, the distance was over one hundred feet, but caused the two men to hesitate, allowing Brandi to whirl and fire, standing to get a clear shot. The two commandos jerked back, even as the others advancing towards them fired again. Brandi’s body jerked as more rounds struck her, and she fell to the ground in front of Melissa.

“Brandi!”

Brandi moaned and rolled over, pushing herself back until she was propped up against the tree.

“I think their plan is to shoot me until I don’t get up anymore,” she said, struggling to stand. A few more hits and she knew they might well succeed. “We’ve gotta get out of here, they can box us in too easy here, and the longer we stay the more likely it is that they’ll hurt someone.”

“I can’t believe they think they can get away with this!” Melissa said.

“That’s what scares me…they do believe that,” Brandi said. “Something else is going on here. Until now the organization has been very low key, but this…there’s no way they can cover it up.”

“Which means they don’t think they’ll have to,” Melissa concluded.

With Melissa’s help Brandi rose to her feet and they limped off to the north, after Brandi fired a long burst from her weapons to convince their pursuers to be cautious.

“So how has your day been gorgeous?” Brandi quipped as she leaned heavily on Melissa. Her armor had once again sealed her wounds and stopped the bleeding, but the damage was beginning to stack up. She could distinctly feel eight bullets in her.

“It’s turning out to be a real pain,” Melissa replied. “How about yours?”

“Well it’s been interesting,” Brandi said. “I had sex with Dylan.”

“Really? Brandi that’s wonderful…at least I think it is…how do you feel about it?”

“Well, like, to be real honest I wish I was doing it right now…no offense love.”

They reached the corner of the building where the two dead commandos lay and Brandi stopped, bending down to snatch an M4 carbine from one. She handed it to Melissa and pointed at a lever near the trigger.

“That’s the safety,” Brandi said, flicking the lever. “It’s set for semi auto. If you have to use it, aim and squeeze just like with the magnum. If it gets bad, give the safety another click and you’re ready to rock and roll.”

“Ok,” Melissa said. “Um, honey, you know how you wanted me to let you know when ever you act like a guy?”

“Yeah.”

“Well you’re acting really macho right now and I love it.”

“Just don’t start getting any ideas,” Brandi grinned. She snatched three spare magazines from the dead man’s harness and handed them to Melissa who stuffed them into her purse, thankful that she routinely carried an oversized bag.

Brandi stole a glance around the corner in time to see two of the black clad figures emerging from the space between Kerchoff and Ackerman halls. As she watched, they turned west and headed towards Bruin plaza.

Big mistake, Brandi thought as she stepped around the corner and fired both MP-7s. The four round bursts struck both her targets dead center in the back, punching through their body armor easily. As they hit the ground she and Melissa were already moving.

“You shot them in the back,” Melissa said.

“That’s because that’s the side that was facing me,” Brandi said, dropping to her knees at the corner. She turned and looked at Melissa, her eyes hard.

“If you have any ideas in your head about fair play get rid of them now,” she said. “This is war and they started it. You never want to face the enemy on level ground. You want the odds stacked as heavily in your favor as you can get. Fighting fair will only get us killed…or worse.”

They cut north across Bruin walk and sought cover under more trees between the Student Activity Center and Powell Library. Ahead lay Janss steps and Wilson Plazza, and just to the west of that was a parking structure beneath the soccer field. If they could steal a car, they had a chance of getting clear of the campus.

As they approached the plaza Brandi turned, detecting that the men behind were closing. She saw one darting between two trees and snapped off a burst from the MP-7 in her left hand, the bullets striking his legs and bringing him down. Then she heard gunfire from behind her and heard Melissa cry out.

Brandi spun about, time slowing to a crawl from her perspective. She saw the muzzle flashes from the steps; saw Melissa going down, the front of her turquoise sweatshirt red with blood. A scream burst from Brandi’s throat and she tracked both weapons towards the four figures partially concealed by the low wall.

Partial concealment was not enough, and even as more rounds found her Brandi fired, her vision seeming to zoom in and lock onto each target. One by one their heads snapped back as her rounds struck home. Then, her weapons empty again, she let them fall to her sides and dropped down next to Melissa.

“Oh shit, no,” she cried. “Melissa, baby, hold on!”

“I’m sorry, love,” Melissa said, her voice barely a whisper. “I messed up.”

“No you didn’t now shut up and save your strength while I fix this” Brandi said, placing her hand over Melissa’s abdomen, covering the wounds and willing whatever it was that allowed her to heal another into action.

She felt the tingling, and after a few seconds Melissa’s ragged breathing had steadied, but she was still weak. Brandi tried to force the healing further and was rewarded with a pain like a tremendous electric shock.

“Melissa, I’ve stabilized you but that’s not going to get us out of here,” Brandi said.

“Just leave me love,” Melissa told her.

“Like hell,” Brandi said. “We either both get out of here or I surrender, but the only way I can get you strong enough is to use the Bonding.”

Susan had finally sent Brandi an email explaining what she had learned about the ritual, which was not much. It was however enough to tell Brandi that she could get Melissa on her feet and moving, if Melissa agreed to it.

“Do it,” Melissa whispered.

“Love I have no idea what this will do to you,” Brandi said. “You could wind up being like me.”

“I don’t care,” Melissa said. “If it means I can stay with you forever it’s worth it.”

That was all the permission Brandi’s programming required, and the pain was replaced by an intense feeling, like a million ants were flowing along her arm. Melissa felt it too, spreading into and through her body. The sensation bordered on orgasmic as their eyes met, and for several seconds their nervous systems were in direct contact. Melissa’s wounds began closing even faster than Brandi normally healed as she pushed herself to the limit and beyond to get her girlfriend mobile. Melissa felt her strength returning and then Brandi was overcome by dizziness and pitched forward across her.

“Brandi?” Melissa asked.

Brandi rolled, her hands reaching under her arms and yanking the HK pistols free of their holsters. As she rolled onto her back she brought them up and fired, her rounds bringing down the first of the commandos who had taken the opportunity to advance from behind them. The remaining four retreated as she continued to fire until the slides of the pistols locked back.

“Can you move?” she asked Melissa as she reloaded her weapons. She holstered the pistols and switched back to the MP-7s. Melissa nodded.

They rose but had only taken two steps before Brandi collapsed to her knees, overcome by weakness. She was bleeding from several wounds to the abdomen, and her armor was not sealing them. The Bonding had taken more out of her than she had anticipated, and she had actually pushed it far beyond the programmed safety limit, drastically reducing the number of nano-cyborgs in her body. Until they were replaced, she would be relying almost entirely on her innate healing abilities, which though far superior to a normal human’s healing rate were dangerously taxed by her wounds.

“Get out of here, love,” Brandi said as she struggled to rise. “I don’t think I can make it.”

Melissa was by her side, throwing herself under Brandi’s left arm. Her own wounds were healed nearly completely, and she knew that Brandi must have exhausted her own healing abilities to save her.

“Just leave me, please…”

“Just shut the fuck up and move!” Melissa screamed as she heaved, lifting Brandi to her feet.

They reached the entrance to the parking structure, Melissa half dragging Brandi. Once inside she quickly scanned the interior of the first level, smiling as she saw the perfect vehicle.

It was a jet black hummer, and not a mere H2 but an actual H1 nearly identical to the military Humvee. Melissa helped Brandi over to the car and started to reach for the handle.

“Wait,” Brandi said. She placed her hand on the door and closed her eyes, having to concentrate hard to disable the security system and unlock the door. The effort nearly made her collapse again.

“Dammit, Brandi, don’t you die on me!” Melissa barked.

“I’m not dyin’, love,” Brandi said, forcing a weak smile. “Just need a little rest.”

“Rest later,” Melissa said as she opened the door. “Get in the car now.”

With Melissa’s help Brandi was able to climb into the vehicle and crawl over into the passenger seat. Melissa was relieved to see that her armor had at last sealed the most recent wounds. At least she knew that she was still healing.

“Can you start it?” Melissa asked as she climbed into the driver’s seat. Brandi nodded and grabbed the ignition switch. With a twist she snapped the locking mechanism, even as her nanocyborgs hotwired the ignition. The Hummer rumbled to life as Melissa pressed her foot down on the gas.

“Damn I wish I had a smoke,” Brandi moaned. Melissa took a pack from her purse and lit a cigarette, passing it to Brandi.

“I thought you were quitting again,” Brandi said as she took the cigarette.

“I don’t think that matters anymore, does it?” Melissa asked as she put the Hummer in gear.

“Melissa…”

“It’s ok, love,” Melissa said. “You did what you had to. I can feel something changing inside me…whatever the outcome I meant what I said…I want to be with you forever.”

Melissa pulled the Hummer out of the garage, expecting at any moment to see police cars surrounding them. There were none in sight, and she turned left onto Sunset Boulevard.

“I can’t believe they haven’t sealed the campus,” Melissa remarked.

“Not enough time,” Brandi told her. “How long do you think all that took?”

“It seemed like hours,” Melissa said.

“Less than fifteen minutes from the first gunshot,” Brandi said. “Time compresses in a situation like that. It’s how your body deals with everything happening around you. Your mind starts working faster to keep you alive.”

“Mine didn’t do too well,” Melissa said. “If you hadn’t been there…”

“You wouldn’t have been shot,” Brandi said. “You did just fine. I’m proud of you. Now, where are we going?”

“I figure getting on the interstate is risky,” Melissa said. “Especially here. I’m gonna cut north to Mulholland and then take that up into the mountains. We’ll work our way to the cabin on back roads and lay low until you’re strong enough to move.”

“You still have the bag?” Brandi asked.

“Of course,” Melissa grinned. “You think I’m gonna lose twenty-five grand in cash?”

They reached Mulholland and began heading towards the Santa Monica Mountains. Melissa noticed then that the Hummer was equipped with a GPS tracking system.

“Brandi can they track us?” Melissa asked.

Brandi smiled, “I’m afraid the tracking system is experiencing technical difficulties.”

Within an hour they were passing into the mountains and the sun was beginning to set. Melissa pulled the Hummer off onto a small fire road. They took that for another thirty minutes until it reached another narrow paved road. When they finally reached the cabin it was full dark.

“This is some cabin,” Melissa said as they pulled up to the house..

It was really more of a lodge, a huge log home with an attached three car garage. Melissa pulled the Hummer around to the garage and got out. She keyed in the entry code on the outside keypad and one of the doors began opening. The bay behind the door was empty, but as Melissa pulled the Hummer inside she saw there was a Lincoln Navigator SUV parked inside. She knew the keys for the vehicle were on a hook in the kitchen.

Melissa helped Brandi out of the Hummer and into the house. They passed down a short hall and into the immense great room. On the other side was the door leading into the master suite. Melissa got Brandi to the bed and turned to go back to the Hummer.

“Melissa, I don’t think I can stay awake,” Brandi said groggily.

“Just sleep, love,” Melissa said, “I’ll keep watch.”

CHAPTER 44

Kyle Laughlin looked again at the picture of the young blonde woman. The thick file had been delivered an hour earlier by a courier from the Commander Naval Special Warfare, Admiral Michael Hammerstein. The information within was incredible to say the least, but the source was unimpeachable.

“You knew about this?” Kyle asked, his eyes fixed on Karen’s.

“I know Brandi, she’s my friend,” Karen said. “She told me everything about her transformation. She doesn’t even know the full extent of their plans though, so neither did I until I spoke with the Admiral.”

Kyle continued to look at Karen intently for a moment and she wondered if he was re-evaluating her. Her failure to divulge her knowledge of Brandi’s existence and location could technically be seen as a violation of national security.

“Kyle, if you feel I can’t be trusted after this, I understand,” Karen said. “These people have to be stopped.”

Kyle’s expression softened and he almost smiled as he said, “No, I’m just amazed that you would still want to work in government service after knowing what these people had done to your friend.”

Karen sighed with relief, “If anything what happened to Brandi made me want it more.”

Kyle looked back at the picture with the file, “This is really Brandon Anderson?”

“That was Brandon Anderson,” Karen said. “Brandi is someone totally different. She has all his memories and experience, but she is definitely her own person.”

Inside Kyle was furious. For two years he had carried what happened to Brandon Anderson like a weight around his neck. He told himself that he had not conveyed the seriousness of the threat strongly enough and that was why the information had not been passed on. To know now that it had been intentionally withheld by an agency of the government was bad enough, but to find out that agency was working to subvert the government was too much.

“Well I guess CTAG is going to get into the game a little earlier than planned,” he said at last. Turning his attention back to Karen, his face became hard again.

“They went after your friend Melissa and they will probably come after you too,” he said. “Have you had any weapons training?”

Karen smiled, “Not extensively but I would dare say my instructor was the best there is. I have a gun but I’m not licensed to carry.”

Kyle picked up the phone on his desk, his eyes remaining locked on Karen, “I’ll have your clearance upgraded to level five within the hour. That authorizes you to carry a weapon.”

Karen heard a muffled voice from the phone and Kyle spoke into the receiver, “Gunny I need you and your two best men in my office now.”

After hanging up the phone Kyle spoke once more to Karen, “I’m going to have two of our marine security detail escort you to the Plaza. Grab your things and come straight back here. Until this is over you’re staying here, we have a few rooms set aside for use as bunk rooms during extended operations.”

There was a knock on the office door and a moment later three Marines entered. There was no mistaking which was the person Kyle had spoken too. Gunnery Sergeant Alfonso Garibaldi looked like he had walked right out of a Marine recruiting poster. From his barrel chest to his chiseled jaw and high and tight hair, he was the very stereotype of a Marine; all that was missing was the Smokey Bear hat. His service “B” uniform was crisply pressed and the left chest of the khaki shirt was heavy with ribbons. The two young Marines with him, though identically attired and equally immaculate, seemed to pale in comparison.

“Gunny, we have a situation,” Kyle said. He quickly outlined the situation and showed Gunny Garibaldi selected portions of the file Admiral Hammerstein had sent over, holding back anything directly pertaining to Brandi’s transformation.

“Sir, I don’t exactly know what we can do about any of this,” Garibaldi said after reviewing the material. His face was stony but his eyes burned with outrage.

“Exactly what you are assigned to do, protect this facility,” Kyle said. “Miss Meadows here has key information and has been targeted by these people. I want her escorted and protected around the clock.”

“Hicks and Hudson here are the best, sir,” Garibaldi said.

“I want this clearly understood, no one is to touch her,” Kyle said. “I don’t care what kind of badge they flash, if anyone tries anything you are authorized to take them down on my authority. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Corporals Hicks and Hudson replied in unison.

“We’ll be in a meeting and when that is over you will escort Miss Meadows to her hotel and then back here with her belongings,” Kyle said. “We are now officially in a Level One state of alert.”

The Marines nodded and smartly left the office, with the two young corporals taking a position immediately outside the office door.

“I want you to take the lead on this,” Kyle told Karen as he rose and moved towards the office door.

“Kyle, I don’t have that kind of experience,” Karen protested.

“You have a good head and you’re committed,” Kyle said. “You understand better than anyone what these people are capable of. I’ll be right here the whole time. I’ll be making the decisions and giving the orders, but I want you to be the contact point for everyone.”

“All right, but we don’t have to tell everyone about Brandi do we?”

“Only if it becomes absolutely necessary,” Kyle said. “I’ll leave that decision to you.”

Karen nodded feeling like a swarm of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. A week ago she had been a grad student wondering what the future held for her, and now she was the point person of an operation that was going to attempt to prevent the overthrow of the government.

Kyle helped her prepare handouts of the relevant material for the upcoming briefing, and then they entered the briefing room. Several people were already assembled, including Mira Gallo. When everyone was assembled they passed out the material and gave them a few minutes to look over the documents.

“Let’s get to it,” Kyle said. “I know what you’re reading seems incredible, but it is all verified.”

“Alien technology?” Mira said. “Incredible seems a bit of an understatement.”

Kyle looked at Karen and nodded.

“I can’t go into details but I have seen the product of some of this technology,” Karen told them. “Incredible is an understatement. It is capable of feats that seem like magic, but that’s not the point.

“We have to get beyond the notion of alien artifacts to the real threat; a group operating within the government of the United States that intends to subvert and subjugate that government. This organization has operated with very little oversight and almost total anonymity for decades. They have used this technology to cement their base of power and now they intend to turn the legal authority of this nation into a puppet government.”

“So what can we do?” One of the analysts from the Pit, a bespectacled young man named Craig Foster asked. “We have less than two dozen analysts here currently. We have no field personnel. We’re just the new kids on the block.”

“That is our biggest advantage,” Kyle said. “They have likely infiltrated every other intelligence agency, but they have probably overlooked CTAG. No one even cares about us, or thinks about us.”

“But we have the most advanced computer systems in the world,” Mira said, a wicked smirk on her face. “And we are interfaced with every government agency there is.”

“What we need is data, hard evidence,” Karen said. “If we can establish a pattern of activities through the years, we can demonstrate intent. If we can get our hands on some of their actual documents and plans, we can nail them cold.”

“Karen has the lead on this,” Kyle said, causing all eyes to shift to Karen, most with looks of surprise. “She has a unique knowledge of the situation. Bring everything you have to her and give her every bit of your support.”

“I know I’m very new at all this,” Karen said, still very uncomfortable about her role.

“Karen, don’t sweat it,” Mira smiled. “We’re all new at this, remember?”

*****

The UCLA campus was still sealed off, and the crowd of media gathering at the police barricades seemed to swell by the minute. Seaman Andy Talbot made his way through the crowd of reporters until he was near the barricade and then raised the video camera he was carrying to his shoulder. It was a real camera, but the microphone was a highly sensitive shotgun mic and as he recorded the activity beyond the barricades he was able to listen in on distant conversations. He finished his eavesdropping and lowered the camera and then made his way out of the crowd and back to the fake news van the team was using.

“They haven’t got her,” he said as he entered the van. “From what I picked up they’ve got a dozen dead mercenaries and several more wounded but she and her friend got away clean.”

“Not entirely clean,” Matt Branch said, gesturing to a monitor. It showed Melissa supporting Brandi as they made their way to the garage and disappeared inside.

“We got the feed from a live web cam,” Branch said. “She was hit pretty hard.”

Branch ran the recording back and let it run. It was obvious when Melissa was shot, and then Brandi too. But moments later the two were limping away, after Brandi had taken out four men almost completely concealed and at a range at the extreme limit of the weapons she was using.

“They should both be dead,” Talbot said.

“Yeah, what does she need us for?” Vasquez wondered. “It looks like the mercs got off lucky; she was more interested in getting away then taking them apart.”

“She was probably worried about her friend and collateral damage,” Chief Wright said. “These assholes sure didn’t care if anyone got caught in the crossfire.”

“All right, we’re out of here,” Branch said. “If they got away they’ll make for the safe house in the hills.”

The door to the van opened and Petty Officer Lewis entered, out of breath as though he had been running.

“What’s left of their tac team just left the campus heading north,” he said.

“They may know about the safe house,” Wright said.

“We have to assume they do,” Branch said. “Lock and load, we’re going in hot.”

*****

Fortunately Karen had not unpacked many of her things, just the outfits that needed to be hung up. She quickly put them back in her garment bag. Before leaving the room, she retrieved her Smith and Wesson revolver from her big suitcase and clipped the holstered pistol inside the waistband of her skirt. It had been a pain to fill out the paperwork required to get it on the plane with her checked baggage, but now she was glad she had. Her blazer concealed it completely, and she added several speed loaders to her purse before hefting her bags and heading for the door.

Thank God for wheeled luggage, she thought as she left the room. The two Marines were waiting right outside the door and Corporal Hudson relieved her of the largest bag, pulling it along with his left hand so that his right was free to grab the pistol holstered at his hip if needed.

Outside the hotel, they were nearly to the car when two men dressed in dark suits approached.

“Miss Meadows we need you to accompany us please,” one of them said politely, though the expression on his face conveyed something entirely different.

Hudson released the suitcase and the two Marines immediately stepped forward to place themselves between Karen and the two men.

“The lady’s not going anywhere with you,” Corporal Hicks said.

“Stand down Marine,” the agent said, his hand reaching under his coat. “We’re federal agents.”

Hicks did not reply, he acted, grabbing them man’s wrist with his left hand and holding it so that he could not withdraw it from beneath his coat. Before the agent could protest Hicks had his sidearm out and pressed to the man’s face. The other agent started to move but froze as Hudson drew his own Berretta nine millimeter and pointed it directly at him.

“I don’t care if you’re J. Edgar Hoover’s momma,” Hicks said as he shoved the agent against the car. He reached into the man’s coat and pulled out what he had been reaching for, a large silver pendant with a purple stone set in it.

“Doesn’t look like a badge to me,” Hicks said.

“Be careful with that, Corporal,” Karen said.

Hicks nodded, passing the pendant to Karen and then relieving the agent of his weapon as Hudson did the same with his partner.   “What should we do with these two, ma’am?”

“Bring them,” Karen said, examining the strange pendant. “Maybe there’s a way to convince them to help us.”

CHAPTER 45

“Brandi, please wake up!”

It was not the persistent shaking or the two slaps Melissa delivered that brought Brandi back to consciousness, it was the fearful tone of her voice. Never before had anyone been able to wake her from Zen sleep but Melissa’s frightened voice had cut through to her like a knife. For a moment she was very disoriented, just like any other person awakened suddenly from a fitful sleep.

“What’s wrong?” she managed to get out. She vaguely noticed that she was completely naked; her armor had reabsorbed automatically once she had settled into her restorative sleep.

“Someone is moving around outside,” Melissa said. “A lot of them.”

Brandi’s armor returned, forming about her body as she rose from the bed. She quickly donned her combat harness and weapons and moved to the window, carefully looking outside. She could clearly see several men taking positions up in front of the house, and no doubt they were all around it.

“Did you do anything that might have tipped them off that you saw them?”

Melissa shook her head, “I had all the lights off already. I can’t believe I actually saw them as dark as it is.”

Brandi looked at Melissa sharply and asked, “Can you see me now?”

Melissa nodded, “It’s kind of weird though; everything is different shades of grey.”

Brandi nodded her understanding; it was the same thing she saw. The interior of the house was pitch black; Melissa was seeing in the thermal spectrum.

“How long was I out?”

“Almost five hours.”

Brandi ran the tactical situation through in her mind; the house was surrounded and no doubt the drive way was barricaded. The Hummer could probably smash through or over whatever they had blocking the road but it was not armored and they would take a lot of gunfire in the process. When the mercenaries were ready they would enter the house at multiple points, both upstairs and downstairs. They would leave enough outside to cover the perimeter and probably precede their entry with flash bang grenades.

“Grab everything and get to the garage,” Brandi said. As unattractive as it was, their only option was to make a break in the Hummer as the mercenaries launched their assault.

There was not much to grab, and in minutes they were sitting in the Hummer.

“Are you ok?” Brandi asked as they waited.

Melissa turned and looked at her as she said, “I feel better than I have in my life. I’m also a little pissed at you. You went way beyond your limits to heal me didn’t you?”

“I had to,” Brandi said. “Even after the Bonding it would have taken time for you to heal enough to move. But once the Bonding was done, I found I could push it and flood your body with nano-cyborgs and use my own regenerative powers to speed your healing.”

“You almost went too far,” Melissa said.

Brandi nodded, “I know. I’m still learning remember. Besides, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

Melissa leaned across the Hummer and kissed Brandi.

“Just remember that I feel the same way,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to lose you either, and we both know you’re not invincible.”

Brandi was about to speak when they both detected the sound of glass shattering in the house, followed by several loud explosions. The garage door began slowly raising and Brandi started the Hummer and threw it into gear as she stepped hard on the gas. The four ton vehicle exploded forward and smashed through the garage door, sending the mercenaries outside flying.

Brandi kept the headlights off and cut the wheel hard to the right, guiding the Hummer down the narrow drive. Gunfire erupted around them and the vehicle was struck several times but none of the rounds hit either of the girls. As they neared the highway, they could see that the drive was indeed blocked by a pair of vans.

“Buckle up and hang on!” Brandi shouted as she aimed the Hummer directly for the spot where the bumpers of the two vans met.

Melissa managed to get her seat belt fashioned and brace herself just as the bumper of the Hummer connected with the two vans. Sparks showered as metal ground metal and the two vans were sent careening away from the barreling behemoth.

Melissa let out a yell, not of fear but of unbridled excitement as they crashed through the barricade. Brandi spared her a quick grin and said, “You’re getting way too into this stuff love.”

Melissa smiled back and could not deny that she had felt more alive in the past twelve hours than she had her entire life.

The highway was just ahead as more gunfire sought the speeding Hummer. Just before the front wheels hit the black top Brandi detected a squat, dark shape by the side of the drive.

“Shit!” she cursed as she cut the wheel hard to the right.

It was too late. The roadside mine detonated with a thunderous blast that slammed into the right side of the Hummer and sent it flying. Brandi had never fastened her own restraints and after the first flip she found herself airborne, flung from the vehicle as it tumbled across the highway. She hit the pavement hard and rolled twenty feet before coming to rest. The Hummer also ceased its tumbling and came to rest upright, fifty feet from where Brandi lay and on the opposite shoulder.

Brandi tried to push herself upright but pain shot through her left arm and forced a scream from her lips. Her legs were in agony and she was afraid to look down at them; afraid if she did she would see them bloody and mangled, see the right leg barely attached. For an instant she was back in the Iraqi desert, bloody and dying after being blown from another Hummer. She could taste the gritty sand in her mouth and heard the gunfire of the approaching Iraqis.

It was all a dream, she thought. Just a dying dream.

There had been times when Brandi wanted it to be a dream; wanted desperately to wake up and find that she was still Brandon. For a moment it was almost a comfort to know that death was near; that all the months of pain and therapy were not to be; that the horror of waking up in a body so strange and alien would never come to pass.

But as she lay there she saw Melissa’s face, and more. Despite all that had happened, in the last few weeks she had been happier than she ever had in her life, and not just because of Melissa, though she was a large part of it. But more than that, she had come to like who she was, even if there were aspects of her new life that made her uncomfortable. She fought against the blackness that threatened to engulf her.

No! I want it to be real! I want to be Brandi!

Gunfire smashed into the asphalt near her head and snapped her back into reality. Despite the pain she forced herself upright, reaching for the MP-7 that was miraculously still hanging from her right shoulder. She flicked the safety off and snapped the trigger back, emptying the magazine towards the mercenaries in one long burst. When the weapon ran dry she let it drop and reached across her body for its twin. It had not fared as well as the other, having been torn free when she was thrown from the Hummer. Her pistol was still there however and she snatched it free. As she swung it on line to fire she heard automatic fire behind her and turned to see Melissa, her face bloody, firing the M-4 out the window of the wrecked Hummer.

Damn I love that girl!

As Melissa provided cover Brandi struggled to her feet. Her right leg was battered and sore and her left hip felt as though a white hot spike had been driven into it, but neither appeared broken like her arm. Her armor had shielded her from abrasion as she tumbled across the asphalt but she ached in a dozen different places and was certain she had several broken ribs. Slowly and painfully she limped towards the Hummer and cover, practically dragging her left leg which refused to move properly.

Brandi lurched to cover behind the Hummer and then opened fire on the mercenaries to allow Melissa to get out of the wrecked vehicle. She had to kick the passenger side door several times to finally get it open, and then she joined Brandi behind the vehicle.

“How many times do I have to tell you to wear your seat belt?” Melissa asked.

“Yes Mom,” Brandi said. “Are you ok?”

“Well I kind of threw up after I finally stopped tumbling,” Melissa said.

“It’s ok love, I don’t think the owner will notice,” Brandi said.

“What are we going to do?”

Brandi holstered her pistol and awkwardly reloaded the MP-7, and then popped up over the Hummer and fired three bursts towards the mercenaries. She saw one go down before she was forced to duck as they returned fire.

“I was kinda hoping Jack Bauer would show up and save us,” Brandi said.

“It does feel like we’re in an episode of 24,” Melissa admitted. “I’m afraid though sweetie that in this episode Jack is a girl.”

“They’re trying to flank us,” Brandi said as several of the mercenaries broke cover and sprinted into the trees on either side of the road. The rest split into two elements, one firing to keep the girls pinned down as the other advanced.

“Well they had to get a clue sooner or later,” Brandi said as the bullets slammed into the Hummer relentlessly. “They’re gonna keep us pinned while the others flank us and then it will be over. When I break cover I want you to run down the road as fast as you can and don’t stop.”

“Brandi I won’t leave you,” Melissa said.

“You have to,” Brandi pleaded. “Remember what I told you; if they have you they have me. I can barely move, Melissa. But I can keep them busy while you get away. I escaped once, I’ll do it again.”

Reluctantly Melissa nodded her head and prepared to move. Brandi rolled out from behind the Hummer and began firing. Melissa was just rising to run when gunfire erupted from the tree line on both sides of the road. The mercenaries were caught exposed by three overlapping fields of fire and the few survivors hastily retreated back up the road.

Melissa stopped and looked at Brandi, who appeared to be listening intently. Then the sound came to Melissa’s ears as well; stealthy footfalls from the woods to either side of them.

“Hold your fire,” a voice called out from the darkness. “We’re coming out.”

A dozen shapes clad in midnight blue emerged from the woods, their weapons lowered. One of the figures slowly approached Brandi and offered a hand to help her up as he stopped.

  “United States Navy SEALs,” Lieutenant Matt Branch said. “We’re here to get you ladies someplace safe.”

Brandi hesitated, unable to believe what she was hearing and seeing.

“It’s ok, Skipper,” Chief Charlie Wright said, approaching from the opposite side of the road. “The Hammer sent us to get you out.”

Brandi accepted Branch’s hand and allowed him to help her up. He grinned sheepishly at her and Brandi started crying like a baby.

*****

“Thank you Michael.” Amanda Breton said, and then hung up the phone. She turned to Susan and smiled.

“We got them.”

CHAPTER 46

“You look like hell Skipper, but you are still a lot prettier than you used to be.” Chief Wright said as the SH-60 Seahawk made its way towards the naval base in Coronado. The SEALs had hustled them into a van and cleared the area, taking them to a clearing where the chopper had been waiting.

“Well you haven’t exactly caught me at my best.” Brandi replied. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

“We’ve been ghosting those assholes for weeks, waiting for them to make a move on you,” Branch answered.

“This is way outside the chain of command Matt.” Brandi said seriously. “You had to know that, even if the Admiral ordered…”

“The Hammer didn’t order us Skipper, he asked us,” Matt said. “Every man on this bird owes you their life. There was no way we were gonna let them turn you into a lab rat.”

Brandi looked around at the faces of the SEALs and each one nodded silently in confirmation.

“We’ll deal with the repercussions later,” Matt continued. “There’s a jet waiting at Coronado. We’ll get you patched up and then it’ll take you somewhere secure.”

“You need to sleep, love,” Melissa said, pulling Brandi’s head onto her shoulder.

“I will when I know you’re safe,” Brandi said.

“She’s safe, skipper,” Chief Wright said. “You got my word on that.”

Brandi nodded and closed her eyes as Zen sleep took hold. Her armor disappeared, absorbing into her body. With the armor gone the numerous bullet wounds were plainly visible on her naked body, though they looked several days old now. One of the SEALs took a blanket and gently draped it over the two young women.

“Thank you,” Melissa said as she stroked Brandi’s hair. She could feel an irresistible urge to sleep herself.

“Thank you all so much,” she mumbled before drifting off.

*****

“This is absolutely incredible,” Kyle said as he gazed at the odd pendant. “The things we could do with this…”

It had not been hard to figure out how the device worked; pressing a small button on the back caused it to emit a brilliant purple flash that somehow mesmerized anyone within about a thirty degree arc in front of it that was looking at it. Once the device had been used on the two agents they were quite willing to tell everything they knew.

“Except for the side effects,” Karen said.

After being mesmerized, the agents had explained that using the device too frequently on a person would result in loss of memory and an overall decrease in the function of the brain; neurons would fire more slowly and impair the person’s higher functions. Continued use after that could cause far greater damage.

“I shudder to think how they found out about them,” Kyle said.

Karen nodded in agreement. Unfortunately other than the information about the crystal, the two agents had provided little else. They were able to confirm what was already known; that there was an ongoing conspiracy to subvert the government using alien technology, but they had few details. They had simply been told to pick up Karen.

“We could still try…”

“Absolutely not,” Kyle said. Karen had suggested they have the agents take her to their rendezvous but Kyle would not hear of it.

“We can’t control them unless we use the device again, and they wouldn’t exactly be of any use in a near stupor,” Kyle told her. The crystal made a person compliant and could be used to alter their memory of events, but it was not possible to reprogram them and the effect only lasted a short time. Once they had finished questioning the men they had released them, instructing them to report that they had lost Karen. They had kept the pendant; it was far too dangerous to leave in the enemy’s hands.

“You’re right,” Karen sighed. “I’m going to check and see what progress Mira and the Pit crew are making.”

“Good idea,” Kyle said. “The key to effective management is properly timed hovering.”

Karen smiled as she left Kyle’s office. She walked past the Pit and down a short hallway to the server room. She found Mira at one of the workstations, and the smile on her face told her she had good news.

“We’re in,” Mira said. “They’ve got some pretty nasty security protocols up, way better than anything at CIA or NSA even, but I got around them. I’d say they were far more concerned with intrusions from their peers than foreign agencies.”

“They would be,” Karen agreed. “What now?”

“I’m downloading their files to our system now,” Mira said. “If anyone on their system spots it they will see routine file transfers within their own servers.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Well I basically set up a server here that their system thinks is one of theirs,” Mira grinned. “It’s a clean server that has no files of ours on it and right now it’s totally isolated from our network. Once I have the files secured I’ll tie it in and we can go to work.”

“How long?”

“Give me two hours.”

Karen nodded and left the server room and walked back to the Pit. There was a lot to do to get ready for what would undoubtedly be a deluge of data.

At least I know Brandi and Melissa are safe, she thought. Admiral Hammerstein had called earlier and told them that the girls had escaped the campus and were on their way to a secure location. Karen had asked if she could get in touch with them, but the Admiral had said they were both asleep and it was impossible to awaken them.

Karen knew what that meant, at least for Brandi. She also knew about the Bonding process, and was concerned. Brandi had known very little about the process, but Karen knew she would have used it if Melissa had been badly hurt in the gun battle. She desperately wanted to talk to her friends, but knew for now the best thing she could do for them was what she had been doing, gathering information.

*****

Brandi and Melissa did not even stir as the SEALs carried them from the Seahawk helicopter to a waiting Boeing Business Jet. The SEALs looked about appreciatively as they boarded the converted 737 passenger jet. A door to the front of the cabin opened and the SEALs snapped to attention as Admiral Hammerstein stepped out of the private office.

“At ease men,” he said, looking at the sleeping forms of Brandi and Melissa. “There’s a bedroom aft.”

Seamen Talbot and Franklin nodded and moved towards the back of the aircraft with the two girls.

“Sir they haven’t moved a muscle since they passed out,” Branch told the Admiral.

“They’ll be fine Lieutenant,” the Admiral assured him.

The Admiral and the SEALs settle into seats for take off. Once the jet was airborne they unfastened their seatbelts and Petty Officer Greg Jennings, the platoon’s medic, went back to check on Brandi and Melissa. He returned a few minutes late and reported that they were both still sound asleep.

“I’m sure you have some questions,” Admiral Hammerstein said. “Feel free to ask them; I’m no expert but I’ll try to provide what answers I can.”

“I guess we’re all pretty amazed,” Branch said. “I just can’t believe that girl is Brandon.”

“Strictly speaking, she isn’t,” Hammerstein said. “She has all of Brandon’s memories, all his experience and knowledge, but Brandi is a completely different person. That’s something important to keep in mind. She won’t act or react the way you would expect Brandon to react.”

“I think we all saw that tonight,” Branch said. He quickly recounted what had happened as the SEALs prepared to take out the mercenaries advancing on the two girls.”

“I know she was trying to provide a window for Melissa to escape, but she didn’t have to break cover,” Branch said. “She intentionally exposed herself to fire.”

Hammerstein nodded, “Brandon was a courageous man and Brandi is no less so, but she has an intensity that borders on recklessness. In part it’s no doubt because she knows that bullets are not a real threat to her, but I suspect there’s more to it. I believe she is trying to prove something to herself, even if she doesn’t realize it.”

“There’s no way to fix this, sir?” Chief Wright asked.

“None,” Hammerstein said. “The energy required to reverse the process would tear her apart. Even if it was possible, I suspect that she would not want to go back now.”

“Admiral what’s our next move?” Enrique Vasquez said. “These guys…they started a major firefight at UCLA. It’s all over the news and they’re spinning it as a terrorist attack but that won’t hold water long. They have to know that.”

“They are getting ready to make their play,” Hammerstein said. “Once they set their plan in motion, once their sleepers are activated, it won’t matter. They will control the government, the military and the media.”

“The problem is it won’t work, not like they think it will,” Branch said. “People aren’t stupid, and they can’t have gotten to every member of the military. In the end they’ll only succeed in tearing this country apart.”

“That’s why we’re going to stop them,” Hammerstein said. “You men need to get some rest. When we reach our destination you’ll have a lot of material to review. I want you to prepare assault plans based on that information.”

“When do you want to review the plans?” Branch asked.

“Not me,” Hammerstein said. “You’ll be taking your orders from your old CO again. This whole operation will hinge on Brandi.”

“Sir, after what you just said about her recklessness, is that wise?” Branch asked.

“I said she borders on recklessness, Lieutenant,” the Hammer said, his voice hard. “Make no mistake; Brandi is a hundred times the warrior Brandon was, and she has every bit of his commitment.

“Remember this well; our enemy has operated for decades and feared nothing. They have had free reign to do as they pleased. What happened at UCLA is proof of one thing; they are afraid now. They’re afraid of Brandi.”

*****

Susan slid a fresh stack of paper into the fax machine in the office as it continued to spit out printed sheets. It had been going for nearly thirty minutes now, and the stack of documents was getting quite large.

The data was coming from the Combined Threat Assessment Group and was startling. They had uncovered a pattern of appointments, promotions and reassignments within the government going back over twenty years. Tying everything together were memos and reports recommending the changes.

Karen Meadows had done a masterful job of tying everything together neatly, but she had cautioned that the information was not admissible as it was. They needed the original files and computers, all of which were in the impregnable lab in Nevada. It was buried a hundred feet beneath the desert and could survive any assault short of a direct hit with a nuclear weapon.

“The jet just touched down,” Amanda said as she entered the office. “They should be here in less than thirty minutes.”

Susan sighed with relief, “I wish this was all over, but it’s far from that isn’t it?”

“Karen is quite right, we have to have those original files,” Amanda said. “We aren’t trying to build a criminal case here per say; this case will never go to court. But that evidence will destroy the protection the organization has enjoyed for so long. Even more, we must prevent them from sending the signal that will activate the sleepers.”

Susan knew there was only one way they could do that. An all out assault on the lab would just cause them to lock it down and send the signal and all would be lost. The only way to stop them was from the inside and there was only one person who could possibly get into that lab.

CHAPTER 47

Brandi opened her eyes and discovered she was nestled in a warm, soft bed. Light was streaming in through a nearby window, and there was a warm body nestled against her.

“Good morning beautiful.” Melissa whispered, snuggling closer to her. Brandi rolled over and crushed her lips against her lover’s.

“I thought I’d lost you.” she whispered when they came up for air.

“I thought we were both going to die.” Melissa said. “But that was ok; as long as we could spend our last moments together I was ready for it.”

Brandi turned away suddenly and began crying.

“Baby what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry Melissa I just couldn’t stop myself!” Brandi wailed.

“Oh pooh!” Melissa admonished her. “Are you still going on about sleeping with Dylan? Brandi there is nothing to forgive, but if you need to hear it I forgive you. And I still love you.”

“I did need to hear it,” Brandi said as she dried her eyes.

“Now tell me all about it.” Melissa grinned. “And I want details girlfriend!”

Brandi spent the next hour telling Melissa about Dylan; how they had met, what a condescending jerk he had been at the start, what a sweet and tender lover he had turned into.

“But what were you feeling and thinking inside?” Melissa asked.

“It started a lot like when we first made love,” Brandi said. “I was so keyed up; I wanted it but I was terrified by it. With you that first time I at least had an idea of what to do, but with Dylan I was lost. I mean I had been with women, I knew what to do but I just didn’t know how to do it. So I just let my body take over and it knew what to do.

“I was pretty awkward at first, but Dylan was so patient and when he touched me….”

Brandi grew silent and Melissa waited. When it did not appear that she was going to continue, Melissa tried to ease her mind.

“Brandi it’s all right if it felt good to be touched by a man. It’s how you were made; it’s part of who you are.”

Brandi looked pained as she continued, carefully choosing her words.

“It did feel good. Like I said I just basically let my body go and went along for the ride. The second time I was more in control and able to really enjoy it more.”

“The second time?” Melissa grinned.

Brandi blushed, “Yes. There was a second and third and fourth time. I’m afraid I wore poor Dylan out.”

“Tramp!” Melissa said with mock severity. “I don’t know what I am going to do with a shameless thing like you.”

“There is something I want you to understand Melissa,” Brandi said, her voice growing quiet. “There was nothing there…emotionally. I can’t say what Dylan was feeling, though I did my best to make him understand, but all I felt was pure lust. I know now it was something I needed, a hurdle I had to clear in this whole process.”

“So you’re saying sex with a man makes you complete?” Melissa asked, a hint of concern in her words.

“No that’s not it at all!” Brandi cried. “I don’t even know if I can say this right, but I’ll try.”

Brandi thought for a long moment before speaking again.

“It’s like a painting of a beautiful woman,” she began carefully. “But it’s not finished. She doesn’t have a nose.”

Melissa struggled but could not hold in the giggles at the analogy.

“Hey I’m trying here!” Brandi pouted, and then continued. “So the artist puts the nose in, and it’s a beautiful nose. It’s just what the painting needed, and now it is finished. But as he looks at it, he knows it’s still not complete. So he takes it and puts it in an exhibit and people admire it, but still it lacks that thing that makes it complete.

“Then someone comes along and sees the painting and they feel themselves being drawn into it. So they buy it and take it home and hang it on their wall. And everyday they look at it and are drawn in to its beauty once more. Now the painting is complete, because someone loves it.

“Dylan finished me Melissa; he added that last detail that I was missing. But you love me. You make me complete. I won’t deny I care very much for Dylan; that’s why I think I finally gave in to the feelings. I wanted it to be with someone who meant something to me. But I know now that I could never love a man; not the way I love you.”

“I feel the same way.” Melissa said smiling. “Now, while I would like nothing better than to spend the whole day in bed with you, I believe there is someone downstairs that would really love to see you.”

*****

Susan was crossing the foyer on her way to the parlor when she heard a voice cry out from the top of the stairs.

“Mom!”

She turned to see Brandi flying down the grand staircase, quite an accomplishment as she was wearing heels. They were only one inch but Susan was certain she was going to fall and break her neck.

Of course she did not. Brandi reached the bottom of the staircase and Susan opened her arms. They hugged for a long time, each telling the other how glad they were to see them.

“It’s all right if I call you Mom, isn’t it?” Brandi asked.

“Of course it is sweetheart,” Susan said smiling. “Now let me look at my girl.”

Brandi stepped back and twirled around dramatically. She had dressed in a long coral colored skirt and a white blouse, very conservative for her. Her makeup and hair were perfect.

“It’s like a different person, not just from before the transformation but from the lab.” Susan said. “Brandi stunning doesn’t even begin to describe how beautiful you are. Are you ok, really ok?”

“I really am Mom,” Brandi said. “I know who I am now. I may not like all of it, but then a lot of people have to deal with that. But I know who I am and I can learn to live with it. I’m not saying I’m all the way there yet, but I know I can do it.”

“I’m very happy for you,” Susan said. “And very proud of you. Let’s go into the parlor so we can sit and have a long talk.”

“Oh wait, I want you to meet Melissa,” Brandi said, pulling Susan towards the foot of the stairs where Melissa stood.

“We’ve already met actually,” Susan said smiling and then gave Melissa a hug.

“Already met?” Brandi asked.

“You were in Zen sleep for almost three days,” Melissa told her. “You were shot twelve times and thrown from a car. You nearly killed yourself healing me.”

“Is that all I did?” Brandi asked, turning to look at Susan.

“Why don’t you two go get caught up.” Melissa said. “Susan and I have already talked and there’s a concert grand in the conservatory that’s calling to me.”

Brandi and Susan talked for hours in the parlor. They laughed and cried and laughed some more. The conversation was mostly from Brandi, and Susan asked her endless questions about how she was adapting. She asked not as a scientist but as a mother concerned for her only child.

“I wouldn’t have made it without Melissa,” Brandi said softly.

“She’s a lovely young woman,” Susan said. “I’m glad you found her.”

“I nearly got her killed,” Brandi said. “I don’t think I did a very good job keeping a low profile. A pretty poor performance for someone whose suppose to be the ultimate infiltrator.”

“You did fine,” Susan said, pulling her close and squeezing her shoulders. “You found yourself, or at least made a very good start towards finding yourself. But tell me, how do you feel?”

It was the same question Susan had asked her when she first awoke after the transformation. She had been unable to answer it then.

“I feel like a girl,” Brandi said with a smile.

Gretchen came in then and told them that lunch was ready. Neither of them had realized how much time had passed.

“After lunch I have a lot to tell you about yourself,” Susan said, “and Melissa.”

Brandi gave her a pained look and Susan hugged her saying, “Don’t worry dear, it’s not as bad as you fear.”

Melissa was waiting for them in the dining room and as they were about to sit down Ryan Sanders walked in, smiling as he saw Brandi.

“Ryan!” Brandi squealed as she rushed over and hugged him. He was startled but quickly recovered and gave her a big hug. He was in for another surprise.

“I made a promise to give you something when I saw you again,” Brandi said, and pulled his head down and kissed him firmly on the lips. Again it took Ryan a moment to recover, and even after he had he was a bit tense.

A gasp from the kitchen doorway broke the moment and Brandi turned to see Gretchen standing there, a look of shocked dismay on her face. Her lower lip quivered and it looked like she was about to drop the heavily laden tray. Brandi released Ryan and quickly moved to take the tray from Gretchen, setting it on the table. Gretchen stifled a cry and turned and fled back into the kitchen.

“Oh Ryan, I’m sorry,” Brandi said. “I had no idea.”

“Gretchen, she’s…well, we’ve gotten kind of close,” Ryan mumbled. “I better go talk to her.”

“You stay,” Brandi said. “I’ll take care of this.”

Brandi found Gretchen sitting on the steps outside the kitchen, crying. She stifled her tears and dried her eyes quickly as she heard Brandi open the door. Rising quickly, she turned to go back inside.

“Forgive me, Miss Brandi,” she said stiffly. “I should return to my duties.”

“Please sit down, Gretchen,” Brandi said. Gretchen made no move to do so, and Brandi said once more, “Please?”

Gretchen sat back on the steps and Brandi sat next to her.

“Gretchen, Ryan and I are just friends,” Brandi said. “If I had known…well I’m very sorry I hurt you. My mom told me what you went through, and I…well I would never want to add to the pain I know you feel always.”

“Forgive me Miss Brandi, but you can have no idea what I went through,” Gretchen said, her voice bordering on anger.

“Gretchen, did Mrs. Breton tell you anything about me?”

“I know bad men are after you,” Gretchen said. “I know they want to use you, like a weapon. But that is nothing like being used like a sex toy. Nothing like having a vile pig do with you as he pleases, until you actually think you like it!”

Brandi’s own eyes were moist as she said, “No it’s not anything like that. But I think maybe I can understand some of what you feel. Let me tell you how I was born.”

As Brandi related the story of her transformation, Gretchen’s eyes grew wide with amazement. And when she told her of the sexual desire programmed in her, the amazement became compassion and understanding.

“A few days ago, I finally gave in,” Brandi told her. “He’s a really nice guy and I like him a lot, which made it easier, but I don’t love him. I just needed him. And I enjoyed it the whole time it was happening.

“But after…after I felt wrong…dirty. And when I remembered how much I had been enjoying it I felt worse. And to make it even worse, I am very much in love with someone…not Ryan…and it made me feel like I was cheating, even though she assures me she understands.”

“She?” Gretchen asked.

“Yes,” Brandi smiled. “Melissa and I are in love. She’s the one I want to be with, and it kills me to know that just being with her is not enough because of what was programmed into me.”

“Then you and Ryan really are not…”

Brandi shook her head, “I would not be here if Ryan had not helped me, and I was just thanking him. If I had known how you felt, I would have just shook his hand.”

“We have never…I mean we just talk,” Gretchen said. “And we walk the grounds each day. We have not even kissed…I don’t know if I can.

“I know the feelings you are talking about. The shame you feel. I am afraid if we were…if we did…”

“You’re afraid they will come back,” Brandi said. Gretchen nodded. “I don’t have an answer for you, Gretchen. I still have so many questions myself. I know I’m a girl now, and I am comfortable with that, but I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable with my desire for men.”

“I am sorry for you, Miss Brandi,” Gretchen said. “And I am sorry for the way I acted. Please forgive me.”

“Only if you forgive me,” Brandi smiled. Gretchen nodded and the two girls hugged.

“You are very beautiful for a girl who used to be a man,” Gretchen said, and then giggled. “That is silly; you are very beautiful for any girl.”

“That’s what I was made to be, sweetie,” Brandi smiled.

They returned to the dining room and found that the others were already eating. Gretchen blushed and began apologizing profusely to Amanda, who waved her hand dismissively.

“Gretchen I was preparing and serving my own meals long before you came to stay with me,” Amanda said. “I have told you many times that you are not a servant in my home, and though I will be sad to see you leave I know one day you will. Now sit down next to Ryan and have lunch with us.”

“Have you given any thoughts to college, Gretchen?” Brandi asked. “Amanda told us you have finished your high school credits under tutors.”

“I am too old for college,” Gretchen said. “I am twenty three.”

“I’m twenty-five and I still attend college,” Melissa said. “And I know people a lot older who go.”

“Well technically I’m forty,” Brandi giggled. “When all this is over I’d like to go back to school.”

“I think that would be a great idea,” Susan said. “What do you want to study?”

“Well history and political science would probably be sooo boring the second time around,” Brandi said. “I was thinking along the lines of something more useful to my current situation, like Women’s studies. God I can’t believe I just said that.”

“I think you could benefit a great deal from that,” Susan said.

“I would like to study psychology,” Gretchen blurted, as though the words had escaped despite her best efforts to hold them in. Everyone turned to look at her, and she blushed deeply.

“I mean, the people Mrs. Breton brought here for me, they helped me so much. I would like to be able to help others that way.”

Brandi smiled and put her hand on Gretchen’s. “I think you’d make a great therapist. You have a very caring nature.”

After lunch Brandi and Melissa helped Gretchen clean up, despite her protests. Ryan returned to his computer and as Amanda and Susan sat at the table they could hear the three girls giggling and talking animatedly in the kitchen.

“I think Gretchen may be leaving here sooner than you expected, Amanda,” Susan said.

“I will miss her, but just as Brandi needs to be out there in the world, so does Gretchen. I’ve done all I can. If she stays here, she’ll only be hiding from life.”

Susan got up from her seat and walked over to the older woman.

“She’s lucky to have you,” she said, bending over to kiss Amanda on the cheek. “And so are we.”

*****

“She escaped,” Barbara Currant said quietly.

“She had help. Admiral Hammerstein has decided to take an active roll.” The Man told her.

“That will make things even more difficult,” Barbara said.

“No we end this,” The Man said, “call the lab and have all the research personnel evacuated. I am moving our remaining tactical units there as we speak.”

“You expect her to come to you?” Barbara asked, dubious.

There was a ruthless edge to The Man’s voice as he said, “Yes, once we provide her with the proper motivation.”

“And what is that?” Barbara asked.

“I’m certain we can come up with a suitable enticement.”

*****

“Why don’t we talk on the Veranda,” Susan suggested after lunch. “You can smoke out there.”

“That would be nice,” Brandi said.

“Tell me something, Brandi,” Susan asked as they sat down. Brandi and Melissa both smoking. “Do you smoke now only because of the programming or because you enjoy it?”

“That’s kinda hard to answer,” Brandi said, playing with her hair nervously. “When I smoke, I get, like, enjoyment…I mean I do like it. Mostly I do it when I’m nervous or to distract me from other urges.”

“There’s a reason I ask,” Susan said. “I’ve learned a good bit about how your programming works. It’s really a classic method of reward and, punishment is really not the right word, perhaps discomfort. Or maybe positive and negative reinforcement is better. When you feel the need to engage in a programmed behavior, you get uncomfortable, right?”

Brandi nodded, “I get very uncomfortable.”

“She can get downright bitchy,” Melissa giggled.

“But engaging in a programmed behavior makes you feel good, even if it’s not the behavior that you are resisting.”

“Yes but it gets less effective,” Brandi said. “I was able to hold out on having sex with a man for a long time by doing other things. But by the time I actually did it with Dylan, I, like, really wanted to do it.”

“You had sex with a man?” Susan asked. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”

“It happened the same day they came for me,” Brandi said, blushing.

“And how do you feel about it?” Susan asked.

“I’m very confused,” Brandi said, her voice trembling. “I mean, during it…while we were…doing it…I felt wonderful. But after…now…dammit I feel like a slut!”

“Brandi you’re being much too hard on yourself,” Susan said.

“The things I did, though…and it’s not really even that. It’s that I…I…”

“You want to do it again,” Susan finished.

Brandi nodded. She turned to Melissa and began crying as she said, “I’m so sorry, Melissa! I thought maybe…maybe if I did it the feelings would go away…but they haven’t!”

“Brandi, listen to me,” Melissa said, taking her hands and holding them firmly. “I can handle it. I love you, and I know you have no control over these desires. I knew what you were going into this relationship. It’s no different than loving someone with a medical condition. Yes, it will be hard, but love will see us through.”

“There is good news too, sweetheart,” Susan said. “I believe you will find it easier to deal with.”

“You mean it will go away?” Brandi asked hopefully.

“No, the desire will always be a part of you,” Susan said. “Let me explain first what changes the machine made to you regarding your level of desire. The first involves your lovely tan.”

“My tan?” Brandi asked. “I don’t really do anything to maintain it. I thought I just had a dark complexion.”

“No it is actually a tan,” Susan told her. “When a person is exposed to the sun, the body produces MSH, melanocyte stimulating hormone. Melanocytes are cells in the epidermis, and MSH causes them to produce melanin, which makes the skin darken.

“A few years back a drug called Melanotan was developed, that produced the same effect. It was intended to be an alternative to sun exposure; you take a pill and get a tan without the risk of skin cancer. It actually works too.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming here,” Melissa said.

“Yes in testing there were side effects,” Susan said. “MSH can also affect the hypothalamus of the brain, causing a dramatic increase in sex drive and a lowering of appetite in many test subjects given Melanotan. For that reason Melanotan has been called the ‘Ken and Barbie drug’…because it makes you thin, tan and very horny.”

Brandi looked at her arm, her skin smooth and tan. It had never occurred to her that it could have anything to do with her level of desire.

“Your body produces MSH at a constant elevated level regardless of whether you are exposed to the sun or not,” Susan said. “That alone is enough to make your sex drive three times higher than normal.”

“But there’s more,” Brandi said.

Susan nodded, “The hypothalamus is not the only region of the brain that governs sexual desire. The amygdala, which is in the temporal lobe, also figures in. There are many cases documented where damage to the amygdala has resulted in hypersexuality. Your amygdala has a configuration that is different from a normal human brain, and I believe this also serves to add to your libido. Also, damage to the overlying temporal cortex can affect sexual behavior; not in the sense of increasing the sex drive but rather in choosing what is appropriate for sex. In cases of severe damage, the victim will literally attempt to ‘mate’ with practically anything in their environment. Your temporal cortex was not severely altered, but it is different.”

“So that’s why I’m attracted to men?”

Susan shook her head, “No, I suspect the opposite. That has reinforced your attraction to women that was carried over from Brandon. Your attraction to men is due to your transformation into a female, and one of the warrior genes.”

“The Mother gene,” Brandi said. “I kind of suspected that had something to do with it. You’re saying that eventually I will want to have babies.”

“The Forerunners needed warriors,” Susan said. “Apparently they were a very passive race; their pacifism was in their genes. When they found themselves embroiled in war, they began a program to produce warriors. We’re not sure if this was through genetic manipulation or selective breeding. Quite possibly it was a combination of both. The Genomorphs eventually became a part of this, since all of their children would possess the warrior genes of the parent.”

“Personally I don’t think very highly of these Forerunners,” Melissa said, her voice edged with anger. “They turned men into women driven by sex and then made them virtual baby factories too! What were they thinking?”

Brandi took Melissa’s hand and looked into her eyes. Melissa was surprised to see there were tears in those lovely violet eyes as Brandi spoke.

“Sweetie, please try to understand them,” she said. “They were against the wall…their race was on the verge of extinction. Remember that the men they changed volunteered. They did it for their people, and they did it gladly…I understand that.

“In the end, even the Genomorphs weren’t enough. Despite their efforts, they still lacked the one thing they truly needed to be able to defeat their enemies…the aggressiveness and the will to take the fight to them. They tried to fight a defensive war but the casualties were mounting. In the end something really terrible happened, and only a few survivors managed to escape their world and come here.”

“Brandi, where did that come from?” Susan asked. “How do you know that? I haven’t read any accounts in the files like that.”

“I just know it,” Brandi said. “I think there may be a lot of information in my head that I just haven’t learned how to access yet.”

“That’s very likely,” Susan said. “I do know that it took several years for a Genomorph to reach their full potential. It’s also likely you are still undergoing changes. The Forerunners created Genomorphs from their own people, you are not a Forerunner.”

“Not yet,” Brandi said. “I’m not really human anymore though either.”

“No, you’re not,” Susan admitted. “There are still so many questions, and we may never know all the answers. Genetically we and the Forerunners are very close, close enough that our species could interbreed. I also believe that while the protocol was triggered by your warrior genes, it was only able to transform you because of other factors. I think through some remarkable chance you had several Forerunner genetic markers in your DNA.”

Brandi lit another cigarette and regarded its glowing tip for a long time. Something had been nagging at her for some time, and now she felt as though she almost had a grasp on it.

“I think it was more than chance,” she said slowly. “I think I was meant to be…that I was planned. It sounds incredible I know, but I believe that they planned my creation thousands of years ago and have somehow been able to nudge and shape events, both in my life and long before, that lead to my being transformed into who I am now.”

“It’s not so incredible, love,” Melissa said. “They had technology that even to us seems magical. They traveled who knows how many millions of miles to this planet and left artifacts, but they disappeared. I mean think about it, ten thousand years ago they could have built a new civilization of their own here, but they didn’t.”

Brandi nodded at Melissa’s words. Something in what she said almost clicked…but not quite. There was a connection there but she could not quite make it…yet.

“So anyway, back to my attraction to men,” Brandi said. “Am I just going to have to accept that I need to go out and get laid once a month or something?”

“That may be the road you have to take,” Susan said. “I believe the programming was intended to allow you to accept and control your sexuality. But you weren’t a willing participant, and your warrior genes caused you to resist. The organization’s tampering with the program also played a part. As a result, the programming was corrupted. That doesn’t mean that you can’t control it, just that you will have a much harder time. There is more involved now, too. You see, Melissa is part of it now.”

“What do you mean?” Brandi asked, her horrified look shifting from Susan to Melissa.

“We’re linked now, love,” Melissa smiled. “Susan has already told me about this, and honestly I think it’s wonderful. To an extent, I can feel what you feel, at least when it comes to strong, emotional responses. And you will feel what I feel in the same way.”

“But you’re not gonna start wanting to be with men are you?”

Susan hesitated before answering, “Brandi, please try not to get too upset over what I am about to say.”

Brandi gave Susan her full attention and nodded, “I’ll try, Mom.”

“I learned more about the bonding process, which is how you were able to save Melissa. In fact you went beyond it, pushing yourself to the very limits of your abilities because you love her. Unfortunately, I was not able to get the latest information to you and at any rate even if you had known you would have still done what you did.

“When a Genomorph bonded with another, their mate was then immediately placed in the GMU so that the nanocyborgs could be reprogrammed for the mate’s genetic profile. By now Melissa has a full complement of them within her, but they are all encoded with your DNA.”

Brandi looked at Melissa and for the first time noticed that her lover’s hair was no longer black, but rather a dark, reddish brown. It was very subtle but the bright sunlight made the red highlights much more visible.

“Yes Brandi, I’m going blonde,” Melissa said.

“Brandi, there is still time,” Susan said quickly. “The nanocyborgs are currently working to rewrite Melissa’s genetic structure to match that pattern, but they can’t do it with the speed the GMU can. They have also concentrated their work initially on alterations to enhance her abilities because of the circumstances behind the bonding. Melissa’s senses will not be at the level yours are, but they should be close.”

“Still time…time for what?” Brandi demanded.

“Getting agitated will not help matters,” Susan said calmly. “Can you listen to what I have to say…please?”

Brandi nodded, lighting another cigarette. The ashtray on the table was rapidly filling up and Melissa was not even smoking any longer.

“As I said, Melissa’s genetic code is being rewritten to match yours,” Susan continued. “The nanocyborgs cannot do it quickly though. It will take days, possibly even weeks for them to complete the process, as long as you don’t introduce more into her system.”

“And if they do?”

“If, and I stress if, they are allowed to complete the process, Melissa would be your genetic twin. You would be physically identical in all respects. They cannot program her as you were, but they can make the alterations to her brain chemistry and configuration that give you your elevated sex drive.

“They also cannot turn her into a true Genomorph. That comes from the second set of DNA…Forerunner DNA…that was grafted onto your genetic structure creating your quad helix. She would share your ability to heal, though at a lesser rate; your immunity to disease and aging, and to a far lesser extent your physical enhancements. They are also incapable of altering her molecular structure the way yours was altered, so she would not have your ability to alter your form.”

“You said if,” Brandi said. “Does that mean we can stop it?”

“We can’t stop the enhancements, they were meant to be a part of the bonding. We can stop the cosmetic changes.” Susan said. “If we get her to the machine in Nevada, the nanocyborgs can be reprogrammed with Melissa’s genetic code.”

“Will that reverse the changes?”

“If we had a pattern of Melissa’s original DNA, the machine could restore her appearance completely,” Susan said. “But we don’t have that, since she has never been scanned by a GMU. At best, we will be able to halt the physical changes at whatever point they have reached.”

“Melissa I’m sorry,” Brandi cried. “I didn’t know…”

“Because I didn’t tell you,” Susan said. “If anyone is to blame it’s me.”

“Both of you, like, stop it!” Melissa demanded in a petulant tone. Brandi and Susan stared at her, until she burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding,” she grinned. “Brandi, you have nothing to be sorry for. If you had known, what would you have done…let me die?”

“No, of course not…”

“Then stop beating yourself up about it!” Melissa insisted. “Let’s just find a way to get to that machine. Preferably before you and I are able to share bras.”

Despite herself, Brandi started giggling. Then a thought occurred to her, and a smile spread across her face.

“We do have a record of Melissa’s DNA,” she said.

“Where?” Susan asked.

Brandi’s smile broadened as her form changed into Melissa’s.

“Right here in me.”

CHAPTER 48

Amanda Breton joined them that night for dinner, as did Matt Branch and Chief Wright. Brandi gave them all hugs and thanked them for their help. She was delighted to see that Admiral Hammerstein was there was well, and after getting a bear hug from him she turned and pulled Melissa forward.

“Admiral Hammerstein, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Melissa Barlowe,” Brandi said, her face lit by a big smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Barlowe,” The Admiral said.

Melissa stepped forward and gave him a hug as well. “Please call me Melissa, Admiral, and the pleasure is all mine. Brandi has told me so much about you.”

Brandi excused herself and stepped over to speak to Matt Branch. “I understand we have you to thank for our clothes being here.”

“I had Jennings and Talbot grab everything,” he admitted. “Oh and they turned your crock pot off too.”

“Damn I knew I forgot something!”

Matt laughed, “Actually I’m afraid they tossed it in the garbage. There wasn’t time to clean it and they figured it would be pretty ripe by the time you got back.”

They sat down to a marvelous dinner which Gretchen had prepared. Whatever her past, she was certainly a magician in the kitchen and seemed to truly love preparing lavish meals.

They kept the conversation casual during the meal. Brandi did notice that Melissa had already inherited her appetite as she attacked a huge plate of food enthusiastically. At one point she saw Brandi watching her and burst into giggles.

“I believe its time you all learned the history of the organization you are fighting,” Amanda said as Gretchen began clearing the table. “Even Michael does not the whole story.”

“And you do?” Brandi asked.

“Of course, dear,” Amanda smiled. “You see, I started it.”

*****

After dinner they retired to the parlor. Gretchen wheeled in a liquor cart and then closed the doors behind her as she left. Admiral Hammerstein played bartender, and then they settled in to listen to Amanda tell her story.

“First of all, forget Roswell and any other UFO stories you may have heard.” Amanda said. “Most of them are just disinformation spread to draw attention away from the truth. The first hard evidence of alien visitation of the earth was found in Germany at the end of World War Two. It was a cache of Forerunner technology that had been uncovered by the Nazi’s, a very small cache, but it was obvious that the objects were not from this world.

“I was twenty-two at the time, and had been part of the Office for Strategic Services for four years. You see when I turned eighteen I volunteered to aid the war effort. My family had lived in Germany for many years. My father was an American diplomat; my mother a native German. We moved back to the United States in nineteen thirty-nine, but I had spent my entire life until then in Germany, so of course I spoke fluent German. I was initially tasked with translating intercepts, but I soon demonstrated an aptitude for ‘reading between the lines’ and was moved into a higher security clearance. At the end of the war I was with a group that was looking for evidence of Germany’s atomic bomb program. What we found instead was the cache of artifacts.”

Brandi watched carefully as Amanda paused, sipping her cognac. There was something she was not telling them. It was very hard to read; far harder than it usually was, but it was there. Still, she did not detect that there was any malicious intent; just that Amanda was withholding something.

Amanda looked at Brandi and smiled as she continued.

“The artifacts were brought back to the states and we began searching for evidence of more caches. It was decided to keep the artifacts a tightly guarded secret. The initial team that found them was formed into a new, secret department within the newly formed Central Intelligence Group, which a year later would be renamed the Central Intelligence Agency.

“We were small at the start, and so I quickly rose in the ranks of the department, and four years later I was placed in charge. I had twelve people working under me, mostly researchers and three field investigators…the original ‘Men in Black’, though they tended to wear grey suits in those days. I realized there was great potential in this alien technology, and also that it needed to be separated from the rest of the intelligence community, which was entirely oriented by then to a cold war mentality. In nineteen fifty, President Truman created the organization; it was given no name and officially did not exist, but that very anonymity gave us a great deal of latitude in operations…and a great deal of power.”

“So ‘The Man’ was originally ‘The Woman’,” Brandi smiled, though she was fidgeting a bit nervously.

Amanda smiled as well, “Yes you could say that, though I preferred to be a bit less enigmatic than that.”

Amanda turned to Gretchen, who stood by the door, and said, “Would you get an ashtray for Brandi and Melissa, Gretchen dear?”

Gretchen disappeared and returned a moment later with a lead crystal ashtray which she set on the table before the two young women.

“Thank you,” Brandi said as she took out her cigarettes.

“I would say it’s a very bad habit that you should give up, as I did years ago,” Amanda said. “But then that is not really a problem for either of you now.”

“At any rate, where was I,” Amanda continued. “Ah yes, well, as the organization began gathering information, we quickly grew. We were able to provide the majority of our own funding, just as the movie said, through a few well placed patents and dummy corporations. They were nothing as dramatic as Velcro or compact disks, mostly some basic chemical processes which provided the basis for many other products.

“As the UFO hysteria began, we used that to draw attention away from our activities. In fact, the Roswell incident was used to cover up a cache discovered in another area. Then in October of nineteen fifty-one, a nuclear test, part of Operation Buster, revealed a substantial anomaly in the Nevada desert.”

“The lab,” Susan said.

“Yes the lab complex is constructed within a huge chamber that was hollowed out by the Forerunners,” Amanda confirmed. “To date it is the largest cache ever found. It also made an ideal base of operations for the growing organization.

“Over the next twenty years, we studied the artifacts and even located a few more caches. There were some breakthroughs in technology which were a direct result of these studies, but the major discovery still eluded us, the strange purple plasma that powers most of their equipment.

“The same substance which now powers your body Brandi, and to a lesser extent Melissa’s. It is the key to the Forerunner’s technology, and why the organization wants you so much. You see, they believe you will be able to manipulate this power because it is now a part of you.”

“Then there was a change in…attitudes.” Amanda continued. “There was a decreasing interest in developing the technology for humanitarian purposes and more interest in developing technology to gain the upper hand on the world stage. They wanted weapons.”

“Like me.” Brandi whispered.

“Yes dear, like you. You were to be their crowning achievement. I deeply regret that my connections still within the organization were unable to get word to me of their plans until it was too late, Brandi. I don’t know if I could have spared you this, but…”

“Please Mrs. Breton, don’t,” Brandi said softly. “I am not sorry, not anymore, for what I have become. I would never have found Melissa if this hadn’t happened. What they did was wrong, evil, but it backfired on them.”

“I know who I am now,” Brandi said, turning adoring eyes towards Melissa. “And now I am complete.”

“I am happy for you Brandi, for both of you,” Amanda said sincerely. “I always knew you would find yourself if given the chance.”

Amanda took another sip of cognac, and then resumed her tale.

“In the seventies, I was eventually forced out of my position as head of the organization. I remained on to help with the research; by this time I had advanced degrees in genetics, biochemistry and biotechnology. My replacement was someone who was far less interested in helping mankind and far more interested in power, though at that time I did not realize his designs were for personal power.”

“The Man?” Brandi asked, half laughing. “Who is this jerk? Doesn’t he even have a name?”

“His name is not important anymore,” Amanda said. “He gave that up along with any tie to humanity long ago, in favor of greed and lust for power.”

Again Brandi had the feeling that there was something more to it, and it was stronger this time than it had been before. There was a significant undercurrent of emotion coming from Amanda.

Again Amanda looked at Brandi and smiled as she continued. Brandi had the distinct impression that Amanda knew she was trying to read her.

“I continued to do research at the lab…I was using some treatments we had developed in the Congo when we first met, Brandi. Then ten years ago I left the organization for good after an accident at the lab.”

“What happened,” Brandi asked, not even needing her enhanced senses to detect   a deep sadness in Amanda.

“I lost my son,” Amanda said. “He was assisting me in testing a device…well it did not go as we planned. I left the organization but I kept my contacts. I knew by then that something was not right, but uncovering the secrets required unraveling a web of lies and half-truths.”

“We know his plan now though. He has been subverting individuals in key positions in the intelligence community, the military and the civilian government for years, even members of the media and scientific community. He has created sleepers that have had their minds altered by use of Forerunner artifacts. They are quite unaware of this, but when he is ready he will activate them, and overnight he will have taken over this country in a bloodless and silent coup.”

“One of the devices Amanda acquired over the years is capable of detecting these individuals through the changes made to their brain patterns.” Susan interjected. “We have verified that everyone here is clean, for the most part.”

“For the most part?” Melissa asked. “Susan that doesn’t sound very reassuring.”

“I have sleeper programming in me, inactivated as yet,” Susan said. “Ryan was able to devise a program to disable it without removing it. When they activate me, I will know.”

The conversation paused for a moment as they all took time to absorb what they had been told. For Melissa it was the hardest; the others were used to this to one degree or another, but it was all new to her.

“What am I doing here?” she wondered aloud. “I’m just a music student from LA. All I ever wanted to do was write songs and hear people sing them. I…I don’t belong here in the middle of something like this. I’m not cut out for it.”

Brandi reached over and took her hand and squeezed it. She looked lovingly into her eyes as she said, “It’s time to forge a greater destiny, love. I know you have what it takes; and I’ll be right by your side.”

Brandi rose from the love seat and moved so she could face everyone in the parlor. She had a look of determination on her pretty face as she spoke.

“Do we know where they will send their signal from?” she asked Amanda.

“As I’m sure you suspect, the lab in Nevada,” Amanda said. “They are consolidating all their security personnel there as we speak. They will be ready to act soon.”

“Then I have to get inside for two reasons,” Brandi said. “And I have a plan as to just how to do it. I just need to do one thing to make it work; I don’t want to do it, but it’s the only way.”

“What is it honey?” Susan asked.

Brandi turned and looked at Melissa, their eyes meeting. A look of realization crossed Melissa’s face and her eyes widened. Brandi held her gaze, and at last Melissa smiled nervously and nodded.

“We’re going to let them take Melissa.”

End of Part 4