I'd twisted the nose of Red China's mighty Dragon. The question now was I going to get away with it?

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy for making this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

Chapter Two

I'd twisted the nose of Red China's mighty Dragon. The question now was I going to get away with it? If I'd known of the Major's eyes upon me as I left I would've been a lot more apprehensive, but there was really nothing I could do. I'd put all of my marbles into one bag, win or lose. Imitating Grandmother Hui, I was apparently a better actor then I'd ever credited myself. What can I say? It worked and I did have plenty of motivation.

As the days and then weeks passed, I begged for food or forged as best I could. I put the special policeman from my mind. Most days I didn't go hungry, with people willing to share a little with an old woman. I'd even been gifted with a cane at one point which helped me thump along on my long journey.

I did have currency, but I used it very thrifty. Sure I might be calling some attention to myself, but at the same time I was defying expectations. An American stoop to begging?

It didn't take long for one day to pretty much seem like another. What did change was I began to heal not only from my rotten landing, but from losing my family, friends and home. It was still a gaping wound, but it was starting to scab over. The simple, hard life of having to walk hundreds of miles while pretending to be a senior citizen of the opposite gender in a culture largely alien to mine, gave me lots of time to think.

My anger slowly withdrew like the tide. Really I had no ill feelings about the Chinese. Hell, I was a quarter Chinese although I knew that disappointed my Grandparents. On the other hand that never stopped them from loving me and my sister Kelly.

The very fact I could think about them at all without trembling in anger or breaking down in tears spoke volumes. The saying that Time heals all had it right after all. The season passed and I was miles closer to the sea and freedom.

The way home was a complex mess requiring me to go every which way before I got to Hong Kong, but finally after so long, there it was in the distance. My time was running out. Although I'd taken as good care of my mask and gloves that I could, I could tell they were on their last legs. I'd taken to covering my masked face as much as I could, but that tactic wouldn't work for much longer.

Begging had netted me a few coins, enough for the ferry to the island. Soon I told myself. This would all be over. Modern medicine could replace my tongue and teeth, and I could dare let myself be me again.

Were the lengths I'd gone to worth it? That answer would have to be yes. The pity and dismissal when they saw my tongue and toothless mouth let me slide though more checkpoints and close calls than I could count. At the worst, I was let go with only a cursory inspection of my fake ID card.

Once on board the ferry, the smell of the sea breeze was refreshing even if I couldn't feel it upon my face. The end was near was all I could think of.

I was left alone, a ragged old woman, which suited me just fine.

Then my blood froze. There on the dock, waiting for the ferry, was the same Major who'd stopped me that very first time. What were the odds that this was an coincidence? Hunching my shoulders, I had no choice, but to play the hand I had. If a close search took place I was doomed. My mask concealed only my face. My body and gender depended on my clothing and no one looking closer.

There was the hustle of everyone preparing to off load, but I took my time. There was a plan for me to dodge Immigration, but the Major was going to complicate things.

I never had the chance. As soon as I neared the ramp, a pair of Special Police appeared on either side of me. The Major walked up and touched my masked face. The not nice smile said it all.

As they dragged me away, I got one last look at Hong Kong and just how close I'd come. Then it was lost as I forced into the green military SUV.

I won't say much about what happened next. They threw a hood over my face and cuffed me as well. I know at one point I was on a plane and changed vehicles a time or two, but when the hood was removed was when it really got unpleasant.

I was stripped of mask, clothes and dignity. Like a scene out of 'First Blood” I was cruelly hosed down and then had a very rough physical medical examination. Through it all, that Major was there watching.

It was almost an relief when I was tossed into a cell. Food was provided even if it wasn't very good, but I'd learned a lesson on my long walk. When you're really hungry anything tastes good.

The hard pad even felt good after sleeping wherever I could for so long. However the next morning wasn't nice at all. The guards roughly dragged me out and strapped me to a gurney. A nurse shaved my head of the hair that'd grown during my walk. When I felt markers being used on my head I began to panic.

Medicine had come a long way and the things that could be abused scared me witless. Not that there was anything I could do. It seemed my revenge on Tiangong 5 was going to be lot more expensive then I'd thought.

A needle was jabbed into my arm, and I felt the light fading. As I'd done so many times since that terrible day in June, I thought of my family. Hold on, dear ones I'm coming...

Chapter 3

My awakening was like a desperate swim upwards to find the light after being alone in the dark for far too long. Thoughts and awareness were numb as from a terrible Winter of freezing cold.

Broaching that long night into day with the opening of my eyes brought only confusion. However there were two things that did not require my eyes. I had a tongue again. After being without for months it felt strange, but there were teeth too. Exploring my month with the restored appendage, they all seemed different from what I remembered.

What I saw appeared to be a relatively normal bedroom although with institutional furnishings like from a hotel or hospital. That bought back a flood of memories of being captured and being prepared for some sort of unpleasant surgery.

Trying to lift a hand, I quickly realized I was restrained to the bed. I couldn't even move my head. Even my fingers seemed unresponsive which was a really bad thing. Only my eyes and mouth appeared to be under my control.

Forcing myself not to panic was very difficult. Being prepared for brain surgery and waking paralyzed is beyond terrifying. That didn't explain why my teeth had been regenerated. My tongue made sense to replace so I could talk, but even that wasn't a necessity with electronic voders being more or less able to make me understandable.

I got a few answers when I decided I had nothing to lose by asking.

“Hello?” I asked aloud, but that was not what I heard.

“Ni hao?” And it was in the correct tonal range which had always given me trouble. Unlike some, I was aware of the difference, but I couldn't make my mouth corporate with my brains. The joys of almost being in a bi-lingual household. I contribute Grandma Hui and her babysitting with what little skill I had in Chinese at all.

However I had other problems. That 'hello' had been at a lot higher pitch than my normal tenor my Hawaiian father had passed on to me. In fact it sounded so high it was like a soprano.

Soprano?

This was not good.

Pretending to be an old woman was one thing. Honestly, I was treated as being sexless, but with respect in most cases. Not being able to speak, cut out a lot of complications too. However if I'd only been surgically altered, I shouldn't have spoken without thinking in Chinese.

Okay how bad was it?

A half hour later I knew. Rumors had floated around that China had developed rather advanced medical techniques since they had more relaxed rules about stem cell and other similar research than the West. However, besides speaking in that high soprano, I spoke perfect Chinese now and I do mean perfect. Think of an absolutely perfect language lesson recording. That's how I sounded which could only mean one thing.

I'd been puppeted.

Using always expanding nano-technology medical science, the technique was supposed to help regrow and bypass damaged neurological connections caused by disease and accidents. The problem was while it did work well on certain conditions, it was sorely lacking in others. An example of that was when it was used in an attempt at behavior modification for the criminally insane. The idea was to bypass the sectors of their gray matter that were causing the antisocial behavior and problems.

In a manner of speaking it worked, but more along the same way of lobotomies. Sometimes the procedure was effective, and the person got a new lease on life. At other times not so much, and it was damn hard to tell which patients it would help and ones it wouldn't. Even the failures ended up being more or less functional, but there was a good reason why those 'patients' were called puppets.

Like with me, whatever computer they'd put in my head was programmed with perfect Mandarin Chinese, so that was what I was speaking, like it or not. That was because the current generation implanted micro computer that made up the loss of the bypassed areas came close to doing the job, but not completely. You ended up with 'pod' people or 'Stepfords' who came across as if they were over-acting in a B-movie.

If I concentrated I could speak English, but it came out so heavily accented I winced. It also made me fear just what else was programmed into that damn thing they placed in my noggin. This was exactly the kind of abuse of the technology that everyone feared, not that it would do me any good to complain about it. Someone, it appeared, had taken offense at my attempt to walk out of China disguised as woman, even an old one.

I got some answers when a nurse entered, along with the Special Police Major who'd finally run me down. Never meeting my eyes, she put down the tray she carried and deferentially left.

“You may move freely. Please eat and refresh yourself ” He said, of course all in Chinese.

I didn't know if whether to be relieved or even more panicked when I successfully lifted a hand. As an active young man the thought I could be bought so low so easily wasn't good. The extremely slim hand I saw didn't help either. Perhaps it was more worrying when I didn't get up and run away screaming. I didn't like what I saw, but I couldn't feel fear, or hate to change that like into something else. Forget anti-depressants because I knew that damn microcomputer was controlling my mental state. It couldn't change what I thought, but it could alter how strongly I felt about it.

However, this had me feeling way out of balance, but that tray had water and food. Sitting up was an experience too, not because I was weak but because of the sensations. Unluckily for me I'd been right about my guesses about my changed voice and hands, as a pair of sensitive lumps shifted about on my chest.

Once again the panic, fear, and shock I knew I should be feeling just weren't there. Sighing, it was more of that damn programming which I couldn't do anything about. It was sad when I was more concerned about being hungry and thirsty than suddenly finding I'd grown breasts.

Carefully grasping the glass with both hands, I took my first swallow. The cool water tasted so good, I had to wonder if my senses were being affected as well as my feelings. Even though I was being careful given my concerns about my strength, I found myself eating and drinking almost delicately despite wanting to wolf it down.

Remember I'd lived for months by begging and what foraging I could get away with. Having even this much food was a godsend. Not reacting as I felt I should have left me feeling 'unbalanced' and out of sorts again.

Still it did give me a chance to study the man responsible for my downfall. First, he'd been promoted to Zhong Xiao, Lt. Colonel. Next I found I could easily read his name tag now, instead of having to puzzle it out, Wang. That was about the same as Smith in American as far as common surnames went. While it was very handy to have my literacy in Chinese improved, having my very mind being hacked wasn't remotely worth it. Sure, this stuff in my head could do that “Hey, I know Kung Fu!” thing, I rather doubt that would be one of the skills I would be given. Considering what I suspected I looked like, thinking about what these jokers would force me to learn wasn't a comforting line of thought.

Finishing off the last of the food, I wondered at what came next.

Col. Wang had stood silently watching me eat. At times I could see him subtly react to those times that damn computer modified my natural inclinations. If it looked the same as footage I'd seen of other 'puppets' it appeared very posed and false. I suppose in some cultures that might be acceptable and even look graceful. However, at first glance, it seemed the Colonel agreed with me that it was distasteful.

“Under normal circumstances, despite your 'procedure' I would be conducting this interview under more strict surroundings.” He began, obviously still uncomfortable. “But this situation has become complicated.”

My imagination could just see exactly what his version of strict surroundings consisted of, however the very idea that this mess could become more complicated was more of that bad thing.

“I take it you have worked out the results of your surgery?” He asked almost sounding concerned.

“I've been puppeted.” I replied, as that cursed computer forced me to meekly reply in Chinese.

“Yes,” He nodded, satisfied I'd worked it out. “The reason is because you're the only American Terrorist involved in the attacks we've been able to identify. The 'procedure' compels you to tell the truth, and that is why I recommended it to be applied to you. We need to determine exactly the equipment and methods that were used in order to prevent another attempt.”

“Drugs and other tools of questioning have their limitations. This process will give us as close to the unambiguous truth as is possible.” The Special Policeman sighed. “However, this is where the complications arise. I was sent to school in the United States to learn your country's latest criminology and forensic methods. Excelling in my studies and graduating high in my class, I returned home to discover that I'm not entirely trusted because I went to school in the West.

“I have Master degrees in Criminology and Forensics, but I was assigned as security to the Fusang One Ground Station. The only reason I was promoted was because I've succeeded where others have failed. I caught one of those responsible for the attacks on my country.

“This put my superiors in an untenable position.” He sighed, as I wondered where he was going with all of this. “They don't trust me, but your capture was far too important to simply ignore my accomplishment. Using one arrow to down two vultures, they decided to solve all of their problems.

“As with the West, 'puppets' are considered unable to manage their own affairs given the innate vulnerabilities of being programmable. In this instance you're a ward of the State, and please recall arranged marriages are still common here. This way they have a spy within my household that they can question at will, and with this transformation you will have disappeared without a trace.”

Even without that damn computer they put in my brain, I was speechless. Yes, I could read between the lines. Married to a man, me? More, married to this man who stole my chance for freedom from right before my eyes? We won't even mention the rest of being made to disappear or the usual POW abuse thing. I understood enough to know that while finding out a secret was good, it was even more important that the other side doesn't know you know. Maybe my emotions were being manipulated but that did not mean I was a robot.

This was totally against my very reality.

Col. Wang went on with his explanation of the 'complications' as if I hadn't frozen as stiff as a block of ice.

“Since we will have a relationship after this is over whether we want it or not, I'm going to attempt to make this as painless for both of us that I may and still do my duty. Understand, you won't be able resist the questioning, but that won't mean you've failed in your obligations. You must accept that your War is over.”

“Are you ready to begin?” He asked, setting a digital recorder by my tray on the nightstand.

I nodded my assent. What choice did I truly have?

“What is your given English name?” The Colonel began.

“2nd Lt. Thomas Ohana, US Air Force.” I answered, giving my use name. My true Hawaiian name had power which his phasing had allowed me to avoid giving to him.

“Ohana?” He asked.

“It's Hawaiian.” I answered, watching his reaction.

However, he only sighed. “You have my earnest condolences. That should never have happened, however, as a lowly major, I was not consulted. Regardless, we both have to live with the consequences. Now we must move on to more difficult questions.”

I would like to say I found a way of avoiding answering, but no. The best I could do was concentrate on not volunteering anything. It was like the damn computer in my head wouldn't let me shut up. More than anything else it reminded me of the first time I got drunk and I turned into a motormouth which is one of the reasons, if I drink at all it's in moderation.

The only thing that made this bearable at all was this had been anticipated by the mission planners. Truly, we Shadow pilots didn't know much besides what we had to in order to convince us to sign up for the virtual suicide mission and to fly the mission.

Before he clicked off his recorder, my fiance, please tell me that isn't really happening, said, “I also have to ask your forgiveness. Not knowing why, I was asked what I found physically desirable in my perfect woman. Normally such things would be harmless, it wasn't until they revealed our betrothal that I learned differently.”

He turned and left.

Although he had that whole Asian inscrutable thing going, I'd learned from my
Grandparents how to see past it. In this case I was pretty sure he wasn't any happier with this than I was. The difference was I was a lot more unhappy about it.

I didn't have time to brood about it even if the things in my head would let me. No more had the door shut than that nurse and a doctor came in for part two of my ordeal today. Can you spell physical therapy?

I suppose I must've been a golden child growing up since I avoided any major illnesses or injuries, opting for just the usual childhood stuff; chicken pox, bumps, and scrapes. By lunch I was sore, humiliated, and embarrassed beyond all possible belief. Nurse Chan was a stern taskmaster, and it would've been nice to have a doctor with a better bedside manner than Dr. Wu.

A quick examination confirmed the computer was permitting me to have a full range of motion, and then he gave a very short explanation of which I understood only part. I did get the important facts. This body was completely female because of the X chromosome that took over after they did something horrible to the Y I'd gotten from my Dad. The interloper came from them somehow copying Chinese DNA from my one X. Just how they picked out or decided what was Chinese and what wasn't was completely beyond me.

I was helped into this shapeless shift where I realized why Col. Wang was apologizing. My body was just this side of being anorexic thin. With that in mind, I knew these breasts only looked huge on that slim frame. Really they were only moderately sized, but the real problem was that they were on me. Then there was my complexion. I'm Hawaiian remember. Being nicely tanned was healthy. This extremely fair skin I had now was nearly as distasteful as those lumps. The only saving grace was it was flawless and smooth which sent goose bumps over me it was so sensuous.

Standing and then walking were trials. What little muscle I still had wanted to move one way, the implant demanded I move another. Plus, with my desecrated body's new center of balance and proportions I was caught in the middle hoping and wishing for the former.

At first I was surprised I hadn't lost any of my height. At five feet eight, 173cm, I was on the short side among my fellow Air Force cadets. I never let it bother me since it simply made aircraft cockpits all that more roomy for me while my larger, taller, classmates had squeeze themselves inside.

For a Chinese woman that's taller than the average male height. I'd faked it during my walk by nearly crippling myself by staying hunched over. By the time I'd reached Hong Kong I'd actually needed that damn cane.

I quickly learned about that proportion thing. Whatever they had done had widened my hips, but it seemed I had more leg now. Believe me when I say that. I felt like a crane with those long bird legs.

Col. Wang had spent time in America and knew our view on beauty differed greatly from the Chinese ideal. That was what he was apologizing for when he said he was Chinese. I'd heard some of my cousins from that side of the family complain how the exchange students from China would call girls fat who weren't even close, or how the girls would shun any sunlight for fear of darkening.

If I'd been allowed, any part of this would've had me comatose, but instead I stumbled though it as best as I could. That computer had its own ideas (about) how I was supposed to walk. Rather than take anything reassembling a normal stride, there was this short fashion model like step.

This is where that lack of bedside manner struck me.

“This is the computer learning how to walk. If you don't cooperate I will remove your conscious control so we can meet our schedule.” The so-called doctor addressed me coldly.

If I could've slugged the SOB I would have, but the freaking computer wouldn't let me do that either. Making one of those submissive gestures of assent that I was becoming really to dislike, I got though the experience. I moved liked some bad CGI animated figure, but I was under my own power.

My legs and those small feet of mine were aching, which answered clearly any thought of escape. I'd only been at this for a couple of hours and was in this much discomfort. The Procedure had stolen all possibility of me making a run for it. I was truly stuck. No, if I was going to get out of here it wouldn't be on foot.

Lunch wasn't very large, but it still filled me up which pointed out how small my stomach was now. I knew I was avoiding another issue too. The reason why I'd busted my butt to get that appointment to Colorado Springs was because I loved to fly. I'd caught the flying bug watching the para-sailors from my family's boat. Trying it myself, I'd advanced to hang-gilders in short order.

Reaching the academy was a dream come true and I'd taken to gliders and other aircraft like a fish to water. Along with sailing before I could walk, and navigating soon afterward, I joined the Cadet Aviation Club and was on track to become a Cadet instructor. That was before the War and losing my home. Now it seemed I'd lost my life long dream as well.

After lunch it was more of the Chinese version of physical therapy. Torture was more like it. Strange as it may seem I didn't get a good look at the new me until break time when they decided that although I was resting, I could still learn.

That plan went out the window the moment I saw that feminine face in the mirror. Despite the somewhat larger eyes and more pronounced nose as well as some other subtle changes, I knew this woman.

I'd seen her every time I went to my Grandparents house. Her smiling face was right beside a much young Grandfather Feng dressed in his finest for his wedding. I looked just like Grandmother Hui, or at the very minimum a very close relative. That's when it hit me that the DNA they'd extracted somehow had to be hers.

Computer in my head controlling my hormones and endocrines or not, I dissolved into tears.

I will say that although my trainers reaction wasn't kind at first, once I managed to communicate why I was distressed they backed off even if they weren't very supportive.

On the other hand at the end of my break, I was informed I would continue the therapy or else. I knew they were threatening to take me offline, leaving me as only a passenger in my own body.

It was only a guess that some kind of allowance for 'grieving' was part of the programming, but I couldn't help but notice my emotions calmed down very quickly. By the end of the day I was exhausted in all meanings and ways of the word. I couldn't call it the worst day of my life. That was reserved for June First while I watched in horror as my beloved home destroyed itself. However, this day was a firm second place.

Caught and trapped in a situation that offers no means of escape, 2nd Lt. Tommy Ohana's ordeal is just beginning.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy for making this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

That first hellish day set the tone for the ones that followed. Col. Wang would appear with breakfast and ask for clarification of previous answers or ask new ones. Then physical therapy until lunch with 'girl' training in the afternoon.

Forget the noise I made about 'I know Kung Fu.' It was disconcerting as hell to have my hands do things like makeup and hair styling which I knew for certain I knew absolutely nothing about. I did learn I could soften that whole 'Stepford' fake thing so I appeared more natural, but I had to really work at doing whatever it was myself instead of letting the computer run me by remote.

That was a double edged sword since it was a kind of surrender to this girl thing. There was also the theft of my Hawaiian heritage right out of my very DNA which still bothered and hurt me. There were so damn few of us islanders still alive that losing that part of myself was near a physical pain. The strange thing was that, while it had shocked me to see Grandmother Hui's face at first, it was also comforting in a way that a very visible reminder that my blood and heritage from my ancestors were still a part of me. Yeah I know its a kind of superstition like thing, but it was the culture I grew up in. Families were important. To have some of that removed was like a rape, perhaps worse if that was possible.

It wasn't until I had this dream that I was really able to get a handle on any of it. Before I'd been reacting when poked, I think because of the sheer vulnerable position I was in, as well as the continuing numbness like sensation when I didn't react or feel as strongly about things that should have me doing a serious freak out. My world was really seriously out of kilter!

The dream began with me sitting in front of that mirror with all that makeup stuff arrayed in front of me. Then a pair of hands warmly grasped my shoulders. A face appears behind me and it's Grandmother Hui, all young and pretty. Our eyes meet in the reflection and she breaks out in the biggest smile and hugs me from behind.

I start to turn around, but a sad shake of her head warns me not to. There was so much for us to tell each other, but it seemed we couldn't speak. Somehow she knew what had happened to me, and just as strangely I was certain she was here to let me know not only she, but all of my family were with me.

Waking with happy tears in my eyes, I had a few moments of wondering if Dr. Wu, the mad Chinese Frankenstein, had found a way to invade my dreams. No question my behavior was being modified, but how much of my very moving dream was the power of my faith in my heritage and family?

I decided that the last thing my puppeteers wanted was for me to develop a strategy for dealing with this situation. My dream I would take as it seemed. It was a gift to say no matter my appearance I was accepted, and the spirits of those I loved were with me.

It was a couple days after that I was allowed into the general population. Okay I was exaggerating again. This wasn't a prison, but it was a facility for politically sensitive patients. That meant in the most encompassing sense and not just a politically correct term for dissidents.

Not only those like me who were prisoners in all but name, but those high within the Communist Party of China. Wherever this facility was located, logic dictated it represented the pinnacle of its medical achievement. That was comforting since that said the unbelievable things done to me were not commonly available.

Logic also told me that my little flight a few months ago had earned a little payback for the million plus Hawaiians who would never wake from their sleep. I knew that at the very least Tiangong 5 was history. During my long walk I'd ample opportunity to sky-watch and that symbol of Chinese superiority was nowhere to be seen. However, even as large as the other power-sats were I wasn't as familiar with their orbits. At my best guess my fellow Shadow Fliers had gotten two which explained my treatment.

Five spaceborne weapons let them cover the world pretty damn good, and still let them beam down power to their energy starved nation. With only two, suddenly their resources were stretched thin and that gave the US of A windows of opportunity. In short, with five they could keep anyone else from launching anything into orbit, but two left holes. That also meant that the pesky beams that were so good at knocking out ICBM's and Stealth Bombers weren't protecting the Chairman's ass anymore.

You want to use the US for target practice for your weapons of mass destruction? Well, right back at you!

Okay, I didn't really feel that way, at least anymore. Like I said before, I was healing and I never did have anything against the people here. Nukes tend to very indiscriminate about who they blow up. No, I wanted the SOB's who picked up the phone and told Tiangong 5 to push the button.

However, at least I got a chance to see something else besides four walls. I'll admit the courtyard garden wasn't all that great next to my memories of my home, but it was an improvement. The domed over arboretum had that cutting edge architectural thing going that was a current Chinese fad. It also prevented anyone inside from knowing just what the outside was like.

Additionally don't think for a moment that being allowed more freedom let me mingle. There were well defined class sections where I and others like me were allowed to wander, but we were kept from our betters. It reminded me of James Cameron's 'Titanic' and the division between the first, second and third class passengers.

As much as I enjoyed the release there were a few things that weren't nice. The first was the frank stares I got from all the men. As unnerving as that was the outright hostile envious glares from the women were worse. While I understood that I was the very image of a Chinese Barbie Doll, I personally thought I resembled Jack Skellington's sister. You know white, bone thin, and all leg.

The next, and possibly even more disturbing, revelation was the very public announcement that the mighty People Republic of China had declared victory over the Kuomintang separatists and that the Twenty-third Provence, Taiwan was once more part of China.

Perhaps I was getting paranoid, but I had to wonder at my being allowed a bit more freedom at nearly the same time of this proclamation. However, while I may have been out of touch with the rest of the world, I'd observed that, despite noises of individual treaties, Japan, and South Korea had not actually signed anything.

If anything, more countries if not actively joining the US in the War, were taking much stronger stances. Even Russia and the other countries who had big investments in the International Space Station hadn't been appreciative of its destruction nor of being forced to abandon it at gunpoint so to speak. For that matter, watching that investment turn into an over-sized firework didn't make the PRC any friends.

Hell, even before I left, the most ardent US haters, ie the Middle East, had changed their tune. They'd almost had orgies in the streets after the aircraft carrier USS George Washington had gone down. That changed damn quick when the Chinese told the oil producers that the PRC would be paying a set price for crude oil from now on, or did the Sheiks enjoy the smell of miles of burning oil wells lit from orbit?

Taking a breath of the fresher air, I put those things out of my mind. It might be true that my war was over, but I knew for damn sure which side I was rooting for. My stride was still annoying, but I was still working on making it my walk. I had the idea that if I could get the computer to relax its control I could modify my steps if only in little ways. At any rate, it would make me look less robotic.

It also wasn't helpful that the fairly comfortable slippers I'd been allowed at first had been replaced with more fashionable heels that most definitely weren't. Still I was determined to beat this no matter how many men leered at me.

While studiously ignoring them, I noticed in one of the more privileged areas a very sad young girl, perhaps six or seven who's father appeared more interested in brow beating her than in giving love.

A bit of intelligence gathering told me she had a playground accident that would've paralyzed her for life. However, the same technology that'd been abused in my case would let her walk and even run again. I couldn't think of a more perfect example of the technology's two edged sword, good for her, bad for me.

Her father was seven kinds of a fool not thanking the very heavens for the gift he'd been given and the tragedy that'd been averted. It was only because he was high in the Party's leadership that his little girl was going to get a chance to be a woman strong and able to walk on her own. Oh how we throw the most priceless gifts away.

However, watching that small child sit there in that wheel chair all alone after her parents left her made my heart ache. Okay I admit those damn female hormones and computer master-minding it all had me busting out crying at the silliest things sometimes, but this was different. She reminded me so much of my younger cousins that never got a chance to grow up, that I couldn't help, but feel for her.

The truth was I was a child of the wind and sea, so how could I help since I wasn't even allowed to speak to someone of such high rank. Then my eyes caught on the swaying of a branch in the dome's ventilation system.

A polite request of a few sheets of paper and a pencil raised a few brows, but I wasn't refused. Then came the hard part. Doing this from here had its advantages and problems. Having the height was good, but there were cross breezes all over the place. The major hallways had significant drafts as well as the vents produce air currents. The thermals from the large glass dome couldn't be ignored either.

It was too far for the basic design, but I recalled one that had more wing area and was really forgiving if you didn't get your folds exactly right. A mistake could have my message drifting port or starboard. Finished, I used the pencil to give my craft its insignia.

Checking the conditions again, I let fly with my first attempt, paying close attention to its flight path. As expected, something went wrong and it got caught in a draft driving it too far to port where it went down due to one of the hallway drafts. Flight two, did better but needed a bit of pool-hall English to get it on target. A bit of careful bending of the control surfaces had me ready for flight number three. With my fingers crossed, I launched taking great care to repeat my motions exactly the same as the first two for consistency.

Wanting to grin, I instead still had a smile as my construction fluttered gracefully as if it had active terminal guidance right into that little girl's lap.

Startled, her eyes grew wide staring at the pair of smiley faces I'd drawn on the wings. Before she could look around to see where it could've come from I stepped back out of sight. It was better for her to wonder where who sent it. A bit of mystery and magic was good for the soul.

The staff of course saw all of this but neither them nor that damn thing in my head interfered. It was good for me too, since it distracted my from my troubles. Certainly my taskmasters made up any perceived wrong I'd done by drilling me endlessly in feminine deportment. Sitting down and smoothing my skirt and then standing again over and and over again got old, but as always they held that threat of taking away my conscious control. Just so I knew it wasn't a powerless threat, Dr. Wu once again proved he had all the compassion of a rock. He walked my body around the room and had me making all kinds of what the Chinese thought of as feminine gestures such as hiding my face behind my hands as I giggled and others I'm not going to talk about.

I began making a habit of dive bombing my young victim with smiles. She appeared to be more aware and happier now as she tried to spot me and I was happy to stay a mystery. After a while I found myself plumbing the depths of my knowledge of paper airplane making.

No surprise I wasn't allowed anywhere near a computer or tablet which would've helped my paper airplane designs, even though China had just about severed all outside internet connections with their draconian censoring. Be that as it may, nobody stopped me or complained about my paper airplanes which I think was a good thing for both of us.

Then I got a bump in the routine. Col. Wang's 'visit' was changed to him escorting me to a conference room.

“These are aviation experts who will question you about the specifics of your 'Shadow Flyer.'” He told me.

Hoping to head my 'motormouth' off at the pass, I politely stated, “I don't know how I'll be able to add to what I've told Col. Wang.”

The stony faces that greeted me didn't bode well. The first couple of questions answered one of my own. This wasn't a panel of aviation guys trying to reverse engineer a Shadow Flyer. No this panel was more like a flock of bureaucrats trying to cover their exposed posteriors.

That's when an old bit of history pointed me in the right direction. During WWII, Reichsmarschall Herman Goering had boasted, “No enemy bomber can reach the Ruhr. If one does reaches the Ruhr, my name is not Goering. You may address me as Meyer.”

It'd become a joke. First the British with their night bombing raids and then the good ole US of A with their daylight bombing attacks had devastated the infrastructure which fed the German war machine.

Still the computer in my head compelled me to answer and maintain that damn subservient mask it'd made me wear. Ironic that after my unmasking, I was wearing yet another mask, but one created by those who'd programmed that damn implanted computer. It'd also occurred to me that I'd brought this on myself.

The only event that was witnessed by the public was an old woman being arrested by the Special police. At no time did a young American pilot show up at any time. My transformation into Grandmother Hui's sister had further hidden and concealed me. This was all to make certain that my country didn't know I'd been captured.

However to further the irony, apparently now that they had me, they didn't want to believe me. While I can't say I liked or cared for my current position and wanted to avoid the future they had planned for me, that suited me fine. Sure, go ahead and underestimate the Shadow Fliers. There were still two or three of those damn orbital power-sats in orbit. Please give us a chance to knock them down.

Finally to bring this meeting to a head, one of the more belligerent speakers, Mr. Zhao, blew up, in a manner of speaking. “This preposterous! First you claim the American's built an invisible airplane that is completely undetectable by radar, thermal, or electromagnetic sensors, and then a military cadet flew it over five thousand kilometers without the aid of any modern navigational aids.

“Even more ridiculous is the concept that any explosive detonated at the rectenna site might have caused the destruction of the station in orbit. Even nuclear weapons could not have caused such, and as powerful as that explosive was at Fusang One it was not nuclear. Which brings up the fact a glider could never have carried enough explosives to cause the type of damage that occurred. This has to be some kind of deception.”

Li Ziyang who'd simply taken notes throughout, directed me, “Please respond to Mr. Zhao's analysis.”

“The Shadow Flyer is not invisible, but it is very difficult to detect.” I began. “It's design is innovative, but its the materials that are truly the heart of the glider. I can't give detailed explanations because they were kept from me. Obviously someone must've found some sign of my ejection so Col. Wang knew to look for me at all.

“The fact Fusang One was attacked says the Shadow Flyer does exist.” I sighed. “Despite my present appearance, I was sailing and navigating by the stars nearly as soon as I could walk. Those skills were just as helpful when I began flying. Yes, I was an Air Force cadet when I was accepted for the program, but I was given a 2nd' lieutenant’s commission when I completed the Shadow Flier program like all the other successful candidates.

“Microwaves are non-ionizing, and I don't see how the explosion even directed by the dish shaped rectenna could've directed enough force upwards to knock a space-station, but Occam's Razor says that is exactly what happened. The pilot-beam used to direct the microwaves was a laser which can cause ionization. Perhaps that played a part along with the huge power substation that was my aim point.

“However, the United States isn't known for sending out Kamikaze pilots. That is so politically incorrect, I can't see Congress ever allowing it.” I said very carefully not mentioning that what the law makers didn't know they couldn't prevent. Besides not a single person involved with the Flyers disagreed they were suicidal one way trips.

“I was a cadet, but was already an experienced hang-glider and para-sailor pilot before entering the Academy. I received my pilot license in my first year because of my preparation and was set to become a glider instructor. Additionally, I think you gentlemen are aware where I grew up provided ample motivation for me to volunteer for the Shadow Flyer Programer when they came looking for experienced glider pilots.” I actually managed to make eye contact, despite that damn programming. No, I couldn't hold it long, but damn it, I did do it!

Of course it didn't convey the right message. They saw me as a woman who was being disrespectful no matter if they knew I’d once been male. I also had the feeling that we'd wandered into that Chinese concept of 'Face.' Mianzi and the related Guanxi were concepts that honestly baffled me in spite of my cultural experience with my Grandparents and cousins. It was a kind of street cred like thing similar to respect, but much more involved and pervasive. One of the study aids about the subject produced for foreign teachers working in China before the War, said students participation in classes were much less common due to fears of making mistakes in front of others because of it.

An Asian Scholar, Ting-Toomey, I think it was, said “Face was a strategy to protect self-respect and individual identity.”

If these men were the ones responsible for China's air defense, then having their space-station and satellites blown out of the sky would be a mistake out there for the whole world to see. The term national prestige comes to mind especially right after they strutted in front of everyone after their 'Philippine Sea' victory.

“If I may,” Interrupted Col. Wang. “The implausibility of certain aspects of the attacks are well known to us. We know an aircraft was involved due to a last minute sighting as well as the circumstantial evidence of portions of the ejection seat being recovered as well as the parachute and flight suit.

“That led us to the pilot who, although very careful, was apprehended in the end. Additionally, we have testimony from the scientists and doctors that the process used on the pilot is working properly and in their opinion is telling the truth as she knows it.

“I'm not a scientist or an engineer,” Col. Wang continued, “But I do know Americans. They are not prone to throwing their people forward in futile suicidal gestures, but as she has told us, they all knew of the high risk nature of their mission. As well, many were no doubt highly motivated by the emotions that war nurtures in all concerned.

“As for the pilot's skill, the security team recently monitored her playing a harmless game with one of the younger patients. It subtly demonstrates her knowledge of aeronautics and of the principles of gliding.” He gestured towards the video screen at one end of the room.

It was easy to pick me out. All I had to do was look for Grandmother Hui. I knew it was a kind of cop-out, but it let me cope. I just couldn't think of this body as being mine. It didn't compute!

Regardless, there I was folding paper air planes. Then an image of my wheelchair bound friend took my place, along with others, to get a sense of the distance. The next one had me making one last check of conditions before launch.

Professor Secord's aerodynamics class was one of my favorites and if the War hadn't messed up my whole world I'd would've taken his advance studies class, although I was mostly familiar with the material already. He was just that good of a teacher. He'd had all us plebes folding planes as he demonstrated aeronautic principles of the different designs, giving us the ability to see those ideas in real life as we tested them.

From him I knew the world indoor record for paper planes was over 200 feet. My little flier traveled maybe a quarter of that, but I did have a more difficult flight path and I didn't want to use my friend as a lawn dart target. Smiles should be delivered gracefully.

Okay, I will admit a few of my attempts had my target having to move to retrieve them, but honestly my peeking at her didn't show any disappointment. In any case, Col. Wang used the footage of one of my successes having the fragile plane glide right into her lap.

“While not iron proof of her piloting skills this activity is a confirmation that she does know what she is talking about.” Col. Wang defended me. “This meeting was requested to gather specifics about the aircraft which attacked our country. Might I suggest we keep to the tropic?”

Honestly, I blushed as he stood up for me. Oh I sure wish I hadn't, but I couldn't take it back. A thousand curses on that programmer wouldn't be enough!

The rest of the questions indeed were about the Shadow Flyer's dimensions and as much as I could remember about the other technical details. I didn't feel too guilty about this since, like I said before, it was the materials that made the Flyer special. On those I was ignorant except for knowing they were some sort of exotic x-aerogel material which didn't help my interrogators one damn bit.

That made this bearable. I was still an American no matter how much they messed with my mind or body. It sucked that even if by some great miracle I returned to the States I would never be trusted by the powers that be. That would not stop me from doing my duty as I was able.

As the meeting reached it's ending, Mr. Zhao nodded at the Colonel. “With your permission I would like to ask a more general question. Why do you Americans continue to resist? Your aircraft carrier is at the bottom of the sea, and we've proved China can attack with impunity where and when ever it wishes. The object of contention lays in our hands. What is the purpose of continuing?”

“No one will ever know who's fighter fired that first missile which began that incident high over the Philippine Sea.” I saw the whole table object to my statement, but I merely nodded. “You'll say it was the Americans and they'll say it was the Chinese. What everyone does knows is that rather than stand down and let tempers cool, you instead turned your power-sat's masers on the 7th Fleet. That turned a nasty incident into a war.

“From your point of view that might've been simply defending yourself, but everyone else saw as an undeclared act of war.” I took a long breath thanking for the first time that damn chip in my head for keeping me calm. “Now I can talk about it. Hawaii was a stupendous screw-up on your parts. Despite your statements to the contrary almost everyone recognizes that you probably intended on forcing an eruption of Mauna Loa as a show of force. Hawaii's volcanoes were so non-explosive that the type was even named Hawaiian style.”

Even with the damping of my emotions I could feel tears forming.

“No one knows just why your masers triggered a Krakatoa like explosion. Maybe they never will, but what the estimated 200 megaton explosion didn't destroy, the 100 foot tsunami did. The following aftershocks and eruptions turned my home into a vast grave. I'm not going to mention the other 100,000 causalities from all over the Pacific Rim that were killed by the resulting tsunamis.

“I understand how difficult it would be to admit you accidentally blew up over a million people. I also understand the idea of the national loss of face, however when China declared that with Hawaii gone the United States had no reason to interfere with affairs in the Pacific and acted as if it was a premeditated and deliberate act was unforgivable.”

There were some uncomfortable movements on their side of the table.

“What choice has the United States but to accept terms?” Mr. Zhao pressed his question again. “This is not World War Two where the United States held the industrial advantage and was unreachable by its enemies. Much of its electronics and high tech goods were produced here in China or in the recovered territories of Formosa.”

“I see you didn't mention how many of those goods produced had back-doors hardwired into them allowing you access to all kinds of things from top secret military hardware to cellphones.” I riposted. “We found them and adapted, improvised, and overcame the problems. You may have us outnumbered, but we are great problem solvers when we're not quibbling among each other.

“The only reason China isn't a glowing radioactive desert right now is because too many others would hurt in the fallout and the aftermath.” I felt myself shivering from the effects of the computer really messing with me. I hadn't missed that I'd called my own countrymen 'them' instead of us, but this needed to be said.

“At present, even with all that has happened, if China withdrew from Taiwan,” I intentionally used the previous name. “And made reparations, I think some kind of peace could be made, just because of those points you made Mr. Zhao. However, China can't and won't do that will you?

“Just as your national pride prevents that, the US's anger won't allow anything less either. And we're not considering how the rest of the world sees China now. Even the UN has come down on the US's side even though they never acknowledged Taiwan as an independent nation.

“I don't believe things have gotten so bad that the United States and its Allies are going to demand an unconditional surrender, but I would be very careful of future activities.” Overwhelmed by the implant at last, I lowered my eyes and bowed my head.

Regardless, I was aware how each and everyone of them were staring at me in disbelief. Even Col. Wang, but his was more thoughtful than theirs. Well, he had spent time in the States. Perhaps he understood our character better, or not, I decided. If I, as an American, had trouble with the Chinese culture thing despite my Grandparents, then the Chinese had just as much trouble with Westerners.

They simply couldn't envision the outcome I suggested. They were the most populous country in the world although not the largest. That title still went to Russia, but even Canada and the United States beat them on square area. However, their economy and military might had grown so that everyone had to acknowledge that China had taken its place in the world as a leader.

Unfortunately, certain fractions saw the PRC's new position differently than others. Bluntly put, if national statesmen were rare, world statesmen were practically nonexistent. Yes you don't have to tell me how many times the USA has abused its superpower status to get what it wants. However, regardless of my country's arrogance, we generally tried to do the right thing.

That was something I truthfully couldn't say of the new China. Can you pronounce bully?

Col. Wang once again cleared his throat. “If that is all, this meeting is adjourned.”

My downcast eyes kept me from any last judgments of my interrogators, but off hand I would say the cultural divide was still in full force.

Leading me from the room the dear Colonel had a bombshell that was more than good enough to distract me from anything as inconsequential as a World War.

“The doctors have informed me that your 'recovery' has advanced to the stage where you can be soon released. Under the circumstances, my mother is traveling here to assist in the planning for our wedding,” Col. Wang told me.

His very formality spoke of his discomfort, but that was nothing in comparison to mine! Perhaps it was because of my recent fight with that computer conditioning in the conference room I was more aware that the 'happiness' I felt was induced and most certainly wasn't how I should be feeling.

Me, getting married to a man?

If that wasn't enough his mother was coming?

I was so doomed!

Johnny, now Mei, adventures continue with a challenge more daunting than any suicide mission, getting married!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy for making this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

Where to begin?

I did get a chance to say good bye to my friend that I'd been sending the smiles to. It was simple really. All I had to do was ask.

Oh the look on her face as I gently hand delivered my last smiles to her. Her own treatment had advanced as well and she was scooting about in a walker. In the past few days I hadn't seen her father be any more supportive than he was in the beginning. However that had made me more even more determined to see her smile.

“You're so beautiful” was her first words to me.

I kept smiling, hiding my own feelings about my appearance. I no more looked liked a real woman from any kind of racial background at all than any those overly Photo-shopped models from any one of dozens of magazines. Okay, just maybe I do finally get what all the complaints about Barbie Dolls were all about now. Being an living Chinese example of one certainly changes one's prospective.

However, my young friend didn't need to hear any of my griping about unrealistic expectations of men about how women look.

“I'm Mei.” My gift to her was hidden behind my back. It was rather surprising to me that my request was granted even if I wasn't allowed access to the internet yet. I had no idea as to why. That damn thing in my head had me locked down tight. Still my description and why I picked it was simple enough.

“I'm Bao,” She politely replied, but with a bright smile that was usually missing.

“I see you got my messages.” Shifting, I kept her from peeking at what I hid.

Her face showed her confusion for just a moment before she translated my paper aircraft into messages. “The airplanes!”

Nodding I pointed to my smile. “You were so sad sitting down here among the flowers that I sent you one of mine. Understand, I think a few may still be in the garden somewhere, but that is the nature of smiles. Sometimes they go places and cause things you never expect.”

I fluttered my free hand like a rather silly flying bird, causing both of us to laugh.

“However, like I can see, you're getting better... so am I.” Distractingly, I found myself making the appropriate feminine body language gestures. They no longer appeared robotic or exaggerated since I'd worked hard on making them habit, but that didn't mean I was comfortable with them. It was a little like surrendering to what had been done to me, but like one of my Air Force Academy buddies used to say, you had to race the car you brought to the track. At least now my gestures attracted a little less attention since I could moderate them within some limits. It wasn't as if how I appeared now didn't make me stand out no matter how I felt about it.

For whatever good it did me, they were my gestures now and not the computers or the programmers who ran it.

“I'm being released soon, but I couldn't leave without any explanation. Being able to bring my smiles to you distracted me from my own treatment while here.” Somehow I kept the bitterness from my voice. There had been no healing for me here, only a deliberate crippling and maiming of what made me who I was.

But I was still alive.

Taking into account the People's Republic of China's record on the importance of life that was not a minor consideration. Things hadn't gotten any better with the current regime or their actions either. The losses of life because of their decisions were in the millions and the War they had precipitated wasn't over yet.

However that was something else Bao didn't need to hear, although I feared she would learn of it the hard way. If her father was as high in the party hierarchy as rumored then when the crap from this War began rolling down hill she might very well be caught in it.

Which was another reason why I wanted to leave on a bright note instead of leave more sadness for this little girl who was having to learn how to walk again all over again.

Her 'Oh' and downcast eyes said it all.

“That's why I have this for you.” I said revealing her present.

Like any kid, her eyes lit up as I gestured to the garden benches for us to sit down. With her walker, Bao needed both hands to get around so it was much safer to give her the present after she was no longer vertical, although I don't doubt that she would've tried. Kids are that way after all.

Her enthusiasm as she shuffled to sit down was a marked difference from the trudge of before. That contrasted with the intense concentration as she carefully unwrapped my gift without the fury of most kids her age.

I let out a breath as I silently thanked the Colonel for his choice of wrapping since she showed all the signs of keeping it. He had accommodated my request for Western style wrapping paper. He'd even found the Chinese kite themed stuff I'd suggested knowing of Bao's father. I didn't want her to be a victim of his possible nationalistic fever. Since the very first recorded human flight was by Yuan Huangtou by way of a kite in the year 559, I couldn't think of a reason why he would object unless it was because she was a girl and girls didn't do such things.

Of course her recently barely surviving breaking her neck on the playground might play a part in his thinking as well.

Bao looked up at me as she discovered the 'Kid's Book of Paper Airplanes.'

“Since you've gotten so many that I've made, I thought it time you learn to make your own.”

Her walker, her culture, and the class divide between us made her hugging me impractical, but I saw the intense happiness in her eyes just the same.

Placing my hand on hers, I asked, “Why don't we fly some airplanes?”

In the days that followed, I thought about that afternoon a lot. While the Colonel’s mother wasn't a tyrant or shew, she didn't take any non-sense. In a lot of ways his parents were true believers in the Cultural Revolution. That was tempered with a bit of common sense that politicians are much the same no matter where you found them.

I did get the feeling they found his being distrusted by the ruling elite very frustrating and something they didn't really grasp. Their son was raised to be a loyal party member. Yes, he did learn what the imperialistic Americans knew about police and detective work, but how else were you to know your enemy?

On the practical side, they understood that their traditional Chinese retirement plan, their son's career, depended on his marrying me. At least from their view point I was an orphan who didn't come with my own parents that needed supporting, even if I bought very little to the marriage except assuring that promotion.

After getting to know him if only from his visits, I thought I knew why the distrust. He took to life in the States just a little too enthusiastically. As much as he was a product of his upbringing, he was also intensely intelligent. I think it was that intellectual freedom to discuss nearly anything without fear of consequences that a word misheard by unintended listeners might have dire consequences.

There was more than a little truth in saying he was too smart for his own good. He had a vast number of interests and I really had to wonder just how he'd ended up where he did. The criminology thing explained much since it touched on a lot of different subjects. It was a field he did well in. I'll admit he wasn't exactly a Charlie Chan, or a Chinese Sherlock Holmes, but he did come close.

I even learned, finally, just what gave me away.

Bad Breath.

Or in this case the lack of it. That made him do some checking and the discovery that, while I'd didn't have teeth or a tongue, I also didn't have the mouth of an old woman. Damn that forensics degree he'd earned!

Which bought up yet another matter.

I'd found my body becoming aroused in his presence. No lie, that I was well aware I was being conditioned. Hell, I could even say I liked my Colonel when I had ample reason to hate his guts. Yeah, I was being played like a cheap piano and although I knew, I couldn't do a single thing about it.

Perhaps the only good thing about any of this was, if they'd truly wanted to they could've broken me, leaving nothing of the person I'd once been. For instance they left the vital parts of me alone such as my love of aviation and stuff about my Hawaiian heritage.

All they had to do was apply that old Don't-Think-Of-This technique and use that damn computer to burn out or alter how I felt about them. As it was, I was very careful not show any overt interest in those things, excepting of course my paper airplanes with Bao.

First, they didn't need to break me since they were slowly molding me anyways, and this is a guess, they didn't want to damage any additional information I still have concerning the Shadow Flyers.

Okay, that wasn't the only good, but the other was unwanted. I'm talking about that arousal thing, sex. I had no idea of how it was really like for women. They didn't have their gray matter being manipulated by a bunch of perverted Chinese mad scientists.

I didn't want to like it, but damn!

After they ran me on auto-pilot a few times, forcing me to masturbate, I couldn't help myself. Again, I knew what they were doing, but was once again helpless to prevent it. Connecting the dots wasn't hard. First they get me hooked with the female orgasm thing and then connect my arousal to the Colonel.

Evil isn't it?

Now you see part of why puppeting was so controversial.

In one of the very seldom times Dr. Wu explained any thing, he crowed that, with my DNA reformatting, my brain had taken on certain female characteristics. This conditioning was simply to accustom me to female patterns. Yeah right, if you believe that do I have the deal for you.

I must admit that I was rather surprised at the wedding preparations. Officially China is atheist, but it does recognize some religions particularly the traditional Chinese faiths. Instead of the red Cheongsam my Grandmother was wearing in her wedding pictures this one was much like a western styled white wedding dress, but had the Chinese dragons and phoenixes embroidered upon it.

That compromise with the official Party line, but with a nod to the traditional set the tone for this ordeal. They, we, even went to a Fung Suey 'consultant,' not a fortune teller thank you, to find our auspicious day. The date was set for mid-December. What a Christmas present, not! The date was set for mid-December. What a Christmas present, not! He of course was in his formal military uniform which made sense because, he was still walking the line with his bosses. See I'm a good little Special Police Colonel.

Like I said, his Mom, Cai, jumped into this thing like a one of the Academy's Training Instructors, MTIs. I absolutely was not Bridezilla, but just maybe she was the Mother-of-the-Groom-Zilla. The fittings for the dress and the other activities were run like military training exercises. You do it over and over again until you're dreaming about it and can do it in your sleep. It wasn't as if that damn computer in my head would let me make a mistake anyways, but Cai wasn't leaving anything to chance.

Her one and only child, as mandated by the Communist Party of China, was getting married and it was going to be perfect!

Even I had to admit that I looked striking in the dress with my ridiculous Chinese Barbie Doll proportions. For damn certain, my emotions were being played with via those implants in my head, since I wasn't freaking out again. Like most guys I never thought very much about getting married except to say that if I met the right girl, maybe. After I'd spent some time at the Academy, and went to a military wedding, I'll be honest and say the whole walking under the arch of swords had its appeal.

ME, being the one in the dress and heels was the furthest thing from my thoughts.

Walking down the aisle in white, in front of the relatively small group of his family, friends, and official presences was harder than flying final guiding my Shadow Flyer on my last flight.

At least I managed to keep from defaulting into auto-pilot with that damn computer running me. However, I think it was closer than I would like. The feeling of being completely helpless as your body moves without your say or input is something no horror movie or story can ever convey.

It's bad.

Again with at least publicly keeping inline with the atheist thing, instead of a church wedding, it was more like their version of the Justice of the Peace ceremony. Although I was in the middle of this, this …, farce, the lack of spirituality was striking. Shock and awe were great as military tactics, but just maybe it's not for weddings. Perhaps it was my Hawaiian upbringing that made this so apparent since for at least my father's family, such things were very spiritual.

It wasn't as if any of this was legal in the international sense except perhaps in a very convoluted twisted fashion. Capturing me and not notifying anyone about it was strike one. I was in disguise, but had my uniform on underneath it was well as my dog-tags.

Strike two was the cruel and unusual punishment of not only maiming me mentally with the puppet implants, but their rape of my DNA. My legal status with that stuff in my head which could override my own will, generally was considered incompetent to look after my own affairs since anyone who had the access codes could make me do just about anything.

This marriage was case in point.

Strike three was, well, I was getting married! If I had a chance I would've said, 'Hell no, I do not!,' but I was being forced to go though with this anyways. While the Colonel had been pretty nice to me since my involuntary transformation, I hadn't forgotten he was responsible for Strike Two. He had recommended the procedure that had maimed me for life.

With that in mind, part of me was apprehensive as hell about this. Sure he'd been reasonably nice, but what would happen after this? I would be under his complete control and I already knew he had the codes to make me do any damn thing he wanted.

Inwardly sighing, I knew there was no point in worrying about it. For now, I was under their control and that was that. There was no point in trying to object or show defiance at this point, as we stood before the presiding official.

It was really nothing more than a public acknowledgment that the marriage was officially registered.

Then things really got crazy with the wedding banquet. One of the things I'd never gotten used to was the prevalence of smokers in China. It seemed like everyone smoked and wasn't shy about lighting up just about anywhere, although there were bans in certain places like government buildings and such. In the rented reception hall there was a cloud of tobacco smoke. Just to make things worse I was badly aroused and getting, err, hotter with every minute.

I almost wanted to slap my new husband when he tried to be a gentleman.

“I'm aware that the doctors may have used your implant to motivate you to become affectionate tonight.” He said softly during one of the rare moments we had together before reaching the banquet. “Please know I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. We'll take this at your own pace for what you feel comfortable with.”

Those very same implants he was talking about wouldn't let me gape at him in disbelief. Instead my face had this coy, shy expression which didn't show the outright lust those 'doctors' had been sowing in me for weeks.

In very crude terms, I had an itch and he was the one I wanted to scratch it.

Or more accurately he was the one I'd been conditioned to want to ease my, hmmm, discomfort.

Of course they didn't want me to tell him this for any number of reasons, from stroking his ego, to make him buy into the illusion I was truly okay with this. They didn't know him very well if they expected that, but I decided to help his understanding along.

“What make you think I need additional motivation?” I huskily replied, doing everything, but humping his leg. A weakness I'd discovered, a programmers blind spot, it didn't keep me from going too far in the other direction. They assumed that I wouldn't, although there were some limits.

Holding me, I felt his own arousal, but his anger too. After chasing me half-way across China and my 'questioning,' this man knew me. However much I was barely hanging onto proper behavior, I knew his simply using his 'codes' wasn't that easy.

This was a specialized program designed to condition me into being his wife in all respects. His codes were like a TV remote meant to take direct control like, freezing me in place, causing instant sleep or other simple commands. He could even make me follow him, and keep silent for example since he was commanding the computer and not really me.

Tell it to interrupt a complicated and complex program where it was manipulating my hormones and brain chemistry, not so much.

“How bad is it?” He asked, gently. Wang Feng was a skilled detective well versed in reading body language.

“I'll do my best not to embarrass you.” I answered, scared I'd gone too far already. My self-control was not so good. “Please remember my past.” I asked, hoping that he wouldn't get too crazy having his own sex toy.

“I shall.” He led me into the hall.

I touched my rounded belly with more than a little wonder. Pregnant, me?

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy for making this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

I touched my rounded belly with more than a little wonder. Pregnant, me? Twins? One boy and one girl if the obstetrician wasn't wrong. Twelve weeks was a little early for them to be sure, but Doctor Chin seemed certain. I even had pictures of my yet to be twins in my purse.

Not that getting to this point had been easy at any point during this so very strange journey of mine.

After that very energetic honeymoon night, my husband had objected to my libido being so, … elevated. Doctor Wu, the mad scientist himself, insisted this was natural for the body I had now. I'm not sure that Feng believed him. I know I didn't!

Like it or not my body liked sex. I knew what I thought about it, but my Chinese Barbie Doll body had other ideas. It was … intense. I couldn't even get pissed off at Feng because he, if not a gentleman, didn't abuse the privilege. More often than not it was me who commenced events.

Becoming pregnant almost from our first night together and this nympho-like libido of mine, made me really suspicious this was just the way my 'reformatted' body behaved. It was possible this was the way I'd been designed which, if anything, was scarier. If they could deliberately and reliably do this to just anyone, be afraid, very afraid.

If I had a wedding for Christmas, Chinese New Year, also known as the Spring Festival, was a little after my first 12 weeks. I'd my examination earlier in the week just before we were to leave for his parents place. The good news was, with my pregnancy, he decided to spring for air travel instead of the trains or buses like the rest of the millions of Chinese holiday travelers.

It was still very busy flying out of Beijing, but not anywhere near the chaos at the train and bus stations. Looking out at the plane's window at the ground far below, I missed flying with a passion. Being here stuck with the passengers and not on the flight deck really rubbed in how far I'd fallen. Just like Icarus I'd flown too high and had lost my wings, among other things.

Asking the question, I'd asked myself a thousand times, 'Was it worth it?'

So far despite all my ordeals, including being preggers with twins, the answer was yes.

The Allies had even almost caused the Golden Week of Spring Festival to be canceled. About two weeks ago, details were sketchy, but the People's Liberation Army Navy's first aircraft carrier, the Liaoning, was at the bottom of the East China Sea. Since they had taken back Taiwan, their 23rd province, the PLAN decided to force their claims on the Senkaku Islands which had been under dispute by both the PRC and Japan.

It was my guess that they were also playing hardball since Japan was still wiggling out from signing a separate peace treaty.

Just how that had happen wasn't being said, but submarines had been mentioned as well as apparently one hell of a furball of fighters, had mixed it up with PRC planes from the Liaoning, and Taiwan versus the Allies from Okinawa. Just as a guess, the good guys had won that one since losing a carrier was expensive, but so were modern jets. There was also the worry at the government's statement they'd fired missiles at Naha, Okinawa. Once again the PRC showed their willingness to shoot at civilians.

I felt like a bit of a hypocrite, seeing how I did attack the rectenna at Fusang One which was not strictly speaking military, although it was still a target given its strategic importance to China's power generation industry. Tiangong 5 was an entirely different question. While there might've been civilians on-board that space-station, not only did it have weapons, it attacked the 7th Fleet and Hawaii, it was also the control center for the other so-called power-sats.

Considering what the things did to my home, if they weren't weapons of mass destruction I didn't know what were.

So in my mind at least there was a world of difference between what I did and the PRC's actions. That didn't make me miss my freedom or flying any less, but that was the way things were.

However, it wasn't all bad. Feng was damn near a paragon of virtue for a Chinese man. We actually had a relationship instead of him treating me like the sex toy I'd feared. Perhaps it was guilt over what had been done to me or perhaps some kind rationalization given I used to be male. Whatever his reasons he appeared to delight in making me laugh and smile.

He did take some ribbing from his small circle of friends about it, but even his reply caused me to smile.

“If you had a wife like mine, you would too.”

And the look on his face when he got the news about the twins. Sure, I know my head has been brainwashed so completely there's not as much of my Father and Mother's son as I would like, but some part remains. Already I was thinking how to get around my implants so I could pass on some of my heritage to the children I bore.

My family would live on though me.

It was a long flight from Beijing to Harbin where we had a short layover until we could continue our journey to Mohe. Yeah, his parents lived about as far north as it was possible to get in China.

Because of that we were flying on a twin engine turboprop, a domestically produced version of the old Soviet An-24 design, an Xian MA600. It was sure a lot bigger than the Diamond DA42s I'd begun my own multi-engine training on. I'd really just gotten my twin engine rating, when the War had changed everything

I'm not even going to talk about how cold it was, even on our very brief time outside boarding the plane. The idea that it would be even colder at our destination made me shiver thinking about it. This body of mine didn't have an once of extra fat and I felt the cold intensely. Even at 12 weeks and despite being bundled up, my baby bump was clearly visible. At least I hadn't reached that awkward to move around state yet, but it was coming.

Of course being in a far lighter aircraft than the huge Airbus A380 jet liner that had carried us from Beijing, we were far more effected by turbulence, as well as flying lower where it was less... calm.

I found myself having to reassure my smart detective husband that all was well.

“Relax.” I smiled. “This is normal.” What I really wanted was to get him in a glider to show him what real flying was all about, but that would never happen.

“How would you know if it wasn't?” He asked gripping the arm rests with a death grip.

“Oh you would know.” I replied, not knowing fate was listening to my every word.

Thank Gawd I wasn't looking out the window when the flash came. Instinctively, I grabbed my seat belt yanking it tight, wishing I had a real harness.

“Nuclear flash!” I hissed to Feng, knowing we had mere seconds if that. “Tighten your belt!”

With this War of power-sats and the real possibility of nukes, we Air Force cadets had received training not seen since the fall of the USSR. When all you could do was Duck and cover, you ducked and covered by Gawd!

The MA600 proved it was just as rugged as the An-24 design that had inspired it as the shock wave tossed us about like a leaf upon the wind.

Thankfully, because of the prior turbulence, everyone was wearing their belts, but such things are relative. Being prepared had us less battered than everyone else. The moans and outright grasps of pain told that story.

The good news was we did level out and looked stable. The bad was really obvious. Nuclear flashes meant that somewhere The Bomb had been used. I couldn't see any mushroom clouds from my limited field of view, but it had been near enough where we felt the shockwave. That made me worry about radiation and for my babies, but survival came first.

Feng was back to being Col. Wang Special Police as he unbuckled his seat belt.

“I'll be back.” He reassured me.

Waiting for his return wasn't easy. The cabin stank of panic and fear. There were my own concerns about what I'd witnessed. Obviously the PRC's Ballistic missile shield was down. I really hoped that where ever that nuke had landed, it hadn't been a city. Unfortunately, like in the US, most military bases were near and around population centers.

Lost in my thoughts, I was startled when a stewardess tapped me on the shoulder. “Your husband needs you up front.”

Only nodding, I got up watching her eyes grow wide as she saw I was pregnant.

None of the possible reasons why I was wanted in the cockpit, were good.

Watching the softly moaning co-pilot as he was being attended to by another flight attendant, my stomach knotted. Yes, it was bad.

“Both pilots are blinded.” Feng told me in a whisper as to not worsen the the situation among the passengers. “Captain Cheung was able to engage the auto-pilot and stabilize the plane after the 'disturbance,' but he is still disabled.

“Are you really a pilot?” The aircraft's pilot asked.

He was an older man with his eyes tightly closed in distress and pain.

“Yes Captain, I am, but with limited experience. “ I qualified. “This aircraft is considerably larger than anything I've flown. I was at the Air Force Academy with ratings in single engine and light multi-engine.” Very carefully I did not say which Academy I'd attended. “Additionally, I was a student glider instructor.”

“There is no one else.” The airline pilot managed to say. “Please do not wreck my aircraft.”

Then formally, “You have the aircraft.”

Seating myself, I was very thankful I hadn't lost any height. The right-hand seat required little adjustment even if despite being pregnant, it swallowed me up.

Feng gently touched my shoulder. Looking up at him, I could see many thoughts going though his mind. However, most of all was his concern.

“You'll need to be at your best.” He said with a sigh. “Forgive me.”

Somehow I didn't hear what he said next. My mind was extraordinarily clear, as if I'd awakened from a long deep sleep. I smiled up at him knowing that he'd freed me from Dr. Wu's fiendish machine in my head. There was no telling how long this would last or if it was a good thing.

Yet I could see his uncertainty. If I felt unsure how much I felt for him was real and which was only the implants, he had the same dilemma. He seemed to truly care for me, so this couldn't be easy for him. He'd let me go. Perhaps the real question was would I come back? I can't say what I felt for him was any different, but first I had to get all of us back on the ground, safe.

Slipping on the headset, and snapping my harness securely, it was time to be a pilot again.

“This is Flight 214. We're declaring an inflight emergency. Both pilots are incapacitated due to flash blindness from unknown source. I'm a passenger with some light single and twin engine training. Please advise.”

A half hour later I had the full scope of the seriousness of our situation.

“First the good news.” I announced to my husband and the senior stewardess. “This doesn’t appear to have been nuclear at least so far, despite the flash. No EMP, and very little radiation. All the aircraft's electronics are in working order and regional communications at least are unaffected.” I couldn't help my hand touching my baby bump. They were safe from growing three eyes or extra arms or legs at least from that.

“And the bad?” He asked.

“Whatever happened hit in several locations which has all the military regions on high alert. Exactly what and how bad they were hit, the standard news blackout has blocked everything. It also means that all the PLAAF bases are dispersing their aircraft as preventive measures, which also means they're ordering every commercial aircraft to land immediately.

“Unfortunately all the available airports, including our destination, are tied up trying to obey impossible orders and don't have time to deal with those like us who just might crackup on the runway, closing it when they need it most. In short, we're getting the runaround.

“If a pilot certified on this make of aircraft was on-board it wouldn't be a problem. It's designed for short unimproved airfields. A clear enough section of road would be sufficient, but I would not want to risk it.”

I saw the question in Feng's eyes as to why. He had a very high opinion of my piloting ability, but I was aware of my limitations.

“You know how to drive a car don't you?” I asked him.

“Of course I do. You know that.” He answered, curious why I asked.

“Does that mean you also know how to drive a tractor-trailer or other heavy equipment?” My next question made my point.

He nodded in understanding. “Although the principles are similar this plane is much bigger than you're accustomed to operating?”

“Exactly,” I answered. “And each type of aircraft has different characteristics which you have to take into account. The odds are high that I can land us safely, under normal conditions at an airfield with a large forgiving runway to make my approach and landing as painless as possible since I am unfamiliar with how this model handles.”

“But things are not normal.” He finished for me. “It is very likely that flight controllers have been directed to not risk obstructing their operations.”

I nodded. Better than I, he was aware of the chaos that had to be going on at all levels of the PRC.

“And we don't know if there are more strikes incoming or if the PLA is going to retaliate with ICBMs.” I added, stating one of my worries. “We really don't want to be flying around if the missiles begin flying. That would be bad.

“There is an option, but it comes with problems,” I reported. “Blagoveshchensk is the Russian city across the Amur river from Heihe. They are accepting inflight emergencies such as ours.”

I didn't have to say anymore than that, although the stewardess looked at me and the Colonel. Yes, Feng most definitely had his official face on. China's relations with Russia had hit a low, although not as bad as some in the past. The recent actions of China's leaders were having wide repercussions and none of them were good for their neighbor to the north.

His being a Colonel could possibly result in him being held and that didn't even began to address me. Officially, I had an identity manufactured by the PRC, but any kind of modern customs check would find my implants and puppet status. The procedure was new and controversial enough that questions would be asked.

And the implant would not allow me to lie, at least under normal circumstances. It could keep me from answering, which bought up the point of Feng reactivating whatever he'd shutdown with those codes which I couldn't understand.

“We have no choice.” He sighed.

“Ignatyevo Tower this Flight 214.” I began. “Bring us in.”

An hour later I was carefully following directions. Compared to the trainers and gliders most of my limited experience had been in, this MA600 really was like a truck. However, it was also very forgiving which was a good thing. It was designed to be exactly that, a very reliable flying truck or in this case a bus.

Even still I found myself enjoying the experience of the challenge.

There was a tense moment when we announced our intention to Heihe Tower to land at Ignatyevo airport which served Blagoveshchensk. China was rather crazy about domestic flights landing in other countries, emergencies or not. Fortunately they simply acknowledged our intention. It wasn't as if anywhere in China would give us clearance to land and our fuel wouldn't last forever.

However, from just overhearing the chatter, the towers were landing everything else that wasn't hazardous as fast as they could. The sky was clearing fast.

As much as I loved being in the air again, that made me just as eager to land this bird. Some times the friendly skies, aren't. That was made very certain as we passed over the Amur river, the border into Russia.

A pair of Russian Su-35's with their rotating vector thrust nozzles making them able to fly slow enough for a lumbering crate like the MA600, took a good look at us. Supposedly they were our escorts, but it was plain Russia wasn't taking any chances of the War drifting over their borders.

Then things got busy as I juggled decent rates, and had the occasional frantic search for this control or that readout. However, the moment wheels hit the tarmac, I knew that I had stuck the landing. Reversing thrust with the prop pitch, I killed our velocity as we rolled to a stop.

Behind me, I heard the shouts of happiness from the passengers who'd perhaps hadn't enjoyed my joy-ride as much as I had. That did not keep me from letting a very long breath I hadn't known I was holding.

Welcome to Russia.

Looking up at Feng, I half-expected to hear him to say something else, I couldn't comprehend, but instead he turned inscrutable Asian on me. Releasing my harness, I appreciated his aid helping me up. I didn't understand just how tense that few hours behind the stick had been.

Raised under older more disciplined traditions, he'd always restricted his public displays of affection to holding hands or, rarely, hugs. However, this time I wasn't giving him a choice as I hugged him tight and lightly kissed his lips.

The airport's people herded us off the plane as fast as they could so the next wounded Chinese plane could seek a roost. It wasn't as lucky as ours. Overshooting the landing, the twin engine jet ended up in a ruin at the end of the runway. As the army of rescue vehicles responded, I could see that all of Alright Airlines Flight 214 knew that could've been their fate, except for one pregnant Chinese woman on a very strange journey.

Then came the officials.

Since this was to be a domestic flight, very few carried passports, myself included. All we had were our Resident Identity Cards. Customs was pretty simple. They wanted to know who we were and then, at the earliest possible opportunity, we would be bused and ferried back to Hehei. Of course with other aerial refugees still coming in that would wait till we could all be shipped back together.

There was a tense moment when Feng surrendered his service weapon, but besides keeping an eye on him everything seemed alright. You know what they say about speaking too soon.

“Mrs. Wang may we speak with you about the flight?” A burly Russian asked, making it plain this was not a request.

“Alone.” His sidekick glared at Feng, as my husband began to stand to come with me.

Grasping his hand, to my baby bump. “We will be fine.” I assure him.

There was a woman also with them, but she didn't appear any less imposing particularly to the very willowy me. Either of the three could've broken me like a slender stick without effort I might add.

“Mrs. Wang,” Surprisingly it was the woman who spoke. “We have some questions. We see you are a recipient of therapeutic implants but there are no records of this, although such things are relativity new. You also told Capt. Cheong that you were a pilot, but again there is no evidence of the claim. Can you clear up the confusion?”

“The truth might seem like the strangest fiction you're ever heard,” I began. “But for the moment I appear to have a measure of freedom.”

“My birth name was Johnny Ohana. I'm a 2nd lieutenant United States Air Force. I was captured following a bombing mission into …

For some strange reason that's completely beyond me, they believed my story. I wouldn't have and I lived it! They wouldn't let me see my Colonel after that. They feared he would re-lock my programming. There's no need to go into a lot of detail into what came next since most of it was a lot waiting.

I was treated well, and when things did change, I got a laugh out of it. The expression on the US Embassy military attache's face when I gave the correct, although outdated pass phases, was a sight to see.

Not so nice was the extremely thorough examination I received at an undisclosed US military hospital in Europe. I don't know if they thought I was carrying some kind of secret plague or what, but I had the pleasure of seeing them acknowledge that I was who I said I was. The DNA testing suggested I was my sister, if not me. Since I was the only remaining Ohana, I had to be who I said I was.

The other good news was that I hadn't lost my Hawaiian heritage. The way the doctors explained it, somehow those genes had been turned off, but they were still there. That meant that my children would inherit the family's Hawaiian heritage.

Unfortunately, I had to listen to their opinion that my babies were products of rape and they advised me to abort. Personally I think they just wanted to experiment on the fetus, given what was done to me, but I flatly told them, no.

“I'll never be trusted to fly so much as a corp-duster again, much less a fighter.” I told them. “I know I've been conditioned to think and act like this, but I'm content with my pregnancy. Further more I've been poked, podded, and experimented on enough by the Chinese and don't need you to join the club.”

Bizarrely, it worked.

Then again my CIA handlers from my Shadow Flier training days made an appearance and right after that, the doctors shut up. Really I think it was that last effort at proving exactly who I really was since they had known and worked with me. I must've been really convincing because not more than a day later I was on a plane back to the states. Personally, I think everyone knew more about this gene reformatting/turning off thing than they let on. Yours truly was only a representation of how the other side did things.

Speaking of which, China's nuclear deterrent forces had gotten pasted. The news media didn't know the details, and for once not a soul was leaking anything out of Washington DC. Part of what was known was that the rest of China's 'power-sats' had been knocked down, and the replacements for the ones my and fellow Shadow Fliers had knocked down were burning wreckage on their launch pads.

If it really was The Shadow Flyers who did the job or not, I was told it was classified. Personally, I preferred to think that it was us that broke the back of the Chinese Red Dragon. That way the sacrifices of those who winged their way across the night skies weren't for nothing. They meant something and had value

All that faded to irrelevance as my C-37A Gulfstream V plane touched down at Andrews AFB. I'd been a little surprised at the VIP treatment, but had learned, of all the Shadow Fliers, I was the solitary survivor.

That made the occasion even more poignant for me as I stepped off the plane. I had made it back.

I was home.

Two years later.

I stood waiting at John Wayne International looking for his flight. Little Feng and his twin sister Hui were napping, worn out by all the new sights and my own anxiety over all of this.

Despite everyone saying different, I was determined to see this though. My therapist said it was a bad idea. My Doctor said it was a bad idea. My Veteran Administration case worker said it was a bad idea.

Even my cousin Aolani wasn't any too sure, but I'd argued it'd been two years. If I wasn't over him yet without that computer in my head pushing, then there was more to it than just being programmed to be his wife.

A real jewel, she'd laughed and hugged me saying, “You're just a horny bitch with two kids and no time to go looking for someone to scratch your itch.”

Looking her in the eyes, I'd replied, “And who has just ended her third marriage with three brats of her own?”

We'd both dissolved into laughter and tears holding each other. She'd saved my sanity in a very real way, taking responsibility for me after I'd been released from the shrinks. The Air Force had given me a box full of medals with classified citations, a medical retirement and 100% disability.

However, I still had that computer in my head because trying to remove it would probably kill me. After the war ended, very politely a request was made for the codes to that damn implant. The Chinese as expected, ignored it and claimed I was a Chinese citizen who'd been kidnapped against her will. Going to plan B, an agency who won't be named cracked the code in a single afternoon, letting me know in no uncertain terms how vulnerable I was. Anyone with that string of numbers and letters could control me.

The sad fact was, no matter how advanced there were limits to how much you could jam into anyone's head without causing more problems than you were solving. That only left just so much room and space for security. With a little help from that same agency we came up with a layered plan to keep my head free of unwanted guests. Excuse me, but I'm not going into details for real good reasons. However, so far it'd worked, even though I'll have to live with the threat of someone taking me over, for the rest of my life.

As depressing as that might be, I had my twins and Aolani's brood too, family, to hold onto. I was taking classes to complete the degree I'd begun at the Air Force Academy, going into education and science. Perhaps I would never fly the cutting edge stuff again, but just maybe being able to inspire the next generation to strap on a plane or rocket and aim for infinity would be enough.

Goodness knows the good old USA needed some goals. The War had served up a big unpleasant piece of Humble Pie to America. Sure we had triumphed, but we would be paying the bill for a long time. The ships, submarines, and aircraft lost were only the material things lost. The skilled soldiers, pilots, and sailors were even more valuable and couldn't be replaced anywhere near as easily. Additionally, the War had reached American soil and Hawaii's wound would be a long time healing.

In a lot of ways we were like Great Britain right after WWII. We were still a world power, but we weren't THE world power anymore. Twilight's last gleaming had come to our shores.

The League of Nations that'd been birthed by WWI had failed to prevent WWII. The United Nations was a step in the right direction, but it too had failed to prevent WWIII. Would the United Nations new mandate be any more effective at preventing the next war? We could only hope and pray, but most of all stay vigilant and take nothing for granted.

One eye watched the arrivals monitor while another looked at the aircraft landing, taxiing, and being guided to the passenger terminal. Perhaps, I would never fly as high as I once had, but still I'd manged to soar. The glider club I belonged too was a gawd send although it was a real trick to keep up the dues on my limited income. That's not adding in finding the time with tending to the twins, going to school, and attending to my on-going medical care.

Still I managed.

Checking my appearance in the window's reflection, I smiled as I saw his flight make its way to the terminal.

My cousin gently elbowed me as she rolled her eyes.

Grasping the twins' two-seater stroller, we headed to the arrivals gate. My cousins' own stroller with her youngest, Susan, had her other two older children holding on to it as we walked though the busy airport.

While Aolani might not have objected to this reunion, she said, in no uncertain words, she didn't trust him. Besides, she and her brood made chaperones par excellent. At least she was more accepting of my decision than my other minders. They saw him as my jailer and abuser.

The only reason they didn't actively try and stop this meeting is because the same computer that caused me so much turmoil also recorded he'd never mistreated me nor even gotten very kinky despite having every opportunity. The whole libido thing really was apparently natural to me now although I had learned to use that same computer to moderate it down to more normal levels. Which didn't do anything about making my cousin tease me any less over my purchase of batteries for my … toys.

By this time little Feng and Hui had caught on something was going on and had wakened. Yeah I know traditional Chinese naming conventions didn't do the junior thing, but little Feng and Hui were named in honor of my maternal grandparents. The traditional Chinese could go and, okay I won't go there, but I did think it.

My heart skipped a beat as he came into sight. A warm feeling filled me as I saw his eyes searching the crowd just as intently as mine when I was looking for him.

Without conscious thought I found myself in his arms for the first time in two years. For once he put aside his Chinese reserve and hugged me just as passionately. Then looking into each others eyes, we both blushed red.

Burying my face against his shoulder, I whispered, “I've missed you. Why did you ever let me go?”

“Because, I knew they would hold you in Russia, and no one was firing nuclear weapons at them. There, you and the children would be safe.” He replied with his face nuzzling my hair.

“And because it was the right thing to do.” Feng said softly. “I had no idea if you truly cared for me or if it was imposed. Perhaps I did spend too much time in the West, because I want something else besides duty and obeying traditional obligations even if you do look like the woman out of my dreams.”

“You mean a pale anorexic who is all legs and boobs?” I teased. Eventually I had come to terms with my appearance. My cousin had helped in a weird way since she'd become jealous after I'd slimmed back down to rail thin after my pregnancy. Well, almost because after breast feeding the twins, I was even more buxom.

“Yes,” was his simple reply. His arms around me were more than enough additional explanation.

I looked up into his eyes. “We both know I was programmed to desire you and feel certain ways when with you. However, you never gave me any reason not to care or dislike you even after that was 'turned off.' In fact, I'm amazed you didn't try to punish or hurt the 'pilot' who bombed your country.”

“Who would never have been there if the leaders I'd followed had been as wise or as competent as they claimed.” He countered. “That same person had the audacity to very nearly escape while I ran hither and yon chasing them, not realizing you had walked right by me. I admired your courage, skill and once I began to know you, your compassion and heart.”

“So shall we try again, from the beginning?” I asked, smiling.

“From the beginning.” He nodded, taking my hand. “Hello, I'm Wang Feng, formerly a detective from China.”

“Hello yourself,” I blushed. “I'm Mei Ohana, now living in Temecula, California.” My Chinese marriage wasn't recognized by the world at large and so I used my maiden name, not that I'd ever been a maiden.

“Just to show you we have everything upside down and backwards.” I giggled. “Let me introduce you to our children.”

Arm in arm I led him to where my family and the future waited.