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

Most of the jargon found in the Whateley Universe is fairly self explanatory, when common acronyms are used for the first time, I have included the expanded version as an explanation. If you would like a deeper explanation of the terms or background information on the 'cannon' characters, see:

http://crystalhall.wikia.com/wiki/Table_of_Contents

February 2007 First Signs

The first hints of disaster were around the time of my thirteenth birthday. I was in my 1st year of secondary school, (what Americans call junior high,) and my crazy uncle Dave had come for one of his rare visits. The rest of my family were less than enthusiastic about him, but I liked the guy. He was a geeky dropout, with amazing travel stories that were so implausible, they just had to be true. Anyway, he had shown me a stupid, highly addictive game called 'minesweeper' and I seemed to have the knack, I could almost see the patterns.

A few days later, when I was getting my daily minesweeper fix, my uncle came into my room for a chat. As he watched me play, I became increasingly nervous. Not just because of his studied silence, but because of a strong feeling that my life was heading for the rocks. Finally, as I turned to face him, he said to me: “That's impossible!”

“Huh!”

“Look.” he replied: “Some patterns can't be solved by 'logic' they can only be solved by using a statistical method called 'constraint satisfaction'....”

“Huh!”

Sighing, he painfully showed me how some/many patterns were, in practical terms, unsolvable except by guessing before going into a dissertation about some obscure mathematical theorem called N-P complete and its implications for solving 'minesweeper type' problems. Okay, so far this was fairly typical for my uncle. He then stunned me by saying that a rough calculation he had done in his head showed the frequency of my correct guesses to be so far outside the bounds of chance, they were practically in outer space. Pausing to think for a moment, he told me: “Come on, lets go and get a burger.”

Half an hour later, we were in the local 'Burger King' with a play slip for the EuroMillion lottery draw. The current roll-over jackpot was an estimated £169 million. When he asked me to choose the numbers I felt had the best chance of winning, the creep factor was: 'Yeugh!'

On the other hand, I had a strong feeling that this was going to become very important down the road. So, after a bit of teenage whining I did as he asked. It was then he dropped his bombshell: “Listen kiddo, I think you might be what is called a 'pre-cog', a pretty powerful one. If I am right and people find out, your life won't be worth diddlely squat. You have to keep quite about this. Okay?”

When I gave a wide eyed nod in reply, he continued: “If the numbers come up, the money will be there for you when you need it, and you will need it. A pre-cog is a type of mutant; and, regardless of what those stupid television adverts say, the Mutant Commiission Office are not your friend. You got it?”

With my eyes becoming ever wider I nodded once again, as he continued: “We will drive around a bit and let you calm down, and once I get you home, I am going to disappear on one of my trips. Irrespective of whether the numbers come up, I am going to make some enquiries, and will ask some friends to keep an eye on you. If things go pear shaped, keep in mind I will be looking for you. Okay?”

Sitting in the car, my mind was spinning. This was a potential disaster of epic proportions, there was the official line about the MCO pushed by the tabloids, but most of my friends were frightened of them. Contrary to what adults think, kids are not stupid, and the rumour mill was rife with stories of brother, sisters or cousin manifesting as mutants and disappearing into dark labs. Sure, a lot of parents, and by extension there children were pro 'Humanity First', but amongst my friend there was always the undertone of 'what if one of us manifests and disappears?'

For me this prospect was particularly serious, while not an active member of H1, my father was a drunken thug whose opinions on mutants made it likely I wouldn't live long enough to disappear into an MCO dark lab. His opinion of my crazy uncle, (my mother's brother,) does not bear repeating, and my mother herself lived in such a state of fear from my fathers rages that I had learned never to expect any help from her.

Before dropping me off at the house, my uncle once again warned me to keep quite about his suspicions. Needless to say, I assured him I had absolutely no intentions of telling anyone, let alone my father. He then reassured me that everything would be okay, but if the numbers did come up, and it came out that his nephew was a pre-cog, we would be in deep shit. As he saw it, it would likely take a month or two for him to cover his tracks and get me away from 'that bloody lunatic'.

Three days later, I went on the internet to check the numbers for the EuroMillion's draw and realised my life was crash diving into the ocean. There was a single winner of £172 million pounds who was choosing to remain anonymous. Even though we lived in Edinburgh and the winning ticket had been bought in Southampton, I was fairly sure it was my uncle. Surprisingly, I was reassured by this thought. If it had been my father, I know for a fact I would never have heard from him again, he would just have taken the money and ran. But my uncle? There was something about him that cried out: 'I am rogue, but I am good.'

July 2007 The Web of Fate

Over the next few months, at least outwardly, things started to shape up. I was in the middle of a fairly abrupt growth spurt and had filled out quite a bit, my eyes took on deeper shade of blue, my hair became even more blond, and for a thirteen year old, I had quite a rugged, robust physique. It was nothing particularly exceptional, if it hadn't been for the conversation with my uncle I would have put it down to good genes. Luckily, this was the explanation my father latched onto, he was ecstatic, and actually started to treat me like a human being. Because of my pre-cog abilities, I was excelling at team sports. Okay, my reflexes, strength and coordination were much improved, but I was also better able to anticipate the opposing teams tactics and position myself to exploit their mistakes. The girls in my school started to notice, and were hanging around a lot. Which, of course, made my father even happier. This meant frequent affectionate thumps on the back as he bragged to his friends about me being a chip off the old block.

Inwardly, my life was in turmoil.

In my dreams and quite moments I was being visited by what I can only describe as spirits who were offering to join with me in some kind of psychic meld. They described me as being an avatar, which after some research, I understood to be a mutant who could join with a guardian spirit, and take on certain aspects of the spirit's nature. Depending on which particular web-site I referenced, this did not seem too serious. You know, compared to having extreme Gross-Structural-Dystrophy, getting the strength and ferocity of a bear or the cunning of a fox didn't seem such a bad deal. On the other hand, some web-sites suggested that 'aspects of the spirit' was more than metaphorical; and, for me at least, the idea of literally turning into a bear was less than appealing. Even worse, I had a very strong foreboding that certain disaster would follow if I accepted any of these offers. I mean real, catastrophic disaster, not just for me, but for everyone: My family, the world, possibly even the very universe itself.

You can imagine how I felt, I was thirteen years old, and really did not understand what was happening to me. To cap it all off, I had no one I could safely talk with, and was beginning to think it was all a sign of incipient insanity. Anxious to know when my uncle would return, I decided to try to use my pre-cog abilities. Okay, it was a stupid thing to attempt; I had no idea what I was doing, and could not even begin to imagine the possible dangers.

After reading a few misinformed articles and a number of works of fiction that were based on pure fantasy, I settled down cross legged on my bed, and entered what I naively thought of as a meditative trance. Imagining a path before me, I stepped onto it and promptly got lost. I was stuck in a kaleidoscopic web of possible futures, each future worse than the last. How bad was it? Worse than your worst nightmare: We are talking of successive visions of a literal 'hell on earth' with no way to stop them. Demon spawn herding people like cattle, dark mages and demonic cults engaging in unspeakable rites; and, ruling over all: Demonic Gods spreading their corruption throughout the universe to races and planets that had never even heard of 'Planet Earth'.

Trying to escape back to the real world, I leapt blindly from strand to strand, each worse than the last. Someone who is not a powerful pre-cog cannot understand the nature of eternity and how long I was trapped in this 'web of fate'. What saved me was an old woman calling to me. Leaping from one possible future to another, I was able to narrow down her location.

She called herself Mrs, Potter and explained to me our conversation was an echo of a conversation we 'might' have at some future date. I have got to admit, because of what I had seen, I was not really listening. I was nearly hysterical, crying and demanding to know if it was real and would happen the way I had foreseen. Calming me, she assured me there was a way to escape. As she put it, a nexus was forming and I would have a choice. Making the correct choice would involve me sacrificing many hopes and ambitions; but eventually, I would gain a great deal from this sacrifice. Not just for myself, but possibly enough to tip the balance of fate away from the visions of the 'hell to come' I had foreseen. When I asked her to show me, she told me I would have to wait until I arrived at 'Whateley' before she could even begin to teach me about my gift.

Seeming to sense my confusion, she explained that I would have to trust my instincts and wait for the right moment, but my innate abilities would guide me through what was to come. Promising that we would meet in the real world soon, she showed me a simple exercise to help me focus and regain my body.

I woke up into a nightmare!

July 2007 The Nightmare begins

Okay, I will probably repeat this many times, but being a powerful pre-cog really sucks. While I was as yet untrained and without focus, as a result of my wandering lost in the 'web', I had a rough idea of what my fate would be over the next few months. The details lacked definition, but the general direction and ultimate destination were unavoidable. I was aware from 'possible' future conversations that my parents had found me unconscious in my room and called for an ambulance. The hospital had quickly diagnosed that I was experiencing a mild 'burnout' due to my manifesting as a mutant. I had now been unconscious for over a week and was currently chained to a hospital bed with two power armoured MCO agents standing guard.

When I opened my eyes, a Doctor quickly bustled over, and after a cursory examination, exclaimed: “It is fit to travel, you can get this piece of filth out of here.” More for the sake of playing out the role assigned to me than any hope of salvation, I did what any self respecting thirteen year old would do and screamed: “I want my mum!”

Telling me to “shut the fuck up,” one of the power armour goons stepped menacingly towards me and, with the help of the Doctor, fastened a choke collar around my neck. As he did this, he cheerfully explained that, with the aid of the servos on the power armour, he was quite capable of pulling the leash tight enough to squeeze my head off. Worse, I knew that he had taken sadistic pleasure in actually doing this to a couple of mutant kids, and would do so again in the future. While this was going on, the other goon had been speaking into a communicator. After he had finished, he reported: “They will be here in about half an hour, they have to stop en-route to pick up the 'filths' parents.” Turning to me, he spat: “How could you do this to them 'gene filth', they are decent people.”

I repeat, being a powerful pre-cog really sucks. Calling someone like my father a decent person was a real stretch, I was well aware of how he would react to having a mutant son. What I had not been aware of was how my mother would react. Resigned to playing out the nightmare, I closed my eyes, settled back on the bed, and sent out a mental command: <Come to me!>

'Princess Selene, Beloved Daughter of the Court of the Moon' had been the scion of a minor ally to the 'Five fold Court'. She had a beauty that was magically crafted to be a weapon in the long war leading upto the 'Sundering'. Trained in the arts of espionage, assassination, infiltration and insurgency, hers was a beauty designed to give her power over all but the most resolute males. As I reached for her, she held back saying: <No! It is too early. You are in great danger, and have to be cunning like a fox. If I join with you now, you will gain my powers and this will make it harder for you to hide what you can do.> When she sensed me give a mental shrug of agreement, she continued: <You realise joining with me will change you?> With my further agreement, she finished by saying: <You are very brave, now don't worry I will be with you always, and will not let harm fall upon you.>

With that she was gone.

Shortly after, my mother stormed into the hospital room. It should have been a moment of relief, but I didn't even need to open my eyes to see the look of hatred on her face as she said: “You disgusting piece of gene filth, we are decent people. How dare you embarrass us like this, we wanted to make absolutely sure you understood. You are dead. The good doctor here is a decent man, and was kind enough to give us a death certificate. We had your funeral two day's ago, if they ever let you out, do not embarrass us further. Stay away from us!”

July 2007 Rescue?

I didn't even get a chance to put on proper clothes, wearing a flimsy paper hospital gown, and bracketed by the two MCO agents, I was quickly bustled out into a waiting armoured security van. Once I was strapped into the restraint chair, the goons ignored me and I was free to review what was about to happen, and my plans for escape.

For most pre-cogs, the ability is limited to a strong hunch or even a flash-vision they can use as a guide in their day to day lives. Exceptionally powerful pre-cogs can go beyond this and step into the 'web of fate' to study possible futures in detail. This is what I had inadvertently done; and, as I had discovered, without proper training it is incredibly dangerous. Until I got to Whateley and began my training, I had no intention of returning to the web. For now, I would have to rely on the insights I had gained during my first disastrous visit. Though I did have one advantage: In common with many other mutant abilities, a pre-cog manifests slowly over months or years. Either because of the burnout or because I had stepped into the web, the more base form of my ability was now fully developed, and for the next few months I was going to have to exercise it with the dexterity of a juggler.

How to explain this to a mundane: Imagine there is a very complicated maze, and for a few seconds you are given the briefest glimpse of a map. To escape from the maze, you must navigate through a succession of deadly traps to a specific point, arriving at a specified time. Failure to navigate the traps or arrive at the specified time would result not only in my death, but almost ensure the inevitability of the hell which I had foreseen.

Like I say, I was only thirteen years old. The MCO goons mistook the tears running down my face as a response to my situation as a prisoner of the MCO, and tried to rub my nose in how truly screwed I was. Torturing me with details of the medical experiments performed by Dr Emil Hammond, they could not even begin to imagine the real fears I was being overwhelmed with.

Ironically, what really saved my sanity was the fact that my vision was incomplete. Given my situation, this might seem a real cause for concern, but can you imagine having to live your life knowing in advance every single second of your fate. At the risk of repeating myself, being a pre-cog really, really sucks.

After a few hours, we pulled into an abandoned RAF airfield where an unmarked drop ship awaited us. The MCO goons believed I was being transferred to Dr Hammond's lab, in reality I knew that I was being 'rescued' by a super villain named Baron Blitzen, an old time Nazi intent on building a mutant army to further his political goals. This was my first real test.

After I had been fastened into another restraint chair in the cargo hold of the drop ship, the MCO goons disembarked. When we were in the air, a young woman in military fatigues entered the hold. Releasing me from the chair and escorting me to a comfortable passenger area, she assured me I was being rescued and that everything would be okay. She was a telepath and was scanning me.

Okay, I now had future knowledge of my powers as they would be without my joining with Princess Selene. I would eventually use this loophole to disguise the real nature of my powers, and my MID would be as follows:

• Avatar 5: Meaning my mind would not be 'shredded' when I eventually joined with Princess Selene.
• Exemplar 2: Basically, without my Avatar trait, I would have been cursed with being in the upper reaches of the bell curve with regard to looks, intellect and physical fitness.
• Manifestor 1: I had the ability to manifest small hand weapons, like knives or darts that could survive for about five seconds after I lost contact. While very useful, what would ultimately prove even more important was I also had the ability to manifest clothing.
• Power Mimic 1: I needed to be within a few metres of a mutant, the copy was weak, and after moving away, I could only hold the copy for a few minutes. This would greatly complicate learning the effective use of any copied power.
• PDK 3: Technically this was the source of my pre-cognition. My telepathic and telekinetic abilities were weak, on the border between 1 and 2, but the esper talent, at a high 6, was literally off the charts. Since it meant I would later to be able to be completely honest about my PDK powers, yet convey no useful information to the MCO, this was quite a convenient rating.
• Wizard 2/3: I had a magical gift, but it would take a lot of study to bring it out.
• Regen 2: Near-miraculous healing, without quite edging into unbelievable.

As you can see, I did have a basic telepathic ability, but it was weak, untrained and untested. Furthermore, knowledge and skills that would 'possibly' be gained in the future, were of limited practical use. Think of it as 'muscle memory', a person with an eidetic memory may read an entire library of martial arts books, but without intensive training it is nearly impossible to put this knowledge to practical use. In other words, I could not possibly hope to block the telepathic scan and any overt attempt to do so would alert her to the fact I was trying to hide something.

What I decided to do was to concentrate on the genuine relief I felt at being away from the MCO and my desire to cooperate with her plans. Hoping that in this way I could disguise the real nature of my powers, and the fact that my desire to cooperate was part of a long term plan to escape.

It was exhausting, and I couldn't afford to relax even for an instant. My strategy was simple, I buried her in teenage enthusiasm: “Am I really going to be a soldier?”, “Will I get a uniform?”, “What are my powers?”, “Will I be able to fly and shoot fireballs from my hands?”, “Can I get a gun?”, “Can I drive a tank?”....

By the time we landed outside a castle in one of the old soviet satellite states, she was clutching a bottle of aspirin in her hands and anxious to foist me off on the first person she met.

July 2007 Welcome to the Castle

I hadn't eaten since I woke up, actually the only food I had had in over a week had been through a feeding tube. In other words, I was starving. My stomach felt as if it held rats trying to gnaw their way out. When the athletic, blond haired, blue eyed young man who was escorting me joked about exemplar genes and led me into a dining hall, I nearly wept with gratitude. The dining hall was in a military encampment around the base of the castle, it had barracks for maybe a thousand troops, with the landing zone off to one side.

It was self service and I helped myself to a large portion of burgers and fries, along with bacon and egg, side portions of beans, mushrooms and a few sausages, then I went back for seconds, followed by thirds. The fact that I was still dressed in the flimsy hospital gown, now starting to disintegrate, was secondary to filling that hole in my stomach. As I ate, the young man laughingly explained that I and the other 'children' were barracked up in the castle, but he had seen how exemplars eat and figured that as newly 'rescued', I was probably starving. He was not wrong.

It was all part of the indoctrination: The near miraculous rescue from a fate worse than death, followed by a friendly, supportive environment would all but ensure most recruits would start to identify with the goals of the 'rescuers'. After satisfying my hunger, he escorted me to the quartermasters store to get something decent to wear. All the time, he was bantering me in the same way an older brother would rib his younger sibling about some recent misadventure.

The Baron's order of battle was somewhere in the region of four regiments of career military baseline troops, supplemented by a company of about 120 super powered specialists. Among other things, he funded his operations by hiring out his troops as mercenaries to other super villains and some of the less pleasant dictators currently trying to carve out empires around the world. This meant there were only about 500 troops, trainees and support staff, along with roughly 20 mutants currently in residence. Because of their elite status, the mutants were billeted inside the castle. The young man accompanying me was a baseline, and came across as being envious of my having powers. In fact, I got a 'flash vision' he was going to volunteer to become a 'dyna-host' in some bizarre experiment. It would work, but leave him as an amphibious human frog. I couldn't warn him of course, that would have blown my one chance at escape. Don't worry, I will not repeat how I feel about being a pre-cog.

Arriving at the 'children’s' barracks inside the castle, we were met by the four teenagers currently in residence. The quarters were quite plush, we each had our own small room, there was a shared common room with a television and a few computer games, along with a well equipped kitchenette and a good stock of snack food. We had a batman, or military servant, to keep the place clean, and the option of either having our meals delivered to the common room or dining in the main banquet hall of the castle.

After my escort left, we got down to the unofficial welcome. Anna, was a 14 year old devisor; Jasmine, a 16 year old manifestor; Rene, a 16 year old energiser, and Hans, who was a 15 year old PK brick. We were a mix of nationalities, though we all spoke basic English which was the working language of the Barons organisation. The stories told by the other recruits were all pretty much the same, capture by the MCO, followed by being rescued by the Barons forces. The other thing we had in common was that we were all essentially Aryan exemplars: Blonde haired, with blue eyes and a superman physique. On the face of it, everyone was friendly and spoke well of the Baron and how we were treated, but there was a tightness to the eyes that, even if I was unaware of the true situation, would have given the lie to what was being said. This was particularly true of the girls.

I could not afford to become involved, after I escaped I would try to arrange a rescue, but for the moment it was imperative that I kept my distance. The others seemed to be grateful for this, the training was brutal and did not encourage friendships. They were under orders to 'be nice' to me as part of my indoctrination, but they knew that within a few day's, the gloves would come off and we would be competitors in a training regime where only the fittest survived.

For the evening meal, our batman set up a large table in the common room and we had a formal dinner of welcome just for us. A dress uniform had been delivered to my room along with various fatigues and two BDU's. Dressed in our uniforms, we took our places around the table and saluted the portrait of the Baron before sitting. The food was great and there was plenty for everybody, but each course was preceded by a toast, (fruit juice,) to the Barons health and the resurrection of the Aryan Ascendency. By the end of the evening, I think everyone was glad the charade was over.

July/August 2007 Power Testing and training

Breakfast the next morning was served in the main banquet hall of the castle. Taking our seats at the bottom end of the hall, I looked around to take in the scene. Residence in the castle was reserved for the command staff and favoured troops such as us mutants. The décor was of a mediaeval Germanic tone with swords, battle flags and hunting trophies decorating the walls. At the upper end of the hall, was a raised dais where the Baron would normally sit when he was in residence, (currently he was on a state visit to Karedonia.) With the mess stewards bustling about serving breakfast, running relay teams for the tables seating exemplars, there was a sense of ordered chaos.

Playing the game, I asked questions about what I was seeing, even though I was already vaguely aware of most of the answers. What really stood out in this militaristic setting were the scantily dressed young women, many of them visibly pregnant. Asking my companions, I was told that this was the corps of Breeders, they were either mutant exemplars, or baseline women with the 'meta-gene' complex. As part of the Barons long term plans, he had instigated an active breeding program to increase the pool of mutants descended from good Aryan gene stock. The resulting offspring being raised in an ideologically pure environment.

The two girls, Jasmine and Anna, weren't particularly happy about the direction of the conversation. Hans, on the other hand found it hilarious telling me that if a girl washed out of basic training, she would be transferred to the breeding program. Teasing Anna about how he was going to put a baby in her belly, he made it plain that, as far as he was concerned, it was all women were fit for.

Although he smiled, Rene's expression was more one of sympathy and fear, as was Jasmine's. Anna was close to tears, and in an effort to change the subject, I asked what happened to the boy's who washed out. Hans, the archetype bully, just laughed telling me: “You will be transferred to a front-line battalion of baselines, where you will be unlikely to survive.”

With that cheery thought, our table fell into an uncomfortable silence.

A short while later, warrant officer 1st class Bob Wilkins, (no relation to Gizmatic,) arrived to escort me to power testing. Due to the vagaries of the military command structure, as a mutant, I was technically a subaltern, the most junior commissioned officer. Since RSM Wilkins was a non commissioned officer, I outranked him. However, unless the chain of command was totally destroyed and I was the only surviving commissioned officer, he was so far above me that I was surprised he didn't get nose bleeds. This would later lead to some very interesting exchanges during my training. I am sure you have seen films where the hard bitten drill instructor dresses down the recruit. Well imagine the same scene where each derogatory comment was prefaced with a respectful 'Sir'. For example RSM Wilkins screaming: “Sir, I'm sure I knew your mother when she was a working girl outside Leith docks.” …. “Well Sir, did I know your mother when she was a working girl?”... “Sir, your mother was a great lay and successful whore. You, unfortunately, are total wuss.”

Thus, my induction to the Barons forces began with a respectful: “Sir, would you please accompany me to power testing.”

The power testing lab was pretty basic, and the testing consisted of standardised routines carried out by unqualified technicians. The upshot was that they missed completely I was an avatar, and I was able to fudge the pre-cog test enough to be rated as a PDK 2. Funnily enough, the main reason I was able to do this was because of prior conversations with my crazy uncle. In the normal school curriculum, I wouldn't start studying statistics for another four years, yet I had picked up enough from talking to my uncle to know that performing exceptionally badly would be as statistically significant as performing exceptionally well. Using a combination of my very limited knowledge of statistics in conjunction with my esper trait, I did just well enough as to mark me as a low level pre-cog.

What this meant was, as mutants go, overall I was rated at a fairly low level. My strongest apparent power was Wizard 2/3, and I was destined to be trained as a Combat Mage. This suited me right down to the ground, apart from some vague future knowledge, I knew nothing about magic and badly needed the training I would receive. It also had the advantage of keeping me away from telepaths.

The way I had been rejected by my mother had come as a total surprise. In my darkest nightmares, I had always known that if I manifested, my father would probably try to kill me, but had never realised my mother felt the same way. With everything that had happened the previous day, I had had no time to process, (never mind come to terms with,) her rejection. Complicating things even more was the vision I had had of 'the hell to come', and the fact that I was engaged in a struggle to escape from the Barons clutches before he had me killed. There is no way anyone can easily cope with crap like that, especially not a thirteen year old kid. Basically, I was in denial; the person that all of this happened to was someone else, and I used the rigorous training regime as a kind of soporific to shut out the pain.

The bulk of the traditional classroom work was maths based military problems, and we were really being hot-housed. Because of my exemplar trait I was able to breeze through elementary algebra and trigonometry with the result that, by the time of my escape, I had started work on introductory ballistics, logistics and calculus. The Combat Mage training was more problematic. As a border line Wizard 3, I had an innate ability to use certain magics; hence, I didn't need to spend a lot of time gathering essence. What I did need to spend time doing was meditative exercises to help me focus.

The Barons teaching methods were results focused, and this was particularly true of magic. Basically, there are various 'paradigma' that you might think of as methods for the visualisation of a magical process. Exactly how the paradigma related to each other was a matter of some debate. Whether it was just different ways of perceiving the same thing, or some innate difference in the magical process was unknown. Before I could begin the real study of magic, I needed to find a paradigma that worked for me. As a Wizard 3, I should find intuitive magics fairly easy, and was guided to Natural/Chaos magic, technically a class of magic that did not fall into any clearly defined paradigma.

My instructors suggested a variety of ways that others had successfully used to visualize magical energies, and after some experimentation and a lot of meditation, I could almost, but not quite see, threads of force permeating my surroundings. With a lot of concentration, I found I could weave the threads into spells. My first successful attempt was technically a failure, I lost control of the weave and unleashed a cloud of uncontrolled magical force commonly referred to as hobgoblins, basically short lived, magical sprites.

Once I had a working paradigma, I started learning the basics of spellcraft and how to adapt spells used by other mages to my way of visualising the magical process. Over the course of my captivity, I managed to master three very basic spells: A shield against small arms fire, a cloaking spell to hide a squad from baseline troops and finally, a low-level spell that allowed me to enchant pebbles and rocks so that when I invoked the enchantment they became fireballs.

In reality, I was playing a very dangerous game. The class room work was not really a problem; but on the practical side of things my escape plan involved my developing a reputation as a total fuck-up, while not performing so badly that I got transferred to a front-line battalion.

For example, as an Exemplar 2 physical exercise was not a problem for me and navigating the assault course would normally be a snap. That is, unless you have a ten person pile up because I just happened to be in the wrong place at the worst possible time. The shooting range was another example: With my strong esper trait, I could hit even the fastest moving targets dead centre. To hide this ability, yet still gain the practice I needed, I would secretly aim for toes, ears or other non lethal parts of the target's anatomy. To cement my reputation as a 'total fuck-up', from time to time I would take out control wires and other vital mechanisms of the combat range.

What really drove RSM Wilkins to near apoplexy however, was the way I would 'accidentally' infest the combat range with hobgoblins when a spell got away from me. They were harmless and even the baseline recruits had a lot of fun hunting them down, but the RSM felt that all the laughing and giggling was just plain unmilitary.

The worst moment of the training was when Anna washed out and was transferred to the corps of Breeders. It happened about three weeks after I arrived. She was pretty upset and, as she left our quarters, most of us offered her supportive comments. Hans of course, was a total jerk who, with a big smirk, made suggestive movements with his hips while telling her to keep her belly warm for his baby. I really felt for her, but her only real chance was for me to escape and get help, both for her and all the other women and children. This meant keeping my peace and playing the game I had mapped out. Finally, at the end of August, everything was in place and I was ready.

September 2007 Escape

My chance came when, in fit of fury at my latest 'fuck-up', RSM Wilkins set up a wrestling match between me and Hans. I couldn't imagine a more unequal match up, but when I was body slammed for the fourth or fifth time, I was ready. Lying bruised and dazed on ground, I sent out the mental command <Now!>

With Princess Selene's spirit filling me, it felt as if I was wrapped in a cocoon of light. The joining was a very personal and intimate experience; wrapped in her warm embrace, I heard her tell me: <Quickly, you must choose your new human form.>

Having a fair idea of what that form would be, I knew what she had in mind; still, I couldn't resist teasing her. The first few images I thought of produced wry chuckles and comments about the hormones of teenage boys. Asking me if I really wanted to look like a freak show porn star, she quietly guided me to a more dignified form suitable for a 'Princess of the Court of the Moon'. Then I lay in her comfortable embrace for a long while, as she gave me my first instruction in the use of her powers.

When I awoke, I was in the infirmary. As far as the Doctor's and nurses were concerned, I had had a second major burnout with extreme changes to my BIT, (or 'Body Image Template.) The changes had taken about a week, and my human aspect was now the teenage version of the woman I would develop into. While my apparent anatomical age still within the upper range of a thirteen year old girl, I was well developed and gorgeous. Blonde haired, blue eyed, and in the first flush of womanhood, with suitable clothing and make-up, I could easily pass as three, maybe four years older. Even without invoking my aspect as a succubus, I had a beauty with which I could wrap men around my finger.

The Doctors and nurses were soon clustered supportively around me, reassuring me that I would quickly adjust and that I had nothing to worry about. I of course knew better. Once word spread that I was awake and fit to leave the hospital, RSM Wilkins arrived. Hearing him outside, with Selene's help, I made sure I was not projecting my lust aura. The one thing I definitely did not want was him taking me as his personal concubine. Even so, his eyes still popped when he saw me, and he had to visibly adjust the bulge in his pants. Luckily, Wilkins was too much of a career soldier, to fall for a pretty girl, (unless of course I used my succubus powers.) Instead, he laughed nastily saying: “Oh well, I see the 'fuck-up' is finally going to get 'fucked'. You are transferred to the corps of Breeders.”

As he turned to leave, Anna entered my room. Pale and wan, she had a dark haunted look about her eyes, and I had a flash-vision that, though she didn't know it, she was already pregnant. Trying to put the best face on our situation, she helped me dress in a flimsy silk negligee and apply make-up and lipstick. She had brought a pair of 3” heels with her and was surprised when I had no difficulty in walking as we headed to the women’s quarters.

Although my escape plan was in its end game, I still had to play out the role of a boy unwillingly turned into a girl. Not as difficult as you might think, I had only chosen this course since it was both my one chance at escape, and my one chance to help avert my vision of the 'hell to come'. What I mean is, that though I was physically all girl and contained the spirit of a 'true succubus', my thought patterns had not yet had the chance to adjust. Mentally, I was still a 100% heterosexual boy.

In the women's quarters, things went quickly: Giving me advice on how to deal with men, and trying to reassure me that I would love 'making love', they soon had me playing with their babies as they explained how wonderful it was to bring new life into the world. This may have been true, but even if I had been born female, at thirteen I would have been nowhere near emotionally ready for the experience. As a former boy who had only woken up as a girl a few hours ago, by the time we were ready for dinner, I was practically climbing the wall.

My initial target was Starlance, a telepath who was part of a six man infiltration and scout team, the other members were: Starfury, a combat mage; Starstrike a PK brick; Starfire: a pyrokinetic; Starport, a teleporter, and Startech a combat devisor. Together their squad was called Blackstar. I wanted the whole team; and, because of the telepath and mage, I needed to disguise what I was doing. So, before entering the dining hall, Selene helped me camouflage my magical aura and build a subtle telepathic shield. Eventually, I would not need Selene's help to do this, but for the moment my powers as a succubus were too new and untrained.

Apart from the powers of Starlance and his team, the reason I had chosen him as my first target was because he was a known paedophile whose his kink was to invade the minds of his teen victims and savour the revulsion, the fear and that tiny bit of natural curiosity and arousal that any hormone driven teenager would feel. He would then manipulate their conflicting emotions to convince them they were the worst sluts imaginable; sluts who deserved to be used and abused by any man who asked. In other words, he was a thoroughly nasty piece of work, and the rest of his team were worse.

Taking our places, I cast around for Starlance, and giving him a quick glance, I ducked down to hide amidst the other women. It worked, he noticed me and, as I felt the tendrils of his telepathic probe, I fed into the shield all my fear and revulsion, along with a small portion of the hunger and curiosity from my immature succubus aspect. It wasn't arousal, but it was close enough. Now that the trap was baited, it was just a case of waiting for the prey to bite.

Throughout the meal, I could feel his telepathic probes trying to stimulate my curiosity and libido. Every so often, I would take a quick nervous glance around the men, making certain to rest my gaze slightly longer on Starlance than the others. As I focused on him, I would blush and feed into my shield just a bit more of the hunger I felt than I did when looking at the other men. Sure enough, as the women prepared to leave, he rose and approached the house mother. Blushing strongly, I threw a quick glance in their direction before ducking my head back down. The house mother was less than pleased, she obviously felt I was too young and too new at being a girl, but when she noticed me cast another quick glance in their direction, along with an even deeper blush, she seemed to relent. As he returned to his table, Starlance was strutting like he was cock-of-the-walk.

To cut a long story short, after we returned to the women’s quarters the house mother informed us that I was to be prepared for a 'breeding' by Starlance. I think all the women were horrified by this turn of events, but since there was little they could do about it, they put on the best face possible. Reassuring me that Starlance was a considerate lover and I was lucky to have him as my 'first', they quickly dragged me into the shower area, shaved my legs, under my arms, and trimmed my bush. Not that I needed any of this of course, it was just pro-forma routine. After a quick squirt of deodorant, I was seated in front of a dresser.

Around the top of my head, they fastened a delicate gold chainmail bindi with a sparkling deep blue sapphire that dangled just above my eyebrows. My long blonde hair was piled up around the bindi and pinned into a fashionable bun with my face being bracketed by ringlets. Piercing my ears, I was given a pair gold studs each dangling sapphires on a chain. This was quickly followed by the indignity of a belly piercing for a largish sapphire to dangle over my belly button. Even though it was part of my escape plan, on general principle, as someone who up until four hours had been a boy, I was not amused.

Matching the bindi and piercings, there was a gold chainmail choker with an exceptionally large, centrally placed sapphire; a delicate chainmail bracelet with eight small sapphires, along with a chainmail belt 2 or 3 cm wide, that hung rakishly on my hips, and was inset with sixteen mid sized sapphires. All the sapphires in the ensemble were closely matched for colour and clarity. A colour, I may add, that was a close match to the colour of my eyes. In fact, the whole ensemble could have been commissioned specially for me. It wasn't of course, it was just a happy(?) coincidence it had been in the castle's common store of jewellery.

Lightly plucking my eyebrows, they highlighted the arches with a pencil before going to work on my eyes: These they outlined with heavy bedroom mascara and eye-liner to exaggerate the wide doe eyed look; then, using a small crimping tool, they gave my eyelashes a deeper curl. Commenting on how I didn't really need foundation, just a dusting of powder to take the shine off my skin, they painted my lips with a glossy, deep red lipstick, and my finger and toe nails were filed and shaped before painting with a similar shade of high-gloss polish. Finally, I was dressed in a lacy light blue suspender-belt, seamed stockings, a 3” pair of strappy heeled sandals and a transparent blue baby doll chemise that was tied closed just over my breasts with a single sky blue silk ribbon. When I suggested a pair of panties and a bra, they laughingly joked about how they would just get in the way.

About two hours after we had finished dinner, and with a quick squirt of expensive perfume, I was being escorted to Starlance's room by the house mother. To say that I was shaking like a leaf would be the understatement of the century. The house mother though, had obviously had a lot of experience escorting scared young virgins to the bedroom chamber and exuded a no nonsense attitude. I think the worst of it was the men we passed, they would stop and give my practically naked body an appreciative look, while making a mental note to ask for the pleasure of my company.

When she knocked on his door and Starlance invited us in, the house mother had to give me a hard shove to get me moving. He was standing by the window; and, despite my revulsion, I noticed he definitely had the looks of an exemplar. Naked except for a satin bathrobe, my succubus aspect felt a thrill of exhilaration at the site of him; however, I had a plan that was coming to fruition and I could not afford to blow it now. Blushing, I mixed the exhilaration with the disgust and fear of my old male self and fed it into my shield. I could see his member swell beneath his robe, this caused an increase in my emotions which I fed back into the shield which caused his member to swell even more. Luckily, the feed back loop was broken by the house mother. Sensing that things seemed to be going well, before leaving, she gave me an encouraging pat on the tush and told me: “Well go on dear, enjoy yourself.”

Now was the moment, as he stepped towards me his robe fell open and I glimpsed his maleness, my succubus aspect was excited, but appalled at how large it was. My old male self was close to vomiting. As I fed these emotions into the shield, Starlance was overcome and, quickly closing the gap between us, he pulled me into a tight embrace. Reaching up, I pulled his head down into a passionate kiss and with his mind completely open and unguarded, I struck with a lancing telepathic attack.

Most people mistakenly believe that the succubus bond is sexual in nature, this is not exactly true: By definition succubi are creatures that draw magical power and nourishment through a male's baser instincts and drives. They can also use these drives to attack, mesmer or even kill. However, the bond itself is actually a magical linkage without any implicit sexual overtones. In other words, any powerful mage could cast the bond, although without the intrinsic magical nature of a succubus they would gain little or no benefit from it .

I digress, but I felt I had to clear up this misunderstanding; since, after my arrival at Whateley, certain vicious rumours were spread about my character and how I managed to escape.

Mentally and physically paralysed, Starlance was unable to resist as I wove the complex weave of magic that would form the bond between us: Through this bond, I would be able to capture the male essence that would otherwise have radiated away. With the addition of the other members of his team, I would have a more than ample supply of nourishment for my succubus aspect. In addition, he and the other members of his team would obey me absolutely, becoming devoted and loyal guardians who would be more than willing to die to protect me.

Did I have any moral qualms about what I was doing?

None whatsoever, Starlance had fully intended to both physical and mentally rape a thirteen year old girl. He took perverted pleasure in twisting the minds of young women so badly that it would completely destroy their sense of self worth. Since the other members of his team were worse, I felt there was a kind of moral justice to what I was doing. At the very least, because their entire focus would now be on me and my safety, they would not be raping any more women. In fact, because of the basic sexual nature of my succubus aspect, they would never again have any desire for another woman; or, if you like, as far as other women were concerned they would effectively be eunuchs. Ultimately though, whatever the moral arguments, I needed this essence to survive, and in reality, their condition would be no worse than that of highly trained, very valuable guard dogs.

Anyway, now that I had him, I ordered him to get dressed and pack for a mission. Like the rest of his squad, Starlance was a Whateley graduate with over a dozen years of rigorous military training under Baron Blitzen, and when it came to military affairs, Blitzen was a professional who did not skimp on training. Starlance was packed and ready to go in short order. Explaining to him the outline of my plan, he filled me in on the little intelligence details about the rest of his squad, and after a hurried conference, we headed off to 'recruit' the mage Starfury.

Moving about the castle undetected was actually fairly easy. I already had a basic cloaking spell; but, among other things, the succubi had been crafted to work as spies and assassins, and were magical shape-shifters who, providing the gender was female, could adopt the form of anything from a dragon to a mouse or spider. Possibly because of the types of magics involved in their creation, their base form was of an exceptionally beautiful woman with leathery bat like wings; a long, arrow-head tail that could be used both as a weapon and to help stabilise their flight; weaponised, almost talon like, finger nails; canine incisors slightly longer and sharper than one would expect that injected a soporific, and finally, a pair of small crescent shaped demon horns. I am sure you recognise the imagery from racial memory.

The point though, was that the succubi needed to be able to live and function undercover for extended periods. For this reason, unlike most non magical shape-shifters, succubi have two stable base forms. In my case, my human aspect as a beautiful woman, and my as yet untested succubus aspect. To have the full use of the magics of a succubus I needed to be in my succubus aspect, but their was enough of a bleed-over that my human magic, (and telepathy,) received a healthy boost. In addition, Princess Selene was able to share her knowledge, experience and training, as a spy and assassin. So, with her help, I was able to cast a cloaking spell that would be all but undetectable to any but the most powerful mages.

Pausing outside Starfury's door, Starlance looked at me for confirmation. When I dropped the cloak and nodded to proceed, he knocked loudly, shouting through the door: “Hey Starfury, you've got to try tapping this bit of fluff man, she's a real firecracker. She's taken to cock like it's manna, and rides it like a rodeo queen.”

Lets just, pretend we didn't here that shall we.

When he came to the door, Starfury was still half asleep and mumbling about how this had better be worth it. He was totally unprepared and wide open to our attack. Starlance had never had a chance to muss my make-up or damage what passed as my clothing, and as Starfury stared at the wet-dream in his doorway, we hit him with a double whammy: I hit him with my lust aura, while Starlance paralysed his mind with a vicious telepathic jab. Reaching up, I pulled his head down for a passionate kiss to help reinforce the tractability induced by my lust aura and quickly wove the magical bond that would make him one of us. From the time Starfury opened his door till I had finished bonding him, took about 10 seconds.

The biggest obstacles to my plan had been Starlance and Starfury, with those two now safely under my control, the others fell quickly. The last member of the squad was the devisor Startech, he was currently on duty in the main communications and control centre. Stopping by his room, we picked up his personal equipment and mission pack before we headed up to C&C. It was the night shift, and apart from Startech, their were only a few technicians on duty. Blackstar squad were specialists at this type of mission, and on entering the room Starfury immediately dropped the technicians, while Starlance and I hit Startech with our double whammy. The other members of the team quickly secured the area, and we were ready to begin.

The plan we had worked out was fairly simple: Starport would teleport the sleeping technicians to a remote area a few miles from the castle, Starfury would prepare a shield to place around the control room and Startech would improvise devises to overload the power lines. When activated, theses devises would start simultaneous electrical fires throughout the C&C bunker. While this was going on, the rest of us would gather up all the hard disks from the servers and personal computers, along with any portable storage devices such as CD's and flash drives we happened to find.

It worked like clockwork, Starport quickly returned to help the rest of us and shortly after Starfury had a shield around C&C. It took Startech, about fifteen minutes to make his devises, so by the time we were ready to leave, we had quite a trove of valuable data on the Baron's operations. Emptying non essentials from their packs till they had enough space, they quickly packed away what we had found. Then, with everyone gathered tightly around Starport, Starfury wove a small hole in the shield, Startech set off his devises, Starfire started a few incidental fires and whoosh...head-rush.

I had never teleported before, and it took me a few seconds to process the scene. Because of the different time-zones, we had arrived in the Quad at Whatetely Academy at the back of three in the afternoon two days before the start of fresher week. Standing in a group by the statue of Noah Whateley were our, (hopefully,) welcoming committee of: Mrs Carson, Mrs Potter, Circe, Dr Amelia Hartford, Gunny Bardue, Chief Delarose and.... my crazy uncle Dave.

To be continued

It is my first published story, so comments are always welcome.

Irvine

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

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

For a copy of the campus map I am using, see:
http://crystalhall.wikia.com/wiki/Campus_Map
(Note the link has been edited since some users were only seeing a thumbnail)

Authors Note:
In what follows, the phonetic spelling of Lieutenant is fairly self explanatory. However, because of certain plot opportunities it presented, I took artistic licence with sub-Lieutenant. In fact, sub-Lieutenant is a Royal Navy rank. For nearly a 150 years the junior subaltern rank in the UK has been 2nd Lieutenant, as it is in the US.

September 2007 Arrival at Whateley

As I have tried to explain before, I only got a brief glimpse of possible futures during my first exploration of the 'web of fates', something for which I will be eternally grateful. Most of my visions had been of possible future hells where demons ruled the world, as a result, although I had a rough idea of the direction of the near future, there were large gaps to my knowledge.

Another thing for which I would 'normally' have been grateful, was the fact that the future is fluid, and as my point of entry faded into the past, any detail in my vision became less and less accurate. My arrival at Whateley being a case in point.

I had known that I would arrive here, but had been unaware of the exact manner and things started going wrong immediately. Seeing the grim expressions on our welcoming committee, like any good guard dogs, Blackstar squad immediately got their hackles up. I could sense the impending disaster through our bond, and barked out: “Blackstar squad!... Fall in for inspection.”

Well, since I was a teenage girl, it was more of a high pitched squeak than a bark, but you get the picture.

Their training kicked in and they quickly formed up behind me at attention. My training under RSM Wilkins also kicked in; and, since I was nominally in command, I also stood at attention.

With my new feminine assets poking out provocatively, I suddenly remembered what I was wearing: A baby doll chemise, suspender-belt, seamed stockings, strappy heeled sandals, and heavy bedroom make-up, along with a lot of very suggestive jewellery. More embarrassing was what I was not wearing, ie bra and panties.

Okay, I had just finished over 9 weeks basic training under RSM Wilkins, much though I wanted to, there was no way I was going to break ranks; anyway, doing so would have made me look even more foolish. This didn't stop me from blushing as if my face was on fire though.

Perhaps I should explain here: As a succubus, I had a great deal of control over my bodies physical responses. For example during my escape I had deliberately used my blush response to trick Starlance into asking for my company. The current blush however, was a perfectly natural, involuntary response to my burning embarrassment. Furthermore, as I would later discover, unless I exercised rigid self control, my aspect as a teenage girl seemed to have the 'cute involuntary blush' honed to a fine art.

Anyway, on with the story: Gunny Bardue and Chief Delarose, both career military, shared an enigmatic look before gesturing Mrs Carson forward. Gunny Bardue saying: “It is a tradition headmistress. The troops expect it, and it's good for their moral.”

Giving Gunny and the Chief a 'What are you playing at look?', she sighed and the entire group passed behind me to inspect my squad. I was still standing rigidly at attention, and though it was two days before the official arrival date for freshers and over week before the official start of classes, I could see small crowds of students gathering to watch the spectacle.

It was only a six man squad, so after a few moments, Mrs Carson was once again standing in front of me. With a secret smile, in a loud voice designed to carry, she announced: “For a squad that has just come out of combat, your troops are very well presented sub-Leftenant. Though I must admit, I have never seen battle dress quite like what you are wearing. Is it your super-hero costume?”

The fact that she had used my subaltern rank in Baron Blitzen's forces, never mind that it was the UK form of address, rather than the American 2nd-Lieutenant, was almost completely lost in the heat from the super-nova erupting in my cheeks. I barked, or rather squeaked: “Mam! It was necessary for the mission Mam.”

Then, with one of the most beautiful laugh I have ever heard, she replied: “Relax child, you're safe now.” Looking over the Blackstar squad, she continued with a welcoming gesture: “All of you relax, she is safe and amongst friends.”

Starting to take her at her word, I could sense my squad had ignored her. Sighing, I barked: “Blackstar squad.... At ease!” and after a few seconds: “Blackstar squad.... Fallout!”

Have you ever realised that girlish squeaks are not really meant for barking parade ground orders. Gunny and the Chief seemed quite impressed though, and were exchanging meaningful glances.

Sensing the squad relax, I was about to manifest some decent clothing, when Princess Selene, intruded into my thoughts: <I must speak with them child, will you give me control for a few moments.>

After I had warned Mrs Carson and the others my guardian spirit wished to talk to them, I felt myself being pushed into the back seat. Taking control, Selene shifted our body into its succubus aspect for the first time. There was a rightness to it, it was like putting on your favourite, most comfortable clothing. Unfortunately, while the basic shape and size of my human and succubus aspects were the same, there was no room for my wings under the chemise. The rags of which were falling to the ground, along with the remnants of my dignity. As a succubus however, Selene was totally unconcerned.

At the slight grimace of distaste from Circe, Princess Selene responded: “Relax noble Seer, the succubi you knew during the time of the Olympians were ragged refugees who had been driven insane by the Sundering. I give you my word as a member of the Court of the Moon, I mean no harm to anyone at this school.”

With a gaullic shrug, Circe replied: “I am aware of this Highness, it's just that when you have lived as long as I have, it is sometimes difficult to dismiss long held prejudices; even when they are unwarranted. Know that there is peace between us.”

With a nod of respect to Circe, Selene turned to Mrs Carson: “Headmistress, my daughter is a human child, I humbly beg sanctuary for her here at your school?”

<Daughter?>

<Hush child, I will explain later.>

There was a rightness to this, it seemed to fill a hole that had been there since my rejection by my birth mother. A hole which I had been trying hard to pretend did not exist.

Mrs Carson, possibly struck by the formality of the request, replied equally formally: “Her situation is known to us and a place has been prepared for her.”

Things were definitely starting to look up, I now had a new mother who loved me and a home where I would be safe. Though what happened next truly surprised me. Selene turned to Gunny and Chief Delarose saying: “Warriors. During her escape, my child bonded this war band to her service. Since she is no longer fully human, she draws a certain 'nourishment' through this bond. Could you find a place in your ranks for her bondsmen while we are here. I give you my word as a Princess of the Court of the Moon: They will follow your orders absolutely, and die to protect the school, its students and staff?”

Pausing for a moment, I felt her give a sly glance towards my uncle Dave, before continuing: “My daughter will of course pay for their upkeep; and, as a gift to the school, cause to have built suitable quarters.”

Gunny and the Chief shared another speculative look, one that seemed to be more about me and my bondsmen rather than the promised gift. (I liked that description, it had a nice ring to it, 'bondsmen'.)

Throwing a wry grimace to Mrs Potter and Circe, Chief Delarose replied: “Gunny Bardue and I have been briefed on the situation regarding your daughter, and have been discussing amongst ourselves her training as a battle leader. We have a tentative plan for the integration of her forces into school security.”

Giving me a stern look, one that was definitely directed at me rather than Selene: “When your daughter reports to security at 8:30 am tomorrow to be debriefed on her little adventure, we will discuss this more fully..... This year we have decided to take preventative action to redirect the energies of anyone deemed to have 'Kimba potential'. Meanwhile, I suggest she reflects on the high standards of behaviour we expect from an auxiliary security officer.”

Gulp! (and what did he mean by 'Kimba potential'?)

Welcome

Satisfied, Selene surrendered control of my body. Once back in the driving seat, I immediately shifted to my human aspect and manifested a loose white robe. The reason that I reverted to my human form was not because I was more comfortable as a human, far from it, it was just simple practicality. My wings would have got in the way of the manifested clothing. Strangely, though simple, the robe I manifested was surprisingly feminine. It was modelled after the robes worn by the statues of Greek goddesses, exposing a lot of skin around my shoulders and cleavage. I didn't consciously choose this design, so maybe I was adjusting better than I thought.

Finally able to relax, I took a long look around at the gawking groups of students and sighed, I could already see the rumours of my arrival sprouting on the campus grapevine. Mrs Carson, following my gaze, echoed my sigh saying: “I think we should retire to my office, I can already see the rumour mill working overtime for months over this, and I don't have any prescient abilities.”

Turning her gaze to some nearby bushes, in a voice designed to carry, she announced : “By the way, while I am sure law enforcement would love to look over the data on Baron Blitzen's operations your Highness brought us. However, the school has a strict policy of neutrality vis a vis law enforcement and the more criminal elements of the mutant community. Therefore, we cannot help you with passing it to the proper authorities. Though, given the amount of spying that goes on here, I am sure some over eager FBI agent will try to liberate it. Chief why don't you see about debriefing her Highness's troops, and make sure that the data is stored securely.”

Smiling, the Chief replied: “I will see to it personally, headmistress.” before giving me an enquiring glance....

Turning to my bondsmen who were standing in the relaxed posture of bodyguards continually scanning for potential threats. I called out: “Okay Blackstar squad, you did well, and I am very pleased with your performance. I want you to go with the Gunny and Chief Delarose. Obey them as you would me.”

After a moment's thought, I continued: “It would not be appropriate for you to become involved in any school-yard disputes between me and the other student, so for the moment your job is to protect the school, its staff and 'ALL' of its students. I will visit security this evening to make sure you are being taken care of... Dismissed.”

An artful little speech, even if I thought so myself. From the mumbled conversations taking place, Mrs Carson and the others seemed quite pleased about it. I definitely felt things were getting off to a good start, and no it wasn't my esper trait, it was just the good vibes I was getting.

As Gunny and the Chief gathered up my bondsmen, I got a flash-vision of a newspaper clipping: Within 48 hours the MCO, acting in co-operation with Interpol and an international coalition of mutant super-heroes, would raid Baron Blitzen's fortress. While the Baron would escape, they would rescue over 50 women and 30 children who had been held as sex-slaves. They would also significantly disrupt the Barons worldwide operations.

Unfortunately, the MCO would use the raid as a propaganda coup that demonstrated to the world they were not anti-mutant, just conscientious guardians of baseline humanity. Personally, I didn't really care what spin they put on it, I was just glad that Anna, Jasmine, Rene and the others were going to be safe.

Mrs Potter and Circe approached the Headmistress, with Circe taking the lead: “Elizabeth, I don't think you need us for the rest of this, and Mrs Potter and I could do with a nice cup of tea... Oh! By the way, you should give some thought to Rev Englund, you know how upset he gets about some things....”

At Mrs Carson's sharp look, Mrs Potter interrupted: “No dear, it's not prescience. Just common sense.”

With a long suffering sigh, she replied: “I suspect you're right, I will have a word with him.”

Mrs Potter then came over, embracing me in warm girlish welcome, she told me: “I am glad you got here safely dear. Once you get settled in, Circe and I will see to your training. For the moment just relax and try to enjoy your time at Whateley.”

As Circe and Mrs Potter left, Headmistress Carson suggested we should follow her to her office. Since she was talking to Dr Hartford about some administrative details, I was finally able to talk to my uncle Dave. Falling in beside me, he greeted me in his usual jocular fashion: “Well look at you your Highness, who would have thought you would turn out to be a fairy Princess in disguise.”

I was about to object,and ask what all this Highness guff was about, when Selene intruded into my thoughts: <He is correct you know.>

<What!>

<The magics used in our joining changed you so that you really are my daughter. Before I volunteered to become a weapon in the war against the 'Great Old Ones', I was from an ancient and noble sidhe family. Although our court was a minor one, among the sidhe your titles are still valid. As my only living daughter, and the most senior surviving member of my court you are now properly titled: 'Royal Princess of the Court of the Moon'.>

I was kind of stunned at what Selene was saying, and didn't really know how to respond. Selene, taking my silence for acceptance continued: <There are other things you must be aware of : Sidhe are very long lived, barring death by injury, they are potentially immortal. As your body reaches maturity, the ageing process would normally slow considerably. For you however, because of your aspect as a succubus, your apparent age will freeze at the point for optimum effectiveness of the weapon you have become. For human women, I believe this is around eighteen years of age.>

With the shock at what she was saying, I stumbled and had to be rescued by my uncle. Selene, realising the effect her words had had on me, apologised. Saying: <I am sorry, but you are strong and will adjust. We will talk later.>

Everybody had stopped, and because of the way they were looking at me with concern, I felt the need to explain, telling them: “Selene just told me that I am potentially immortal and my apparent age will freeze at around eighteen.”

Mrs Carson, who looked to be in her late twenties or, at most, early thirties, winced in sympathy, saying: “I am over 76 years old, when I was in my late thirties I looked to be around eighteen. I now look younger than my daughter, which confuses my grand children immensely. It is not quite the same I know, but there are people around who will understand. There is also a few dozen other sidhe at the school who have similar problems, so you aren't alone.”

Nodding my acceptance and thanks, we continued our walk in silence. When we finally arrived at the Headmistress's office, I had more or less recovered some equilibrium and was able to take note of what I was being told.

The meeting in the headmistress's office took over an hour, during which time I was repeatedly stunned by how much my uncle Dave had achieved. Because of my visions in the 'web of fate', I had some inkling of what he been doing, but no real detail. As I have told you, he was a kind of geeky dropout. What I hadn't known was, he had a major 'bad-ass' reputation in hacking circles, and not only knew Dr Hartford personally, but had previously done some contract work for her here at Whateley. After he had submitted the winning EuroMillion ticket, he had proof positive I was a powerful pre-cog. It had then taken him a few months to cover his tracks and the origin of the money, before it was safe for him to come to Whateley and ask Dr Hartford for advice.

It was at this point that Mrs Potter and Circe, also contacted Dr Hartford about me. On the advice of Circe and Mrs Potter, Dr Hartford and my uncle started to prepare a 'legend' of the type used by deep cover spies. Using school contacts on both side of the law, my new identity as thirteen and half year old schoolgirl Fiona Siobhan McCloud, was a well established fact. With bureaucratic records going back to my birth, Admiral Everhart from school security, who I would later get to know quite well, felt there was, at most, three or four people on the planet capable of piercing the legend. What was truly amazing, was that they already had a UK passport, along with an immigration green-card, ready for me in the office. I have no idea whether the photo-id was done with magic, photo-shop or a combination thereof; to be honest, I was frightened to ask.

The thing about using a deep cover legend is to try to keep the legend as close to the truth as possible. So my new history was: I had been born and, until six months ago, raised in Edinburgh. For work related reasons, my parents, (both high powered executives,) had then moved to New Hampshire bringing me along with them. Within days of our arrival there had been a car accident in which both my parents had been killed and I had been seriously injured. Since neither of my parents had family, in an act of foresight they had made arrangements with a close friend, (one of Mrs Potters daughters who lived locally,) that she would act as my guardian. To finish off the legend, while in hospital I had manifested as a mutant. Then, when Mrs Potters daughter was taking me home for the first time, I had been kidnapped by Baron Blitzen's forces from the hospital car-park. In her typically enigmatic fashion my guardian's mother, a known powerful pre-cog, had advised that it would be better to allow me to escape on my own, thus explaining my dramatic arrival at Whateley.

It was a beautiful well crafted legend, it fitted together in a way in which all the knowledge to make it work essentially involved me telling the absolute truth, with little potential for an embarrassing faux pas that would expose the legend for what it was. Even Selene was impressed, the only thing I really needed to do to complete the cover story was meet Mrs Potters daughter for the first time.

Another big advantage was it gave me the perfect excuse to spend time with Mrs Potter, who would also be serving as my student mentor. This would help to disguise the true nature of my esper trait from the recruiters of the various security agencies who infested the campus.

A nice touch was: Since both my parents had been independently wealthy, I was now the sole heir to their fortune, about £200 million or, at 2007 exchange rates, about $400 million. Apparently, the bump in the value of the winning lottery ticket had something to do with the timing and method of the transactions my uncle and Dr Hartford had used to hide the origin of my fortune, (hacker speak for dirty tricks.)

Sadly, since I was still only thirteen, the money was being held in trust until I was eighteen with Mrs Potter' daughter serving as the trustee. On the other hand, the big consolation prize was: I now had my own platinum credit card with a truly eye popping limit. This meant shopping, shopping and even more shopping!

No! I wasn't turning into a real girl, I had no clothes or belongings whatsoever. Underneath my manifested robe, apart from suspender-belt, stockings and a pair of heeled sandals, I was completely naked, and would remain so until I could go shopping to buy new clothes.

When I pointed out my lack of wardrobe, Mrs Carson informed me that, in order for me to meet my putative guardian, a trip to Dunwich had already been arranged for tomorrow morning; and, as per school regulations requiring a staff member to supervise outside excursions, Admiral Everhart would be escorting me. She highly recommended 'Rogers' Fabric Boutique', explaining that though it was pricey, Cecilia Rogers was one of the best seamstresses on the planet, and would be able to see to all my clothing needs. Then, pushing across my new student ID, she went on to say that $30,000 had already been added to my campus account and using the cards RFID, I would be able to buy some basic clothing in the campus store after we had finished.

A quick mental calculation revealed $30,000 to be £15,000. Up until then, the most money I had ever personally spent was £10 I had received as gift. As it was starting to sink in that I really was rich, I noticed the details of my ID card: Sub-Lieutenant, (pronounced Leftenant,) Fiona S McCloud, auxiliary campus security.

At my angry demand as to what they thought they were playing at, it was explained that the previous year there had been problems with certain students, who through no real fault of their own, had become recognised trouble magnets. It had been decided that this year things would be different and steps would be taken to redirect the energies of students thought to have 'Kimba potential'. Since I was a magical weapon crafted to fight in the war against the GOO; a weapon, she wryly added, which had already formed its own private army, it was felt that the best people to take me in charge were security.

It had been found that deputising certain 'trusted' students as security auxiliaries, greatly reduced the incidental damage to school property from school-yard disputes between super-powered children. She gave me a penetrating glare at the word 'trusted', a glare that spoke volumes, before she went on to inform me there was also a school regulation requiring all students to have a part-time job working for one of the campus support services. Because of the aforementioned details, I would have no choice in my paid work-study. Furthermore, although I was being enrolled in the schools junior-high program, the school was in fact more of a high end prep-school for precociously intelligent mutant children. This meant they had great latitude in the types of courses offered, with students often earning advanced degrees before graduating high-school. Because of my gifts, Gunny Bardue, Admiral Everhart and Chief Delarose, were at this very moment planning out a course of independent study to supplement my normal school work, one that would be modelled after what one might expect to find at Sandhurst or Westpoint.

As headmistress Carson spoke, she had a steely eyed glint that became progressively more intense. It was obvious from her tone that there would be no whining my way out of this, the decision had been made and I would just have to live with it. When Selene murmured approval at the plan, I took the opportunity to vent my frustration with a mental shout of: <Shutup!>

I was in such a funk, that I almost missed her explaining that it was a tradition inside campus security to carry forward any previous military rank. Since I was now working for security and had previously held subaltern rank in a recognised military organisation, this was now my rank inside campus security. She then casually pointed out that if I ever tried to use that rank without it being a matter of life and death, I would be cleaning the toilets in Hawthorne for months. I wasn't sure what Hawthorne was, but I definitely got the impression that a firing squad might be preferable.

So far, I hadn't really had a chance to talk to my uncle privately. Apologising for this, he explained that due to my cover, we couldn't really afford to be associated together. He mentioned that he was currently doing some contract work for the school; and when the opportunity arose, he would try to arrange some time for us together away from prying eyes. Then, with him telling me he would still be keeping an eye out for me and I was not alone, we were finished.

Vamp

Saying that she had other business to discuss with my uncle and Dr Hartford. Mrs Carson informed me that a student was waiting outside to introduce me to the campus. At this obvious dismissal, I shoved my student ID, passport and credit card into manilla folder, along with the Whateley student handbook and left with as much dignity as I could muster.

At first I thought that the girl waiting in the outer office, was a Goth, then as she stood up to introduce herself as 'Vamp' and I got a closer look, I realised she might actually be a vampire. Seeing the gears of my brain clunking into overdrive, she cheekily pointed out: “Hey, sunlight, and no poof of dust!”

I liked her immediately, she had the same kind of, 'I am a rogue, but I am good', vibe as my uncle Dave. Assuring me that her appearance was just a result of her mutation and she was not a real 'undead' vampire. She went on to say that the 'Goobers', a training team sponsored by the Rev Englund, basically monster hunting 'Buffy' wannabes, had tried to stake her a few times. I recognised Rev Englund's name of course, and remembering Circe's cryptic comments wanted to know more. Vamp was having none of it though. The rumour mill had already gone into overdrive, and she wanted details, lots and lots of details.

Before leaving Schuster hall, she got Mrs Linford to let us into the Homer gallery and gave me the obligatory chance to admire(?) Lord Paramount's portrait. Explaining that it was a requirement of his .financial contribution to the school, she mentioned in passing, I would get the full tour tomorrow when the other fresh young Posies arrived. When I told her I urgently needed to stop by the campus store to buy some clothes, it was the chance she had been waiting for.

Guiding me around the back of Crystal Hall she explained that because it was still officially summer recess, there was only one campus bookmaker running a betting pool on the reasons for my spectacular arrival. The current favourite being: I had escaped on my wedding night from a political marriage arranged between European Royal Families.

I could only sigh in frustration, exclaiming: “I am only thirteen!”

With a lascivious leer and a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, she countered: “You could have fooled me!”

Then, playing her trump card: “Anyway, I heard about your arrival, and the way you were un-dressed, you definitely came here straight from some down and dirty bedroom action.”

Groaning, I almost screamed: “I had been kidnapped by Baron Blitzen who wanted to use me in his mutant breeding program. I escaped just before I was raped!”

Pausing to think it over, Vamp pulled out a cellphone and quick dialled a number. After few seconds, she spoke: “Hey Risk, you owe me $50. You can check her story when we get down to Poe, but she was kidnapped by a super villain and seduced her guards to escape.” after a few moments, she finished the call by saying: “Glad you will make so much money off the sucker bet, any time man.”

Blushing like a Jovian sunspot, I wanted to bang my head off the wall. Although Vamp's cavalier treatment of the truth was technically inaccurate; unfortunately, given the nature of high-school, playing 'What's my power', was probably a major pastime. In other words, it was bound to come out I was a succubus, and when that happened nobody would ever believe I hadn’t fucked my way to freedom. Argh!

Thankfully, we had arrived at the campus store. I was impressed, it was a kind hybrid between a Decathlon sports shop and a Tesco supermarket. Selling everything from guns and knuckle-dusters, to beauty products and jewellery, with a wide selection of snack foods thrown in for variation.

First thing on the agenda was clothes. I had already decided that I didn't really know enough about girls clothes to make an informed choice of style and fashion. So, on Mrs Carson's advice, I was going to be frank with Cecilia Rogers about my recent gender change and use my new found wealth to commission a complete wardrobe. This meant all I really needed was an outfit to get me through tonight and tomorrow morning.

The store was self service, and grabbing a trolley, we headed over to the clothing section. En-route, I had to curb Vamp's enthusiasm, explaining I had a major shopping tripped planned with my guardian for tomorrow morning. I only threw in the guardian bit because I could see the excitement building in her eyes and didn't want to offend her by saying she couldn't come. Then Selene intruded: <Fiona, you are a child of the sidhe. You will find that if you wear them too long, modern materials will irritate your skin. Because of your human base form, you have some immunity, but it is best to stick to natural fabrics.>

<Great, just flaming great, is there anything else I should know.>

She actually had the temerity to laugh at my pout, before replying: <Many things' child, I will give you some instruction this evening when you dream.>

I am sure she threw that in just to surprise me, if it hadn't been for the shopping trolley I would have tripped and fallen. Vamp was looking at me questioningly, and still feeling a little bit peeved, I decided to mess with her head, telling her: “My mother has a strange sense of humour, she just told me something that surprised me.”

All in all, the whole exchange perked me up quite a bit, Selene had called me Fiona and I liked it; I had called her my mother and it felt really good, and best of all: The look of total confusion on Vamp's face nearly made up for the embarrassing version of my escape she had just fed into the rumour mill.”

Panties were not a problem, well not a great problem. Directly in front of me was a 'three pack' of plain white cotton boy briefs, but I had no idea of sizes. Looking around for inspiration, I noticed the selection of bras, and sighed. There was no doubt I was going to have to bite the bullet here, but I was just plain lost. It was then that Vamp did something that would cement our friendship; leaning in close, she asked in a conspiratorial voice: “I will explain on the way back to Poe, but how long have you been a girl?”

I got a strong prescient hunch that I should trust her so I replied in the same conspiratorial tone: “About ten hours or so, probably a bit less.”

Okay, that really did set her back on her heals, but she recovered quickly. Dragging me over to the bras, she told me: “I would guess you are a solid B cup.”

Stopping in front of a collection of lacy matched bra and bikini briefs, she took one off the peg and suggested that I hold the cup up to my assets to check it for size. With a bit of experimentation, we narrowed down the appropriate cup and band sizes for the bra, and got a fair idea of my hip measurements. Then it was just a case of choosing the fabric. Okay, I was taking Selene's advice to heart here. The nylon stocking's especially were starting to feel a bit yucky. I had put it down to wearing them for four or five hours, but after what Selene had said, it was probably the synthetic material. It was the same with the suspender-belt, it was nominally a silk bobbin lace, but probably used synthetics.

Wanting to go back to the selection of pure cotton briefs, I explained to Vamp about my allergy. She was having none of it, saying: “Look a lot of the fun in being a girl is wearing naughty silk lingerie. The sidhe have the same allergies as you and there are enough here at the school that they keep a few things for them.”

Seeing me blink when she mentioned the sidhe, she asked in a puzzled tone of voice: “You don't look like a sidhe, but the way you reacted, it was as if I had hit the bull's eye?”

It was easier just to admit it: “It's a long story, but yes I am technically sidhe.”

“Oh, you will need to meet Fey then, she's in Poe too, she's some kind of sidhe Royalty or something.”

Wishing she would drop the subject, I picked up the first bra and bikini brief set that came to hand. It was a scandalously sheer navy blue, with delicate gold thread trimming, and it was 100% pure silk.

“Ooh good choice! That's what I was talking about girl. Nobody will be able to see it, but having it against your skin will make you feel deliciously naughty.”

I was about to object when Selene put in her two cents worth: <She is correct Fiona, remember you are a weapon. To be an effective weapon, you must use the tools available to the best advantage.>

Bringing my hands up to the side of my head and grabbing two fistfuls of hair, I let out a silent scream of frustration. The way vamp was looking at me, made me want to mess with her some more, so I just smiled sweetly and said: “My mother apparently agrees with you.”

Man, I loved doing that to her. She just stood their gaping as I threw the lingerie in the trolley and angrily stalked off to look at some tops.

Like I say, I only really needed one outfit, and with both Vamp and Selene pressuring me, I was soon kitted out with a loose fitting, sleeve less, cotton crop-top. Light blue in colour, it had a deep V neck and a lace trimmed hem; which, by the way, barely seemed to reach below my breasts. Vamp loved it, insisting it was perfect for me and I should learn to live dangerously. After that, the mid thigh, black woven wool pencil skirt with a silk lining seemed positively decorous. We finished off the ensemble, with a matching pair of black stiletto heels, and a fashionably feminine, black leather shoulder bag just large enough to hold a purse, hair brush and a few other odds and ends. With the addition of a wallet to hold my new credit card, passport and student ID, I was set.

Heading over to the beauty care section, I loaded up with: Hairbrush, soap, shampoo & conditioner, toothbrush, toothpastes, terry-cloth cotton bath towels a terry-cloth bathrobe, along with everything else I thought I might need in the way of toiletries. When Vamp saucily pointed out that because of the bikini briefs I would need to 'shave the carpet', I managed to refrain from strangling her and, with a flat look, threw shaving supplies into the mix.

Thinking I was finally getting out of there, I was once again ambushed by Vamp and Selene when they both insisted I needed make-up. At first I didn't have a clue, though Vamp was able to help some. In the high end cosmetics section, they had a range of natural ingredient beauty products. To keep it simple, and at Vamps urging, I decided go with the basic bedroom look I had been given in preparation for my 'breeding' at Baron Blitzen's castle. With my exemplar memory, I knew what cosmetics, brushes, nail files, tweezers and other paraphernalia I would need, and soon had a substantial collection of make-up, (along with the accessories,) in my trolley. Adding a small bottle of perfume that had a light flowery scent Selene liked, I realised I was going to need a box or something to keep it all in. Vamp, staring at the trolley full of makeup in amazement, asked in an awed voice: “Are you sure you have only been a girl for ten hours?”

Feeling I owed her an explanation, I replied: “Exemplar memory, I remember how they prepared me for my 'breeding' when I escaped from the castle.”

Seeing her wince, I think I finally got through to her what I had been through before my arrival at Whateley. Then she spoiled it by saying: “You are going to need a couple of mirrors.”

Argh!

We were heading over to the workshop section to see if I could find a small plastic cantilevered toolbox, you know, the type with lots of trays that fishermen use, when we passed the section of the store that held supplies for mages. Since I had already started training as a combat mage, I slowed for a casual browse. Noticing they had a collection of jewellery fit for enchantment, Selene told me that she had intended to use the jewellery I had been given at the castle to show me how to make a reliquary, and suggested, if I bought a few more items, she would show me how to make other useful enchantments. With an offer like that, I went to it with gusto.

As Selene would later explain to me in detail, her role during the war had been as a type of SAS or Green Beret commando. Espionage and assassination had certainly been a big part of her duties, but where she really excelled was in the art of insurgency. While she was no Artificer, she did have substantial training in those arts. Training that would allow her to improvise weaponised enchantments and charms that would help her to carry out her primary mission. When you combined these skills with her Succubus abilities, particularly her ability to bond enemy warriors to her service, she was akin to a doomsday weapon.

Since she fully intended to teach me everything she knew, this was a kind of scary thought. I think the only reason I was prepared to go along with her was my visions of what would happen if I and currently unknown others failed to stop the return of the 'Great Old Ones.'

Putting all this aside for later, what Selene primarily needed was supplies for me to make my own jewellery. Tools like: snips; pliers; a small vice; a fly tying vice, a tiny 5kg anvil; a couple of fancy lightweight hammers, a butane torch; a jeweller's drill; swiss files; metal polish and polishing paper; blocks of soft wood and leather to make pressure moulds; a set of small linoleum chisels; a 60 pc mini drill and grinder set; jeweller's wax and heavy duty float glass blocks to hold delicate objects; silver and gold solders along with suitable fluxes; and much more. I've got to admit, I had no idea most of the stuff existed, never mind what she would want me to do with it.

Once satisfied with the tools, we needed some raw materials to practice with. Starting with various colours of chalks and 'magic sands' to inscribe pentagrams and the like; we included a fair sized flexible blackboard made from black unpolished leather and a wooden mortar and pestle. Next we added a small selection of different gauges of gold and silver jeweller's wire; and finally, guided by Selene's comments on their magical quality, a small collection of different types of gemstones.

I was throwing a couple of gold and silver pendant chains into the trolley, when I noticed the prefabricated jewellery. Okay I had only been a girl for a few hours, but I had heard enough catty bitching from the girls in my old school to know that variety in a girl's day-to-day look was very important. So, even to my old male mind, it was obvious I would need more ready to wear jewellery that could be mixed and matched with what I already owned. Yes, I know, technically I had stolen the jewellery, but I considered it fair compensation for the many indignities associated with my near rape.

Since, in my mind, the sapphire jewellery I had liberated symbolised my joining with Selene, I wanted to make it the basis of my day-today look. (It was only later I would discover its value and how most people would either be profoundly shocked or deeply offended by my ostentatious display of wealth.) Anyway, I was throwing into the trolley earrings, belly rings, pendants, bracelets and finger rings with various shades of sparkling blue gemstones, when I noticed Vamps glazed expression.

Because I hadn't really bothered to explain to Vamp about my 'mothers' offer, Vamp had just been standing their speechlessly watching me become more girly by the minute. It was then that I saw a gold hooped belt. Of a similar size to my sapphire belt, the hoops were alternated with square cut, 'sea blue' aquamarine gemstones set in gold filigree panels. The stones were of great clarity and well matched, and although the belt had a hefty price tag, it seemed to call to me. When Vamp realised the direction of my gaze, it was the final straw. Unable to contain herself, she burst out with: “You have got to be pulling my leg.”

I just gave her a beatific, Zen like smile, saying: “Ooh!... Shiny.”, I threw the belt into the trolley.

God I loved doing that to her. Picking up two plastic toolboxes, one for the jewellery and one for the cosmetics, I got a larger, more sturdy box for my tools. Just to yank her chain a bit more, I commented that time was pressing and I would get something more feminine for my jewellery later. Then, as we got near the checkout, I had a brainwave and realised that if I got a smallish rucksack to carry my school-books, I would be able to use it to carry the heavier tools. Seeing one emblazoned with unicorns and fairies, the opportunity to mess with Vamp some more was too good to miss so I threw that into the mix as well.

At the checkout, I barely managed not to wince when I saw the bill. Like I say, the most I had ever spent in my life was £10, and in just one shopping trip I had blown more money on clothes, jewellery and cosmetics than my birth mother would have spent in five, on second thoughts, make that ten years. Though, when Selene pointed out that in terms of my annual yearly income, what I had just spent wasn't even small change, I felt a lot better.

Watching the expression on Vamps face, it was with smug satisfaction I swiped my student ID card to pay for my purchases. It was at that point I realised I had mad a fatal mistake, Vamp was a very observant girl, and she immediately noticed:

1. My ID card was emblazoned with a badge marking me as a security auxiliary.
2. My rank in security was Sub-Lieutenant.

Talk about disaster, this was of major epic proportions, possibly worse than the Titanic and my spectacular arrival at Whateley combined.

Poe

After packing my purchases into the rucksack, the big tool box, (which we carried between us,) and half a dozen carrier bags, we left the campus store and were heading for Poe cottage. Pointing out important buildings en-route, Vamp demanded answers to questions based on an itemised list of observations. These were:

1. Every one had heard Mrs Carson address me as 'your Highness'.
2. I had just spent enough on jewellery to buy a decent car, and didn't even have the decency to blink.
3. Tomorrow I was intending to buy a complete wardrobe at Cecilia Rogers boutique. Most students couldn't even afford to buy a single school uniform there without a special needs hardship grant.
4. I was not only newly arrived, but if I was telling the truth, I was a pre-fresher in the junior-high program. Yet, I was somehow already enrolled as an auxiliary in campus security. For Vamp, a dubious honour, but one which, according to her, both the official cape squad and the cape wannabes would, depending on their gender, give either their left nut or right tit. As far as Vamp knew, there were less than half a dozen students acting as deputised auxiliaries, all of them had been here for years, and furthermore, as Vamp delicately put it: They all had broomsticks shoved so far up their..... Well, the rest of Vamps little rant on the character of security auxiliaries is probably best left unsaid.
5. To return to her itemised list: Unless the student was entitled, there were very strict school regulations against using academic or aristocratic titles and military ranks. Yet somehow, I was not only a security auxiliary, I was a commissioned officer outranking the vast majority the campus security regulars who, in most cases, had years of military experience.
6. Finally, everyone had seen my private army and it had been well noted that these were extremely dangerous individuals with the bearing of years of military service. Yet, they had obeyed me as if I was the meanest commander ever to grace a battlefield.

Cringing, I could only whine: “It's not my fault, it was Carson's idea. I'm a weapon and they want to keep anyone with 'Kimba potential' under tight control. Security are taking over my training as a battle commander, and since I had the rank of sub-Leftenant in Baron Blitzen's army, that rank's been carried forward into campus security.”

My vain hope that she would be satisfied with my explanation and back off were dashed when she demanded: “What kind of weapon?”

Drawing in on myself and cringing even more, I gave her a pleading, doe-eyed look. It didn't work. She was obviously immune to my charms and, with a flat expression, demanded: “Well?”

Hoping to minimise the damage, I launched into the long version of Selene's story, telling her: “You see, during the war leading upto the sundering, the sidhe created a weapon called a succubus....”

“A what?”

This was not going well at all. I just wanted to curl into a ball at her interruption, and repeated in an even more whiny voice: “A succubus.”

“And the private army?”

With no escape, I almost whispered: “I bonded them.”

With her eyes widening by the second, she exclaimed in astonishment: “They're your sex-slaves?”

Okay, that one got me, I shouted: “Look I am only thirteen. I just bonded them, that's all. They are absolutely loyal, obedient bodyguards; something like very intelligent guard-dogs .”

Putting the succubus thing to one side for the moment, she switched tack by asking: “Okay what's with Carson calling you 'Highness'.”

Nothing seemed able to stop her, and hoping to bury her in the weight of my titles I stood up straight. As I began to speak, some of Selene's knowledge seemed to pass directly into me, and what came out surprised even me: “Before my mother volunteered to become a weapon, she was from a noble sidhe family. Since my families rank and titles are still valid, in the short form of address I am properly titled: 'Her Highness, The Royal Princess of the Court of the Moon, Grand Duchess of the Evening Star, Countess of the Twilight Shadow, sub-Leftenant Fiona Siobhan McCloud'.”

Then, spoiling the effect, in a fit of pure girlishness, I added: “There's even more verbiage, but if you like, you can call me Fiona.”

It didn't work. Well, there was a small friendly giggle when I said she could call me Fiona, but she still wanted answers, and continued inexorably: “Okay, how come you have a sidhe mother? They all died thousands of years ago and the ones that have returned are too young to be your mother.”

I had very little left to hide, so I told her the truth: “It was part of the magic when our spirits joined and I became a succubus. I really am her daughter and she really is my mother.”

Maybe I said this a bit more forcefully than necessary. My rejection by my birth mother had hurt me worse than I cared to admit. So, when Selene told me she really was my mother, it was like a great weight off my mind. Vamp didn't seem to notice though, she just asked curiously: “What about your birth mother?”

Like I say, the rejection had hurt, so there was a slight tremor in my voice as I gave her the cover version: “My birth parents were killed in a car accident just before I manifested as a mutant and was kidnapped by Baron Blitzen.”

Sensing the unspoken pain in my voice, Vamp was a lot more gentle when she asked the final question that had been bothering her: “And the money?”

I just shrugged saying: “My parents were both independently wealthy and I inherited all of it. It's being held in trust till I am eighteen, but I have a generous allowance.”

Deciding to mess with her head again, I finished by giggling: “That’s why I can afford to keep a private army and gift the school with a new security barrack.”

Also giggling, Vamp replied with her nose in the air and a fake snotty voice : “Well, I have a trust fund too.”

Then she added in a more normal tone: “Though I doubt it's in the same league as yours. If you're building a security barrack for the school, you must be as rich as the 'Goodthing'.”

We were just arriving at the door of Poe Cottage, I wanted to ask what she meant by the 'Goodthing', when almost simultaneous Vamp, with a muttered curse, realized where we were, and the door opened to reveal the house mother Mrs Horton.

Looking askance at Vamp she sighed and said: “I take it from your expressive vocabulary you were too busy quizzing our latest Posie on her dramatic arrival to bother filling her in on the Poe secret.” At Vamps guilty start, she sighed again saying: “That's not a good recommendation for someone angling to become the new cottage fixer Vamp. Is it?”

Based partly on Vamps cryptic comments while we were shopping, partly on things I had seen but not understood during my time trapped in the 'web of fate' and partly on my own situation as a boy recently turned into a girl, I put three and three together. Since Vamp was becoming a friend, something I sorely needed, I burst out with: “Oh but she did Mrs Horton, she told me all about the Poe secret.”

Looking me directly in the eye, Mrs Horton replied: “Nice try dear, but even if I hadn't been briefed on your little gifts, Vamps reaction would have told me all I needed to know. Still, if you are going to insist on being a loyal friend, then it's probably best that Vamp returns that loyalty by showing you to your room and helping you unpack. I am sure she has a lot of other things to tell you. Don't you Vamp?”

Wincing again, Vamp nodded before quickly rushing me past Mrs Horton and up the stairs only to stop halfway up to shout back: “Erm... Mrs Horton, which room?”

To be continued, comments are always welcome.

Irvine

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

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

For a copy of the campus map I am using, see:
http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130114152730/crystalhal...

For a plan of Poe Cottage freshman floor, see
http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130203095354/crystalhal...

Authors Note:
In what follows, the phonetic spelling of Lieutenant is fairly self explanatory. However, because of certain plot opportunities it presented, I took artistic licence with sub-Lieutenant. In fact, sub-Lieutenant is a Royal Navy rank. For nearly a 150 years the junior subaltern rank in the UK has been 2nd Lieutenant, as it is in the US.

My room

I had been assigned to room 201 on the 1st floor, (what Americans call the 2nd floor.) Because of its corner position, it had two windows and was next door to the recreation room commonly referred to as the 'Sun Room'. It was a good sized double room, equipped much like you would expect of a college dorm, with two each of: beds, desks, chairs, wardrobes and bookcases. Dumping my stuff on the other bed, I childishly took possession of the bed under the south facing window by touching it and exclaiming: “Mine!”

The nylon stockings really were starting to, not so much irritate, but rather feel decidedly unpleasant. Vamp had thanked me for pulling her cookies out of the fire, and was in the process of explaining the big secret that the Poe cottage was the home of the campuses gender challenged students. Basically, every one honest enough to admit in the confidential application form they were members of the LGBT community were placed in Poe. Given the nature of school-yard bullies, most Poe residents were closet members, but a few were open about their allegiance or past history. This was a matter of personal choice, however Vamp made it perfectly clear that if I ever exposed the overall nature of Poe, I would regret my actions for a very long time.

As she spoke, she helped me unpack my purchases: For the moment, the tools were unceremoniously shoved under my bed; the bathrobe was hung on a convenient hook by the door; one of the bath towels was hung on a towel warmer while the rest were shoved in my wardrobe; my jewellery was dumped in one of the desk drawers; the cosmetics, along with related accessories were scattered across the top of my desk, the toiletries used to fill one of my bookshelves, and the strappy sandals joined the tools. With my new skirt, top and lingerie laid out on my bed, I had set my personal stamp on the room, and was ready to deal with the potentially unpleasant business of caring for my new body.

I hadn't eaten for over six hours and was starting to feel quite hungry, but really wanted to wash the yucky feeling off my legs. Grabbing toothpaste, toothbrush, mouthwash and soap, I unpacked them into a little toiletries bag, and realising Vamp was here for the duration, de-manifested my robe. With the relief I felt at getting out of the nylons and suspender belt, (which after washing were to be gifted to Poe's emergency stash of clothing,) it barely occurred to me that I was standing completely naked, except for jewellery, in front of what, given the nature of Poe, was either a boy or a raging bull dyke.

Maybe it was my succubus aspect, maybe I was just numb from my earlier exposure, or maybe I was just so bloody hungry and anxious to get my shower over with so I could get something to eat, but whatever the reason, Vamps presence didn't really bother me. Not even when she followed me to the shower.

The most noticeable thing about the girls showers was a large sign:

NO USING HYDROFLUX HARDWARE
BETWEEN 6 AM AND 9 AM.
WE HAVE TO GET TO CLASSES!
ALWAYS TURN ON SOUND CANCELLATION
SYSTEM BEFORE USING HYDROFLUX HARDWARE -
YOU KNOW WHY!
THE FIRST RULE OF HYDROFLUX HARDWARE
IS YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT HYDROFLUX
HARDWARE.

Asking the obvious question, Vamp explained it was a gift to the cottage from the 'Goodthing', the nozzles and shower attachments being designed to simultaneously stimulate the many erogenous zones of a girl's anatomy. When she offered to show me how it worked, I primly declined.

To be honest, I was mildly curious, but more interested in getting something to eat.

Heading for one of the sinks to brush my teeth, I took a long look in the mirror. I was definitely all girl and would have to get used to it. Taking Selene's earlier comments to heart and coming to a decision to adapt, I quickly cleaned my teeth and rinsed out with some mouth wash. Looking at the damage, I decided that if I didn't muss it any more in the shower, all I would really need to do to get ready was touch up the lipstick and give my hair a quick brush.

With that thought in mind, I dived into a shower cubicle and quickly cleaned off the gunky feeling on my legs; and NO! I did not stop to explore my new anatomy, nor play with the Hydroflux equipment.

Back in my room, I got the vanity mirror I had bought in the campus store set up on my desk; and, remembering what the women had done in the Baron's castle, with a little difficulty, I managed a rough approximation of how they had arranged my hair. Taking a tissue, I wiped away a few barely visible streaks, before using a fluffy brush to reapply a bit of powder. The lipstick was more challenging, but using a very fine brush, I filled in the detail around the edges before finishing off the body of my lips. Strangely, the nail polish had survived my transformation into my succubus aspect undamaged.

Asking Selene about this, she said she wasn't sure, but she thought that it was because the transformation was magical rather than true mutant shape-shifting. Basically, she thought that because the nail polish had bonded to my nails, the magic had treated it as being part of me. After a thoughtful pause, she commented that this, and the fact that my succubus aspect had been wearing the same piercings and make-up as my human aspect, suggested that there might be a way to bring my clothing into the transformation.

Because my succubus aspect had been so new to me, I hadn't realised this about the makeup and piercings. In a strange way, it made a kind of sense. The two forms were remarkably similar. Apart from the more obvious differences, my succubus form was very much like a sidhe version of my identical twin sister

Finally finished with the makeup, I looked closely at the results in the mirror. It was not perfect by any stretch of imagination, and I would obviously have to take the time to learn the skills of a beautician, but it was not a total disaster. Asking Vamp for her opinion, she replied that from watching me work, she could tell I really was new to the whole girl thing, though she thought the final results were quite passable for someone caught up in the hurly burly of arrival.

Slipping on the silk bikini briefs, I can only say: 'Mama likes!'.

The feel of the silk was amazing. The bra on the other hand, was a bit of a mystery and I finally had to ask Vamp for help. I was a bit nervous about this since I had the very strong feeling that Vamp was a very sensual person who swung both ways. However, she proved to be a perfect lady, and once the bra was properly adjusted, it felt even better than the bikini briefs. It wasn't just the feel of the silk on my nipples, it was the comfortable way in which they embraced and supported my assets. Taking a quick glance in the vanity mirror, none of the very fine blonde hairs of my, nearly invisible, bush were showing and at least for the time being, I wouldn't need to shave. So, with a quick squirt of deodorant under my arms, I quickly pulled on the skirt and top and sat at my dresser to put on the heels.

One of the things I had noticed when the women at the castle gave me my piercings was that as a result of joining with Selene, my regen had received a significant boost. Instead of taking 24 hours to heal, even the belly piercing had healed completely after about twenty minutes. Luckily, nobody had realised the significance. As a result, not wishing to run the risk of them closing over, I hadn't removed the ear and belly rings before I showered. With the sparkle of the earrings catching my eye, I looked at my head and face in the mirror and surprisingly, I actually felt a bit naked without the choker. On impulse, I decided to wear the entire ensemble of jewellery.

Unpinning my hair and brushing it out, I fastened the bindi in place and expertly refashioned my hair back into the original style around the bindi. Yes, I said 'expertly', I seemed to have mastered that skill pretty quickly. Idly noting this, I wondered if I would master the other skills of a beautician just as easily.

After putting on the choker and bracelet, I stood and wrapped the sapphire belt just below the waist of my skirt so that it rested at an angle on my hips. There was a tall mirror on the door of my wardrobe, and looking over my reflection, I was initially a bit embarrassed, but strangely satisfied. With the bindi giving me a subtle, but very exotic regal appearance, the first thing I noticed was: I have legs!

I was only about 5ft 2, but they were attractively long in relation to my height. Following the length up from the stiletto heels, the ankles, calfs and knee joints were well shaped and the figure hugging pencil skirt exposed enough perfectly proportioned thigh to tantalize and delight. There was no doubt I was a very beautiful young women. The gap between the waistband of my skirt and the bottom of the crop-top emphasised the curve of my narrow waist. The V of the crop-top displayed a not quite indecent amount of cleavage, and the way it hung off my assets was extremely provocative but still just this side of respectable. The choker and earrings gave my neck a gracefulness that, along with the make-up, spoke of class, while the belt drew attention to my curvaceous hips. With the bracelet on my left arm emphasising its femininity and the sparkling belly piercing drawing attention back to the curve of my waist, hips and long shapely legs. It was difficult to know where to look. This was greatly aided by the randomly patterned sparkles from the other sapphires, which would draw attention to my deep blue doe eyes that spoke of intimate delights ; then to my neck and cleavage; to my waist and... Well, I'm sure you get the picture.

To put it bluntly, I was a veritable feast that would make a monk drool, and I liked it.

Impulsively, I gave a quick fashion model twirl on the ball of my left foot, with my arms stretched out and my right leg bent up at right angles from the knee. Giggling I asked Vamp what she thought.

Her jaw was flapping.

Finally, she got herself under control, replying: “You know Fey has a magical aura that enhances her beauty, but I don't really feel it from you. I think it is completely natural.”

I blushed at the mention of a magical aura, and noticing, she demanded: “Is that blush the admission of guilt, are you working your sidhe mojo on me?”

Wanting her to be my friend, I decided to be completely honest: “Not at the moment, and apart from that, my aura is more to increase the lust men feel for me than my physical beauty.”

Seeing the speculative look on her face, I quickly added: “Please don't ask me to show you, it's kind of dangerous, and anyway I am not even sure it would work on a girl.”

Selene intruded: <It might, how strongly would depend on the girl though.>

Vamp, picking up on how I said it was dangerous, was asking: “Dangerous? How? In what way?”

“Well, I haven’t really got it under full control yet, but if you swung that way: At low power it would make you very tractable, and at medium power you would be completely incapacitated.”

“And at full power?”

“If I really cranked up the wattage, it would leave you orgasming continuously on the floor until you either died from a brain aneurysm or had the mind of a cabbage.”

That made her blink, the emotions flashing across her face started with an initial smirk, that gradually changed to a look of horror as she processed what I had said. Giving herself a shake, and obviously not wanting to dwell on the imagery, she changed the subject: “I don't know about your lust aura girlfriend, but I think you are going to need a very, very big stick.”

Giving herself another shake to get rid of a few lingering images, she said in an irreverent tone: “Come on your Highness, lets go and get something to eat.”

Filling my wallet with my ID, credit card and passport, I threw it in the shoulder bag along with a hairbrush, powder compact, tissues and lipstick. I had seen girls at school dabbing a touch of perfume on their wrists and behind their ears, so I mimicked what they had done, and we were ready.

When we were descending the stairs, Vamp blurted: “Look you can't possibly have been a girl for only 10 or 11 hours. You handle heels like you've been wearing them since you could walk, and you carry yourself as if you had spent years at some fancy European finishing school.”

Sighing, I replied: “I think it is the magic, I don't really understand it myself. There's a part of me that's really freaked out by the whole thing, yet mainly, I don't know.... I just feel very... mm... I suppose 'comfortable' is the right word.”

As I spoke, I started to put a few things together and went on: “You see I have two aspects the one I am wearing at the moment is my base form as human girl, but my true aspect is that of a succubus, and succubi are the epitome of feminine allure. The movements gestures and mannerisms that human women would spend years learning to master come as natural to me as breathing.... Does that make any sense to you?”

Vamp was nodding slowly in agreement, when she suddenly realised what I had implied, asking: “Two aspects, human base form, succubus aspect.... does that mean you change into a demoness?”

Argh!

That girl could drive a saint to murder.

Replying with some asperity: “Succubi are not demonic, it's just that the mythological caricatures of the demonic temptress were based on a racial memory of us. And NO! I am not going to change for you. I would have to take my bra and top off to make room for my wings, and personally, I think I have flashed my tits enough for one day thank you very much.”

Mrs Horton, who had just come out of her room, interrupted my little rant with: “I am glad to hear you don't make a habit of flashing your charms to the entire school Fiona.”

My rant was immediately cut off in a blush of epic proportions.

Calling us down the stairs, she continued, while flourishing a camera: “Look at you dear, you are absolutely one of the most stunning creatures we have ever had at this school. I hope you don't mind if I take your picture for my private scrap book of past and present Poe residents?”

After posing for half a dozen photos, both singly and together, we were finally off to get something to eat.

Jadis

As we were walking up to Crystal Hall, Vamp explained the flag colour codes. Well, Vamp was walking, with the pencil skirt restricting my legs, I wasn't so much walking as sensuously wiggling my delectable derrière like a fishing lure. Anyway, pointing out a number of flagpoles around campus flying the school flag, Vamp informed me about their colour coded border: A red border meant there were strangers on campus and absolutely no using powers; an amber border meant that we could use powers if we were discreet, and green border meant anything short of blowing up the entire school was permitted.

Hey, this was Vamp's interpretation of the rules!

She went on to say that there was a similar system inside Poe cottage with panels of red, amber and green LEDs in each room and hallway. I had noticed them, but thought it was part of the fire-alarm system. Officially, as far as strangers were concerned, they were to indicate when it was safe to use our powers, unofficially they referred to open displays of same sex affection. In order to make this work, people not privy to the Poe secret had to sign in and out of the cottage with Mrs Horton.

Finally, we arrived at Crystal Hall. It was an impressive geodesic dome grown as a single transparent crystal. During their senior year students were expected to carry out a group legacy project. The original hall had been the legacy of the class of 1985, with the class of 2007 making a substantial upgrade to the interior. With a ground floor containing a central fountain, there were two further tiers with grand-stand views of the mass of the student body. In typical school-yard fashion, seating was determined by your status and the status of your group or training team. Yes it does sound like formalised gang warfare, and as I was later to find out, the gang analogy was quite apt.

Since I was not only a fresher, but a pre-freshman I would certainly be relegated to the ground floor. At least until I had my own team with the muscle to take over some other teams favoured place. The only other way to gain favoured seating, was the unlikely possibility of being invited to join an established team.

It was self service, and was something in the nature of an all you can eat buffet. Given that a substantial number of the students were high level energisers and exemplars, and that meals were included in the tuition fees, this was very important for the budgets of many of the students. In a deadly serious voice, Vamp explained that more than a few of the students dispensed with plates and used trays instead, eating two, three or even four trays at a single sitting. Okay, I was an exemplar myself, and was well aware of the exemplar appetite, but what Vamp was describing sounded as if it should have been listed as one of the seven wonders of the modern world.

Anyway, with the vast majority of the students still on recess there was no queue. For some reason, I was feeling even more hungry than what I had come to expect from my low level exemplar metabolism, and managed to cram onto a single tray: two soup course, three main course and two deserts. Once through the checkout, Vamp invited me upstairs to meet Jadis, explaining that since it was my first day, nobody would mind. Arriving on the third floor, I have got to admit that the view was incredible and I immediately saw why competition for favoured status was so intense. Heading over to a table by the edge of the waterfall, Vamp greeted those seated and introduced me with: “This is Fiona, the girl who arrived commanding her own private army while wearing lingerie.”

Ooh... how I wished we were in France, where 'crime of passion' was a legitimate defence to murder.

Jadis greeted Vamps comment with a roll of the eyes, and I liked her immediately. This good impression was only increased when, inviting me to sit, she didn't immediately start to quiz me on my arrival.

Vamp started the gossip session by asking: “Okay Jadis, your here because you're Melville's fixer, and Mal is here because he's your brother, but why are the Drow collective here so early?”

Mal, her brother was the only other obvious near human, so that meant the Drow collective were the four girls with elf like features, slate-black skin, white hair, lavender eyes and hot pink lips. Selene was more than puzzled by their appearance, she felt them to be some kind of sidhe but they were not of any court or race that she knew of. As a newbie, I was too polite to ask the burning questions however.

Meanwhile, Jadis was laughingly explaining that her Highness, (who I took to be the aloof individual intently studying a laptop,) had needed to escape the attentions of her 'Prince Consort' and sneaked out of the palace to return to the dubious safety of school. The rest of the collective only being in the palace because of their connection to Jobe, had no choice but to leave with her. This, Jadis explained, was why the other three girls were glowering at everything and everyone.

Jadis's explanation raised foul looks from the collective, but Jobe didn't even look up from her laptop.

I liked Jadis, Vamp, and even Mal wasn't that bad for a nerdy devisor. We were soon gossiping like old friends as they filled me in on the juicier scandals and the student version of recent history at Whateley. When I gave the obligatory, highly edited, account of my escape from Baron Blitzen. Jadis took it in her stride, casually mentioning that she had always found him to be an egotistical maniac with insane ideas of race purity and genetics. At this Jobe looked up and agreed wholeheartedly before returning to her laptop. The implication that they both knew the Baron personally was not missed, but again, I didn't really wasn’t to upset a potential friend by intruding into her private affairs. My attitude was: 'If she wants me to know she will tell me.'

When Jadis had mentioned in passing that students were expected to choose a code name, I knew immediately what I wanted mine to be. It wasn't prescience, it was an expression of the real love I was starting to feel for my new mother. Shyly asking if anyone had chosen 'Luna', there was an exchange of looks between everyone at the table, before Jadis replied: “That's a beautiful name and strangely appropriate for you, as far as I know, nobody has claimed it.”

It was then, I had a strong prescient hunch that Jadis had a lot of sadness in her life, with more to come, but she was destined to be a force for great good in the world.

The aspect of the succubus was really working a number on my psych. Over the last twelve hours, I was instinctively behaving more and more like a natural born girl. My actions, behaviour and mannerisms were becoming so automatic that it would only be on reflection I would realise how totally alien they would have been just 24 hours previously. (Well 24 hours if you ignore the time I was in hospital apparently unconscious.)

It was kind of scary, it was like my entire 'identity of self' was being rewritten. However, I could tell that what was changing was just a superficial shell, the central core of values, hopes, fears and strengths that constituted the 'real me' remained unchanged.

I only mention this to clarify a few points about what follows.

After I had finished eating, I had taken out my compact and was touching up my lipstick. I had done this without thought, and everyone at the table took it for granted; well except for Vamp who rolled her eyes ostentatiously. Anyway, I had the compact up to my face and was running the lipstick over my lips when Jadis muttered: “Heads up, bandits at four o'clock.”

Discretely scanning behind me with the compact's mirror, I noticed a student dressed in an armoured bodysuit with blue trim and a stylized ‘wolf’ helmet. I recognised him from my visions as Stormwolf, one of the security auxiliaries whose real name was Adam Ironknife. He was heading straight for me with a grim expression on his face.

Pretending to be unaware of his approach, I was replacing the compact and lipstick in my shoulder bag, when he loudly announced himself by saying: “sub-Lootenant McCloud, do you really think it's appropriate for a security auxiliary to be associating with these people?”

Okay that did it, the way he said 'these people' was as if they were something other than human. Turning to give him a flat look, I replied: “Security auxiliary Ironknife, if you are going to address me by my formal rank, don't you think a salute would be in order.”

He was looking at me in shock, spluttering when, still in a flat voice I continued: “My given name is Fiona, but you can call me by my codename 'Luna' if you would rather keep it professional.”

Keeping him off-balance, I attacked: “Furthermore, the correct military form of address is either 'sub-Leftenant' or '2nd-Lootentant. What you just said was the military equivalent of a 'mixed metaphor'. A faux-pas that is not only insulting to my rank, but clearly demonstrates your own limited education. Now would you like to try it again?”

After a short pause, I demanded: “Well?”

Barely managing to keep himself from erupting, he replied in a strangled attempt at a conciliatory tone:“Luna, do you really think it appropriate for you to be associating with the 'Bad Seeds'? They are the sons and daughters of known super-villains.”

Still with a flat look, I replied: “Stormwolf, if you really expect to make a career in law enforcement, don't you think you will have more success catching criminals if you judge people by what they do rather than who their parents are?”

As he stared at me, obviously trying to work through what I had said and how it fitted into his rigid code of morality, I decided to help him out, saying: “You have a reputation for being firmly on the side of truth and justice, but in this instance you are out of order. Our shared Anglo-Saxon legal system enshrines the principal 'innocent until proven guilty', a principal you have obviously abandoned in favour of 'you are guilty because of your genetic patrimony.”

After a slight pause, I went on: “Although, I must admit that you are not alone in making this mistake. After all, I know from personal experience that the MCO feel exactly the same way. For them, inherited genetics is more important in establishing guilt than any evidence of actual misdeeds. Do you think we should follow their play-book and bundle the 'Bad Seeds' off to a lab for dissection, or do you prefer the vigilante approach of Humanity 1st and think we should sterilise the gene pool by burning them at the stake?”

Like I say, most students were still on holiday, but in addition to the ones at my table there were probably about a dozen others at nearby tables. As he turned and stalked off muttering: “I'm going to be keeping an eye on you.”, everyone within earshot broke into a round of applause.

Needless to say, my blush response went crimson. I think it is grossly unfair that I can blush on demand, yet can't seem to stop involuntarily blushing like a schoolgirl.

Once the applause died down, Vamp asked incredulously: “Are you sure your not pulling my leg about being a 'pre-fresher'?”

While simultaneously Jadis said: “I approve of your sentiments, but I think you just made an enemy.” Quickly followed by her making a neck snapping twist towards Vamp and incredulously demanding: “A what!”

Et-voila, the flood gates opened: The full story of my escape from the Baron came out. Well, I did manage to hold back the bit about my recent change of gender and the fact I was incredibly rich, but the rest.... They weeded out I was not only a weapon but a succubus; I had bonded my own private army; I had been drafted as a security auxiliary with the rank of sub-Leftenant, and finally, that I was going to be undertaking a specially designed syllabus under the direct supervision of campus security, a syllabus modelled after the worlds top military colleges.

Jadis was looking at me speculatively, and I thought to myself here it comes, she's going to ask if I really fucked my way to freedom. My prepared response was shot down in flames as she asked curiously: “The sapphire jewellery you are wearing, those are real sapphires aren't they? Did you steal them from the Baron?”

Without thinking of the possibly consequences, I primly corrected her: “I 'liberated' them as well deserved compensation for the indignity of my near rape; and yes, they are real sapphires.”

Greed immediately lit the eyes of the Drow collective, except Jobe of course, who was still studying her laptop. Jadis however, pausing again for thought, finally said: “Well, that puts you in the same category as Vamp, I think we should rush you as an associate member of the Bad Seeds.”

Without looking up from her laptop Jobe announced: “Seconded.”

With Mal and Belphebe, agreeing, (the other Drow, 'Bova' and 'Freight Train', apparently didn't get a vote,) I was provisionally accepted as an associate Bad Seed. It would need to go in front of the whole group, but Mal pointed out that once they heard how I had put down Stormwolf, it would be a mere formality. Something with which the others, including Jobe, whole heartedly agreed.

I had an entire list of good reasons not to object to becoming an associate Bad Seed:

1. Joining the Bad Seeds was my act of rebellion at being shanghaied by security. My new revolutionary slogan was: 'Give me liberty or give me death. You may put me in chains, but you cannot take away my freedom.'
2. I meant what I had said to Stormwolf about judging people by their actions not their genetics.
3. I had picked up enough hints, both prescient and otherwise, that, like most schools, students not having a powerful clique were very vulnerable. This seemed to be even more true at Whateley where school-yard bullies were super-powered mutants.
4. Being a member of a powerful group greatly affected ones social standing, the current seating being a case in point.
5. My arrival alone had already so badly tarnished my reputation, it was probably unrecoverable.
6. Once word got out about my being a succubus, just like the Bad Seeds, people would automatically assume I was bad, almost certainly demoniacally bad.
7. Once they found out I had bonded my own private army of super villains, well I didn't even want to think about the rumours that would engender.
8. Finally, I liked Jadis and Vamp and wanted them to be my friends.

All of these thoughts were secondary though, I was much more interested in what they meant by my being in the same category as Vamp?

It turned out that Vamp's story had a lot of parallels with my own. She had been framed by the Necromancer for murder and forced to join his band of decidedly un-merry villains. Trying to escape, she had contacted a local super-hero. This had resulted in a succession of blackmailers, all associated with law enforcement, who, with no interest in her personal safety, had turned her into a covert spy in the Necromancers operations. In the process of finally escaping from the clutches of everyone from: The Necromancer; to the local super hero; to an extremely unpleasant District Attorney; to her handler from the FBI, she had engaged in a number of pitched battles with various super-hero groups, including Whatley’s very own 'Team Kimba'. The result being that most people on campus considered her to be a well established super-villainess, with a resume that would make Al Capone green with envy.

I got the impression there was more; like, for example, a little incidental freelance jewellery theft, but: Hey! A girl's got to eat.

So, as you can see, Vamp and I really did have a lot more in common than our shared Poe secret. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I felt that joining the Bad Seeds was a not such a bad idea.

Admiral (Samantha, call me Sam) Everhart

What with Selene promising to show me how to make a reliquary, something she felt that I urgently needed, I had a lot to do that evening, and making my apologies to the table, I headed off to security to check up on my bondsmen. Entering Kane hall, I turned to the right and as I walked up to the reception desk, the duty officer visibly flinched when he recognised me. Before I could say anything, he dashed to open the door into the main security annex. Obviously an ex-marine, he ushered me in and barked: “Officer on deck.” There were only three security officers currently in the control room, but they all snapped to attention.

Oh man, I was so totally screwed. I wasn't sure what the game was; but, judging by his reaction, the duty officer was actually scared of me. Though that thought was just so ridiculous, I was sure they must be taking the piss. Lacking any other possible response, I barked, (or rather squeaked): “As you were.”

Saving me from further embarrassment Admiral Everhart appeared and waved me into her office. Appearing to be an 18 year old girl, she was actually a grizzled, ex navy SEAL who had been exposed to a combination of experimental nano-tech and an alien AI; resulting, among other things, in her gaining the appearance of her dead daughter.

The Admiral, or Sam as I would later call her, wasn't human, but a hybrid construct that can best be described as a very advanced type of computer. As a result, she wasn't limited to thinking at the slow speeds of even exemplar humans. Permanently wired into the world's computer networks, she not only had the processing power and data capacity of her own internal systems, but potentially, the capacity of all the networked computers in the world. She also had almost immediate access to virtually all information in the world that had been stored electronically and was currently networked.

More pertinent to my current situation was the fact she constantly monitored the campus security network; and, as a result, was immediately hip to any gossip that was spoken within earshot of an open security mike or passed over securities internal email system.

As I entered her office, I took a quick glance around: Along with the expected filing cabinets, bookcases and other office sundries, there were two desks. The main centrally placed desk was empty except for the Admirals name plate and a writing pad; the other desk over in the corner was dominated by a computer screen and keyboard. Taking a seat at her desk, she invited me to sit, saying in friendly tone of voice: “I'm glad you stopped by Fiona, we have a lot to talk about.”

Then, grinning, she said: “I'm afraid the rump of security don't really know what to make of you. The campus grapevine works at warp speed around here, they've heard all kinds of rumours and know about Blackstar squad. Understandably, this makes them very, very nervous. When you walked in just behind the latest rumour, which has them painting you as not only a harridan, but a harridan who is a stickler for correct military procedure. A harridan, by the way, who, within hours of her arrival, has just finished ripping a straight arrow like Stormwolf a new one in front of the entire student body.... As you might expect, the results were fairly predictable. The sentiments among some of our more colourful rank and file officers run along the lines of: If you can do that to someone with the reputation of Stormwolf, they don't even want to think about what you would do to them.”

Clarifying a few things just to be sure of where I stood, I asked: “So, what you are saying is that the rank and file of security view me as: 'A demonic Borg Queen who, in a cunning plan to seduce them into the collective, has taken on the appearance of a hot exemplar babe with easy going morals. However, in reality, I am actually a dried up old prune of a battle-axe who could blister paint with my tongue.'”

The wicked grin was enough of an answer. No spoken words were necessary.

Oh man I am so screwed. Even if I survive Carson's punishment for using my rank, if that was how security saw me, then every male student who fancied himself as a stud was going to be bragging about how he had nailed me but managed to escape before he was assimilated. Even worse, every female student with 'issues' would be accusing me of using my powers to seduce their boyfriends into joining my collective.

I was more than screwed, I had already been branded 'Queen of Sluts' and the vast bulk of the students hadn't even arrived yet. .

Still grinning at my plight, she handed me a possible reprieve, well at least a reprieve from Carson: “The Chief and I know what really happened with Stormwolf and how he threw your rank in your face; but, for reasons of our own, we are keeping quiet about it.”

Before I could ask why, she continued: “Apart from that, Stormwolf is a good man, but he sees things in black and white. He's never really had to come to terms with the shades of grey that make up the real world. We think that once he calms down, your little lecture may be just what he needs.”

As I relaxed a bit, the Admiral went on: “I will give you one piece of advice though. By and large, what you said about the Bad Seeds is true, especially for Jadis, Vamp and Nacht, but some of them, Jobe in particular, have absolutely no moral compass, and a minority fully intend to follow in their parents footsteps.”

Pausing to let that sink in she finished with: “I am not saying don't associate with them, given everything that has happened and the way you arrived here, you will probably need their support. What I am saying is: Be very careful about getting too deeply involved... Do you understand me?”

So much for my revolution, not even a damp fizzle to mark it's passing. When I told her I understood completely, she went on to tell me about Blackstar squad.

They were proving to be very cooperative; anxious to please, and had given a full account of their past activities. Of course, because of the psychic nature of the bond, these confessions were inadmissible in court, and since none of them were currently wanted in the US, legally the squad was in the clear. After confirming with Circe and Mrs Potter that, given my orders, the bond would make it impossible for them to be a threat to either the school or the students, and more importantly, I actually needed them as nourishment, they were going to be inducted into security.

Now came the harsh realities of my new life at Whately: The Admiral had been put in charge of the military aspects of my schooling, and working with Mrs Hawkins, my official academic counsellor, she was developing a core curriculum.

In addition to a wide range of applicable courses offered by the schools mainstream academic departments, there was an ad-hoc collection of special topic practical courses supervised by gunny Bardue which were geared towards the needs of the training teams. Ominously, there was an obligatory combat training program, with an 'escape, evade and survive' option for pacifists. I say ominously, because it was aimed at the needs of the mutant community to protect themselves in a hostile world

With this as suitable starting point, over my time at Whateley she was planning on developing a schedule of formal courses with college accreditation that would be open to other students. The initial foundation course she was currently preparing would cover introductory concepts in:

1. Small unit tactics.
2. Formations, manoeuvres and supply.
3. Strategic goals and the limitations of military force.

As a further part of my training, she explained her roll inside security was a permanent, roving detached duty, and it had been decided to assign Blackstar squad to her on similar detached basis. In view of how my obligatory paid work study program was with security, she had decided to appoint me as her executive officer. Essentially, I would be expected to take care of all the paperwork involved in running Blackstar squad. As she said this, she pointed to the other desk, which, on closer examination, I noticed was bearing a name plate proudly stencilled with 'Sub-Lieutenant Fiona. McCloud'.

Groaning, I banged my head on her desk.

Laughing, she told me: “Welcome to the real world. Playing at being a soldier is all very well, but when push comes to shove, an army runs on paper.”

Looking up, I replied: “That's a new one, Napoleon said it runs on its stomach, Patten thought it ran on petrol, though personally, I always thought it ran on its feet.”

My attempted levity failed to move her, though she did have the decency to laugh as she asked: “How do you think the food; the gas, and the shoe leather get there? Logistics it's all in the logistics and that means paperwork, lots and lots of paperwork.”

There was no answer to that other than to groan and bang my head a few more times on her desk.

Asking about my bondsmen and how they were being treated, the Admiral told me that, for the moment, they were being housed in one of the lesser used briefing rooms. I had already given this some thought, and even with the aid of the campus devisors, it was obviously going to take some time to build proper barracks. Tentatively, I explained this to the Admiral and suggested: “Could we get some kind of Portacabin emergency dorm for them.”

Her face lit up as she replied: “Very good Fiona, I'm pleased to see that you are taking the responsibility of bonding Blackstar squad seriously. I have already discussed this with Chief Delarose and Headmistress Carson, and we came to the same conclusion.”

Getting up, she ushered me over to my new desk and, after booting the computer, she interfaced with it in a way that was impossible for a normal human. Quickly bringing up a page of search results for the term 'Portacabin emergency dormitories', she clicked through to a company that offered a 'hire with an option to buy' contract. Asking me what I thought, I pointed to one capable of housing upto 20 people. The company could have it sited within 12 hours of the order being placed, and fully installed within 10 hours after its arrival.

Explaining my reasons, I told her that since it was fully customisable and we only had six men to house, its size meant we would have plenty of space to use for a common-room; a small kitchenette, and a couple of showers and toilets. I also pointed out we would need: A television and DVD player; a fridge, micro wave, coffee machine and electric kettle; crockery and cutlery, along with a kitchen cupboard, tables couches and seats, bedding, beds, wardrobes and some carpets and curtains. Telling her a lot of the little things we would be able to get at the campus super-market, I thought there would undoubtedly be other things to take care of, but they would probably be best done on a case by case basis once we had got the squad settled in.

As I spoke, she clicked open a link to IKEA in Berlin, (the nearest large town,) who could deliver within 24 hours, and the Berlin Walmart, who also did home deliveries to the outlying regions.

Suspecting that she had already worked all this out, and what she was actually doing was partly a test of my command abilities, and partly a way of leading me into the down and dirty part of owning a private army. I just smiled and pulled out my brand spanking new credit card. The Admiral smiled in return; and, ordering my shopping list at network computer speeds, used it to make my first purchases.

As she did this, I pointed out that in the near future, we needed to get together with my guardian and work out a proper financial plan, with appropriate financing and budget, along with a commercial bank account. Adding, that for legal reasons, if nothing else, I would need to see about paying Blackstar squad appropriate compensation, I asked her if, for a flat fee, Whateley would take care of the administrative details of said remuneration?

Smiling as she said that would be quite possible, she went on to say she was very pleased with my performance and told me: “I think you might do okay as a battle leader. During my time in the service, I have known more than a few company commanders who, in this situation, would have had your squad making a bivouac in the woods in the middle of a New Hampshire winter. It wasn't that they didn’t know what needed to be done, it was just that they were incapable of making the hard logistic decisions when the unsanctioned costs might impinge on their future careers.”

When I interrupted to say that it was obvious, she shushed me, saying: “For a teenager, that was a lot of money you spent with only a few seconds to make the important decisions. Many people fantasise about being high powered executives and military commanders, but when faced with the reality of having to take responsibility for spending money, they freeze and get bogged down in trivialities. You immediately saw what was needed; came up with a good working plan to implement it, and even though you recognised that 'technically', contractual expenses on that scale required the approval of your guardian, you didn't baulk at taking the responsibility. In fact, you actually came up with a plan to get retroactive approval. In the process I may add, you not only laid out a basic plan to implement budgetary oversight of the entire project, but you immediately honed in on the issue of compensation and your legal responsibilities as Blackstar squads commander. Don't knock it Fiona, there is not many students on this campus could have done it without days of agonising over minor unimportant details. The only one I could think of off-hand is Ayla Goodkind, and she has been groomed since infancy to run Goodkind Industries.”

My girlish blush at this complement was cut off as she abruptly announced: “When we get back from Dunwich tomorrow, you can deal with the paperwork and sign off on the installation.”

Finally getting in to see my bondsmen, they were very happy to see me. With the bond, I could sense that they really were like guard-dogs, with their psychic tails making violent propeller motions when I entered. What was even more noticeable, was the flow of essence increased with their excitement at my arrival.

While I had been aware of the flow in the sense that I was aware I was breathing, I hadn't really taken note of it. Now, it was like a breath of fresh air, washing away fatigue poisons and leaving me feeling refreshed and mildly euphoric. Instinctively, I moved among them, lightly touching a face here, or a shoulder there, girlishly grasping an arm and discreetly pressing a breast into a hard masculine body as we exchanged greetings and small jokes about our arrival. As I did so, there were surges to the flow of essence, and a sense of their love and adoration for me was communicated through the bond. Like I say, it was mildly euphoric, though very proper and would not really have been out of place at a church meeting.

Assuring them that proper accommodation was on its way and by tomorrow night they would have more comfortable quarters. They were grateful, but more concerned that I was settling in okay and had comfortable quarters of my own. When I mentioned I would be going on a shopping trip to Dunwich the next morning, and in my absence, they would have to supervise the initial installation of the Portacabins, they insisted on making an emergency extraction plan. Hoping for a bit of support in squashing this nonsense before it got out of hand, I looked over to Admiral Everhart. She just smiled sweetly and said: “The price of being a leader is that, for the good of the units moral, you have to put up with these little inconveniences.”

With virtually no input from either me or the Admiral, the squad quickly agreed between themselves that since Starlance could telepathically scan the area for potential threats, he should be the one to accompany us. In the unlikely event of trouble; he would radio the rest of the team, who would teleport in and pull my metaphorical cojones out of the fire. Cojones, I may add, whose absence I was missing less and less.

Having very little choice in the matter, and with the Admiral concurring, I agreed.

I couldn't stay very long, since I still had quite a few things to do that night. Explaining this to them, they assured me it was okay and that they were being well taken care of.

As she escorted me outside, once we were alone, the Admiral exclaimed: “You handled them really well. If I hadn't known the truth, I would never have realised you have only been a girl for a few hours. Its been over 10 months for me and I am still trying to adjust.”

When I explained to her my theories about how the magic was affecting me, she nodded thoughtfully, saying: “I suspect that's probably what it is.”

Then laughing, she added: “After all a succubus that couldn't handle a group of battle hardened warriors with a glance and a light touch wouldn't be much of a succubus, would she?”

Seeing me go crimson, she offered an olive branch: “By the way, I would be grateful if you called me Sam.”

When I nodded okay, she grinned again, saying: “That is unless you are in trouble, in which case Admiral would be more appropriate.”

On the way back to Poe, I decided I liked Sam and hoped that, despite the actual difference in our ages, the fact that there appeared to be, at most, two or three years between us would allow us to become friends.

Enchantments

Once back in my room, I realised I would have to do some proper unpacking. The first thing to do was to clear the desk. After pulling out the tools and toolboxes from under the bed, I was filling one of the plastic cantilevered boxes with my make-up kit when I remembered that my mum had always removed her make-up before bed. Since I had bought face cleaners and tissues, this proved to be fairly easy and I soon had all the gunk cleaned off. With most of my sapphire jewellery, lying on the desk, I filled the other cantilever box with jewellery and the unmounted gemstones. Looking at it, I realised that the sapphire ensemble at the very least needed its own padded case, and truthfully, the rest needed a proper jewellery box for safe storage. I had more important things to worry about though.

Now that the gunk was off and the jewellery was put away, a proper shower seemed a really good idea. Like I say, I had a lot to do, and after a very quick shower, I came face to face with the fact that I had forgotten to get pyjamas. Ah well, I still had the bathrobe.

Putting the jewellery and make up boxes under the desk, I unpacked the tools from their wrappings, carefully separating plastic from cardboard for recycling. Positioning the heavy toolbox beside the bookcase with the lid up. The hand tools and general supplies like fluxes, wire, chalk etc were soon packed away in a vaguely organised fashion. Similarly, the vice, anvil and the 60 pc mini drill/grinder set went on the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

Now I was ready for Selene's first lessons on magical enchantments.

Stripping off the bathrobe, and no it wasn't a magical necessity, it was practicality. I was going to be inscribing symbols with chalk and didn't want to get either the robe or the symbols smudged. With some excitement, I unrolled my blackboard, and started my first lessons.

Because of my exemplar memory, things went surprisingly quickly. Explaining the outline of what we would be doing, Selene had me separately memorise the individual symbols we would use, along with their relationships to fancy pentagrams. We had two basic tasks that we had to do that night. The first was to place a 'ward of keeping and guarding' on the sapphire jewellery which would form the basis for my arsenal of enchantments. The nature of this ward was to protect the jewellery from damage and to bind it to me so that it couldn't be lost or stolen. The second enchantment was to form the belly ring into a reliquary to store the surplus essence from Blackstar squad. I would be able to us this essence as a magical power boost and an emergency reserve in case I was somehow isolated from other sources of naturally occurring essence. I would also be able to use the essence stored in the reliquary to quickly heal serious injuries and supercharge my strength, reflexes and stamina.

At this point, we hit a slight snag, my basic mutant regen had increased even more substantially than when I had received the piercings. After removing the belly ring, it was only by fortuitous luck that I was able to get a temporary stud into the piercing before it had completely healed. Forewarned, after removing the earrings, I quickly had sleeper studs in place, but even then, the process drew blood

The moon was now out and calling to me, putting aside the question as to why my regen was suddenly much more powerful, I shifted into my succubus aspect and opened the window to my room. After picking up the bags containing my jewellery and chalks, along with the blackboard, I was standing on the sill, half in and half out of the window, and my nerve failed me. I had never flown before and I wasn't certain I could gain control of my flight before I hit the ground. Selene reassured me though and offered to take control for the first few minutes. Leaping from the window, my wings opened and I was flying.

I have talked to other flyers about this: Some, like Tenyo, generate their own inertial field so relative motion doesn't mean much to them; others, like the PK adepts and energisers, can go very fast but are severely limited by their inertia, for example Phase in particular has great difficulty in controlling direction and Mega-Girl once confided to me that she still crashes into things, even though she has been flying for three years or so; but for those of us lucky enough to have wings!

We don't usually have the speed of the others, but we do have unbelievable levels of control. Believe me, I was born to fly. Twisting and turning, the slightest changes in wind, air pressure or thermal currents, were immediately communicated to me through senses I had previously been unaware of possessing. Flying high to bathe in moonlight, I made exhilarating dives and swoops till I was below tree level. Once there, I would glide silently from tree to tree before soaring back up into the night sky.

Emanating from a couple of the dorm cottages, I could sense the essence being radiated by their teenage male inhabitants. Lingering for a while, I sucked the fresh essence into me, which only added to the sense of exhilaration.

Unfortunately, I had things to do that night and my revelries were cut short when Selene indulgently reminded of the reason for my flight. As I drew closer to our destination, I could sense a welcoming presence and, when I alighted in a moon-dappled glade, it spoke: <Welcome daughter of the Moon, it has been long since you last walked the earth?>

There was a hint of a question to the greeting, and not knowing what to say, I thought back: <Thankyou, I'm not really sure of all this 'daughter of the Moon' stuff yet, but my mother thought this glade would be a good place to begin teaching me my magics.>

Selene interrupted: <Forgive us the intrusion ancient one, but my daughter has foreseen the return of those whom I was created to fight, and we have little time for her to come into her inheritance. We do not intrude lightly on your solitude, but I have much I must teach her.>

The grove laughed: <Solitude? I am not alone, I eschew the company of humans, but I still enjoy the presence of the animals of the forest. Though you are correct, the Great Queen has returned, as have others of sidhe, and the winds of fate stink with the scent of the ancient enemy. Know that you are welcome here, as is your daughter.>

With both Selene and I murmuring a telepathic thank-you, the presence of the Grove retreated.

I learned much that night. As Selene explained to me, I was the inheritor of three magical traditions or, if you like, sources of magical power. As a human mage, I had access to the natural magics of mutant humans; as a succubus I had access to the sexual magics of the succubi; and, as a sidhe of the Court of the Moon, I had access to the magics of the night sky. I don't mean the Erebeal Magic of shadows, but the magic from stars, planets and moons that inhabit the sky. Even though the essence I could draw from each planet and star was very small, the uncountable numbers of stars and galaxies in the sky made it an almost bottomless well of essence. As the sky passed through its daily cycle, the essence waxed and waned in synchronicity, but the stars were always there, even when they are blinded by the sun which is itself a star.

It was this last magical tradition I was to use in the evenings enchantments. Because of earlier practice, the rituals flowed quickly. Inscribing a pentagram on the blackboard, I marked it with symbols as directed by Selene. Then placing the jewellery into the centre of the pentagram, I pulled in the power of the night and wove the ward of keeping and guarding. From start to finish, it took about three or four minutes, and most of that was taking the tine to make sure the symbols were properly formed and correctly placed.

Removing the jewellery, I wiped the board with a damp cloth I had brought and inscribed a slightly different pentagram with a different arrangement of symbols. Returning the belly ring to the new pentagram, I once again pulled in the power of the night and wove a very intricate weave into the pentagram. As it settled on the belly ring, I gave it a kind of twist that essentially inverted it, this would disguise its magical nature so that the essence it was storing would be undetectable to other mages. Powerful mages would be aware that the belly ring was some kind of magical artefact, but its exact nature would be hidden from them.

You may wonder how much essence a belly ring could store, I know I did. The answer is that the magical capacity of reliquary is unrelated to its physical size, but rather to the magical capacity of the raw material and how well it is constructed. In this case, according to Selene, a very great deal indeed. She wasn't too specific, but she hinted that if charged to capacity, there would be enough essence to lay waste a continent.

Not that we were planning such destruction. It was just a convenient way of describing the capacity of my new reliquary.

If truth be told, the evening was a bit anticlimactic, except for the flying of course. Most of the work had been in the preparation and learning the symbolism. So, rather than an earthshaking ritual with lightening and etheric winds howling around me, I was a bit disappointed when the actual casting of the enchantments turned out to be very tranquil and over so quickly, an observer would have been hard pressed to tell anything had happened.

Arriving back at my room, I climbed in and placing my blackboard and jewellery on the bed, I grabbed my robe and shifted back to my human form. Replacing the belly stud with my new sapphire reliquary was moderately painful, and I made a mental note to find a way to make the piercings permanent. Just as I finished, there was a knock on the door, followed by: “Fiona, can we have a word with you please.”

When the door opened and Admiral Everhart and Mrs Horton walked in, I realised immediately I was in trouble. I was busted, well and truly busted.

Sighing, I quickly tried to head them off with: “Look, I can explain everything.”.

They were not amused, I had not only broken the campus curfew, I had broken several CAA rules. Apparently, above a certain altitude mutants needed a pilots license. Whatley did offer special flight classes, but I wouldn’t be able to qualify for the required student license until I was 14. If I didn't want the CAA on my back, I needed to stay below about 500 feet and stay, more or less, inside school grounds. (There were certain allowances made for those students able to visit the Grove or the Were Village.)

Not only that, I had set off a cascade of alarms: Starting with the campus security net and going on to include frightened students calling security to report a naked demonic vampire, clearly visible against the moon, who was hunting lunch around Emerson and Twain. Evidently, (as Mrs Horton wryly pointed out with an amused grin,) by the choice of dorms, it was a vampire who was forgoing the traditional virgin damsels in favour of hormonal teenage boys.

Oh man, I am more than busted, when this got out I don't think I will ever be able to live it down.

Finally, as the list of my transgressions slowed from a torrent to a small flood, I tried again: “Listen, I can explain.”

Looking at Mrs Horton, the Admiral asked in a hang all prisoners tone of voice: “What do you think, should we give her a chance or should we just hand her over to Carson to deal with?”

Without any hint of a smile, the house mother replied: “Oh I don't know, I haven't had a good laugh since the end of last term.”

Turning back to me, the Admiral said in tone of voice that she had obviously spent years refining on quaking midshipmen: “You've got three minutes, make it good.”

With an offer like that, my creativity kicked into hyper drive: “You see, I'm not just a succubus, which by the way is a creature of the night, I'm a sidhe of the Court of the Moon. Selene wants to teach me the magic of my court, a court which draws its power from the night sky.”

As I said this, I gestured toward the jewellery making equipment by my bookshelf, but hurried on: “She also said I urgently needed to make a reliquary to capture the essence from my bondsmen, and to do that I needed to be in moon-light.”

Then with the most winsome expression I could manage, I gave a slight shrug as I made my final whining appeal: “I just didn't realise I needed special permission.”

You may notice I was laying a lot of the blame off on Selene, but the Admiral didn't pick up on it, instead asking: “And the buzzing of Emerson and Twain?”

In an even more whiny voice, I answered: “Well you see, when I was flying to the Grove to do the enchantments, the essence radiating from the dorms just tasted soo... good, I couldn't resist feeding on some of it.”

Thinking that comparing it to the conservation of a scarce resource might help, with another winsome smile and a helpless palms up shrug, I suggested : “I mean it was just going to waste otherwise, wasn't it.”

The Admiral cast a questioning look at Mrs Horton who helpfully pointed out: “There is a loophole in the curfew regulations for nocturnal students.”

I'm saved.

Or maybe not.

The Admiral, without actually calling me a liar, demanded: “Do you sleep, and if so when?”

Okay, that one kind of got me, I had been up for quite a while now and didn't really feel tired. Asking Selene, she replied: <Not in the human sense, we can enter the dream world and create a shard that is ours alone. Visiting it is very restful and can have therapeutic benefits, but it is not true sleep. Providing we have an ample supply of essence, we can go long periods between visits, so the answer is closer to no than yes.>

At there wondering expressions about my suddenly vacant gaze, I explained why I had had to ask my guardian spirit and recounted what Selene told me.

Seemingly satisfied she had all the information required to pass judgement, the Admiral pronounced: “As Mrs Horton says there are certain exceptions to curfew regulations that 'arguably' apply to you.”

There was a slight note of scepticism on the word 'arguably', but continuing uninterruptedly she went on: “Because of the security net, nocturnal students are generally restricted to the tunnels. Though there are exceptions for those in security, I myself use them, along with a few students like Caitlin Bardue. To keep the security alarms from going off, we check in with C&C as being on roving patrol. I will see about speeding up the process of issuing you with a short-wave radio and making sure you are on the duty roster.”

Mrs Horton added: “By the way dear, although you can fly, it is customary to use the door. Strictly speaking, it is against house rules to fly from the window, and I think your room-mate will be less than pleased if you open the window in the middle of the night, especially during the winter... How do you think she will react?”

Realising I was off the hook, I managed a very contrite sorry, before promising to be more house broken in the future.

Before leaving Sam, (I was evidently no longer in trouble,) asked about my tools and when I explained how Selene was going to teach me to make talismen and amulets, she said she would see about getting me enrolled in introductory workshop classes.

Crawling into bed, as Selene embraced me to continue my education as a Succubus, I asked her a question that meant a lot more to me than I really wanted to admit: <Selene, if I am your daughter, does that mean I can call you mum?>

After a startled pause, she replied: <Why yes, I think I would like that. I think I would like that very much indeed.>

To be continued, comments are always welcome.

Irvine

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

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

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

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

Scratchy

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breakfast

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Debriefed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Guardian

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lunch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rogers' Fabric Boutique

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oops...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<It's my natural form dear.>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeez, a girl just can't win.

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

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

Armour

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emergency Wardrobe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fresh young Posies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued.

Al comments gratefully received.

Irvine

Irvine

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

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

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

Authors note 1:
In this chapter, I run into a small problem: When writing in a Universe like Whateley, I think it is best to stick as close to the cannon characters as possible. If nothing else, the fans expect it. The problem is that the second generation cannon authors haven't quite reached this point yet. In addition, they have only introduced three characters that, are definitively in the 2007 fall fresher intake. Roulette, (Amy,) Maka, (Martina,) and Ribbon, (Alyss,) (Note for heavy duty fans: The existing time line leaves open the possibility of Envy, Camille and the Silver Ghost arriving in either Fall term or the term preceding the vacation.) To get around this continuity problem, and still allow for the possibility of a fan's favourite cannon character making a guest appearance in Luna's story, I am going to fudge, waffle and be deliberately vague during the Poe freshman induction. I humbly ask for your indulgence and understanding in this regard. For reasons of my own plot, I will introduce a few new freshers, so, apart from the above mentioned, any freshers that Luna meets are strictly non-cannon.

Authors note 2:
I make some mention of federal gun laws in the Whateley Universe. There is a fairly extensive article in the wiki about this. On the other hand, there is no information in the wiki on UK gun laws. For the purposes of this story, I'm going to translate 'current real life' gun laws and politics in the UK directly into the Whateley universe. Some people may find what I suggest about the reality of gun and knife crime in the UK surprising, but a quick internet search will reveal extensive corroboration. For my self, in addition to working for over 10 years in France as the handler of a team of police trained SWAT attack dogs, I also have many years experience living close to the edge in: the UK, around Europe, the Caribbean and South Africa.

Freshers

When I rushed into the common room, a tall Asian woman had already started to address the assembled new Poe intake. With every eye in the room turned towards me, the woman said with a sneer in her voice: “So good of you to deign to join us sub-Leftenant McCloud. Perhaps now that we are all here, we can proceed without these unseemly interruptions.”

Dismissing me with a wave to join the other freshers sitting in small groups dotted around the room. She waited with barely restrained impatience until I was seated in a solitary chair at the back, opposite her, yet out of everybody else’s direct line of sight. Launching into what was obviously a stock speech delivered so many times she probably recited it in her sleep, the ogre continued: “Well! As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted.”

Pausing to give me another withering glare, she went on: “Welcome to Whateley Academy! Now, you’ll get the formal Welcoming speech from the Headmistress along with all the other Freshmen, but this little talk is just for you. The reason that you were all told to come here a day ahead of the other freshmen, and the reason that you’re being put up in this dormitory is that you all have something in common that sets you apart from the other students, even beyond your individual mutations. You are what is currently called ‘Alternative Lifestyle’ types. You are gay, lesbian, transgendered, or so aggressively bisexual that it is an issue.......”

Okay, I zoned out, sue me! If you are that curious, ask some other student what she said. Me I had so many other problems to deal with, having gender identity issues didn't even make the 'Hot One Hundred.'

I was brought back to reality with a bump when I heard a short haired, good looking punk girl shout out 'Fiona McCloud'. Since she hadn't thrown in the 'sub-Leftenant', that alone had already made her number one in my book. What made me do a double take was, I recognised her from my visions as one of the resistance leaders I had seen trying to fight against the GOO. When she saw me give a start of recognition, there was momentary panic in her eyes, and her facial expressions said clearly: 'I know about your pre-cog talent and understand the significance of your reaction.'

Gathering several others together, she wanted to escort us on a tour of the campus. Of course, this meant I had to ask everybody to wait as I ran upstairs to drop off the charger and spare battery in my room. The embarrassment factor wasn't helped by the look of disdain from the ogre talking privately off to one side with Mrs Horton who gave me a friendly, conspiratorial wink.

When we finally got under way, we made a very disparate group, the three I really took note of were: A young girl of maybe 10 or 11 in pig-tails wearing a blue party dress with a big bow on the back, the dress was decorated with a plastic, skull shaped lapel pin with glowing eyes which matched the skull shaped hair clasps on her pigtails. There was something really freaky about this little girl. I mean, even apart from her unusual choice of decorations. The other two I noticed were, a boy, of maybe fifteen, who was really ripped and what was either a very masculine girl or a very feminine boy dressed in heels, mini skirt, halter-top and what I was sure was an extremely empty bra.

When we reached a fairly secluded spot with a good view of the Campus we stopped, and the punk girl introduced herself as Ayla Goodkind. At the questioning looks, she added in a pained voice: “Yes I am one those Goodkinds.”

This meant nothing to me, but from the gasps of horror from the others, it was some kind of big deal. Realising a few were obviously working themselves up to leave not just Ayla, but Whateley, probably New Hampshire,and maybe even the continental United States, before I could think I butted in: “Listen I don't know who or what a 'Goodthing' is..., sorry, I mean Goodkind....”

Dam and blast Vamp!

While unintentional on my part, the snickers and smiles meant they weren't immediately heading for the hills. The big problem was, now that I had their attention, I had to finish what I had started : “What I am trying to say is: I have a bit of a pre-cog talent and Ayla is not a hungry monster who is going to eat us for lunch. Just give her a chance and get to know her before you pass judgement. Okay?”

The little gothic lolita, who I would soon learn was called Alyss and had already chosen the codename Ribbon, had pulled a thick Churchill cigar and a box of matches out of her backpack. Making quite a show of lighting it, she blew an expert smoke ring up into the air with the satisfaction of a heavy smoker, before saying: “She's right you know, you can't choose your family and you shouldn't be judged on what your family does. We should give Ayla a chance.”

I think it was the total incongruity of this little kid and the big cigar she was smoking with obvious relish that left the others were too busy gaping to head for the hills. Capping off her little display, the young girl dived back into her pack, pulled out a silver hip flask, and after another toke on the cigar, took a swig. With a satisfied smack of her lips and another smoke ring: “Ah, that's better, you can't beat a shot of bourbon to go with a good cigar, why don't you go on with the introduction Ayla?”

With a grateful look at the both of us, Ayla continued: “The groups we have spit up into aren't accidental, the other two groups are gay and bisexual boys, and lesbian and bisexual girls. Us, we have all crossed the gender divide. Some willingly, some of us unwillingly.”

Saying this, she gave a sympathetic glance to the boy/girl in heels and mini-skirt before continuing: “In my case, when I first manifested, my parents disowned me and handed me over to Dr Emil Hammond....”

More gasps of horror, and a few sympathetic looks from everyone, including me. I didn't really know who Dr Hammond was, but I remembered the MCO goons when I first manifested telling me details of the gruesome experiments he did on mutants. Holding up her hand's for quiet, Ayla told us the rest of her story: “My estranged sister, who had been disowned for being transgendered, managed to get a writ of habeas corpus and rescue me, but by that time my BIT had started to remake my body into this.”

Waving her hands down her sides, she paused for a moment before finishing: “There is something wrong with my BIT, its like a hodge-podge of different BITs spliced together. I am a fully functional male, but look like a hot girl. I don't like it and would pay a billion dollars to get my male body back, but I don't think it is going to happen. At least not in the near future.”

There were nod's of understanding when Ayla said she would pay a billion dollars to get her male body back. Not like in the sense of a shared situation, but in the sense they understood Ayla meant exactly what she said, she would literally pay a billion dollars. Vamp's comment about being as rich as the 'Goodthing', suddenly made a lot more sense.

It wasn't any of my business, and I suddenly had more important things to worry about when Ayla asked me: “Okay, we don't have to like each other, but things here at Whateley can be pretty intense, and having a support group who understand what we are going through really helps. Why don't we tell each other a bit about ourselves. What about you Luna, you've been here for 24 hours, why don't you start off?”

She, (sorry he,) called me Luna!

Just exactly how much did he know?...

Seeing it as an opportunity to get out my side of the story before people had already made up their minds based on gossip, I gave the basic cover story about my parents accident and me being kidnapped. This lead into my joining with Selene, waking up as a girl and being transferred to the corps of breeders. There were gasps as I said this and the boy/girl demanded in shock: “What did you do? How did you escape?”

From the reaction, she was definitely a girl turning into a boy.

Taking it slowly, I explained about being a weapon created during the war that lead to the Sundering and my bonding of Blackstar squad. I could see a bit of scepticism about something that was straight out of a Lovecraft novel, but luckily Ayla helped out by telling them about Fey, who I had yet to meet, and Aunghadhail. Finally, I explained how headmistress Carson had decided to take steps to redirect anyone deemed to have 'Kimba potential' and, because I was a weapon who had already bonded my own private army, I had been drafted into security with my subaltern rank in Baron Blitzen's forces.

It seemed to go quite well, everyone wanted to know what I meant by 'Kimba potential' and Ayla, with an embarrassed grimace, told them: “During the tour, I will show you the combat arenas. They are like Whateley's version of a normal school's sports stadiums. They give us a chance to really let rip with our powers and learn to control them with a degree of safety. People do get hurt, sometimes seriously, sometimes, (rarely,) even killed, but it beats the alternative of us not learning how to get our powers under control. A lot of students get together to form training teams, they might want to be super heroes, (or villains,) after they graduate or do it for protection from some of the more obnoxious super powered bullies. Like I say, the school can be pretty intense... Anyway, when we arrived last year, the transgendered students from Poe formed 'Team Kimba' , it was more force of circumstance than by design and it's a fairly long story, but we have a bit of a reputation.....”

Ayla said this last with a shrug of embarrassment, and there were a few appraising glances as we sized each other up. That is, until the little brat with the cigar blew another smoke ring and looking directly at me, demanded: “You say you are a weapon and you bonded a private army, what do you mean? Exactly what kind of weapon are you?”

Blast it!

This was exactly what I was hoping to avoid. Sighing I told them the truth: “I'm a succubus....”

Holding up my hands to stop the incredulous gasps and anxious looks, I went on: “.... we were created as a type of magical special forces' warrior who could infiltrate behind enemy lines to mount insurrections, assassinate or subvert their leaders and gather military intelligence. We are not demonic, though our true form gave rise to the racial memory of the demonic temptress. Before we volunteered we were sidhe, and are still recognised by the majority of the other sidhe as such.”

There was an implicit acknowledgement to a bit of good old fashioned racism amongst the sidhe in what I said. Racism of which I had previously been unaware. It had happened before, and would happen again, sometimes knowledge would pass directly to me from my mum. If the others picked up on what I was implying about the sidhe character, they didn't get the chance to latch on to it. The little brat was way too astute for a 10 year old and had the bit between her teeth. Demanding even more forcibly: “You're speaking as if you 'personally' volunteered, and earlier you said you are a pre-cog, but if what Ayla says about the GOO is true, they were defeated millions of years ago? Have you seen something?”

Ayla interrupted at that point, saying: “Listen, if Luna has seen something, I don't think this is the right place to talk about it. In fact, if there is a war coming between us and the GOO, it would be best if we all forget about this conversation. Unless of course you would like to see your families and loved one's sacrificed in demonic rituals or being fed to powerful Old Gods. If that's the case, I'm sure the GOO's agents would do 'anything' to find out everything 'you' know about Luna.”

Okay, I will give the little brat this, she was quick and realised straight away what Ayla was implying. Without batting an eyelid, she jumped from being a potential recruit eager to sign up to a sceptic who thought I was feeding them a story made out of whole cloth; in the process, turning me into an object of pity and derision by announcing in a dismissive voice: “Ack!... It's just all this garbage took me by surprise. Fortune telling? It's a trick used by shysters to separate fools from their money, I mean who here has ever even heard of the GOO before. And really! What kind of name is 'The GOO', it's too crass to even make it into one of those 1950's Hollywood monster movies.”

With a loud, very adult male harrumph, followed by a smoke ring, she reached into her sack for another hit of the bourbon.

So far, my telepathic gift was not something I had learned to use; and strangely, even if it wasn't a serious breach of Whatley’s cannon of psychic ethics, (on which I had had a full-throated pre-breakfast lecture from Chief Delarose,) my talents seemed, like Starlance's, more attuned to combat than simple mind-reading. That being said, without trying, I got a strong sense that the little girl was seriously concerned about what she had heard. Concerned in the way a parent or grand parent might be. The others though, snickered a bit and a few eyeballs rolled while Ayla helped the levity along by saying with an amused smile: “The cover story of 'Poe Cottage' is it's where they put all the loonies, so our little Cassandra is going to fit right in.”

Of course the rest of them bought right into what she had said with relish, and the sniggers became giggles and outright laughter. Once she was not the centre of attention however, Ayla caught my eye and gave me an apologetic shrug and mouthed sorry, as did Alyss.

I understood why they had done it, but it still put me in another funk. It didn't seem to matter what I did, a new set of rumours about me not only being a borg queen, but a flake to boot, was already warping its way into the campus's hyper-spatial grapevine.

I didn't really pay attention to what the others were saying about themselves, I was too busy wallowing in self pity. Apart from that, their story is really their own private affair, and if you are that desperate to know, you should ask them not me.

You never know, they might even tell you.

Having said that, since a couple of them figure in the story of my time at Whateley, I should maybe give a brief introduction to a few of the more important ones.

Since we were both pre-freshers, the brat and I would be under the guidance of a Mrs Grimes who ran the Junior High program. For the most part, the pre-freshers, like many/most mutants, had way above average intelligence compared to baseline children, and, as a result, were able to share classes with the older students. To give us a support group we had a compulsory home room which, because Mrs Grimes was a Mystic Arts instructor, doubled as 'Basic Mystic Concepts 050'. Alyss, whose main power was to manifest lengths of ribbon, put it about that she was the love child of a notorious super villain called Lady Havoc.

Tim, the hunk, who had just turned 15 two day's previously, was a TK brick and exemplar from a small town in south eastern Washington state. Before manifesting, she had been a fat, ugly, lesbian, (his words not mine,) who had been the target for every bully in her old school. When he manifested six months previously and discovered he was turning into a guy, it was like a gift from heaven. He suspected from the way he had embraced his change, (a change which was more or less complete,) he might have been latent transgendered rather than a lesbian.

By coincidence, the boy/girl in skirt and heels who was called Julie or Jules, had been a cheerleader at the same junior-high and had manifested around the same time as Tim. She was a high level manifestor, which she could live with. What she couldn't live with was being a mid level exemplar; which, because of her BIT, was slowly turning her into a guy. Living in denial, she was desperately unhappy about what was happening to her; and, in my opinion, close to being suicidal. An opinion that the others, especially Ayla and Alyss seemed to share.

Complicating things, Tim and Jules had not been close in school. In fact, from all the crying and apologising, I got the impression that Julie had been one of the ringleaders tormenting Tim.

With them both manifesting at the same time, in the same junior high-school, this had drawn the attention of Humanity First, and they had had to make a hair raising cross country escape from an H1 lynch mob. The chase ended with their parents leading the H1 mob off on a false trail, while Jules and Tim hid out together for three weeks in the back-country forest on the western side of the Cascades. Being thrown together like this, by the time their parents could finish getting them to the comparative safety of relatives in Seattle, Jules had latched onto Tim like a limpet. I was sure the only thing holding her together was Tim's ongoing, fraternal support.

Listening to Jules, I realised how rough my own change could have been, and it made me feel a bit better about some of the crap that was happening to me. Not much better, but it did help me to put it in the context of how I was not the only one that the fates seemed to be having a dump on. As it was, the rest of the tour was, as far as I was concerned, perfunctory, and I paid very little attention while I tried to work through the tangled skein of emotions buzzing around in my head.

Oh, before we get into the subject of my new room-mate, I should mention one thing.

Maybe because any time I had been around guys other than Blackstar squad there was too much else going on for me to notice, but I could sense and taste the essence from Ayla, Tim and Jules. It was nowhere near anything like as much as I got from my bondsmen, and anyway, in Ayla's and Jules's case it tasted funny: Ayla's tasted sour, like the way fresh milk does when cows move from summer pasture to winter silage, while Jules's taste a bit like a bland, unripe gooseberry..... Tim's, on the other hand, tasted delicious.

Still, it was only tiny little appetisers, and, asking my mum, she replied: <Yes, you can draw 'some' of the essence they are radiating, it is not much and certainly nowhere near as much as you could draw with the bond, but it is still there. Last night over Emerson and Twain, it was stronger, because there were many more hormonal boys dreaming, today there is only a few boys and they're trying to be proper gentlemen. They are till radiating essence though; which, when you draw in a taste, the spell you cast is capturing and storing in your reliquary.>

Thinking of my belly ring, when I concentrated, I could feel the essence it already held. It really was a very small amount, more like the dampness on a glass that has just been rinsed, but it was definitely there. I was very excited at this development, and my mum had to curb my exuberance, by pointing out: <Calm down child yes it is there, and you could use it, but a reliquary of that capacity might take six months or more to get even half full. Unless of course you bonded many more warriors, and I think your current warband is causing you enough problems. Once you get settled into a routine I will show you exercises to capture essence from the night sky and nature to add to your store. However, unless you are planning to immediately head off and do battle with the old Gods, you don't really need it yet. Do you?>

Gulp! Me, battling Gods?

On a basic level, I knew this was where we were heading, but I hadn't really put it together as a conscious thought. Mum gave me a quick embrace me saying: <You have time yet to prepare, and I will be with you. For the moment, your new friends are getting worried.>

Double crap!

I must have stumbled or tripped when mum embraced me. Ayla had a supportive arm around me, while the others were looking on with a mix of emotions, ranging between concern and: 'Oh my god, what’s the loon doing now?'.

Okay, I was in a difficult position here. I obviously needed to explain why I had zoned out, but my esper situational awareness was, along with the requisite klaxons and flashing red lights, screaming: 'Warning, danger be careful, be very , very careful!'

My usual glib explanation would just reinforce the notion I was one of the campus crazies. On the other hand, thanks to the brat, having a reputation for being a flake might be preferable to the alternatives. With some reluctance I told them: “I am okay, I was just being lectured to by my mum and wasn't looking where I was going.”

By the rolling of eyes, I could see the updated rumours taking off. 'Watch out she isn't just a flake, she hears voices too.'

Thankfully, we were arriving back at Poe, but before she let me go Ayla leaned in and whispered: “I'm sorry about what happened, but I think we really need to talk. I will try to find a way to speak to you without drawing undue attention, okay?”

With a silent nod of agreement, I added for the benefit of the others: “Thanks Ayla, I think I will be okay now. It's just, you know what pleasure a mother takes in lecturing her children about imagined shortcomings.”

Mum gave a snort of indignation but left it at that, which left me to return to my funk at the general way life was conspiring to ostracise me. Once we entered Poe, I didn't hang around downstairs. Instead, I immediately fled to the safety of my room.

Room-mates

Looking at my unpacked purchases from the midday shopping expedition brought a smile to my face. The first thing on the agenda was to get out of the security uniform. Plugging in the charger, I called in to sign out of the radio net, and placed the radio in its cradle with the ear bud and the sapphire choker, belt and bracelet off to one side. Then, stripping off the uniform and hanging it in the closet with the combat boots beneath, I made a snap decision to play up the loon angle.

Turning back to my bed, I quickly found the strappy sandals, red suspender belt and a pair of the silk stockings. After sitting at my desk and rolling the stockings up my legs, I felt better, much better. There is just something about real silk that affects me the way other girls go calf eyed over chocolate. Anyway, I didn't have time to wallow in extravagance. Slipping on the sandals, I stood and adjusted the suspender belt and straps, before heading over to my wardrobe mirror to check the seams were straight.

With the typical ill-chance that seemed to be dogging me, my new room-mate chose that moment to open the door and walk in. She was alone, thankfully, although there were a few girls passing by outside who took the opportunity to ogle. By now, I was immune to my almost perpetual state of near nudity and calmly pulled out the dark blue velvet gown from its carrier bag. The buttons were already open, and I was able to jiggle directly into it while sensuously pulling the long, loose sleeves up my arms and over my shoulders. This was the reason I was going to play up the loon angle, much though I loved it, the gown could have belonged to Morticia.

My new roomie was still standing in the doorway gaping while more and more girls who, unable to resist the chance to ogle my deliciously jiggling bod, were gathering behind her. She looked to be about 14 or 15, maybe 5ft 5 tall, with a full figure, jet black long, hair loosely tied back with a ribbon, and a gorgeous, lightly tanned mediterranean complexion. She was 'HOT', but not in the exemplar way, which, even though my human form is a low level exemplar, always strikes me as being a bit artificial. What I mean is, to me, high level exemplar babes look like glossy magazine models after they have been photo-shopped beyond recognition. My new roomie, was pure, natural, wholesome 'HOT' along with capitalised letters and underscoring.

Mincing over to the door, I offered a friendly, limp hand shake and introduced myself with a breathy: “Hi, my name is Fiona... I think we are going to be sharing together. Do you think you could button me up?”

Tongue tied and blushing furiously, she managed to lightly take my hand and reply: “Huh... Sure... em... my name is Cassie....”

With a visible effort, she pulled herself together and, much to the disappointment of my growing crowd of admirers, after dragging her large suitcase fully into the room, she firmly closed the door behind her.

Wrestling her big 60 litre rucksack off her shoulders and onto the empty bed, she turned back to me with a kind of really sweet, lost puppy look in her eyes. Feeling impish, I turned my back and, with a coquettish over the shoulder smile, reminded her: “Buttons please.”

Once she got me buttoned up, we got down to serious introductions. For those of you familiar with Poe Cottage, you may be aware that there is an informal rule that transgendered students normally room together. This is not strictly true. More accurately, the rule is students likely to be facing similar issues room together. In the view of the powers that be, this was the case with me and my new roomie.

Cassie's story was, I suspect, one many young girls could identify with. An only child, her father was a police sergeant, her mother a school teacher, and both were pillars of respectability in the small, Oklahoman bible belt town where Cassie had been raised. They were also devout fundamentalist christians. Upon entering puberty, Cassie had discovered masturbation and they had given her the expected 'it's sinful and evil speech'. Much to her parents concern, Cassie had ignored them. What became even more of a concern was her developing, in her parents view, an unhealthy curiosity in boys and their 'thingies'. The boys of course had loved her interest and she quickly gained a reputation.

There were a great many rumours about her floating around the community she lived in. The vast majority of them were untrue, but, because people preferred to believe the gossips, she was finding it increasingly difficult to say no to any boy, (or man,) who asked. The previous November, while still in her final year at junior high, she was caught naked in the senior high-school showers along with the football team's entire line up. Each for their own reasons, both the school and her parents decided to hush it up, but agreed that Cassie needed medical help. This lead her to a quack endocrinologist who diagnosed her as having a slightly elevated level of testosterone which, in his opinion, was causing her libido to go into overdrive. As a result, she was prescribed testosterone blockers.

At this point in her tale, Cassie broke down, and we ended up sitting on her bed with my arm around her as she cried her eyes out. Apparently the side effects from the blockers, like excessive fatigue, weakness, and lack of concentration were extremely unpleasant and her school work was suffering. Her concerned parents, looking into alternative therapies, had been seriously discussing with their minister and the quack, a treatment popular as recently as the 1960's and 70's which involved surgically removing the little button considered to be the source of the problem, (I jest not.) In the quack's opinion, her condition was a 'medical necessity' covered by section 116 subsection (B)/(1) of the 1996 federal law banning the procedure in minors under the age of 18.

Luckily for Cassie, towards the end of February, she manifested as a fairly powerful Healer with her own regen. This made that particular option, along with the continued use of testosterone blockers, unviable. Her parents, and their minister, then decided to send her off to a good christian, girls only boarding school. At least that had been the plan until about three weeks ago, when she had been caught flagrante delicto in the old woodshed behind the church with the head of her old junior high cheer leading squad. Since, in her parents, (and their ministers,) view, they were now out of options, with only 24 hours warning, she had been packed off to Whateley as a lost cause.

There was more: Her parents, professing to still love her, had, with the aid of a scholarship to help cover Whateley's heavy fees, agreed to support her till she was 18. However, before she got on the bus to Whateley, it was made clear to her that, unless she got her promiscuity under control, it would be best if she made a new life in the god-forsaken, liberal North East where the servants of Satan had created an environment more tolerant of alternative lifestyle choices.

What a bloody mess, it made my own problems seem trivial in comparison. To cheer her up, in return, I gave her the light-hearted version of my own story. Concentrating on the juicier bits, like arriving naked in the middle of the quad and how security saw me as demonic borg queen intent on seducing them into my collective, I soon had her laughing, gasping and clasping her hands to her face in maidenly shock.

While Cassie did a quick unpacking, I was putting away my mornings purchases. Since there weren't all that many and they were loosely arranged in carrier bags, things went fairly quickly. That is, until I laid my armour over my chair in preparation for tonight’s enchantments.

Up until now, probably because she was telling her story and very nervous about how I would react, Cassie had been fairly restrained. Now that we were taking the first steps toward friendship, she released the internal damping controls that normally held back her very childlike enthusiasm. Seeing my armour, she cried out: “Oh my god, what's that?... Its scandalous!..... Is that your super-hero costume?... I haven't got a costume, do you think I should get one...... What kind of costume should I get?....”

There was more, and it all came out in staccato like, short fire bursts which didn’t leave any room for a chance to reply.

Finally, I was able to get out: “I'm not a super-hero, it's my armour for my succubus form. At least it will be after I put an enchantment on it tonight.”

“Succubus form?... Enchantments?... Oh that is so cool, can I see?... Do you look like a demon?... Can I watch you doing magic?.... Oh that is so cool, who would have imagined I would be living with Hermione?.... Can you fly around on a broomstick?.... Do you play Quidditch? Heh, heh, heh.... The armour looks like it should belong to a warrior queen, are you a savage barbarian queen in disguise?......You look like a queen, is that your crown you are wearing?...”

Holding up my hands, I managed to stop the torrent and quickly filled her in: “Firstly succubi are not demonic, we are sidhe and I am not a Queen, just a Princess. Harry Potter? Yeugh! Hated the books and the film both, and I don't need a broomstick, I've got wings. Seeing my true form and magic, yes but not now, later tonight. For the moment, can we 'please' finish getting ready? My human form is basically an exemplar and it burns up a lot of calories, this means I am really hungry......”

You may have noticed that her short fire burst way of speaking was contagious. I didn't have to say any more though, with a shrieked apology, she rushed to finish unpacking her worldly belongings.

Since I had now put away my purchases, I was free to replace my bed-linen with the nice soft satin-weave that Cecilia had made for me. Of course, when Cassie saw what I was doing, I had to explain about my delicate skin, which lead to a friendly, burst fire ribbing about how everyone knows about the 'Princess and the pea' and it proves I must be a real Princess.

Quickly returning to her frenzied, but highly inefficient method of unpacking, I was able to take care of the most important stage of getting ready for dinner: Jewellery and make-up. Deciding I needed a change of accessories, I pulled out what served me as a jewellery box. This, of course, resulted in a gasp of horrified shock from Cassie, before she staccato fired another apology and dived back into unpacking everything she owned. Me, I just resolved to get another jewellery box at the soonest possible opportunity.

Selecting the aquamarine belt, I chose a shiny transparent blue stoned pendant which, with the aid of a thin gold chain, dangled just at the entry to my cleavage and a bracelet with similar shiny blue stones. They didn't match in the way the sapphire ensemble did, but they were close enough.

Sitting at my desk, I took one of the dark blue chokers Cecilia had given me and attached a moon cameo that was just starting to wane, before fastening it around my elegant neck. Then, examining my reflection in the vanity mirror, I realised I would need to redo my hair.

I mean, what is a girl to do? The delicate maiden's braids I had woven that morning just did not go with the sultry Morticia gown I was wearing.

Not having a lot of experience in the way of hair styles, I opted for putting it up in the loose bun I had originally mastered and after a quick brush, re-attached the bindi before pining my hair up with loose natural ringlets framing my face. After that, it only took a few minutes to touch up my make-up. Cassie, who having stopped unpacking, was looking at me strangely and asked: “When we were getting our tour, they told us all the other girls in Poe were some kind of boy/girl changelings?”

“Yes?”

“You can't be a boy your just so natural, and when I saw you naked, you obviously didn’t have a boy's 'thingy'.”

Okay, she deserved an explanation so I resisted the urge to sigh, and launched my standard reply #1 to questions abut my gender: “It's the magic of becoming a succubus, it's re-writing my outer personality to make me more effective as weapon. At first it really freaked me out; but now, it just feels right, like breathing air or like a fish swimming. I still have a lot learn about make-up hair and clothes you know. Like, I only know how to do two hairstyles and the only make-up style I know is what I am wearing. As for clothes!.... I was naked when I arrived and had to go to a couturist in town this morning to commission a wardrobe, this was all her choices and creativity.”

“Couturist?... Commission a wardrobe?.... Are you rich?”

This time, I did sigh: “When my parents died in the accident, they left me a trust fund. The daughter of one of the school trustees is my guardian and she acts as the trustee to my fund. I can't touch the capital till I am 18, but I get an allowance and can buy clothes.”

Seeing her getting worked up about my parents dying, I quickly re-directed her by asking in a hopeful voice: “You know I could really use your help with learning about clothes, make-up, hairstyles and all the other girly stuff?”

“Oh yes!...That would be so cool.... I would love to do that.... It would be like having a little sister.... I always wanted a little sister.... What have you got in the way of make-up?.... Let me see?....”

Oh man, I was doomed! If she kept up this staccato speech, by the end of the year I would be as crazy as her.

I think Cassie's real problem was that she had never had any friends. When she was younger having a father who was 'the policeman' and a mother who was 'the schoolteacher', made the other kids avoid her. When she found out that, by being nice to boys, they seemed to want her as a friend, the opportunity was too good to resist. At least at first, by the time she found out that everyone and their uncles were just using her, it was too late. I never got the full details of what exactly happened, but she mentioned how she overheard some of the men who were using her talking about pimping her out and making hardcore internet porn. From hints she dropped, this was more than just talk, and she did actually turn a few tricks and make a few films.

At the end of the day though, there was something really irrepressible about her nature. Sure she could be annoying as hell when she dived enthusiastically into something new, and the occasional crying jag, along with the associated guilt trip, about her parents disowning her could be a real downer; but in her soul, she was just a bubbly friendly teenage girl who, for the most part, was completely unbowed by a nightmarish introduction to real life.

A little digression there, like I say she could be annoying as hell, but we were becoming friends and I felt the need to defend her.

Anyway, holding up my hands again, I pleaded: “Food please!”

With another anguished shriek of apology, she dived back to finish off unpacking.

Actually, she was more or less finished, she was holding in her hands what looked like an aluminium 30cm square toolbox. Bearing in mind my own recent tool purchases, I curiously asked: “What kind of tools do you have? I have some of my own, maybe we can share?”

Looking at me as if I was dum and placing the box on her desk, she opened it for me to inspect its contents, while replying with some pride: “It's a .45 calibre, Kel-Tec P-3AT semi-automatic pistol. It was my dad's back up gun for when he was on duty. He gave it to me when I was packing to come here.....”

She nearly broke into tears again at the mention of her father. Apparently he had made a sarcastic comment about her needing the protection if she continued on in the way she had been going.

While getting Cassie calmed down, and helping her securely put away the weapon. She went on to explain that her father had checked with the school and she only needed to complete the range safety course before she could carry it around campus. The firearms training was something she had already done succesfuly in Oklahoma, so she didn't foresee any problems here at Whateley.

This got me thinking, I had done basic fire arms training with the Barron and, at close range, even a short barreled .45 calibre weapon would make really messy holes in human flesh. Because of the UK's restrictive firearm laws, back in Edinburgh knives and needles were the usual weapons commonly found on the streets; even, on occasion, making an appearnce in fights at my old inner city school. In fact, knife attacks were common enough that, in the same way Northern Irish surgeons were leading experts at repairing damage from punishment beatings, Scottish A&E surgeons were considered to be world leaders in repairing the damage from a frenzied knife attack. In one of those bizarre twists that demonstrate human insanity, the reputaion of our surgeons in this regard was a source of national pride.

One of the more disgusting aspects was, the thugs and morons seemed to be in an arms race with the surgeons. Developing improvised special purpose knives by fastening two, or more, blades together seperated by pennies. When used in slashing attacks, these improvised blades made deep tramline wounds that were too close together for the surgeons to easily sew up.

As bad as the improvised knives were, because of their concealability, weaponised needles, (occasionaly from syringes deliberately tainted with HIV or Hepatitis,) were becoming increasingly common. The wide-boys would thread them under their collars and into their hair with a twofold purpose: If someone grabbed them, for example a policeman or security guard, then they got a fistfull of needles, which would be quickly followed by a needle in one, or both, eyes.

To add complications, if you had the connections not avaialable to law abiding citizens, guns were freely available. It was possible to rent a gun for the weekend from an underground armourer for £100 with, if it was returned unfired, a £50 rebate. Some of these guns even made their way into the school-yard. In the last couple of years there had been tabloid stories about school kid shooters, and I knew from second-hand rumour, certain kids in my old school were reputed to have flashed a gun hidden in their school bag. Further, even as I arrived at Whateley, the shooting of 12 year old Rhys Jones was being attributed to school kids, one of whom was slightly younger than me.

So, you may understand why I didn't really know what to make of this development. A 14 year old carrying a gun, albeit in a case, thousands of miles across the country and upon arrival at her destination being issued a carry permit. On the other hand, as I made clear above, there were more than a few people in Edinburgh who, in my opinion, if some good samaritan happened to shoot them dead, then they, [the samaritan,] would have been widely considered to have done the world a great favour.

As I was thinking this through, Cassie was telling me that her dad was an outdoor sportsman and she had been accompanying him since she was a little girl. She had been riding her own horse and camping out since she was seven or eight years old, caught and landed a trophy trout by the time she was nine and taken her first trophy buck when she was eleven. A real Calamity Jane in more ways than one.

The Boys

This was all relatively unimportant though, we were ready to leave and I ran into a major logistics problem, rather several logistics problems. I needed to pee. Badly!

The first problem was that some of the girls had discovered the Hydroflux equipment but failed to realise the significance of the sound cancellation system. Threading my way through a crowd of curious boys while being forced to shout: “Desperate Lady coming through. Desperate Lady urgently needs to use the rest room.” was, I must admit, pretty embarrassing.

Of course, it got progressively worse.

I finally made it into the Ladies toilet block only to encounter problem #2: A crowd of anxious lezzies urging those lucky enough to already have a shower cubicle to hurry up and finish so that they could have a shot with this marvellous invention. Suggesting that maybe they could figure out how to turn on the sound cancellation, I threaded my way through this second crowd only to encounter problem #3: Given the figure hugging tightness of the dress, the only way to complete my business, was to unbutton and step out of the gown. Okay I did get a bit of help with that, but this lead onto problem #4: Due to inexperience, I had put the straps from the suspender belt on the outside of my bikini briefs. The result was, I was back to being naked in semi-public before I could finally get into position to relieve the pressure.

I really loved that gown, as did most of the campus males and lesbians, but it was the most impractical piece of clothing ever dreamt up by the mind of what was undoubtedly a man.

By the way, you may be wondering about why I am referring to some of the girls as 'lezzies'? Well, you see, when I was in the shower block, I realised I could taste the heightened flow of essence. It tasted weak and watery, and the flow from individual girls was even smaller than what I had tasted from Ayla, Tim and Jules, but it was noticeable, especially in the charged atmosphere resulting from the Hydroflux equipment. When I asked mum about it, she suggested the only reason I could detect it at all was because they were turned on by my delicious bod. Since it looked like I had my own built in Lez-Dar, I took to calling them lezzies. Curiously, although Cassie was sexually adventurous and she did admit to finding my bod attractive, like the straight girls, I never could detect any flow of essence from her.

Anyway, after getting re-dressed, I worked my way back outside to find the girls had taken my words to heart about the sound cancellation system. The crowd of boys had disappeared and the only two left were talking to Cassie.

Achmed had already been rated as level 6 exemplar and level 4 coercive telepath. Just shy of his 15th birthday, he was a non-practising Sunni muslim who came from the Iraqi city of Basra. Over the last thirty or forty years of near constant warfare, most of his extended family had been killed in the fighting or related outbreaks of disease, leaving him, a Sunni orphan in a predominantly Shiite city, scavenging for whatever food he could find. When he manifested, he had come under a lot of pressure to join a jidhadist group. Not liking this idea, he had explained to them at some length what he thought about both religion and nationalism before making his way to a UN base where a sympathetic aid worker had arranged for him to come to Whateley.

Estimated to be about 14 or 15, Justice, (that was his real name,) had a similar story to Achmed. From a remote region of north eastern Nigeria, he too was a non-practising Sunni muslim who had a psychotic hatred of any kind of religion or national government. Rated as a level 5 gadgeteer and level 4 devisor, he had been discovered by a UN worker hiding out in the bush, where he was using his talents to wage a one boy guerilla war against both a local jidhadist group, and the Nigerian military. One of which had been responsible for the death of his family and the kidnapping of his sisters. While he was able to salvage some electronic and mechanical parts to wage his war, many of the gadgets and devises he had created had been pure bush tech.

They were room-mates in room 210 and if you think putting people with similar 'issues' was foresighted, consider this: They both despised religion with a passion that, in any other context, would have been described as 'Holy'. It was a situation that had the potential for genuine catastrophe. Funnily enough, their hatred for any form of religion was closely echoed by Cassie. (I never got the full story of that one, but I believe that some of her church elders, possibly even the minister himself, had been both her greatest accusers and her greatest abusers.)

Joining them, the first thing I noticed was that the small amounts of essence the boys were radiating, tasted flat and lifeless. If you like, although they were male, their fantasies and drives were less than invigorating for a heterosexual young succubus.

Putting a ll that aside for the moment, the reason they were talking to Cassie was: Due to deep rooted cultural prejudices, they were so far inside the closet I was surprised they made it into Poe; and, since in muslim countries that permitted dating, a common practice was for lesbian and gay couples to double date, they were wondering if they could take Cassie and me to dinner. Neither of us had any objection, though Cassie wanted to collect a 'nice boy' she had been talking to at the station and arranged to meet.

When you bear in mind the nature of Poe, and the fact Tim and Jules were probably the only heterosexual boys currently in residence, you shouldn’t really be surprised who the 'nice boy' was, (and yes, I'll get to Jules/Julie being heterosexual in a moment.)

Tim and Jules had been put in room 208, and when we knocked on the door, we obviously interrupted a tear filled rant about the many injustices of life. Jules was sitting puffy eyed on the bed, while Tim was standing nearby helplessly. Looking to us for support, he asked: “I was just trying to explain to Jules that if he turned up at Crystal hall for dinner dressed in girls clothes, the other students would tear him to pieces. Do you think you could help explain...”

Then, pausing to give a shrug, he went on: “When we were in Seattle the shrink his parents sent him to explained it. With his BIT and regen, there were no viable medical options.... I don't even know where he got the girls clothes, when we arrived in Dunwich, he just disappeared into the toilet and came out dressed like that.”

Hearing himself being referred to as a 'he', Jules burst out: “I am not a boy, I will never be a boy and don't want to be called a boy.”

After being with Cassie for nearly an hour and still being close to her, my power mimic trait must have picked up a bit of her power. It was the first time I had ever really felt it, but I was sure I could sense an echo of Cassie reaching out from the doorway to try to 'heal' Jules. It didn't work of course, the problems Jules was suffering from were mental rather than physical and I'm not sure if any healer can cure a purely mental illness. Me though, after tasting both 'lezzy' and the 'gay' essence, I was certain Jules was now a heterosexual boy, immature and not yet all the way there, but definitely heterosexual.

Trying a little experiment, I directed a tiny little blast of my aura at him; and yes, I know it was wrong, but it was really tiny, not even enough to make him tractable. More like just enough to make him give me an appreciative second look. Which, of course, he did.

It was all the confirmation I needed. Bundling Tim out the door, while surreptitiously signalling Cassie to follow my lead, I explained: “Look, Cassie and I need to have a girl talk with Julie. Could you give us a few minutes?”

More than happy to oblige, Tim joined Achmed and Justice in the hallway, leaving us alone with Jules. Turning back to him, I gave him another very tiny blast and said: “You know you are very lucky you know,.....”

At his indignant interruption, I held up my hand, and with another little blast, started to wiggle my cute little bod over to him, saying: “Yes of course you are, when your ready to start experimenting with your new body, you're going to know all the little secrets that drive the girls wild with passion.”

Cassie, picking up on what I planned, started to seductively move to his opposite side. Saying: “Oh my yes, I never thought of that. I am sure by this time next year you will be the most popular guy on campus. When I think back to some of the guy's that have fucked me and how totally clueless they were to what a girl really likes, I wouldn't be at all surprised if the girls don't start fighting over you.”

Okay, I wouldn't have been quite so brazen and I was nowhere near ready to even let a guy touch me, never mind 'go all the way', but this was Cassie we are talking about; and anyway, I didn't really want Jules to focus solely on me. Just to keep his interest up, I gave him one last tiny little hit of my aura, before sitting down beside him. Leaning in so that one of my titties was lightly pressing against his arm, in a husky voice, I almost whispered: “She's right you know, you must remember how your dates would grope at you....”

Sitting on his other side and leaning into him in the same way I was, Cassie picked up the thread: “Oh yes, I used to think that they had more hands than an octopus, and if they would just slow down and take it easy, I would do anything they wanted.”

We tag-teamed Jules like that for a good 10 minutes.

With two hot babes leaning into him and his new found masculine drives erupting like Vesuvius, the poor guy never stood a chance. By the time we stepped out back into the hall to let him get dressed, he had agreed to hand to over his stash of girls clothes to Cassie. Surprisingly, he did this fairly quickly, with Cassie being able to dash off to hide them in our room and return before he had finished dressing in male clothes.

Real men are so easy to manipulate.

Training teams

Now that we were ready to go, I needed to exercise a Lady’s prerogative and make them wait as I returned to our room to pick up the blue velvet bag along with my wallet, hair brush and makeup. As I walked off, I clearly heard Achmed suggesting in heavily accented English: “Man, a booty like that is almost enough to make me wish I liked girls.”

Justice, Tim and Jules evidently agreed.

Weren't they nice boy's, you can see why I liked them.

Oh, maybe I should point out that before arriving at Whateley, both Achmed and Justice had benefited from a six week intensive language course sponsored by the UN. Prior to this Achmed had spoken Arabic and a bit of broken GI and Squaddie English. Justice, on the other hand, wasn't sure what his native tongue was and spoke a smattering of Yoruba, Marghi, Ngizim, Kamwe and Mada, along with a few others.... His primary language in the remote area of Nigeria he lived, had been a hybrid pidgin of English and French.

We now hit yet another problem in a long litany of complaints about what was otherwise: 'Simply the most adorable gown imaginable'.... Getting down stairs in a lady like fashion, without breaking my cute little neck.

Achmed solved the problem by throwing me over his shoulder; and, with much screaming, kicking and giggling on my part, along with a few friendly smacks to my tush, I safely arrived at the bottom, (of the stairs that is.)

It was almost a shame he was gay, but thoughts of what might have been, were rudely interrupted by the audience who, drawn by my frantic screaming, were awaiting our arrival. Blushing again, I could see running through there minds: 'Definitely a flake.'

Mrs Horton poked her head out of her door, took one look, and before ducking back in, commented: “Nice dress Fiona. A trifle overdone maybe, and definitely very impractical; but still, it is a very nice dress.”

She didn't even have the decency to warm her hands at the intense heat from my blush.

Quickly leading the way to the door, I realised that walking with anything other than mincing little steps was impossible, and, at my maximum speed, we would be unlikely to reach Crystal hall before it closed. Given how hungry I now was, I had two possibilities: Either unbutton my dress and bra, change into my succubus form and fly, or get one of the boys to carry me.

Once we were outside, the red border to the flag put flying out, which left being carried. Undignified maybe, but the situation was desperate. Looking them over, we had two exemplars and a brick. I was fairly sure that Cassie, who had managed to sandwich herself between Jules and Tim, had a 'thing' going for Tim, and seeing Jules looking a bit forlorn, I decided to cheer him up. Sidling my way up beside my target, I hung onto Jules's arm so that my titty was once again pressing gently into it, (well, it worked before didn't it.) Gradually working my way around to introducing the idea, it didn't take long until he himself proposed that carrying me might be a good idea by manfully throwing me over his shoulder caveman style.

Like I say, 'real men' are so easily manipulated, especially when they are also exemplars who were probably as hungry as I was.

It was a lot of fun, and for all he wasn't anywhere near to completing his change, he had muscles like you wouldn't believe!

After arriving at Crystal hall, we quickly filled our trays and took a table close to the food line so that we could easily go back for seconds and maybe thirds. By way of explanation, remember we were novices and didn't yet have the experience to know that, for some of us, using a tray as a plate was not only perfectly acceptable at Whateley, but an absolutely necessity if one expected to fit in a hectic class schedule with important things like gossip.

Getting down to business, we exchanged stories about our previous lives and how we ended up here. Some things I couldn't avoid coming out, like being a weapon and being drafted into security with the rank of sub-Lieutenant. Being a succubus was probably unavoidable, though it did raise a jolt of fear from Achmed and Justice. In Arab-African countries the 'qarînah' were greatly feared and tied to many local superstitions linking them with black magic rituals and curses. I think it was their shared hatred of religion that got them over that particular little prejudice. Though I did make a note to be very careful about what I did or said if I ever found myself in Africa.

Cassie, in another bought of enthusiasm, helpfully pointed out that I was a sidhe princess, which also helped our superstitious muslim brothers get over their initial shock/fear/terror. Then we got down to what was going to be the main subject of conversation for not just Posies, but all the freshers set to arrive tomorrow: Team Kimba and training teams!

After the subject was brought up, it didn't take long for Cassie, in a fit of exuberance, to propose that we form our own team. A suggestion that everyone quickly agreed to, well, everyone except me. I was keeping very quiet at this point.

As to the question of team leader, Tim suggested that, since I was an officer and getting special training in military stuff, it should be me. Achmed and Justice, more out of principle than anything else, objected to having a woman in command; but after a combined assault by Tim, Jules and Cassie, they quickly capitulated. Admitting in the process, by the way, that if I hadn't been female, there would have no question about who was the best choice.

Now that they had decided to form a training team and chosen me as a leader, they got down to the really enjoyable part: Choosing a team name.

They were having a lot of fun; but as I pointed out, I had not yet agreed to anything. It was only when Jules suggested: “Since Luna is our general and she is a princess we should have something imperial like... mm....”

Snapping his fingers, he blurted out: “I know, we should call ourselves the 'Praetorian Guard'”

I felt a quite a bit of satisfaction about this. From my original visions, I didn’t really know the full details but I knew that somehow, the Praetorian Guard, along with Blackstar squad were going to be very, very important.

Leaning back in my chair, I steepled my fingers in thought and studied them all intently. Noticing me and realising that so far I had been keeping my silence, they all turned to look at me expectantly. After a moment, I asked: “Are you really sure about this, you should be aware of two things before you commit yourselves: Training teams are not a game at Whateley, they are taken very seriously and require total commitment..... The other thing you should realise is: I'm a pre-cog and this might end up somewhere you never expected to go?”

Tim and Jules, remembering our introductory tour, exchanged a look, before Jules replied: “We already discussed this earlier and we're in.”

Justice replied, with Achmed nodding in agreement: “Wherever we end up it won't be any worse than where we came from.”

Cassie just laughed and said: “Well, if it's that bad you're going to need a good healer, and at least I can shoot straight..... Which is more than I can say for any 'boy' I've ever met.”

She said this with a dismissive toss of the head that was just too pretty for the 'boys' to object too.

Seeing they were serious and while they might not know the full extent of everything I had foreseen, they were well aware it was more than just a game. I replied: “Okay, I will see Admiral Everhart tomorrow about registering the Praetorian Guard as an official training team.”

When they nodded agreement I added: “Cassie, you said you were going to sign up for a range safety course tomorrow. From what I read in student handbook, the main team training classes don't start until winter term. This would normally be a problem for us, but I think there is a way around it.”

With them looking at me with wide puppy eyes, confident that 'Mummy' was going to make the problems go away, I internally sighed at my first taste of the real the burdens of leadership.

Biting the bullet, I told them: “This morning, I had an unfortunate meeting with the Admiral, and she told me: In order to get new JROTC recruits up to scratch with the arena and range safety rules, they run an extended version of the 'federal conceal carry course' during fresher's week. I think the Praetorian Guard should join the JROTC. I'm fairly sure it's the only way we are going to be able to make it as an official training team. At least, it is the only way of doing it before winter term.”

Amazingly, they all quickly agreed, even after I had explained to them the amount of work involved and what it would do to their plans for fresher's week. Probably the real surprise, or maybe not when you realised where they grew up, Tim and Jules, along with Cassie, already had extensive firearms training and various carry permits, with a lot of hunting, fishing and general back-wood camping experience thrown in to boot. In addition, while Achmed and Justice didn't have formal training, they had grown up in an environment where military grade firearms were even more common than in the US.

This left the even more fun subject of code names. I had already chosen mine, and since they had been through power testing with the UN, so had Justice and Achmed.

Their code names alone should probably have set off alarm bells.

Justice had chosen to be referred to as 'Spear of Tseode', Tseode being a legendary king from Borno state who, during the middle ages, temporarily overthrew the rump Yoruba Oya rulers of Nigeria. Needless to say in common speak, his code name was quickly shortened to 'Spear'.

Achmed's chosen code name of 'طوفان', or in English 'Deluge', may at first seem innocuous until you remember that he grew up in the region of Gilgamesh and Utnapishtim, the biblical Noah....

Cassie, who had evidently been thinking furiously since she saw my costume, quickly suggested Chira, a feminine form of Chiron, the legendary Centaur healer. Later, if you know your Greek mythology, we would find out that there was a special significance to the name she had chosen.

Tim and Jules, who had obviously spent quite a bit of time discussing me, and coming from rural Washington state, had already decided to call themselves respectively 'Cúpiní-k'áplac' and 'Cúpiní-teqè’s'. Which roughly translates from Niimiipuutímt as 'He who walks out of the forest with a hammer', and 'He who walks out of the forest with a net'. Of course, in common parlance, that mouthful was quickly shortened to 'K'áplac' and 'Teqè’s'

Once that was settled, we agreed to meet up at lunchtime tomorrow to head over to Kane hall and finalise all the details. Then we got back to more light-hearted gossip about what we had heard about life at Whateley.

Or at least, they did. Making apologies and promising to meet up later in my room to show them my armour, I had to mince over to security and take care of my responsibilities as Blackstar’s commander.

To be continued, comments are very welcome.

Irvine

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

If you would like background information on the canon characters, see:
http://crystalhall.wikia.com/wiki/Table_of_Contents
For a copy of the campus map I am using, see:
http://crystalhall.wikia.com/wiki/Poe_Cottage

Authors note 1:
In this chapter I make mention of Aunghadhail and the Five Fold Court. While the exact role of Aunghadhail in the events leading up to the Sundering are known only to the cannon authors, my interpretation, though possibly controversial, does broadly fit published canon material: In particular, the wiki article on Atlantis. As further justification for my interpretation, I would point out that neither the Weres nor Wakan Tanka were exactly pleased when Aunghadhail showed up.

Authors note 2:
Because of strong emotional content, a couple of scenes use the F word. As I hope you will have noticed, I rarely use foul language in my writing. In fact, I only do so when there is no other way to realistically depict the nature of what is happening. In this case, I am only talking about two scenes and four occurrences, but since it is more than usual, I give fair warning.

Construction site

After mincing my way behind Kane hall, I quickly came to the conclusion that, much though I loved it, the gown was just too impractical to wear for anything but the most special occasions. This was doubly confirmed when I arrived at my destination to find a construction site.

Coming in eight prefabricated sections, each of which took up the entirety of a large trailer/tractor rig, the grass had been badly chewed up getting the dormitory sited. The damage had been made even worse by the caterpillar tracked jib crane used to properly position each section. So, what with the campus maintenance crew in the process of using a digger, [US back-hoe,] to dig trenches to connect, water, sewage, electricity and a secure, fibre optic network, my clothing was completely inappropriate, and the site foreman wouldn't let me closer than 50 metres.

The basic layout of the outer shell had been completed that morning, this was two floors, each with two outer sections and two internal sections. Although I had missed seeing it, they had laid the ground floor sections side by side, levelled everything off with screw-jacks, (along with shims to evenly distribute the weight,) and then bolted the sections together with lots and lots sealant. Apparently, the secret was to get the initial ground floor properly levelled. Once this was done, the second floor was a snap to install.

How do I know this?

The foreman, who finding a pretty girl genuinely in interested in his work, enthusiastically explained this to me in great detail.... If he talked about his wife in the same loving tones, she was a very lucky woman.

At the moment, the upper floor rooms had been partitioned, along with a toilet/shower block and recreational area on the ground floor. The plumbing though, was still a work in process. Furniture and other trimmings had been delivered and Blackstar were busy putting the flat-packs together. Sam, who came out of the dorm to meet me, had evidently decided to take pity on me and told me she would take care of signing off on the installation. Though she did point out that I could expect further paper work, (along with a bill,) from the maintenance department for connecting the dorm to the utility services and repairing all the damage to the grounds

Of course, I couldn't leave without saying hello to my bondsmen, who had also broken off from their work to traipse out of the dorm and gather around me. Sensing that something was up with Startech, I asked what was wrong and he replied: “I'm sorry to bother you Mam, but it's my devisor trait. I don't have Diedrick's syndrome, but I do have a compulsion. If I can't get into a workshop or lab, on a fairly regular basis, I start to get stir crazy.”

Thinking it through, I quickly filled in Sam and Blackstar about the Praetorian Guard, and asked Startech: “If I can get you into a workshop, can you put together a secure multi channel combat communications system, for both Blackstar and the Praetorians?”

Pausing slightly for thought, I added: “If we get the time, you might want to work with Spear, (Justice,) on this, I am sure he is probably having similar problems with his devisor trait.”

With Startech agreeing, I turned my most irresistible, tear filled, puppy eyes on Sam, who laughed and replied: “It's maybe a bit sooner than I expected, but I was going to suggest that you start talent scouting for a training team. Are you sure they understand how much work is involved in rushing JROTC?”

When I nodded yes, she went on: “Well, I don't really see a problem, there are currently, four training teams in JROTC, but only the Grunts take it seriously. The rest just go through the motions to satisfy their scholarships. Gunny Bardue is JROTC's official faculty sponsor, so if you get them all to Kane hall after lunch tomorrow, then I will make the introductions and see to the paper work. As far as Startech's little problem goes, there are technician workshops in Kane hall's sub-basement levels. I'll talk to Chief Delarose about it. I'm sure he will agree that having our own combat devisor working down there should be a real bonus.”

Then, she surprised me by asking Starfury: “I have been giving Luna's magical armour some thought. Once we get some reliable test data, could you modify the spell to work on something that looked like... say a flak jacket... or maybe even power armour?”

Starfury, thinking furiously, replied: “I'm aware of the principles of the Law of Similarity, but I have never heard of a spell using human magic that works that way. Well apart from a few myths and legends, and they could easily be recounting tales about sidhe armour.....”

After giving it a bit more thought, he went on: “If Luna works with me to get the basics, I think it might be possible, though I can't really be sure until I see how the spell works and how much power it takes.”

Satisfied, Sam turned back to me and explained: “I know you don't really need the money, but having a legitimate revenue steam for Blackstar Corporation will help build its cover as a private security company. I think Cecilia would definitely be interested in the business opportunity, and campus security's rank and file will probably fall down at your feet in worship if you give us a tax deductible donation of power armour that doesn't have the normal power supply limitations.”

She said this last with a real grin, but I picked up on something else she had slipped in: “Blackstar Corporation?”

Her grin got even bigger as she replied: “Oh, did I forgot to tell you. The lawyers have registered the name Blackstar Corporation as a privately held, limited liability company. While your trust fund is the sole owner, you as the commander of Blackstar squad, have to report to your board of directors which are: Headmistress Carson, Chief Delarose, Gunny Bardue and me.”

Since I was still a minor, being tied up tighter than a goose for christmas was no big surprise, and when I nodded an acknowledgement, she went on: “You should talk to Phase about pricing, but based on the preliminary data that Selene gave us about impact and heat resistance, we might be looking at something that could offer protection from small arms fire, with say an upper limit of an M16 or maybe even an AK47 fired at less than 5 metres. To put it in a Whateley frame of reference, a fireball or a love tap from a brick.”

When I gave her a questioning look, she explained further: “Well, think about it: The strongest warrior swinging a 14lb war hammer with 4ft of handle plus 28 inches for the length of his arm and 4 inches to allow for the hammer head. Do the math and you have a punch thrown by your typical brick.”

With the light of understanding dawning in my eyes, she went on: “Standing in the middle of a large log fire, roughly equates to the energy transfer rate of a good sized fireball.”

That made sense, so when I nodded, she continued: “You can do bullets in the same way. To get a first approximation, you have the mass of the round and the muzzle velocity. Roughly, I believe you will find battle damage inflicted by the strongest warrior swinging a 14lb hammer, with a 16 inch square inch cross sectional area in an arc 6ft 8 in diameter will be comparable to the damage from a spitzer FMJ round fired by an AK47 .”

Seeing me try to work things out in my head, she helped out by saying: “A world class sports man can throw a ball at over a 100mph. The ball is held about 28 inches from his shoulder, so increase the radius by another 4ft or so and you have an impact speed in excess of 200mph for a 14lb hammer wielded by the strongest warrior.”

After pausing to let me catch up, she lost me with: “That translates to a minimum estimate of the impact momentum per cross sectional area for the hammer swung by the strongest warrior of 6 NS/cm squared. So, if a hollow or soft point round, fired from an AK47 at point blank range crumpled instantaneously, it would have an impact momentum per cross sectional area of less than 0.07 NS/cm squared, and that does not take into consideration energy loss due to deformation... For comparison, a steel cored armour piercing round, depending on the exact design of the spitzer tip and how badly it was deformed on contact, would have an effective impact diameter of between 1 and 2 millimetres. This suggests an impact momentum per cross sectional area of somewhere between 40 and 160 NS/cm squared. Luckily for you, the armour piercing round is not too popular since it tends to pass straight through flesh without causing an incapacitating wound. In your case, if your regen really has taken a boost, then it would likely be healed in an hour or less... Currently, aside from HP/SP rounds, the round you would normally be most concerned about from an AK47 is the spitzer FMJ. To maximize muscle and organ damage, it is often unbalanced so that it will tumble when it hits a target; but, because the effect works in our favour, we can ignore it. The round has a soft core with a thin hard jacket, and, because of your armour, there will certainly be some deformation with a consequent loss of momentum. We can therefore interpolate an equivalent impact diameter at maybe 5mm or thereabouts? This would suggest that, for a spitzer FMJ round fired at point blank range, an upper estimate of the equivalent impact momentum per cross sectional area at around 6 or 7 NS/cm square.....”

Seeing my glazed eyes, she got really insulting!

“You don't even need calculus to get quick and dirty estimates like this. Which, by the way, I thought you were supposed to have been studying along with mechanics.... What on earth did they teach you at the Barons school?”

Giving her a dirty look, I decided to change the subject by asking: “What do you mean tax deductible? How would you value it? I mean it would only take a few minutes to work the spell.”

As soon as Sam launched into another lecture, I realised asking a question like that was a mistake: “The kind of full body protection we are talking about usually comes in power armour, of which even the cheapest, lowest quality suits have a retail starting price in excess of $200,000 and, believe me, the price gets much higher very quickly for quality work. With it having no power supply limitations, the manoeuvrability of everyday clothing and, given that there is a very limited supply,.... Like I say, you should talk to Phase, but maybe an initial price of $500,000 a pop doesn’t sound unreasonable?”

Okay, I was still new to the idea of being rich and, as a thirteen year old, I had never really considered real world prices for high tech military gear. So, you will not be surprised that my eyes started to goggle at the way she so calmly rattled off $500,000 for a spell that would take me only a few moments to complete.

Seeing my brain go into cryogenic shut down, Sam added maliciously: “Of course, once word got around and the armour started to gain a reputation, what with having no power supply limitations , the price would probably go up substantially. Maybe 3 or 4 million dollars plus for each unit.”

Pulling myself back together, I frantically tried to think of something to take my mind off what she was saying. Latching onto a thought that had been at the back of my mind, but I hadn't yet managed to bring to the surface, I blurted: “The Praetorian Guard!”

At Sam's blank look, and desperately trying hard not to think of the economics of supply and demand, I continued: “They will need a costume or something and we won't have time to see about it when we are rushing JROTC. Do you think we could we get in to see Cecilia tomorrow afternoon for a fitting?”

“Well, you will need a pass from administration as well as an appointment with Cecilia. It's probably a good idea to talk about magical power armour anyway, so.....”

Blinking momentarily, she calmly stated as if it was perfectly normal: “I've sent Cecilia and Amelia Emails, if it's okay with both of them, and there is no sudden crisis, then I will act as faculty escort.”

We were more or less done at that point. Sam, sent Starlance over to pick up a package she had left for me in the dorm, and he quickly returned with a security issue laptop. Telling me how to log on with a thumbprint and a sixteen character alphanumeric password she had me memorize. She informed me in her best gruff Admiral's voice: “This is for security business only, don't use it for homework. If you do, I assure you I will find out and the privilege will be withdrawn. It will give you a chance for a social life by letting you do most of your security related work, except printing and filing paper copies, without actually coming into the office.”

With tears of gratitude, and very sincere murmurs of thankyou, I hugged her even more fiercely than I had when she pinned her original ensigns bars to my collar.

Now that everything had been taken care of, Starport escorted me till we were hidden behind a corner of Kane hall, and teleported me directly to the driveway in front of Poe.

Oh Crap!

Arriving about 30 seconds ahead of the Praetorians, it was quite satisfying to see them jump as I appeared out of thin air. Unfortunately, Mrs Horton, who evidently had Poe cottage and the surrounding area warded seven way's to Sunday, was less than amused. I think she understood though. That is, she didn't bawl us out when we gigglingly made our way upstairs to show the boys my armour.

Once we were all in our room, Cassie immediately began to play the hostess. A roll she obviously relished. We didn't have any snacks or anything and were badly short of comfortable seating, but she got us spread out around the room on our beds and desk chairs. With everyone looking at me expectantly, it was pretty obvious I was going to have to play the part of a fashion model. So, stripping off the velvet choker, aquamarine belt, necklace and bracelet, I shoved them back in my jewellery box. This surprise, surprise produced a gasp of outrage from Jules, who, though now starting to adjust, was sufficiently close to the edge that he still had these little relapses. Justice and Achmed of course couldn't see the problem, and Tim actually suggested it was really very practical. Possibly for Jules's sake, after giving Tim a 'how could you?' glare, Cassie let the matter drop.

Deciding to make a show of things, and wanting to see how I would look fully decked out. I placed the rest of the sapphire ensemble in the bottom of one of Cecilia's carrier bags along with a towel, make-up, toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, hairbrush, the floral scented perfume and, remembering how low cut the skirt waist was, my shaving kit. With my full costume in another carrier bag, and after getting Cassie to undo my buttons, I was ready.

It shouldn’t really have been a surprised, but I was slightly amused to find four of the girls had decided to come back for a second round with the Hydroflux equipment. That is, until I remembered that I had some very personal grooming to take care of.

Like I pointed out earlier public nudity seemed to be fast becoming my natural state, but public exposure on this scale was probably going a little too far too fast. On he other hand, I didn't really have a great deal of options. Making my way over to the sinks, I wriggled out of the gown to appreciative, but discreet glances from the assembled lezzies.

All thing said and done, even with the audience, it was with some relief I hung the stupid gown on a convenient hook. It was gorgeous, I really adored the way it was suggestively naughty, yet remained very modest, but it was just too impractical. I mean, while wearing it, I could barely walk from one end of the room to the other without assistance.

Trying to put off the inevitable, I used the sink mirror to clean my teeth and check my hair and bindi were okay. After redoing my make-up it was crunch time, or rather shaving time. There was no escape, and asking for a little privacy would probably only make matters worse. I think the big mistake I made was making such a production of the initial preparation By the time I got around to stripping off my lingerie, the girls were very curious as to what I was doing. Thankfully, none of them offered to help, but they did offer a very embarrassing critique of my technique along with lewd suggestions about how it must be a very hot date I was getting ready for.

Shaving that particular area really brought home to me that my little Willy Wonka was a fast fading memory. Any regret I might have felt at his absence however, was completely buried in the raging inferno that was my blush, which, along with the ribbing, faded quickly when I slipped into my armour. Sitting on a toilet seat with the lid down, I was able to lace up the costume's sandals, and the ongoing slackjawed stares as I decorated my delicious bod with what would become my combat jewellery was very satisfying. Giving myself a quick spritz of the floral scent, I made another of the quick fashion model twirls I had given Vamp, and asked the girls what they thought?

It took them a few minutes to get their tongues away from the cat, but when they did. Oh boy!

Needless to say, I had to demonstrate my succubus form, and by the time I had done so, it was too late. My esper situational awareness kicked in to show me there were now four distinct points of view developing amongst the students at Whateley vis a vis little old me: Camp #1, the majority, would believe I was some kind of European royalty who badly needed taking down a peg. Camp #2, by far the largest minority, would insist I was only a fruitcake with delusions who, while being harmless and deserving of pity, was best avoided. Camp #3 whose founding members would be most of the girls currently present, but whose membership would grow to include guys, lesbians and even straight girls in other cottages, would be of the opinion I was a Goddess. However, as bad as #3's particular insanity was, which in my opinion was very, very bad. There was a tiny minority view which was potentially far worse: Camp #4 would be of the opinion I was a Demoness, who like Sara Waite, (a GOO child of whose existence my prescience had only just made me aware,) needed to be put down like a rabid dog.

Stunned, I just walked out on them.

Stopping in the hallway, my mind was on a carousel complete with Béla Lugosi organ music: There was a GOO child on campus, people were going to see me as a Goddess, some of my fellow mutants would actually try to kill me... There was a GOO child on campus, people were going to see me as a Goddess, some of my fellow mutants would actually try to kill me... There was a...

Mum of course, like mums are prone to do, gave me a metaphorical kick to pull me out of my funk. Shocking me with: <Listen Fiona, your Aunt being here could be a good thing.>

<My what?>

<It's a long story, complicated by the politics of the Five Fold Court of Atlantis and the fact that Gothmog wasn't born until after the Sundering.>

I thought I was remarkably calm when I replied: <That's okay, we've got plenty of time. I'm not moving until you explain this to me.>

Letting out an almost physically audible sigh, my mum started: <Okay, don't blame me if your brain melts into a puddle. Gothmog was born when a human sorcerer convinced an Egyptian Pharaoh to offer his daughter to a GOO called Shub-Niggurath. This makes Gothmog a half breed human GOO. Before she developed her full aspect, he loved Sara, a half breed human Deep One, who prophecy predicted would bear only one daughter, the Sara currently here at Whately. Technically, this makes your Aunt ½ human ¼ Deep One and ¼ GOO. Because of the nature of the GOO it is this part of her magical heritage which is dominant, as it is with Gothmog. Reality doesn't mean the same thing to a GOO as it does to humans, and it was partly through the use of Gothmog's magic that the succubi were created.>

Trying to work my mind around what mum was suggesting, and making the assumption, later proved correct, that the Deep Ones were part of the pantheon of beings dangerous for humans to mess with, I asked: <So you are saying that Gothmog was born three thousand years ago and travelled back in time to help the Five Fold Court fight the other GOO?>

<No, you're not listening, I said that in the perception of humans Gothmog was born three thousand years ago. It's not possible for a human to perceive the reality in which the GOO exist without being reduced to gibbering insanity; having their brain bursting into flames or any number of other reactions to something the human mind is just not capable of processing. The GOO are the embodiment of impossibility... >

I felt my brain starting to turn into the puddle she mentioned, and to change the subject, asked: <Okay, how does this make Gothmog my Grandfather?>

<Gothmog combined his magic with that of Atlantis to create the succubi, and in the broadest sense of the word, this makes him your Grandfather, and Sara your Aunt.>

The really horrible thing was, I couldn't shake the image starting to form in my mind about the reality in which Gothmog existed, and how it let him take part in the creation of the succubi; yet, at the same time, not need to travel back in time. What was horrible about it wasn't that I felt my head starting to explode, (which it wasn't,) it was more that I could almost see a hyper-dimensional shape where this impossibility made sense. I don't mean a four dimensional shape of three dimensions plus time, but something much more complex involving a possibly infinite numbers of dimensions of which our human perceived four dimensional realm was a very small part.

In an effort to get away from these thoughts, I asked mum to tell me the rest of the story of how the succubi were created.

Starting at the beginning, she told me: <With the original founding of Atlantis, the GOO were driven off or imprisoned. There then followed a long period of peace, which ultimately ended in the civil war which allowed the GOO and their agents to rebuild their forces in secret. The distrust and ill-feeling caused by the Atlantean civil war meant that, when the GOO's agents finally began to move openly, the Five Fold Court were less than united in their response. It was the view of my own Court that many of the major Sidhe Courts did not appreciate the seriousness of the threat and were trying to exploit the alliance against the GOO for their own long term advantage. In essence, the major sidhe Courts saw the war against the GOO as a minor distraction from the continuation of the main event; which, in their view, was the battle for who would finally rule Atlantis.”

Okay this sounded like a surprisingly human story and was a welcome relief from thinking about the reality warping realms in which the GOO existed.

My mum went on: <Because we were militarily weak and without great armies, the Court of the Moon had been operating behind enemy lines when we were approached by Gothmog to broker an alliance between him and the Five Fold Court. We had a lot of information on Gothmog and had previously suggested that he might be open to an alliance. A suggestion, which had not been taken seriously by the more powerful Courts.>

I was enraptured as mum went on to explain about the intrigue and petty power plays that were the backdrop to the war, telling me: <By the time of Gothmog's offer, it was becoming increasingly apparent to the smaller Sidhe Courts who were actually doing the fighting, along with the other Non Sidhe Courts, that we were losing the war. So, when we reported an actual offer of an alliance sealed with a magically bound oath, there was a certain amount of jubilation. Bizarrely, it was the Court of the West, the Court that the Court of the Moon and the other smaller sidhe Courts nominally owed allegiance, who put up the greatest opposition. Insisting, that no matter what oaths he swore, Gothmog couldn't be trusted; and, in any case, the situation was nothing like as bad as those in favour of an alliance were painting, the Court of the West refused point blank to have anything to do with Gothmog and threatened to break the alliance.>

Curious as to why they took this position, I was told: <The Court of Moon had agents inside the upper echelons of the Court of the West, and they were of the view it was part of a long term power play by Aunghadhail, one of the nine Queens of the West. Our agents felt she had no real grasp of the true situation we were facing and, more through blind arrogance than any malicious intent, was using Gothmog's offer to wrest concessions from the other eight Queens and the King. This was later confirmed when the situation on the front lines took a turn for the worse and, to secure Aunghadhail's cooperation, they agreed to put her in a position of authority over the armies of the West.>

Almost begging her to go on, I was entranced as she continued: <Now with Gothmog as an ally, the situation stabilised for a time, but it was obvious to those actually on the front lines that the writing was on the wall. When it was proposed to create the succubi, once again Aunghadhail held out for concessions. She, as supreme commander of the armies of the west, wanted control of the weapon. Having very little choice, the others agreed, and the combined magic of the Five Fold Court, along with Gothmog's magic were used to turn me and three other volunteers from smaller sidhe courts into succubi.>

By this time I was almost panting in anticipation as she reached the climax of her story.

<Because of the oaths we had given, Aunghadhail now had an absolute veto over what we could do in the fight against the GOO's agents. Worried about how the standing of her own 'Court of the Burning Oak' would be affected by four previously weak courts now having powerful military resources; and still believing we were exaggerating the seriousness of the threat, she refused to allow us to take the gloves off and unleash the full power of the succubi. As a result, constrained by our oaths, the succubi were relegated to simple intelligence gathering and assassination, and were specifically ordered not to mount an insurrection behind enemy lines. When the final surprise assault by the agents of the GOO arrived, it was too late and there was nothing we could do. Ironically, to keep us out of Aunghadhail's hair, my three sisters and I had been assigned to remote outposts and, as a consequence, survived the Sundering. Although, sadly, my sisters were driven insane with grief and eventually had to be killed to prevent them from unleashing a second cataclysm on a re-emergent civilisation.>

Wanting to know what happened next, I was reminded: <That is a story for later, for now your friends will be getting worried.>

Dam!

Just as I was about to dash off, something occurred to me about what mum had said: <Wait a minute, if you have been bound by magical oaths not to unleash the full power of the succubus, am I bound by the same oaths?>

<Nay child, I was released from the oaths that bound me when Aunghadhail unleashed the Sundering. In any case, what remained of the spirit of the Queen passed into the final death six months past. None of that matters though, the power is yours not mine and you have sworn no oaths.>

Not really considering what mum meant by Aunghadhail finally being dead, I dashed into the room only to remember at the last moment I was still in my succubus aspect.

Quadruple Crap!

Everyone was gob-smacked. I had warned them about my true form and its appearance, but being warned is not the same as being prepared.

Seeing me, Achmed started to mutter in Arabic about 'Takbīr', 'Qarînah' and 'Inanna'.

Justice though, was my greatest concern. Falling to his knees, he was practically banging his head off the floor as he announced: “I am yours Ọya-Iyansan . My life, my soul are yours. Lead us in battle Ọya-Iyansan, Warrior Goddess of ancient Ilé-Ifẹ̀, in your name we will spill the life blood of your enemies like water in the sand”

Unbelievably, things got worse when Achmed, evidently resolving his internal debate, got on his knees and echoing Justice, announced: “Yes Holy Inanna, lead us, we will bathe in the blood of your enemies. In the name of my ancestors, Inanna of the Morning and Evening Stars, Warrior Goddess of Uruk, I pledge my life to be your sword”

Tim and Jules were also close to religious hysteria and Cassie was looking at me goggle eyed and asking: “Is that really you Luna?”

I was nearly ready to scream in frustration. Coming so quickly on the heels of my epiphany on how a minority of my fellow students would take the view I was a Goddess, having my new friends react like this to my true form was the last thing I needed. Switching back to my human aspect, I pleaded: “Please get up, it's just me, Fiona. I'm a girl, a mutant just like you. I'm not a Goddess of War, or anything like that, please get up....”

Reaching down, I pulled them to their feet. Although they flinched at my touch, they finally returned to sitting on the bed, and I pointed out: “You both hate religion, you made that perfectly clear during dinner, and now you are ready to fall down and worship the first shape-shifter you see?”

Achmed put it together first, though Justice was a close second as they both queried: “Shape shifter?”

“Doh! What else do you call it when someone changes forms? It's a fairly common mutant trait.”

Seeing a glimmering of understanding, I thought that maybe shifting into a secondary form would help. I had never done it, but during my initial instruction, mum had made clear I could take any form as long it was female. Thinking quickly, I shifted into the form of a little black kitten.

As I crawled out of the jumble of my armour, which had fallen to the floor in a disorganised heap, Cassie and Jules gave a delighted scream of: “Oh how cute.” and immediately picked me up and started to rub my belly.

It was then that I realised that, somehow, my jewellery was with me but not with me. Kind of stupid I know. To put it another way, it wasn't in the heap of my armour, and I wasn't visibly wearing it, but I could still sense the belly ring reliquary. Yelling: <Mum!>, she calmly replied: <After seeing how your make-up and piercings transferred along with you as you shifted between your human and succubus aspects, I thought this might happen.>

<What do you mean? Would you mind explaining in simple words of no more than two syllables?>

<Well, you cast a ward of Keeping and Guarding on the jewellery didn’t you?>

<Yes. So, what's that got to do with the price of milk?>

Being deliberately obtuse my mum replied: <What’s the price of milk got to do with what happened to your jewellery?>

Wanting to bang my head off the wall, I let out a mental <Argh!> which came out as tiny meowing: “Grrr!”

This made Cassie and Jules even more idiotic as they gave another delighted scream of: “Oh, how cute!” and redoubled their attempts to tickle me senseless.

Getting myself under control, I politely told mum: <Never mind, 'the price of milk' is just an expression. Could you please explain what’s happened to my jewellery?>

Laughing, she replied: <Okay seriously. When you cast the ward of Keeping and Guarding, you and the jewellery became attuned. Now, the magic sees not just the piercings, but the entire ensemble as being a part of you. Since the jewellery has no place in the appearance of the kitten, the pattern is still present but not physically manifested, and, like the way you can access a portion of the succubus aspect even when it is not manifested, you will be able to access a portion of the power of your jewellery.>

Thinking this sounded reasonable, I was struck by another thought: <Does this mean when I cast a ward of Keeping and Guarding on my armour, its pattern will become part of the change?>

Echoing Sam at her most insulting, she answered: <I thought that's what I just said?>

Ignoring the sarcasm, I gave an exultant victory leap while shouting: “Yes!”

This of course came out as a feral leap into the air with a kittenish: “Yeolw!”

Ducking to avoid Cassie and Jules, I dashed to my armour hoping everyone would get the message that I needed the boys to leave so I could change back. Cassie understood immediately and bundled them out into the hallway. By the time she got the door completely closed, I was already in my human form, had removed the belt and was slipping back into my costume. About twenty seconds later, I was sitting at my desk redoing the laces on my sandals as a very sheepish and apologetic Achmed and Justice re-entered along with a beaming Jules and dumbfounded Tim.

Once every one was seated, and wanting to clear up something that was bothering me, I asked: “Achmed, what did you mean when you called me Inanna of the Morning and Evening Stars?”

Still a bit unsure as to whether or not I was a deity, he replied carefully: “In the myths and legends of the Tigris and Euphrates valley, Inanna was represented in the night sky by the planet Venus and had two aspects: The Warrior Goddess who brings confusion and destruction to her enemies and her other aspect: The Love Goddess who brings the pleasures of sex and fecundity to her followers. Her priests were homosexual who, along with her priestesses, as part of their religious celebration worked as temple prostitutes.”

He really had to get that last bit in, that didn't he. If the idea that I was not just a Goddess, but a Goddess who pimped her priesthood gained currency on campus, I might just surrender myself to camp #4 for execution.

Trying to change the subject I cast an inquiring gaze at Justice, who offered just as carefully: “In Nigerian folklore, Ọya-Iyansan was the Orisha of a Warrior Goddess, who brought death and destruction to her enemies on the wings of a Tempest. She was guardian of the gates to the underworld and mother of Egungun-oya, the Orisha of Divination.”

With a chill running down my spine, for the umpteenth time I screamed: <Mum!>

<I told you, my sisters were insane. I spent aeons searching for a cure, but, at the dawn of the current age, I was eventually left with no choice and had to kill them. It is still quite painful and I would rather not talk about it.>

Magic

Sensing mum's pain, I turned my attention back to my friends, and wanting to change the subject, I quickly told them how I was arranging a trip to the Rodgers Boutique so that the Praetorian Guard would have armour similar to mine. Which, of course, resulted in a short argument about how I couldn't be expected to pay for something as expensive as magical armour.

Reminding them that, for me, the magical part was only a few minutes work. I told them the appointment provided the perfect excuse for me to see Cecilia about setting up a business deal between her and Blackstar Corporation. Then, pointing out they would actually be doing a form of product testing and I should be paying them to use the armour, I hit them with the logic of needing to work through a few prototypes so that Starfury could adapt the spell to human magic.

Once I had put it in those terms, it didn't take long for them to see that they would actually be doing me a big favour by using the armour. (Having a little bit of sense, I wisely kept quiet about the potential resale value.)

With that settled, I brightly suggested: “Okay, who wants to see some magic?”

Needless to say, there were cries of: “ME!”... “ME!” echoing around the room.

I had already decided what I wanted to do, and after a quick consultation with mum, she agreed it was possible. Getting out my blackboard and chalk, I asked Cassie for her P-3AT semi-automatic.

After quickly checking the magazine was empty and there was nothing in the chamber, I placed it to one side and asked Cassie to take a position beside the blackboard. In the process, explaining that I was about to draw a pentagram and, unlike in films, she should never enter a pentagram directly unless she trusted the spell-caster more than she trusted her own mother.

Asking Tim to turn off the electric lights, I got Achmed and Justice to open the curtains and windows to let in the night sky. The stars were out with the moon fully visible in the south facing window, and, after another quick conference with mum, I drew a slightly different version of the pentagram for the ward of Keeping and Guarding and placed the gun in the centre. This time, as I wove the weave, I extended it out of the circle to include Cassie who gave a start as if goosed when I released it.

Getting Tim to turn the lights back on, I handed Cassie the pistol and, with a big smile, asked: “Well?”

Taking the pistol in her hands, she had a puzzled look to her face and examined it closely before answering: “I couldn't see anything happen, but I felt a click as if a lock had been closed. When I handled the P-3AT before, it always felt as if I was handling my daddies gun. Now it feels like it really belongs to me?”

With some measure of relief that it had worked, I replied: “I cast a 'ward of Keeping and Guarding', the gun really does belong to you now. It can't be damaged and it won't jam or misfire. If someone picks it up with bad intentions, they will get a nasty shock or maybe even a burn. If they ignore the warning and try to use it, the gun will turn in their hand and they will end up shooting themselves.”

There was a kind of sceptical look on her face, as if I was pulling a fast one on her, but I had a second part to what I planned to show my team. Getting up and going to my jewellery box, I pulled out one of a pair of mass-produced silver brooches I had bought with a Lapis-Lazuli inlay. As, I was doing this, I tweaked Cassie's vanity by pointing out: “Of course the enchantment won't help you shoot straight. I expect you're going to have to get the boys to show you how to do that.”

The boys, including Jules, broke into howls of laughter as an indignant Cassie was spluttering and choking so badly she was unable to reply.

The brooches I had bought were about 4cm long by 3cm wide and reminded me of the Ranger's brooches in Babylon 5, a Scifi series I had always liked. I had bought them with the intention of trying to create enchanted insignia for Blackstar squad and thought it would be nice to do the same for the Praetorian Guard. Explaining this to them, and that I intended to enchant brooches for everyone, I cleaned off my blackboard, turned off the lights and, asking Cassie to retake her position, recast the ward of Keeping and Guarding.

The next bit, since I had more or less worked it out on my own, was something I was quite proud of. Well, mum helped a bit, but the principle was there. One of the first spells using human magic I had learned was a cloaking spell, and with a slight modification to the pentagram and the weave, I was confident I could cast it as an enchantment.

Cleaning off the blackboard, I reworked the pentagram and inscribed the words 'Invisibilia' and 'Visibilium' to the left and right of the centre. Then, placing the brooch between the words, I wove my modified cloaking spell into the brooch and inverted it.

Easy-peasy. Getting the boys to turn the lights back on I handed the brooch to Cassie and told her that to activate the enchantment, she should touch the centre of the brooch and think 'Invisibilia', and when she was ready to dispel it, touch the brooch again and think 'Visibilium'.

Looking a bit sceptical, she fastened the brooch above her left breast, and nervously touching the brooch, muttered: “Invisibilia”

As the boys gaped open mouthed at the spot where Cassie had vanished, I gave an exultant: “Yes! It worked.”

It wasn't perfect, there was a slight shimmering distortion as Cassie moved around the room. I was a bit miffed at this, but mum insisted what I had done was quite remarkable and many powerful mages would not be able to repeat it. She also pointed out that, if Cassie moved slowly and carefully, the effect wouldn't be noticeable.

Even though we were able to follow her movements, the boys still jumped when a disembodied voice announced from the corner: “I can see your eyes following me, so don't try to pretend I'm invisible. I'm not stupid.”

Achmed and Justice in particular were becoming increasingly freaked out, and I gently suggested: “Em, Cassie, why don’t you touch the brooch and think 'Visibilium', then we'll talk about this.... Please!”

After she had done as I asked, we told her that she really had been invisible and we were only able to follow her because of a distortion as she moved quickly. Explaining that if she moved like a hunting cat no one would know she was there, I suggested she go and test it on Poe's unsuspecting residents.

From the initial panicked screams coming from the sun room next door, it sounded like the 'Haunting of Poe Cottage' was off to a good start, and, with no sign of Cassie returning after the screams had subsided, we filled in the time by idly speculating on what further mischief our ghost would get up to. When Cassie did finally return to recount the havoc she had created in the sun room, havoc which was quickly repeated in the common room downstairs, we were nearly in hysterics. Apparently, the haunting of Poe Cottage had finally been brought to an end when Mrs Horton arrived in the common room and, with a gesture, had directed an invisible Cassie into her office. Being a sport, she had not offered an explanation to the other freshers.

Cassie was ecstatic, and was in full burst fire speech mode as she recounted all this, telling us that Mrs Horton was more amused than anything else and only suggested that a good prank should never be overdone or it loses its effectiveness.

Unfortunately, as per my usual hectic life, I still had a lot to do that night. Putting on my sapphire belt and bracelet, I picked up the blackboard, chalks and the second brooch, clipped on the security radio and once again making apologies, headed off downstairs to tell Mrs Horton I needed to go out to the Grove.

Enchanted Armour

After checking into the security net, I flew directly to the glade I had previously used and cheerily announced my presence with: <Hi forest, I'm back again. I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to use your glade for some more magic?>

There was a kind of chuckling as It replied: <Why, if it isn't the Daughter of the Moon. What a surprise, and what wondrous magics will you work tonight child?>

<Well, I have a brooch I want to enchant with an invisibility spell, I need to enchant my armour and I've got a couple of other little enchantments I'd like to try. Then, if you don't mind, I would like to explore your forest in an animal form. Mum says I should learn to be comfortable moving around and hunting like: cats, wolfs, bears, even snakes, spiders and skunks. She says it too dangerous for mice and rats in the forest though, and I should save that for being in the cities.>

It chuckled again, telling me: <Well, I don't really like people hunting my animals. There is a balance here and hunting without good reason upsets that balance, but since you wont catch anything I don’t suppose it will matter.>

Okay that got my back up. I hadn't really intended to catch anything, just sneak up and see how close I could get, but I was kind of insulted that it didn't think I had the remotest chance in hell of getting anywhere near close enough. Of course since the Grove is telepathic I didn't need to explain this, and being a very polite 'Being', It tactfully suggested: <I do not mean to intrude on your thoughts child, but, while the scent you are wearing is very pleasant, it is a human scent and will give away your presence whether you are in animal form, invisible or both!>

Mum snickered, saying: <Thankyou ancient one. I was going to save that particular lesson for later, but judging from the heat of her blush, I think your gentle instruction will be remembered long after anything a mere mother could teach her.>

Taking pity on me, the Grove offered: <I will cause to have collected some pleasant smelling dried herbs and grasses that the First People once used, scatter them amongst your clothes. When you wish to hunt unseen, wash your body with clean water to remove any human smells and the scent of your clothing will blend with the forest.>

Then, saying goodbye It warned me:<The herbs and grasses will be ready when you next visit, but be wary of the Were People to the South, they are not tolerant of uninvited guests hunting on their lands.>

With that, Its presence withdrew.

Getting naked 'again' and fastening my own brooch onto the armour just above the chainmail, it didn't take long to cast a ward of Keeping and Guarding on both the brooch and the armour. Then, after removing the brooch, I cast the invisibility enchantment. The enchantment to turn the costume into magical armour was, so far, the most complicated spell I had ever cast; but with mum's help it went okay. After reattaching the brooch, I was ready for the last enchantment I had planned. It was something mum had suggested to help with my wardrobe problems, but it was very finicky. . The idea was to attach a couple of dimensional folds to individual sapphires of the belt. These would act like pockets in which I could keep a spare set of clothing and my armour.

It took me three attempts to get the symbols and pentagram correct, and, since the flow, meter and scansion of an enchantment is as important as the weave itself, this meant I had to restart from the beginning each time. It was with genuine relief when I inverted the weave into a single sapphire at the back of the belt without the weave breaking up into a cloud of hobgoblins.

I then had to wipe the board clean and repeat the entire process, weaving a second pocket onto an adjacent sapphire. This time I managed to sketch the symbols and pentagram, followed by the weave, in one single pass. I was so pleased, I decided to make third pocket for my blackboard, along with a fourth for the cleaning cloth and chalks and a fifth for the sand, (which I hadn't used yet.)

There were 16 sapphires on the belt, which meant sixteen potential pockets and if I enchanted the aquamarine belt, I could double this to thirty-two. It was really quite nifty, and I was in an exceptionally good mood as I got dressed. Clipping the radio onto my armour, I had a brainwave.

Reaching behind me, I could feel the subtle differences in each of the pockets, and was easily able to pull out my blackboard and chalks. Then, it took only a few minutes to cast a ward of Keeping and Guarding into the radio. Packing everything away again, I clipped the radio to my armour, plugged in the ear bud and changed into a jet black puma.

Now, it was just a case of waiting.

Silently padding to the edge of the Grove, the night was alive with the scents and sounds of the forest. It was invigorating, almost as exciting as flying. When, stalking along the edge of the Grove, revelling in the feelings and emotions of a predator in its natural environment, I heard over the radio a status update from security, I let out a snarling roar of triumph. Which, unfortunately, was heard by a nearby security patrol.

Hearing a babble of alarmed radio chatter about a beast exiting the forest, I briefly thought about keeping quiet, but since security was moving onto full alert, this wasn't really an option. Changing back into succubus form, I pressed the Tx button and sent: [Break-Break. Luna to C&C. Relax guys, it was me. Over]

There was a second of startled silence before I heard Sam reply: {Hive to Luna. What have you done now Luna. Over]

[Luna to Hive. I was testing an enchantment to see if I could listen in on the security net when in animal form. When it worked, my excitement came out as a roar. Over]

There was a very slight pause as she processed this, (which for Sam was an eternity,) before she replied: [Hive to Luna. We will talk about this tomorrow. For the moment, try to restrain your exuberance. People have been killed by things coming out of the Grove. The place makes security very nervous. Over.]

[Luna to Hive. Wilco Hive. Am now going to make an aerial patrol of campus. Expect to be invisible. Over]

There was a slightly longer pause as she processed that transmission, before she acknowledged: [Hive to Luna, Copy that Luna. Have a nice flight, and please try to stay out of trouble. Out]

Since I seemed to be in the clear, I invoked my cloaking charm and took off for a leisurely flight around Emerson and Twain.

After returning to Poe and checking out of the radio net, I got back to my room to find a very sleepy Cassie waiting up for me. She was still kind of new to the idea of actually having someone that liked her for her own sake, and, in a way, it was quite touching, but it was also really sad that someone could be so badly abused. I kind of suspected that she was the type of girl that needed constant reassurance,and this was the reason why she had waited up. So, I gave her a run down on my most recent misadventure with security, which brought on gales of laughter from the both of us. Laughter which was quickly followed by a loud banging on the door with one of my neighbours screaming: “It's 1 o'clock in the 'fucking' morning and I just spent the last two days on a bus!”

Getting the message, we gave them our apologies, and wisely kept our talking to a whisper as I prepared for bed. Plugging the radio in the charger, I dumped my jewellery on my desk, stripped off my costume and covered up with the bath robe. After cleaning off my make-up, I headed off to shower and clean my teeth. Cassie had finally fallen asleep by the time I returned, so, deciding I couldn’t resist the temptation of the satin weave any longer, I pulled on the satin sleeping bra and briefs, along with the transparent silk negligee.

Believe me, the experience was far too personal to share.

When I finally crawled between the satin sheets Cecilia had made for me, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. This was reinforced when mum, showed me how to enter a dream shard.

The landscape which mum had chosen was a small Mediterranean island at night in midsummer. On a slight rise there was a colonnaded marble building, open to the stars and hung with silks gently stirring in the slight breeze. The rise overlooked a sandy beached cove with a reflected moonbeam tracing its length. It really was like a slice of paradise, and asking mum where it was, she replied it was a memory of her original home.

After a quick lesson on how I could shape the shard to my own whim, she told me that I would be able to bring other people here and, once I learned the full use of the dream, I would discover it to be one of my most powerful resources. Then, since it was my first visit, she encouraged me to go and swim in the moonlit bay, relax and enjoy myself.

Breakfast

Getting up around 4:30 am, I quietly collected my bathrobe and toiletries before heading off to take care of the usual morning business. I didn't think my hair needed washing, so after a quick shower and cleaning my teeth, I used the mirror to comb and brush my hair. This time, probably because I had brushed it before going to bed, it wasn't as badly tangled.

Cassie was obviously exhausted and still asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, I set up the laptop Sam had given me and reviewed yesterday's security reports. Since most of the students had yet to return, it didn't take long. The only two incidents worth mentioning were my run in with Special Agent Bernstein and a report from a couple of maintenance workers called Stan and Morrie. Apparently, according to the report, the 'magical' and 'biological' entities in the sewage network appeared to be cooperating in an attempted break out.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of this, I mean it sounded like they were playing a joke on me, but it was Whateley, and I made a note of it. As a result, my final summary suggested that if they didn’t want the students beating up the recruiters, maybe it would help if we were given a bit warning about their presence. As far as the report about the 'monsters', I suggested maybe I should be fully briefed. Satisfied, I encrypted a copy and sent it off to Sam.

Checking my in-box, there was an encrypted copy of Sam's sign-off report on Blackstar squads temporary dormitory. This had already been CC-ed to Carson, Delarose and my guardian, so it required no further action except for making a paper copies.

Since it was still too early to really move about without waking up Cassie, I was really at a loose end, and asking mum about it, she suggested: <Well, you could cast an enchantment onto one of the sapphires on your bracelet to let you move quietly.>

Dawn was just about to break, and kind of shocked, I asked: <Doesn't it need to be dark to do that?>

<No, the magical power of your succubus and sidhe heritage are at a peak during the night, but you have your human talent; and anyway, even if we can't see them, the stars are always present. Also, remember your titles: You are 'Countess of the Twilight Shadow', and can draw great power from the change between day and night.>

Luckily, Cassie hadn't closed the curtains. So, quickly retrieving my casting equipment from my belt and picking up the bracelet, I unrolled my blackboard. Inscribing the pentagram, symbols as mum directed, I added the activation phrases 'Silentium' and 'Sonitus' and quickly wove an inverted weave into one of the sapphires of the bracelet. Slipping it on, I could feel the weave as I fingered the 10 sapphires of the bracelet. Thinking 'Silentium', it didn't seem to make any difference, but taking mum at her word, I lifted up the edge of my toolbox and dropped it. I heard the bang as it hit the floor, but Cassie didn't budge.

In case you are wondering, I didn't know Latin. Evidently, my mum was a spirit of hidden talents.

Noticing the spare battery for the radio, and since it would have been very embarrassing to change form and lose the radio's battery, I took the opportunity to cast a ward of Keeping and Guarding into it. Then, remembering what the Grove had told me about masking my smell, and feeling quite proud of how all my enchantments had just seemed to fall into place, I asked mum if it was possible to cast an enchantment to do this.

I was horrified when she answered: <Maybe one day when you are more skilled. The problem is that your scent is carried on the wind or left behind when you touch something. As soon as the scent left the area covered by your aura, it would revert to its true form. What you would need to do is create a spell of transmutation and apply it only to your scent as it left your body. If that particular application of transmutation backfired, it could leave you looking like a slug, turn you into a marble statue or worse.>

Shuddering, I replied: <Never mind, the Grove likes me and I'm sure a pot-pourri of scented herbs and grasses will work just fine.>

Having exhausted the possibilities of magical enchantments, I set about getting ready for my morning appointment with the power testing people. Putting away my enchanting tools, I went to my wardrobe and chose the capri jeans, along with the deep blue crop top with a fringe that matched the jeans. The red bra I wore the previous day was still serviceable, but this meant the only clean matching knickers was the red silk thong. Taking the philosophical attitude, I resigned myself to the indignities of women's fashion, and slipped it on.

Let's just say, it was an interesting experience and leave it at that shall we.

Adding the sandals from my armour to my chosen wardrobe, I quickly got dressed, and packed the rest of the armour into its pouch in my belt. Then, picking out a halter top and the short skirt for an emergency wardrobe, I shoved that into another pocket. With all that done, I was free to turn to hair and making-up. I liked the delicate maiden's braids and thinking it would go well with the casual style I was aiming for, I quickly worked them in around my bindi and fastened them in place with the silver hair-clasp. I was now fairly adept with my one and only style of make-up, so that also went on quickly. Choosing the moon-cameo from yesterday and a dark blue velvet choker, after transferring everything from the blue velvet shoulder bag back to the original black leather one, I was practically ready.

Sitting back in my chair, I decided that if I was not going to be sleeping, I rally needed to stock up the room's small fridge with snacks and breakfast materials, this made me think about a coffee machine and kettle. I had never been a great coffee drinker. My birth parents had always insisted I was too young, but now that I was an exemplar that hardly seemed to matter. Apart from that, it seemed to me that sitting back with a cup of nice coffee might be a good way to relax for a few minutes. With that in mind, I resolved to pick up some snacks and coffee supplies when I visited the store to get some more brooches. Thinking of enchantments made me think of what I could enchant for the boys to have a 'sneaking quietly charm'

A childish name I know, but I could think of a better one.

The problem was masculine pride. By selling the brooch as military insignia from a fierce warrior group, the boys would accept it, but if I tried to get them to wear girls jewellery... Well, it didn't take prescience to predict problems. I was mulling this over when I heard Cassie begin to stir.

When she saw me turning towards her, knuckling her eyes, she sleepily announced: “Morning Fiona, your up early, what time is it?”

Replying: “Morning girlfriend, it's about 6:30, but I don't really sleep. I hope I didn't wake you?”

Cassie looked at me with a slightly alarmed expression and started to wiggle her finger in an ear.

Cursing my stupidity, without thinking I thought sharply: <Sonitus> and said: “Sorry, I was testing a new enchantment, I don't really sleep and needed to move about quietly without waking you.”

Waking up completely, Cassie replied excitedly: “Oh! A new enchantment... Oh, you need to show me... Oh you don't sleep. Oh, you poor thing... Oh,...”

It took me a moment to realise I hadn't touched the enchanted sapphire.

While letting Cassie ramble a bit, mum quickly told me:<It happens, it's not even uncommon. Powerful mages can nearly always invoke their enchantments without directly touching the charm or talisman. You are wearing the bracelet and you are used to talking in your mind, this helped you focus the thought directly at the charm. Its good news, it means you can probably use your enchantments when in animal form.>

Not wanting to appear rude, I turned my attention back to Cassie who was still rambling as she got out of bed. Holding up my hands, I told her: “Whoa, slow down girl. I was going to make a 'sneaking quietly charm' for you and the others anyway, and tonight we have to enchant your armour. So you will get to see plenty of magic, probably more than enough to bore you to tears.”

An incredulous Cassie, was shocked out of her staccato speech enough to indignantly ask: “A 'sneaking quietly charm'! What kind of name is that?”

Looking shamefaced, I admitted: “I couldn't think of a better name.”

Cassie, obviously in her element, after a moments thought, snapped her fingers and suggested : “A 'Hush Charm' is so much nicer don't you think? A 'sneaking quietly charm' sounds so sordid! ”

Thinking it over, I broke out into a grin and suggested: “Yeah, I like it a 'hush charm'. Since you're so clever can you think of something we could enchant that the boys would wear?”

Okay, that one had her stumped.

Not wanting to admit defeat, she replied: “Let me think about while I go and get a shower. I saw how much you ate last night and I am sure you are probably starving.”

Starting to grab her toiletries, towel and the like, she suggested I should go and wake up the boys. Telling me: “We agreed after you left last night that we should all meet up for breakfast and the first one up should wake the others.”

What with it being the first day in a new place, most of the other freshers were already up and getting ready; that being said, some were obviously a bit grumpy at not getting a long lie in. Achmed and Justice, were used to getting up with the dawn and were already ready and preparing to come and wake us up. Tim and Jules were more problematic, Tim was already dressed, but Jules had had a relapse and was curled up in bed with covers over his head. Asking Tim to go and wait with Justice and Achmed, I sat down on Jules's bed and gently asked what the problem was?

After a bit of coaxing, and with a few sobs, he admitted: “I don't know if I can do this, I'm scared... I don't know how to be a boy.”

Pointing out that I didn't know how to be a girl produced an incredulous look, so I had to remind him I had only been a girl for a few day's. Then, I asked him: “I know it's not easy for you and I have magic helping me adjust; but once I got used to the idea, I found I liked being a girl. Now tell me the truth. What do you like about your new body?”

Thinking about it carefully, he answered: “Well when we were in the forest I liked being strong, but Tim was really enjoying taking charge and being the man so it just seemed easier to keep on playing at being the weak girl.”

The follow up question was easy: “Okay, what don't you like about your new body?”

Again carefully considering his answer, he replied: “It's just so weird, everything is different: The way I move.... The way I talk.... The way people look at me... The way I relate to people.... It's just too much to take in, I feel lost.... It's like I don't know who I am any more.”

“Okay, then imagine you had a spell working its magic and helping you to adjust, would you like being a boy then?”

Looking up at me, he asked hopefully: “Could you do that for me?”

Smiling, I replied: “I wouldn't even know where to begin, the spell that's working on me took the combined might of half a dozen Elder Gods and a renegade GOO....”

Then holding up a finger to punctuate what I was saying, I went on: “But!... Don't you see?... Your first thought wasn't to ask if I could change you back. It was to ask if I could help you adjust.”

With what was still quite a feminine shrug and a: “Humph!”, he replied: “You tricked me.”

Feeling absolutely no shame, I replied: “Well, yes I did. It's called feminine wiles. The point is though, you have friends to help you, and, once you start getting used to the idea, you have more or less admitted you are going to like being a boy.”

Letting that sink in, before heading for the door, I suggested: “Now come on, everyone is starving and we are all waiting on you.”

Heading back to my room to wait for Cassie and Jules, I picked up my shoulder bag and radio. Fifteen minutes later we were all ready.

Power Testing

When we were reviewing the previous day's events in the dream shard, mum had suggested that I seemed to have an affinity for Starlance's telepathic technique, and it would be a good idea to get into the habit of scanning for strong or hostile emotions. Doing this, and pointing out a few recruiters hiding in far off bushes, I explained to the others about Agent Bernstein while we walked to Crystal hall. Cassie wanted to play at being a ghost again, something the others felt had definite possibilities. Fortunately, since the recruiters were actively moving out our way; and anyway, and I was already in enough trouble, we got to breakfast without incident.

It was still early, and with there being no real queue, we were soon sitting around eating and gabbing about what life would be like at Whateley. Having the time to enjoy the company of friends seemed like the first bit of normality I had had since I entered the web of fate at the end of June, and by the time I headed off to my power testing appointment, I was feeling very relaxed and quite mellow.

My initial appointment was in the Doyle medical complex, and I was surprised to see Sam waiting for me. When I asked her what was going on, she explained: “Well, you are my protégée, and what with what you've been up to since you arrived, I have a lot of questions. Then of course there is the testing of your armour. I am really curious to see how 'that' performs...”

Adding, with a meaningful look at the walls, in a voice not much above a whisper: “Of course there are also added security dimensions. A lot of very powerful people are extremely anxious to meet you.”

At my questioning look, in a louder voice designed to carry, she told me: “By the way, I have arranged an appointment with Project Director Jefferson of the MCO to expatiate the issuing of your MID. He's an old friend of mine from way back, and has other business here with Mrs Potter. When he called to see if I wanted to hook up, I asked him to do your paperwork as a favour.”

Any thoughts of what was going on were dispelled when a nurse arrived to take me to my first appointment, a basic medical. Which, other than telling you that my human aspect was a healthy human 'female' in the age range 13 to 16, I am not repeating any details. I still blush just thinking about it.

Well, one thing that I should mention: My regen rather than being the expected 2, was estimated at a borderline 5-6. This had me mystified, ignoring my prescient knowledge, while the Baron's people weren't the best in the world, they weren't completely inept and they had confirmed I was only a regen 2. Mum had told me that normally succubi, being extremely tough, were highly resistant to battle damage and had enhanced healing. Although they used enchantments and spells to help speed recovery, true regenerative healing required infusions of essence. Because of this, when we got to the underground labs beneath Doyle, the power testing people were curious about the Baron's results, but wanted to test me from scratch.

Just to recap: I had managed to hide the fact I was an Avatar 5 and disguise my high level esper trait enough to be downgraded from PDP 3 to a PDP 2. This resulted in the Barons people rating me:

Exemplar 2:
Manifestor 1
Power Mimic 1
PDP 2:
Wizard 2-3
Regen 2

Whateley had one of the best power testing labs in the world, and I was soon being scanned by a succession of gadgets and devises. The final results were a shock.

The following were unchanged:

Avatar 5
Manifestor 1
Power Mimic 1

My PDP package, which, (indirectly confirmed by the Barons tests,) prescience told me was:

Pre-cog 6 (high)
Telepath 2, (low)
Telekinetic 2 (low)

Was now:

Pre-cog 6
Telepath 6
Telekinetic 3

Making me a PDP 5. The telepathic boost might be explained by bleed-over from my succubus aspect, but telekinesis was no part of a succubus’s powers.

My Wizard trait was now a high Wizard 6, again this might be explained by bleed-over from my succubus aspect, but that didn't explain why my regen and exemplar traits were now:

Exemplar 6
Regen 5-6

The power testing team were going nuts, almost coming to blows as they accused each other of mucking up the tests. The thing that really had them going was, in addition to the above, their test were showing I was also:

Warper 1
Energiser 1
Pyrokinetic 1
Devisor/Gadgeteer 1

As far as the scientists were concerned , the results were not just unprecedented, they were impossible. I think the only thing that finally stopped their disagreement breaking into open warfare was Sam suggesting: “What about Blackstar squad?”

When they gaped at her with blank faced questioning looks, she continued: “Before her arrival. Luna bonded a team of super-villains, could she be channelling their powers because of her power-mimic trait?”

Personally, I preferred the idea of open warfare. After a moment of stunned silence, they broke into a babbled esoteric discussion. A discussion which was even more heated than the previous round of accusations. What was really annoying about this was they seemed to be forgetting about testing my succubus aspect. To my untrained, very unscientific mind, finding out what measurable mutant powers my succubus aspect had would have at least given them a basic starting position on which to base their wild theories. Not want wanting to interrupt the near orgasmic pleasure they were taking in deriding each others theories, I quietly suggested this to Sam, who, rolling her eyes in their direction, agreed.

Giving a piercing whistle Sam, got their attention and suggested: “Why don't we test Luna's succubus aspect and see what powers it possesses?”

Following a babbled chorus of: “Succubus aspect?”, Sam explained: “I thought you understood, she's a shape-shifter with two stable forms, one is a succubus the other is a human girl. Apparently she can also temporarily take any animal form as long as it is female.”

Another babbled chorus, this time of: “Shape-shifter?... Two stable forms?”, followed by a mad scramble and near fist-fight as they dived back to the test results.

After a short heated discussion, they turned back as one; and with a cold, hard stare, the head researcher announced: “Impossible, there is nothing in the results to indicate any kind of shape-shifting ability.”

Looking to me, Sam quietly asked: “Luna, would you like to demonstrate.”

There was a little curtained off alcove; and explaining about my wings and tail, I used it to change into my armour. While its provocative nature nearly made their eyes pop, switching to my succubus form had their eyes, along with another part of their anatomy, literally bulging. Feeling mildly pissed off at the way they had been treating me, I changed into the black panther from the previous evening and angrily stalked around the lab before letting out a threatening snarl. To drive the point home, I changed into a mouse and scampered under a cabinet. Re-emerging as a king cobra, I rose up, flared my hood and hissed at them.

Switching back into my human aspect, I sweetly announced: “I'm sorry, but there is not enough room in here for me to change into a dragon.”

Maybe this was too much, one of the researchers almost snarled: “Dragons are mythical creatures!”

By this time I had had quite an education on the make up of the Five Fold Court, and pointed out: “For your information Dragons are about as mythical as the Sidhe. During the time of Atlantis they formed the Court of the North and sucubbi were created partly with the aid of their magic.”

Another of the researchers diplomatically suggested: “I would really like to see this, why don't we move to the lab next door, it's set up to test flyers and has a firing range for blasters.”

Getting next door, which proved to be as large as an aircraft hanger, mum agreed it would be large enough and I changed into a golden red dragon, about 3 metres high at the shoulder, 12 metres long from tip to tail, with a wingspan of about 10 metres when fully extended. There was a big concrete block at one end which was obviously intended to be a target, and from about 15 or 20 metres, I slagged it with a 10 second belch of intense flame.

Switching back to my human aspect, I couldn't resist taking a bow.

They didn't even have the decency to applaud as, in an effort to be the first to get to the initial test results, they scrambled for the exit.

Sharing a long suffering look with Sam, we quietly wondered how we were going to get them to focus on testing what mutant traits my succubus aspect possessed as we trudged back through to the original lab.

Once we got them refocused, it turned out my succubus aspect had more or less the same detectable mutant traits as my human aspect. There were some minor differences that were interesting from a researchers point of view; but in practical day-to-day terms, made very little difference. For comparison, they ran me through the same devises and gadgets while in panther form. Again the results were broadly comparable, but with enough subtle differences from each of the other two forms, that, if Sam hadn't intervened, they would have had me spending the next month changing into a succession of animal forms so they could graph the slight changes in how my mutant trait manifested.

Since my succubus shape-shifting was undeniable; but also undetectable with current technology, At Sam's urging, I relayed mum's description of the basic power-set of the succubi. This was:

Shape-shifting as long as it was into a female form. I had two stable forms which I could maintain indefinitely, but I could only maintain the others for about a day at the most.
In sidhe terms, succubi were powerful telepaths and mages.
Again in sidhe terms, enhanced strength, stamina and reflexes.
Without a magical assist, along with a high resistance to battle damage, succubi had enhanced, rather than regenerative, healing.
I could enter the dream world, which was almost my natural environment, and use it to gather intelligence. I could also bring others into my dream, where I would be in complete control of what they experienced.
As I previously explained, I could bond male warriors and subvert an enemy army. When, at the researchers urging, I asked mum if I could bond a lesbian? She didn't know, but suspected it might be possible if the flow of essence I tasted from her was strong enough. Of course, this answer nearly caused the researchers to head off in another tangential round of theorising.
Finally, as I also previously explained, my primary defence was a highly controllable aura, with an effect that ranged from provoking mild sexual interest; through a powerful, but temporary, mesmer to death.

Since devising a way to test my real, (as opposed to copied,) power set was likely to take some time, and at least some of my succubus powers were currently undetectable; after I agreed to make myself available for further testing, and with further prompting from Sam, they ultimately agreed to provisionally rate my basic mutant power-set in accordance with the Barons results and my own prescience.

Moving onto the fun part, they let me try to learn about my mimicked powers. Under their expert, but very rushed, guidance, I found that I could teleport objects upto 20 kilograms around the lab. It was really quite a nifty power. It wasn't the full warping ability of Starport, more like the 'orbing' ability of Paige from Charmed, but still nifty.

My copied energising ability was a bit like having my own built-in taser. Again, nothing spectacular, I had to make physical contact with my hand(s), and only held about six discharges without recharging, but it was still useful. Sam told me the energy discharge was much the same as a police issue taser. The pyrotechnic ability I had also inherited from Starstrike was pretty much the same. I had heat vision with a range of about 15 metres strong enough to light a camp fire, basically about what you would expect from a lighter.

Probably because of the copied exemplar packages, we found I could bench press 1.5 tonnes, and, although I had never even tried to use my natural TK ability, under the guidance of the testing staff, I found I could lift about 300kg within a range of about 15 metres. This was surprising, since Starstrike, who could lift several tonnes, only had range of about 5 metres. I didn't appear to have a TK shield, but I could levitate. Flying using TK was more difficult, and after crashing into a wall, I privately decided to stick to wings.

Time was moving on, and the power testing people were anxious to get rid of us so they could get down to some heavy duty scientific theorising. Sam, however was not one easily deterred. She had devised a couple of experiments to test my armour, and fully intended to carry them out before dinner.

The first one was mildly scary, she had set up an oxy-acetylene cutting torch in a vice and I had to gradually move my hand closer to the point of maximum heat. This, she explained, was the bit just in front of the blue cones. Her Hive computer allowed her to calculate distances very accurately by eye-ball, and when I let out a yelp and finally pulled my hand away, she quickly estimated the armour could withstand temperatures of around 1,200 degrees centigrade. To put that in common blacksmithing terms, heat radiating a clear orange colour. If the heat was radiating a colour that was more whitish, around 1,300 degrees, I would be badly burned.

The initial impact tests were more annoying than painfully. She had a hopper fed, compressed air machine gun thingy, firing lead slugs. While she gradually increased the muzzle velocity, I had to stand in the stream until the slugs made skin contact. It stung like hell, but I would gladly have put up with that when, smiling, she reached under the lab bench and pulled out an AK47.

Exclaiming: “You have got to be bloody kidding me!”, I turned to run like hell. Only to hear a loud bang, with an accompanying push to my back.

Turning slowly to face her, even though I didn't actually feel the bullet touch me, I started pacing and gesturing angrily as I screamed: “You 'fucking' shot me!... I don't 'fucking' believe this, you 'fucking' shot me!....”

Waiting till I had calmed down a bit, she held up her hands and told me: “I wouldn't have done it without a hefty safety margin. Your armour checked out at 80 NS per centimetre squared, and it was a spitzer FMJ round. There was very little danger, if I had miscalculated and the bullet had penetrated the shield, your exemplar 6 rating would have stopped it. The final safeguard was your regen which would have healed any wound in seconds. Now you have proof positive your armour works. If I hadn't shot you, you might not have trusted it enough to take full advantage.”

Letting all that sink in, she pointed out: “When you combine the armour with your exemplar rating, you should be safe from armour piercing rounds fired from the likes of an AK47. Having said that, depending on the range, you still need to be carefully about heavy calibre machine-gun, sniper or anti-brick rounds, and pure iron anti-mage rounds were always going to be a problem. Still, there is no doubt your armour is very effective.”

Angrily stomping behind the curtain, I changed back into my street clothes not even slightly mollified by what she had told me.

Rejoining Sam, I will admit to being slightly exultant that the armour had worked better than expected, but I still felt that she deserved more than a little frostiness. In view of this, I politely listened with my coldest most aloof gaze as she told me she was encrypting all the results from power testing and sending them off to the holo-sims. Being a sneaky son-of-a-bitch, Sam then asked me about my enchantments and changing into an animal form. Unable to contain my enthusiasm, by the time we got back above ground, I had more or less forgiven her.

Dinner

What with long haired science types anxious to get rid of us so they could get down to some serious arguments about what my test results meant, I was early for dinner. The Praetorians were nowhere in sight, but Jadis and Vamp were just ahead of me. Joining them at the Bad Seeds table, I was once again struck by how important social status was here at Whateley. In a way, it wasn't any worse than any other large school, but the difference between eating on the top tier by the waterfall, compared to eating on the ground floor by the checkout, really rubbed my nose in the fact that I and the Praetorians were at the bottom of the heap.

Apart from that, dinner was pleasant as Vamp and Jadis filled me in on the various cliques and groups around campus and how they fitted into the established pecking order. They both proved to be very knowledgeable and privy to inside information.

When I asked about this, Jadis explained: “Whateley has students from very diverse backgrounds, and some of us, like Phase or me, have been taught from almost as soon as we could talk that knowledge equals power. Others, like Vamp, have had to learn this the hard way. When you realise that, like most schools, many of the students are predatory and add in the super-powered bully factor, having a good intelligence network can save you a lot of grief.”

Vamp was nodding in agreement with what Jadis was saying, and I had to admit it made a lot of sense. Thinking about it, if we included Blackstar squad, I and the Praetorians had the manpower and resources to gather good intelligence about what was really happening on campus, and I resolved to propose we appoint an intelligence officer to correlate reports on gossip, rumour and hard fact.

I was mulling this over when Vamp slyly suggested: “With you being in security, you must have access to all the security reports and secret files?”

Jadis, equally slyly, added: “Access to that type of information could make you a major power broker in the school.”

At my shocked look, they both laughed, and Jadis pointed out: “Don't worry, we're not trying to corrupt you. Lt Trout, Sergeant Buxton and rest of platoon 3 are already so corrupt that there are very few real secrets in security. I know for a fact that Phase has bought at least two of platoon 3 along with Buxton and Trout themselves.”

More out of curiosity than anything else, I asked: “What about you, how many have you bought?”

In reply, she touched a finger to the side of her nose and winked, before deliberately letting slip that she knew about the Praetorian Guard and our intention to rush JROTC.

Funnily enough, I think they were telling me the truth. They weren’t trying to corrupt me, they were just reminding me in a friendly fashion that I did have a lot of resources. I wasn't sure what my clearance level was, but I was getting the unabridged daily security reports. There were ethics to consider of course; but on the other hand, I didn't ask to be in security, and Sam and the Chief must have known I would be put in this position when they decided to include me in the loop. Resolving to take the safe course and ask Sam for guidance, I also resolved not to needlessly hold back info from the Praetorian Guard, or, for that matter, from the rest of my friends if it might save them from trouble.

Remembering about how my guardian wanted to chaperone me and some friends on a jewellery shopping trip, I asked if they were interested. Both their eyes lit up in excitement, which doubled in intensity when I suggested getting Starport to teleport us directly to Boston and organising a limo to ferry us about Boston itself. Vamp sniggered when I regretfully pointed out there was no way my bondsmen would let me go without a bodyguard, although Jadis gave me a look of sympathetic understanding.

With the Boston trip all agreed, I looked over the balcony and saw the Praetorians sitting by the checkout. Still feeling hungry, I reminded my friends I had made arrangements to meet the others, and, with a wave and a promise to meet for dinner again, I went back downstairs for seconds and maybe thirds.

My second dinner was a bit rushed, but we quickly agreed that we should keep an ear out for rumour, gossip and hard fact, and that we needed an intelligence officer to correlate our reports. I had been thinking about who the best choice was on the way down the stairs. It obviously needed to be a joint effort with brainstorming sessions, but we still needed a single individual to actually do the grunt correlation work. With Justice and Achmed not having the cultural background to pick up on the subtle nuances, and Cassie being too excitable and erratic, that left Tim or Jules. On balance, from the way Tim had reacted to Jules's identity crisis the previous day, he was developing the typical male attitude of: 'If hitting it with a hammer doesn't work, get a bigger hammer.', so this left Jules as the only really viable choice.

Diplomatically explaining this to them, I asked Jules if he would take the job. Thinking about it carefully, he asked with a little smile: “Is this your way of trying to help me to adjust to being a boy?”

Grinning with triumph at having made the correct choice, I pointed to the questioning looks the others were giving us and replied: “Yes and no. Yes I do think it would help you, but it wasn't the reason I chose you. The fact that you picked up on that little detail when no one else did, shows you are the best choice.”

Thinking about it some more, he told everyone: “Okay I will do it, from now on you pass on all the little things you hear or see to me.”

When the others agreed, I told them I would introduce them to Blackstar squad, who would also act as Jules's 'eyes and ears'.

Now that we had an intelligence officer, it seemed reasonable to appoint a quartermaster and field medic. The field medic was obvious, turning to Cassie I told her: “Since you've already appointed yourself as healer, that makes you our official field medic. I know that normally you wont need it, but, when you're choosing your classes, try to get an advanced first aid course and I will see about getting you a top-notch aid kit.”

Since Cassie saw the sense in what I was proposing and didn't give me grief about spending money, I was free to turn my attention to appointing a quarter master. Again, the choice was obvious. Looking at Justice I asked him: “We need a quarter master to take care of our equipment and make sure not just that we have everything we need; but more importantly, it is there when we need it. I think you would be perfect for the job. If you take it, you will also be working with Startech to create the devise and gadget tech we need. Starfury and I will provide magical enchantments and charms, and if we need to purchase more specialised gear I will see to it.”

After Justice agreed to be our quartermaster, I told Tim and Achmed: “Just because you two are our heavy hitters, it doesn't mean you can sit back and coast on our coat tails. You will both be expected to help the others as needed, and I may have other jobs for you to do as they come up.”

With everyone happy with the team structure, I pointed out I had a couple of bits of paperwork to do over in Kane hall and would meet them there in fifteen minutes. Then, reminding them that after we had completed the paperwork for JROTC, we had an appointment in Dunwhich, I made further apologies about my hectic schedule and left to see about filing my report.

Trouble

Heading across the quad, I was kind of distracted and not paying attention when my path was blocked by a moderately good looking boy with a Texan cowboy twang who announced: “Whoa their Little Lady, where are you rushing off to? Why don't you let us good old Texas boys show you around?”

Taking in the situation, I could see he had three companions, two boys who were spreading out to cut me off and a girl who was holding back. From the accent and the way he had introduced himself, he could only be Fantastico from the 'Good O'l Boy'z', and, going by Jadis and Vamp's run-down, that meant the girl was Nantuko a mid level mage; the boy to my left was Roadrunner a fairly slow [witted?] speedster and the boy to my right was 'The Man Called Vengeance' a potentially psychotic, bad tempered energiser.

This was the last thing I needed, and trying to be polite, I told Fantastico: “I am really very busy, so if you don't mind?”

Moving to get around him, he moved to cut me off, exclaiming: “Why, that's a good Scotch accent Little Lady. What's your name honey?”

Okay, to get things clear in your mind, being addressed as 'Little Lady' was irritating, but being called 'Scotch', which is something Americans drink, was downright infuriating. In my coldest voice I answered: “I'm busy, and for your information, I'm Scottish or Scots. At the moment, I don't have time to educate a bunch of illiterate southern rednecks on the difference between being Scots and drinking Scotch, but if you ever get past kindergarten, you can try looking it up in a dictionary.”

Probably a trifle overdone, but I was annoyed. When I moved to try to get past Fantastico for the second time, Roadrunner threw a restraining arm around my chest; in the process, taking the opportunity to fondle my left breast. As far as I was concerned, that was the last straw. I brought the steel reinforced heel of my sandal down hard on his right foot to smash a couple of his metatarsus bones, and, with my situational awareness guiding me, ducked past Fantastico to kick the 'Vengeance Dingbat' full force between the legs.

In justification, I would like to point out that, unless it was a matter of life and death, Chief Delarose had made it very clear to me that using telepathy to smack someone in the goolies was a serious breach of Whateley's canon of psychic ethics.

As I ducked passed Fantastico, he had made the mistake of trying to grab hold of my hair. When he grabbed my left earring by mistake(?), its ward of Keeping and Guarding activated leaving him with a badly burned hand. This gave me the time to make a pirouette on the ball of my left foot and, aiming to either break or dislocate the joint, kick him as hard as I could on the side of his right knee. Needless to say, this put Fantastico down too.

With the three temporarily on the ground, I turned to make my escape while using the radio to frantically transmit: [Break-Break. Officer in trouble in the quad. Repeat. Officer in trouble in the quad. Over]

On a side note: An aficionado of radio communications will have realised that I used the reserved word 'Repeat'. This was because, in the radio protocol of Whately security, 'Repeat' means: 'I am in deep doo-doo and am urgently requesting back-up.'

Anyway, as I broke free, the Praetorian Guard came running up, and, because security were on the way, I had to restrain my friends from tearing my attackers limb from limb. This was why, about three minutes later, a full tactical response team found us facing off against the slowly recovering Good O'l Boy'z.

Wisely, Nantuko had decided to keep out of it. Now, with security being there and a crowd of newly arrived freshers, along with their families, gathering in disappointment at missing the action, she demonstrated superb talent as an actress by hysterically screaming: “The little savage launched a completely unprovoked ambush attack on my friends as we innocently made our way across the quad. She ought to be expelled. People like her don't belong at Whateley.”

Once security got the bitch calmed down, Cassie's gentle nature showed when she brightly offered the injured: “I'm a healer and can see your all hurting pretty bad. Would you like me to fix your boo-boos?”

This produced angry, snarling promises of future retribution from the injured Good O'l Boy'z.

I will probably say this again, but some people have absolutely no sense of civilised behaviour. They could have at least said: 'Thanks for the offer, but no thanks.', before launching into their individual diatribes of hate.

With the audience getting bigger by the minute, and the Good O'l Boy'z evidently fit enough to want to fight some more, the security detail marched us off to Kane hall. Well, we marched, the Good O'l Boy'z, hobbled, limped and hopped.

Entering Kane hall, my esper trait was making me aware that, in the long term, this could easily escalate. When I added in what Vamp and Jadis had said about 'The Man Called Vengeance' in particular, but Fantastico and the rest of his clique as well, the situation was looking decidedly dangerous.

To cut a long story short, there was CCTV covering the quad, and the video clearly backed my side of the story, including my being fondled by Roadrunner. Since Nantuko had continued to perjure herself in front of Delarose, she was guilty of being an accessory. As a result, the Good O'l Boy'z had a group appointment with Carson. The Praetorian Guard had taken no part except to shield me from my vengeful attackers until security arrived, and, since Cassie had been clearly heard to offer healing to the injured, it was agreed they had only been acting as concerned bystanders.

As for me, when Chief Delarose saw the CCTV footage and noted how I had used the minimum force necessary to escape and immediately called for backup, I was also in the clear. Though, he did appear a bit freaked at how it had taken me less than four seconds to put down two seniors and a junior who were all powerful energiser exemplars. (Later, I would hear on the grapevine that the clip would be a big hit on the underground 'Mutant Death Matches' that were broadcasts out of Las Vegas.)

Anyway, all of this was really beside the point. While we were still in Chief Delarose's office, I decided to take the initiative in any potential feud with the Good O'l Boy'z. I had read the school handbook cover to cover, and, with my exemplar memory, I could recite the relevant regulations verbatim. Turning to my team, I asked: “Do you trust me?”

When they nodded ascent, I turned back to the Chief and pointed out: “You know, that this is not going to go away, don't you?”

Glancing over at the glowers from the Good O'l Boy'z, I added: “From what I've heard on the grapevine, 'that lot' have a reputation for seeking vengeance...”

Yes, by using the phrase 'that lot', I was subtly and deliberately being as insulting as possible while still keeping it outwardly civil; and yes, I also intentionally didn't emphasise the code name of the dingbat. (I mean anyone who named himself 'The Man Called Vengeance' had to be a 'Class 1, certified lunatic'.)

Hedging, Chief Delarose carefully replied: “What exactly do you have in mind Fiona?”

Whining a little, I asked: “Did Admiral Everhart tell you that we were coming over to rush JROTC so that we could form our own training team?”

When he even more carefully, nodded affirmative. I hit him with my best big puppy eyes, and proposed: “Well you see, I've been reading the school handbook and juniors and seniors are required to form training teams. There is also a provision for challenge matches between opposing teams.”

Seeing him getting ready to scotch the idea at birth, I rushed to get out: “The Praetorian Guard formally offer a Team Challenge to the Good O'l Boy'z currently present. To make it interesting, if we win, we get their table on the first, [US second,] floor balcony of Crystal hall. If they win I will bus their table for the Fall term.”

Cassie excitedly burst in: “So will I.... I mean, if we lose, I will bus their table as well.”

At the sly expressions entering the faces of the Good O'l Boy'z, including, creepily enough, Nantuko, Delarose held up is hand and asked: “Are you sure about this Fiona, you won't be able to take them by surprise a second time?”

When I nodded, he looked over the rest of the Praetorian Guard and seeing equally determined expressions, he sighed before picking up his phone. Telling us: “It's not up to me, it will be up to Gunny Bardue and RSM Burlington-Smythe.”

A very short two minutes later, Gunny Bardue, RSM Burlington-Smythe and Sam bustled in as a group. Burlington-Smythe was gloating and rubbing his hands as he said: “What's this I hear about our little girl getting in fights, forming training teams and issuing challenges.... My, how quickly they grow up these days.”

Sam and Gunny Bardue, on the other hand, had very grim expressions on their faces. The Good O'l Boy'z, taking all this in, suddenly realised this was serious and, while in a brawl they were individually powerful, none of them had any real combat training.

I was really surprised when Gunny Bardue angrily stated: “What's this, a group of juniors and seniors don't think they can take on a group of newly manifested freshers lead by a pre-fresher?”

Faced with that insult, the Good O'l Boy'z quickly agreed to the challenge, and the match was set for the Sunday at the end of fresher's week

As we were ushered out to register for JROTC, the Chief curiously asked me why I hadn't used my telepathy or mesmer in the fight in the quad? My explanation that the previous morning he had made absolutely clear his position on using psychic powers unless it was a matter of life and death, nearly caused his eyebrows to lift clear off the top of his head.

The really weird thing was, except for what I would later find out was Lt Trout, Sergeant Buxton and the rest of platoon B, who redoubled their efforts to stay out of my cross-hairs, my standing with the rump of security actually went up.

To be continued, comments are always welcome.

Irvine

Ps
To cut down on my hate-mail, I would like to point out that Luna's diatribe against “illiterate southern rednecks” was directed at Fantastico and his goons personally, and not in any way, shape or form directed at Texan cowboys.

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

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

For a copy of the campus map I am using, see:
http://crystalhall.wikia.com/wiki/Campus_Map
(Note the link has been edited since some users were only seeing a thumbnail)

Beginnings

Have you ever noticed that life is a steady monotonous routine occasionally interrupted by short periods of intense activity. This is what I found to be, more or less, the case after we left the office of Chief Delarose; and believe me, after the hectic 48 hours I had had since waking up as a girl, this was a welcome relief.

However, the 'more or less' qualifier is important.

Gunny Bardue quickly got us signed up for JROTC. Also, since the Praetorians weren't currently affiliated with a national military, he issued them with the, (US surplus,) BDU's they were expected to wear to meetings and lectures. (I was expected to wear my security uniform.) Because Whateley JROTC was 'officially' an arm of the UN, we were also issued with the UN blue beret, although I had to get mine specially made by Cecilia.

With that completed, we retired to my office for a few minutes so I could file paper copies of my report along with Sam's sign-off on the emergency dormitory. Sam had an amused twinkle in her eye when she saw the wide eyed stares of my friends as they realised I really did have an office, a desk and a name-plate in the Kane hall security annex.

Dr Hartford, had emailed me to say our passes were waiting for us in Schuster hall. So, leaving Sam to take care of a few things, we traipsed over in a group, and, since we were already there, I took the opportunity to top up my student account. While it wasn't completely empty, it had taken a hefty hit, and I had more purchases to make in the campus store. Once that was all taken care of, we were ready to visit the Rodger's Fabric Boutique.

Sam; Starlance, our driver for the trip, and Startech and Starfury, who were to act as point men with Cecilia on the power armour project, were waiting outside for us with a security mini-bus. Driving directly to Cecilia's, my initial reaction to the ongoing subdued silence from my friends, was: 'Welcome to my crazy mixed up world.'; but they were my friends, and I felt I had to do something to try to take the edge off the shock.

Thinking about what mum had told me about the Dream world, I realised that, while I had had a bit of training in basic unarmed combat against super-powered adversaries, this was not the case with my friends. Coughing to get their attention, I open up with: “Do you know how I managed to put the Good O'l Boy'z down so quickly?”

The looks they gave me in reply stated clearly: 'What a dumb question? You're a hero who can do anything.', was more than enough confirmation. Before they could put the thoughts into words, I quickly went on: “It was training, every opponent has a weakness, and if you can find it then you win. Mutants often tend to rely on their powers to the exclusion of brains, so that makes their weaknesses easy to identify and, as a consequence, easy to beat.”

Sam was nodding in agreement as I continued: “For example, exemplars are tough. A high level exemplar like Fantastico is more or less immune to bullets and knives, but that doesn't really protect the hinged joint's like his knees or arms. That's a weakness you can exploit.”

Seeing I had their attention, I told them: “A speedster like Roadrunner is super fast, occasionally blindingly fast, but break a couple of bones in their feet and you have taken away their power. An energiser like the Vengeance psycho is really dangerous at longer ranges, get in close and give him something else to think about, and he won't be firing off many energy blasts.”

Looking across at Tim. I smiled as I told them: “A TK-Brick has shell that responds to kinetic energy, push slowly with steady pressure and it can be penetrated by a knife. Gently close a hand round a joint like a finger, leg or arm and it can be easily dislocated.”

Turning to Cassie, I told her: “A high level regenerator can heal potentially lethal wounds in seconds, but some wounds take longer than other's to heal. If you know what they are, you can exploit this. It is brutal, but dislocated joints and bones with compound fractures twisted into unnatural angles are very difficult for a regenerator to heal. Bizarrely, a high level regenerator who can heal an amputated limb in moments can be stopped by a leg that has been broken by someone who knows how to fight mutants.”

Without really paying attention, and feeling on a roll, I barely gave them time to let what I said sink in, before suggesting: “One of my powers is to be able to bring people into my dream world. Blackstar squad are all Whateley graduates who went on to make careers in the military. They each have decades of real world combat experience, if you like, I can bring you into my dream and have them teach you some basic unarmed combat techniques. We can also use the dream as a secure area to plan our strategy against the Good O'l Boy'z and develop and practice basic tactical formations.”

Tim and Achmed, who, like most brick/tanks were natural brawlers, were giving me what I took to be incredulous looks, and, almost laughing, I replied: “You know tactical formations like the Greek phalanx, they really work. The Romans legions would organise in three or more ranks and trained to rotate the front rank every five minutes without interrupting the fighting. This why military people talk about 'Rank and File', the second rank would file through the front rank, which would file to the back to become the rear rank. The tactic was so strong, variations survived into the nineteenth century and professional soldiers still practice the drill for parade manoeuvres.”

Without thinking about what I was saying, I continued: “Because of this tactic, the legions under Caesar were able to fight from dawn to dusk and wear down much larger armies. At their largest, Caesar's legions had a paper strength of 60,000, but, because of illness and injury, they were usually 10 or 15% under strength. After ten years of fighting, it is estimated they had killed in excess of 3 million enemy. In the battle of Alesia, some contemporary accounts estimated that 50,000 legionnaires fought and destroyed a combined Gaulish army of over 500,000 men. Whatever the real numbers, when Caesar finally crossed the Rubicon to march on Rome, the loss of man-power in Gaul due to his ten year campaign lead to a population crash so severe it came close rivalling the Black Death.”

Heading off potential objections that we weren't fighting large armies, I hit them with: “Today modern armies worry about artillery, machine guns and aircraft, and have developed generic formations to deal with them. These threats are the equivalent of mutant energisers and blasters. As a whole, tactical formations vary to meet the requirements of the objective balanced against the expected threat. In the French Foreign Legion, the basic unit structure is the triad. A typical formation they use is to spread out in a reverse phalanx with two in front and one behind. When they encounter opposition they have several tactical options; for example, the two in front might engage and hold the enemy while the one at the back works his way into a position to attack from the flank or rear. It's a tactical formation that has worked well in the African bush, the jungles of South East Asia and in urban combat.”

Stopping to catch to my breath, I realised everybody, including Sam, was staring at me in open mouthed astonishment.

Cassie put what they were all thinking into words by asking: “Luna, how do you know all this?”

Pole-axed, I blinked!

Mumbling: “I always liked history and military things...”, I realised, even allowing for my basic training in unarmed combat with the Baron, I had never been good enough at it to put down the Good O'l Boy'z the way I had. This, the lecture on mutant weaknesses, the follow up lecture on tactics and formations I had just given.....

Mum broke into my thoughts and explained: <It's the magic, you're a weapon remember. The magic is taking all the little snippets of information that you have heard or read and integrating them. It is also giving you the skills to be able to utilise what you have learned to it's best advantage. You still need training though. The more the magic has to work with, the more powerful the effect will be.>

Relaying this to the others, a recovering Sam replied thoughtfully: “I think it's more than just magic, there is a bit of the real you in there as well. When you developed the plan to escape from the Baron, you hadn't merged with Selene and didn't have the magic helping you. That was a good plan worthy of a professional”

Blushing at the compliment, I heard mum say: <She's right you know. Why do you think I chose you.>

Being 'a maiden of modest disposition', I kept that bit to myself.

Anyway, by the time we got to Cecilia's we had agreed to train in my Dream world.

Seeing how Cecilia worked left my team goggle eyed, but they were definitely pleased with the results. Cassie's costume was much like mine. The main difference being, because Cassie didn't have wings, Cecilia was able to make hers a two-piece crop top and skirt, (along with the chainmail fringe and fur trimming of course.) The boys costume's were modelled after a Roman officer, and had a cotton smock underlay, with a pleated kilt, and breast plate with fur trimming.

Because of arena rules, we needed masks. Apparently, the close up video feeds for the arena audiences were frequently hacked and re-transmitted by the same underground broadcasters who would hijack the security clip of my fight against the Good O'l Boy'z.

So, since the rest of the gang didn't have cute little horns, she was able to fashion them the typical Roman officer helmet with a short red crest and thonged cheek flaps. To complete the disguise, she was going to fashion raccoon eye mask's, but Startech pointed out the secure communications' system he was working on was going to have built into it a HUD with networked day night vision cameras and IFF. This got me thinking about a possible enchantment I needed to ask mum about. Distracted, I barely heard Sam say we would need the raccoon eye masks for our MID photo's.

Needless to say, everything that Cecilia made, (except the smocks and eye masks,) was made from the same laminated layers of thin leather and silk.

To finish off the costumes, along with arm bracers, Cecilia made each of them a belt for either utility pouches or holsters, and a chainmail baldric with a fringe of six crystal fobs to hold dimensional folds for baseball bats, swords, rifles and other long weapons.

Their sandals were basically the same as mine, although the boy's version didn't have stiletto heels. Since Cassie and Justice didn't have the exemplar package, I was a bit worried how they would handle the extra weight, but Cecilia was a master of her craft and had made slight adjustments to the weave to compensate. They still had that extra oomph though.

All in all, everything went quite well and I got my sky blue UN bonnet. Cecilia was more than interested when we told her about the test results, and found the fact that Sam had shot me amusing. Saying: “Well, it's good advertising. If we're going to go into business selling these, you would have had to do a live fire test anyway.”

The actual business negotiations itself were the stuff for lawyers, my guardian and my board of directors, but the general principle that we should form a joint venture to explore the possibilities of magical armour were quickly agreed. She also broadly agreed with Sam's pricing estimates, which, on hearing, made my team even more goggle eyed. In the end, they only accepted the armour because of a combined effort, by me, Sam and Cecilia to convince them they were doing me a big favour.

Having said that, once they accepted this, getting them out of the armour proved difficult. Cassie in particular loved the look. As you may have guessed, her parents took a dim view of girls fashions that were even moderately risqué, and most her clothes were of a conservative nature. The only reason we finally got her out of it was Sam telling her straight out that, since the families of the new fresher were on campus, it was a red flag day, and, if she strolled around in costume she could very likely find herself joining the Good O'l Boy'z cleaning the Hawthorns toilets.

This was the second or third time I had heard this suggested as being the ultimate deterrent and curiously asked: “What does that mean: 'Cleaning Hawthorn's toilets.'”

Cecilia, a Whateley graduate herself, went white faced and shuddered, as if from a very unpleasant memory. Sam snickered and asked: “You read Stan and Morrie's security report about the sewers?”

When I nodded, she told me straight faced: “The toilets in Hawthorn are worse, they are probably one of the most toxic environment’s on the planet. One of them is even inhabited by ghosts.”

We were about to object we weren't little kids scared of ghost stories, but a glance at an ashen faced Cecilia, who was shuddering and violently nodding in agreement, made us reconsider.

Discreetly handing Cecilia my credit card, which she equally discreetly returned along with the receipt, we were soon ready to leave.

On the drive back to Whateley, Sam came up with an interesting suggestion. Apparently, the previous year Fey, the sidhe student Vamp had mentioned, had developed a spell to let her team do a quick costume change. Sam, having no magical knowledge, didn't know the details, but thought just knowing about its existence might help me figure it out. Mum said the idea had possibilities, and withdrew further inside to mull it over.

Starfury also had an interesting idea, one that made all of us, including Sam, grin evilly. Apparently, as part of his normal role in Blackstar squad, he kept in his pack the makings of a number of non-lethal charms which could, depending on the arena scenario, prove very useful. Pointing out that under arena rules a student could buy technical equipment, but normally, (except in the case of charms a student was known to carry at all times,) had to craft their own offensive spells, he asked me if I would like to learn the spells he had in mind. Needless to say, I quickly agreed.

Dinner

After we were dropped off at Poe, we passed the common room on our way upstairs and got a few really filthy looks from the fresh young Posies currently present. Evidently word had spread about my confrontation with the Good O'l Boy'z and the team challenge. From the muttering, the consensus opinion appeared to be: We were the 'Luna-tics' who had delusions about being another team Kimba.

There also seemed to be little doubt we were going to be richly and deservedly creamed. In a fit of defiance; and pointing out the benefits of psychological warfare, when the gang went to drop their costumes in their rooms, I suggested they change into their JROTC uniforms.

Meeting up in my room shortly afterwards, I told them straight out: “Since you elected me your Commander and it was me that challenged the Good O'l Boy'z. It is my responsibility to make sure that we have the equipment necessary to win.”

Trying to imitate Sam in her gruffest and most fierce Admiral persona, I continued with a gesture: “So, when I make the purchases I have in mind: 'ZIP IT'!”.

Getting the gang back down stairs, with all of us wearing our sky blue berets; them all nicely decked out in their BDU's and me in my security uniform, Lieutenant bars and combat jewellery, we made quite am imposing sight. It was quite gratifying the way the murmured comments, along with the hostile stares, faded in the face of our cold, indifferent attitude. Which, by the way, forcefully stated: 'We don't give a shit what you think.'.

In order to cast the necessary enchantments, I had to ask permission to take the Praetorians out after curfew. Stopping off to see Mrs Horton, she was very complimentary about the way we looked, and after promising that we wouldn't take all night, and their would be no dancing naked or demonic pacts, she agreed that we could use a small artificial woodland clearing in front of Poe.

Getting up to the campus store, I had a very definite list of what we needed and the actually shopping didn't take long. The gang were a bit surprised at the size of the store and the wide range of what it sold, but four of us were exemplars who wanted to eat and they quickly got over it. Grabbing three trolleys, the first stop was rucksacks where we got four NATO surplus NI patrol packs; basically, a 38 litre military rucksack very popular with outdoor people who were serious about their hobby.

Stopping off at the armoury, Justice, explaining materials science was his talent, helped me to choose a recurve hunting bow with two dozen arrows, and a high powered hunting catapult. I didn't really know how to use them yet, but Sam had said she intended to get me the required training; and anyway, it was all part of the psychological warfare. Getting all of us Cobra 400 linear accelerator pistols, which hold nine rounds in three selectable three-round magazines and came with a clip on belt holster. I also got the others the Cobra 1500 linear accelerator rifles, which held 18 rounds in the same three-round magazine arrangement as the Cobra 400. The main advantages of the rifle was it doubled the range and was more accurate. The rounds we chose were equally divided between taser, tangleweb and pepper.

Since there were a few eavesdroppers surreptitiously gathering close by, I directed a quick glance in their direction and launched the first wave of our PSY-OP gambit. Telling the Praetorians in a loud voice: “I have a theory about pepper and mid level regenerators I want to test out on Fantastico.”

Having the attention of our eavesdropper, I continued: “Basically, the pepper is an ongoing irritant, that will continue to incapacitate a regenerator until they build up an immunity. This might take a few hours of constant exposure.”

With the gang nodding in enthusiastic approval, I told them: “For an exemplar/blaster like Fantastico who has heat vision, I suspect pepper will really ruin his day. Especially the 'Jobe strain' in the Gizmatic rounds I've got on special order.”

As an aside, thinking of Gizmatic and Jobe, made we wonder if the well known Gizmatic Jobe, who I had credited with the fictional strain of pepper, was the same Jobe who lead the Drow collective. Curiosity getting the better of me, I resolved to find out.

Moving onto baseball bats, Justice suggested in an equally loud voice: “For Achmed, Luna and Tim to really take advantage of their strength, one made out of devisor forged Damascus steel with a lead cored head would be more appropriate than the wooden version.”

Achmed, Tim and I eagerly agreed, Tim excitedly pointing out: “Remember what Luna told us guy's. Exemplars and regenerators are highly resistant to battle damage, but even baselines find it easy to shatter a mid level exemplar's knee or elbow with a good hickory baseball bat. That kind of damage takes time for even a high level regenerator to heal.”

Justice then announced: “As soon as I get into Startech's workshop I will see about the fabrication of special bats for our bricks.”

When he dropped three hickory bats for himself Cassie and Jules in the trolley, Jules returned his to the rack, and, with a glancing blush at me, told Justice: “I'm an exemplar too, and pretty strong. I think I could handle one of your special bats.”

Nodding, with a pleased smile that Jules was starting to come out of his shell, Justice asked: “What do you think about a lead caestus?”

This, I thought, was a really good idea and quickly shouted: “Ooh.... I want one of those.”

When Cassie, Jules and Tim queried: “Caestus?” Achmed explained: “In Roman boxing the caestus would be shaped to fit over the knuckles and first finger joints. Giving extra weight to a punch, it also helps protect the hand.”

Taking the opportunity presented, I warned them: “Many brawlers and people with little fighting skill wrap there fingers around their thumb thinking it makes a more solid punch. This is nonsense, and very dangerous. When you throw a punch like that, the fingers compresses back onto the thumb causing it to dislocate.”

Since it was important and added to our reputation for savagery, I went on: “If you want to deliver a solid punch and you don't have a caestus, use the base of the open hand so that the force is transmitted directly from your forearm. Delivered from the side, you can easily dislocate a jaw or even break an exemplar's nose; and believe me, breaking someone’s nose really makes their eyes water. Effectively, it temporarily blinds them.”

Raising my voice slightly: “Fantastico is the most resilient to battle damage of the Good O'l Boy'z . If you clap your hand's hard together over even his ears, you are guaranteed to burst his eardrums. One of the weakest bones in the human body is the collar bone, in a baseline it can be broken with a finger. Use a caestus to punch down on Fantastico's collar bone and it will shatter immobilising his arm.”

It is a testament to the savagery of the Praetorians that they all wanted a caestus.

Selecting six good quality, high carbon steel Ka-Bar Fighting knives, Justice explained: “High carbon steel takes a better edge than inox and is less brittle: Inox ends to shatter if used to block a blow from a hard object.”

For effect, I took one of the knives, and, while demonstrating a few knife fighting forms, I told our audience: “Against Nantuko, Roadrunner and the Vengeance loon, knives are quite sufficient. The fiction writers always get it wrong about knife fighting. All this crap about holding the knife low and what not is just that. Crap!... You hold the knife in your hand with the blade pointed back up your arm. Then, if your opponent tries to grab your knife arm, he cuts off his fingers. At the same time, you can use the full mobility of your wrist, elbow and shoulder to instantly point the blade in any direction.”

With a fixed, maniacal grin of pitiless savagery, I demonstrated further. Telling what was becoming quite a large crowd: “You can deliver punching/slashing attacks to any of the veins and arteries in the neck, arm or legs that are near the surface. Because of the multiple axis rotation of wrist, elbow and shoulder, you can instantly deliver stabbing blows in any direction. Forward, backward sideways, they are all good. Any part of the enemy’s anatomy is reachable: Upwards into the lower chest; or groin; downward into the base of the neck; sideways into the armpit or kidneys. All easily done if you hold the knife the way I'm showing you. Holding it like this you can stab an opponent in the back if he tries to grapple you from the front, or even a second opponent in their kidney if they try to take from the rear. ”

Then as final finishing touch, I topped my display off with: “Don't worry, Blackstar squad know all this and more. By the end of the week you will be the meanest, dirtiest knife fighters ever to hit Whateley. I can guarantee it!”

Just to give the gossips something to talk about, we also got six short, dagger like 'compact stun-guns' and six anti-gang aerosols of the French CS design. These both came with a suitable belt pouches.

Heading off to the jewellery section, we got six more of the brooches I had used for the invisibility charms. The reason we needed six was because I wanted to cast the ward of keeping and guarding on the armour and brooch as a whole. As you may have guessed Cassie didn't mind having an extra charm for when she was in civvies. On Starfury's advice, I also took the opportunity to buy a couple of dozen packets each of black and red plastic beads.

The last thing we needed in the jewellery section were charm bracelets for the Praetorians. Luckily, Cassie found copper bracelets that had been inset with 10 lapis lazuli panels that were sufficiently masculine the boys didn't object too badly at having to wear them.

On the way to the checkout, we stopped at the snacks section to load up with suitable snacks and other munchables, a coffee machine and microwave.

Paying for everything, I had to give everyone another of Sam's Admiral glares to silence the incipient complaints about the amount of money I was spending. On the other hand with three gentleman exemplars, it was no problem getting the gear back to Poe, where, because we were getting hungrier by the minute, we just dropped everything in my room for later disbursement.

Quickly making our way to Crystal hall, we found quite a few more students than at lunch and there was a small queue. What with our uniforms, we were easily identifiable as the Luna-tics, and the comments about how badly we were going to get pasted were quite audible. We just returned frosty superior looks in reply. Laying claim to our original table by the checkout, we entertained the people in the queue by re-telling the story about how easily I had put down the Good O'l Boy'z, and coming up with a succession of progressively more evil suggestions about what exactly we were going to do to Fantastico and his goons by way of revenge for fondling my boobs.

It was all good psychological warfare, and, when we decamped, (after collecting thirds,) to the Bad Seeds table with Jadis, Vamp, Jobe and the Drow collective, people were definitely starting to look at us like we might just be Whateley's newest bad-boyz.

Sitting on the upper terrace gave my team a chance to see what we were playing for, and they were impressed. Okay, if we won, we would still be on the terrace below, but it was still better than being stuck on the ground floor.

As it turned out, I didn't need to ask if Jobe was related to Gizmatic. He, (or more likely Jadis,) had already heard on the grapevine about the fictional pepper strain and playing along, Jobe announced in a loud voice: “I've got the strain of pepper you asked for under forced cultivation Luna, it should be ready tomorrow. It's quite an improvement on the original. I've decided to skip the whole plant thing and transplanted the gene directly into bacteria; in the process, I tweaked it to maximise the production of pure capsaicin. I've also tweaked the gene to increase the dermal absorption rate by a factor of 500. With a rating of 16,000,000 Scoville units, the Good O'l Boy'z will probably wish you had used a flame-thrower.”

Jadis's brother, Malachi, (or Techno-Devil,) followed up with: “And I've already got a devise set up to load Jobe's new pepper strain into Cobra rounds. As soon as Jobe finishes cleaning out the residual bacteria, it will be good to go.”

Jadis, giving me a wink, asked: “By the way Jobe, what bacteria did you transplant the pepper gene into?”

Grinning, Jobe replied: “Well, for the high skin absorption rate Luna wanted, I gene-spliced the two 'spirochaete' bacteria that cause syphilis and yaws. Then, in order to get the 'persistence effect' she specified, I used genes from the amoebae 'Entamoeba histolytica' that causes dysentery. Finally, I spliced in the gene to produce the pure capsaicin ingredient of pepper.”

Laughing like a maniac, she continued: “When I tested the bacteria in the lab, the results were quite spectacular. It will be interesting to see the results of the purified pepper field trial on the Good O'l Boy'z ....”

Pausing for thought, she wandered off into geek land, telling us: “You know Luna I really must thank you, this project has opened up some very interesting lines of research....”

While Jobe entertained the gathering crowd, I took the chance to admire the stunned looks of horror on the faces of our eavesdroppers. By the time we headed off to see Blackstar squad, the murmurs coming from students we passed weren't just saying the Luna-tics were bad, they were saying we were certifiable insane.

Personally, I felt like shouting: 'My revolution is not dead. Vive la Révolution!'

Poe

Once we arrived at the Blackstar barrack, Startech held up his hand for silence and started to scan us with a small, wand like devise, the LED's of which switched from green to flashing red. While the rest of the squad babbled nonsense, Startech collected quite a pile of electronic bugs from our clothes and Starport wrote on a whiteboard: 'We found our barrack had been bugged when we got back from dinner. Do you want to play at misinformation?'

Taking another board, while babbling equal nonsense, I wrote: 'Pay attention guy's! Don't talk about any plans unless we are in my dream or a secure area. Talk garbage and babble like crazies.'

After holding the board for the others to see, I asked: “Startech, have you had a chance to build the nausea inducing electro-magnetic pulse cannon yet.”

Startech, catching on immediately, replied: “Well, I have a bench prototype. We could test it on Starstrike if you like, he's a brick and likes to think he's invulnerable.”

Starstrike, also catching on, started to babble in fear as he moved to the table, picked up the bugs, and crushed them into powder. Starfury then swept us, and the room, again to make sure we were clean, before shaking his head in disgust, telling us: “It was probably the Spy-Kids. When I was a member, if we had mounted an operation as sloppy as this, our faculty sponsor would have thrown us to the wolves as a lesson.”

When he suggested that we take counter measures, after giving it a few minutes thought, I agreed telling everyone: “It would be nice to be able to hold off on that until after the match, but we've got a lot of preparation to do and it would cause too many complications.”

Seeing the stunned looks on the Praetorians, Starstrike told them: “Welcome to Whateley, the next four years are going to be more interesting than you ever imagined. It's a really crazy place, and a bit like jumping into cold water on a hot day. Once the shock wears off, it's really a lot of fun.”

Then, with a wave of his hand to take in the other members of Blackstar squad, he finished with: “We all really enjoyed our time here. As the cliché goes: 'It was one of the best times of our lives.'”

Filling in my bondsmen on the plan for training the Praetorians in the dream, their intelligence gathering role, and all the rest of the stuff we had planned, I told them that tonight I would concentrate on finding the Praetorians dreams and we would start the real training the next night. Giving the Spy-kids some more thought, I suggested that we should report the incident to Chief Delarose, Blackstar squad agreed. It probably wouldn't solve the problem, but it would give the Spy-Kids something else to worry about rather bugging me and my friends.

Telling me he would make a few more ECM devises for both Blackstar squad and the Praetorian Guard, Startech gave Justice the one he used when we first entered. Justice of course was really interested and he and Startech really hit it off. Startech agreed to get Justice into what was now his underground lab in the security annexe, and suggested that Justice's compulsory work study should be as his assistant. As the putative employer and the one who would probably end up paying the bill, I had no objection and Startech said he would make the arrangements with Sam.

With that all taken care of, and telling Starfury to meet us after it got dark in the small glade outside of Poe, we left to head back to our rooms.

Entering Poe, the looks we received from our fellow freshers as we passed the common room were, while still hostile, now tinged with fear. Although unfortunate, it was a largely unavoidable side effect of the psychological war we had launched. It was also very satisfying, and infinitely preferable to earlier when there was a universal consensus we were going to be pounded into the arena floor.

Getting back to my room, we found it had been searched. Apart from the fact that our shopping had been moved and the contents of my wardrobe and desk had been disturbed, the really obvious clue was Cassie's P-3AT had been hastily dropped in the middle of floor. The Praetorians had learned quickly, and, while Justice carried out an ECM sweep, we babbled a few really quite horrific ideas about improvised weapons. If Justice, in particular, hadn't been on my side, I would have been thinking about leaving Whateley.

After Justice dumped the collection of bugs on my desk, before destroying them, I took the opportunity to send a message. Saying into the collection: “We are going to be looking for a little magpie with a badly burned fingers, when we find him, (or her,).... Well, I enjoy surprises. Do you enjoy surprises?.”

Then, as an encore, I told our eavesdroppers: “You might be able to hide a burned hand, but, if you don't back off and respect our privacy, the next time I will turn your skin a bright fluorescent green.”

After destroying the bugs in the rooms of my friends, on Achmed's suggestion, we checked out the toilet blocks. Finding they too had been bugged was actually a bit more serious, and, given how badly freaked students who witnessed our search were, we really had no choice but to report our findings to Mrs Horton.

Long story short, for the next couple of hours Poe was absolute pandemonium as security turned the place upside down. The really disgusting thing about the whole incident was: In their desire to blame me and the Praetorian, the fact a Poe resident was an accessory to, not only spying on other Posies, but planting bugs in the toilet block, was completely lost to many of our fellow freshers. The logic of our accusers being: If the Luna-tics hadn't gone out and picked a fight with a bunch of seniors, none of this would have happened. Go figure!

Sam also turned up with the security team, though in her case she wanted a quite tête-à-tête with me and the gang. Getting us alone in my room she immediately demanded: “There are some very disquieting rumours floating on the grapevine about you lot. I want to know what is going on?”

When I told the gang and her the full plan, they all broke out in very evil grins. Sam actually cackled. Telling us: “That is the most fiendishly diabolical plan I have ever heard, I actually feel sorry for the Good O'l Boy'z.”

Then realising something, she asked sharply: “Did Jadis dream this up?”

Pointing out that I had had no chance to coordinate this with the Bad Seeds and their unexpected cooperation during dinner was just pure luck, I, in honest innocence, asked: “What makes you think the plan was Jadis's?”

After learning that Jobe was Gizmatic's daughter, hearing Jadis was the daughter of Dr Diabolik was no great surprise for any of us and we took it in our stride. Then, before leaving, and noticing our firearms purchases, Sam reminded us to bring them with us to the first JROTC class tomorrow so they could be registered with security.

Spell Crafting

By the time all the hullabaloo died down and things had returned to a semblance of normality, we were ready to go and cast the enchantments. Starfury and Startech were waiting for us in the clearing, and, given how practical the idea was, it was no surprise to find Starfury had a similar portable spell casting setup to mine. Though in his case, he used a PVC fabric whiteboard.

After quickly mastering the ward of Keeping and Guarding, he was able to share the work of warding our armour, knives bangles and firearms, along with the two baseball bats for Cassie and Justice. In the same vein, he was soon helping me cast the Hush and Invisibility charms. The Invisibility charm was attached to the armour's brooch, and the Hush charm to the first of the lapis lazuli inlays on the bangle.

Weirdly, the gang could all feel the difference and identify the particular inlay by touch. I say weirdly, since as far as I knew, none of the gang had any magical ability. However mum explained that, since we had cast a ward of Keeping and Guarding, they and their respective bangles were now attuned. In the long run this was a good thing since I intended to load other charms onto the bangles.

Anyway, when I told Starfury I expected him to cast these charms into similar bangles and brooches for Blackstar squad as insignia. Both he and Startech immediately grinned, slapped their fist to their heart, and exclaimed in unison: “The Anla-shok live for the one. We die for the one.”

Using Cassie's hickory baseball bat to fix the dimensions in my mind, I cast a dimensional fold scabbard into the first fob on her baldric. Explaining to her she just had to feel the weave on the fob and think forcefully about withdrawing her weapon, she took her baldric and slung it over shoulder. The expression of amazement on her and the gangs faces as she found she really could reach into the fold and withdraw the bat made by day, and, incidentally, brought smiles of amusement from Starfury and Startech.

Suggesting it was probably because of a bit of feedback through the bond from me to him, Starfury had no difficulty with this spell either and we had soon cast scabbards into the first fob of the rest of the baldrics along with a second fold in the next fob for the Cobra 1500 rifles. I, of course, took the opportunity, to create suitably placed folds in my belt for my bow, arrows, Ka-Bar knife [without sheath], hunting catapult, anti-gang CS gas, Cobra 400 pistol and the Damascus steel bat which Justice was going to provide later.

Since ultimately, a lot depended on Starfury mastering the enchantment to create magical armour, it was something of a relief to find that Starfury could cast it, although he did want me to demonstrate the spell three times to make sure he understood it properly. In order to become really familiar with the spell, Starfury cast the last two armour enchantments on his own. This gave me a chance to relax and gather my thoughts for the biggie. The quick change spell which mum had come up with.

As mum initially explained it, the spell was two of my dimensional pockets linked by the intention to change clothes. Given her enthusiastic nature, it is probably no surprise that Cassie volunteered to be the guinea pig. Taking a deep breath and offering a silent prayer to any watching Gods, I quickly inscribed the symbolism into the pentagram along with the invocation 'veste mutata' at the point closest to the inlays that would hold the pockets. Sweating at having to weave two separate weaves at once, when I inverted the construct, it was with some relief I saw it settle into place without releasing a crowd of hobgoblins.

Handing the bracelet back to Cassie, I told her: “Pack your costume into one of the pockets and always keep the other empty. When you wish to make a costume change, touch both the inlays that hold the pockets and think directly at the charm 'veste mutata'.”

Quickly packing the costume away, she immediately touched the two inlays and muttered: “Veste mutata!”, there was a slight shimmer and she was standing in her costume.

You may Imagine my surprise when my startled: “It worked!” was echoed by mum's amazed: <It worked!>

Getting over my shock, I spoke an incredulous: “What do you bloody mean: 'It worked!'”

Laughing in evident pleasure at my discombobulatude, she told me: <I will have to explain how I designed the spell?>.

Having already heard her lectures on the laws of magic and how they were represented by the symbolism I inscribed into the pentagrams, and knowing how mums lectures tended to be both esoteric and repetitive. I braced myself for a cerebral overload.

Apologising to my friends for the interruption, and explaining to them I was about to get a lecture on magic. I told mum I was all ears, and she began: <I started with the 'Law of Precedent' which states what happened before, will happen again. Since Fey had already worked a similar spell, I used this as a basis to say the spell 'must' exists and 'will' be repeated.>

Okay that sounded reasonable. When I agreed, she continued: <The Law of Cyclicality states that things work in cycles. I combined this with the Law of Threes, which states that things don’t come alone, events run in a sequence of at least three. In this case you take your old clothes off, you put them away and then you put your new clothes on, which closes the circle and ends the cycle.>

I definitely had no objection to that, so mum hit me with the mind-bender: <The Law of Definition states that the universe is what we say it is. Since the law of precedence states the spell exists and the law of cyclicality, along with the law of three, says this is how it works. By casting the spell you invoked the law of definition and told the universe this is the way it is, thus making the spell a fact. It was the 'fact of its existence' that caused the enchantment to take effect.>

Spluttering in indignation, I spoke aloud: “That means I could have woven any jumble of weaves and the spell would have worked”

Starfury, who had almost certainly been faced with the same lecture, snickered. Then quickly apologising, told me: “Sorry Mam, but I take it your mum was explaining the laws of precedence and definition?”

When I gave him my best 'We are not amused.' look, he told me even more apologetically: “I'm not trying to be offensive Mam, it's just every mage faces this paradox, and they all react the same way. Precedence and Definition are why it is very, very difficult to craft original spells. Even though I suspect your mum tricked you, being able to cast an original spell means you have the ability. You will need training and education to bring it out, but it is there inside you all the same.”

Mum added: <He is correct Fiona, listen to what he says. It was you who crafted the enchantment of invisibility remember.>

When I mentally shouted back: <Oh shut-up!>, she wisely withdrew to leave me to stew at being tricked.

Starfury though, added respectfully: “Any jumble of weaves wouldn't have worked Mam, another mage who doesn't visualise the magic as weaves, might use chanting or singing to achieve the same effect. For example, I see what you calling weaving like sculpting and shaping clay or plasticine. Some mages study school's of thought that formalise the process in a very rigid style. However, no matter how a mage visualises the process, at the end of the day it all amounts to the same thing: There is a shape to the pattern of what you weave, which, along with the meter, scansion and rhythm of the process, gives meaning to the definition.”

When he saw I was following what he was saying, he continued: “It is a Spell Crafter's genius to be able to see what shape or form a spell should be given in order to give the desired meaning and definition. Your mum couldn't have given you that shape since the exact process is different for everyone. However, because of the law of precedence, now that I have seen how you do it, I can cast the same spell using my own process of visualisation.”

To prove his point, he took Tim's bracelet and quickly repeated the weave. Having seen Starfury cast the enchantment, I could no longer deny it worked and we cast the quick change enchantments for Justice Achmed and me. As an aside, for me, as a bonus, the original two pockets I had made to hold my costume and spare clothes were now free to use as general purpose storage. Anyway, testing the quick change enchantments, we found they worked perfectly. In fact they worked too perfectly.

The enchantment worked only on articles of clothing so things like jewellery and backpacks weren't affected. The problem was it worked on 'all' articles of clothing, and, unlike mine and Cassie's, the boy's costumes didn't include built in briefs. In other words, in good Scot's tradition, the boys didn't have anything under their kilts. Well, they had things under their kilts, it was just they were things most people would rather not see.

Cassie and I found this hilarious. Startech and Starfury found it mildly amusing but sympathised. The boys thought I had done it deliberately. It was only Starfury pointing out the law of unintended consequences that saved us from a display of macho huffiness.

Now that we had taken care of the armour and equipment, it was Starfury turn to demonstrate the enchantments I hoped to use against the Good O'l Boy'z

The main attack enchantment was one I intended to be permanent, and had decided to weave the defensive charm directly into one of my bracelet sapphires and an inlay on the gangs bangles. Once Starfury showed me the defensive spell and I had repeated it to satisfy arena rules, both of us were able to cast the defence for the rest of the gang. Handing me a small 5cm tall jade statue, he then explained how the attack spell worked and how to cast it.

Working quickly, I inscribed the pentagram along with the invocation, and, as was becoming my habit, inverted the weave as it settled on the statue. Believe me, outside of the shielded area of the arena, there was no way of testing it while anywhere near campus, but Starfury was confident I had woven the enchantment correctly. Dropping the statue into one my newly liberated pouches, I was ready to turn to part two of our attack plan.

This second spell was a use once enchantment. So, taking six of the red beads we had bought, I got the gang to thread them onto lengths of string to make crude necklaces. Then under Starfury's guidance, again to satisfy arena rules to prove I could do it, I cast the first defensive charm and Starfury helped me finish the rest. Luckily, because even with Starfury's help, I was beginning to get tired, I was able to cast the attack charm itself, along with its invocation, directly into the packets of red beads as a whole. Since we didn't need to be directly protected from Starfury's final enchantment, without further ado, I was able to cast it and its invocation directly into the packets of black beads.

I tell you know lies, by the time I had finished and packed all my gear into my belt, I felt as if I had been stretched out on a rack and left to dry in the sun for day's.

The Grove

Telling the gang I had to pick up some things from my friend the Grove and it was important they were asleep by the time I got back, I gave Cassie a level look. To which she giggled in reply, but promised to at least try. With that done, I warned security I was making an aerial patrol of campus, and invoking my invisibility charm, headed off for Emerson and Twain.

Like I told you, I was exhausted and was hoping the essence being radiated would help clear my head. With all the new freshers that had arrived, the essence was quite a bit stronger, and, for about half an hour. I flew in leisurely figures of eight letting the nectar wash away my fatigue.

The Grove was good to its word and had asked the squirrels and birds to weave dried, scented grasses and herbs into 30 or 40 small balls each a few centimetres in diameter. Mum had suggested that I buy a few packets of wild bird seed, nuts and raisins when I was in the campus store. Scattering the bounty about my glade in little piles, 'It' told me that, since winter was coming on, my gift would be well received.

After packing the pot-pourri into the spare pocket and telling the Grove thankyou, I took off for another flight around Emerson and Twain. No, I wasn't becoming insatiable, all the earlier spell casting really had left me feeling rung out like a wet dish-rag. On this second therapeutic flight, I took the opportunity to ask mum about the enchantment I had thought about while listening to Startech's description of his COM system.

Basically, what I was thinking about was a kind of magical system of scrying a battlefield that would let me follow the movements of friendly and enemy forces. You know, like a magical version of real-time satellite imagery. The idea was, when combined with Startech's COMS, I would have a powerful TACCS, (Tactical Command and Control System.)

This was when I was reminded how infuriating mothers can be. She thought it was a brilliant idea, and suggested that I should go ahead and design the enchantment as an exercise.

Slightly miffed at her less than helpful attitude, I continued my second flight around the boys dormitories in silence.

Dream-world

Once back to Poe, I checked out of the security net, and, since Cassie was asleep, managed to get ready for bed without interruption. Like many things mystical in nature, how you see the dream world is largely a matter of visualisation. Once I entered my own dream-shard, mum showed me how to leave and enter the larger dream-scape where the dreams of others resided. For me, I saw it as a large star-field of twinkling lights.

Explaining that once I mastered the art, I would be able to quickly find, and look in on, the dreams of both enemies and friends. She warned me: “It is very unethical to spy on a friends dream, and spying on the dream of a powerful enemy with magical resources is extremely dangerous. To use the dream world to spy on the enemy, it is best to choose the dreams of their low level functionaries.”

Noting what she said, I turned my attention to the star-field. Through the bond, I could easily sense the dreams of Blackstar squad and noticed the stars which represented their dreams had a detectable resonance. Once I got the feel for this, mum suggested that, since the Praetorians now all had the charms I had created, there would be a similar, though weaker, resonance in their dreams.

Using this resonance, I was quickly able to find the dreams of my friends, and, with a kind of hooking gesture, bring them into my dream-shard.

Every home owner takes pride in showing off their home and I was no exception. The shard was basically the same mediterranean island that mum had first shown me, with the colonnaded, open roofed building on a slight rise overlooking a moonlit sandy beached cove. They were still a bit sceptical that they really were in my dream, and not some fantasy dream of their own, but agreed, for the moment, to give me the benefit of the doubt.

Heading down to the beach, I created a beach barbecue complete with soft-drinks, sardines, crisps and bread. Then we got down to business.

The first thing on the agenda was power sets. After explaining what I knew of my powers, I asked the others to share what they felt comfortable telling us.

Achmed and Justice had had their powers tested by the UN, and were officially a part of a UN military aid program to try to redirect newly manifested mutants away from terrorist groups. Since they were both orphans, they had been made wards of the same program. In practice, this meant they had been issued with MMIDs and their powers were classified. Having said that, they didn't mind giving us a run-down on the basics.

++ Achmed was rated as level 6 exemplar, level 4 coercive telepath and level 4 regenerator. With the full exemplar package of strength, stamina speed and intelligence, he had an eidetic memory, could bench press over two tonnes, was impervious to low calibre small arms fire, and, with a ground speed of 90mph was technically a speedster. His telepathic talent was highly biased to coercivity, and this enabled him to completely dominate someone’s mind. The ideas opponents thought, the emotions they felt and what their senses perceived were all vulnerable. Luckily for baselines and mutants with no telepathic ability, Achmed was a highly moral person, and, after he had left a couple of Jihadists as basket cases, he resolved, unless pushed, to stick to breaking bones.

++ Justice, in addition to being rated as a level 5 gadgeteer and level 4 devisor, was also rated a Wizard 2. As yet, he had no magical knowledge and didn't now how to use his weak mage trait. While he was good at improvising mechanical and electrical systems, his real talent was in materials science. Just by touching a substance, he could sense its structure strengths and weaknesses. Probably more importantly, he could combine different materials into composites with the properties he was looking for. (This was the reason he could offer us Damascus steel baseball bats: He could forge the naturally occurring carbon of HCS steel into long nano-tube fibres.) During his bush war, he had been able to laminate different types of wood with scrap plastic and steel. Then, using the resulting composites, along with powerful explosives he had made from mineral deposits, household chemicals and the detritus of civilisation, he had created devastating booby traps and weapons.

Neither Tim Jules nor Cassie had yet had opportunity for formal power testing, and had been required to use a loophole in Federal law to enable them to travel to Whateley.

++ The doctors who had examined Tim, called his mutation the TK-Superman package. They suspected he was also a mid level exemplar and had guessed his regen at around 3 or 4. From stand-offs with H1, he knew he was impervious to low to mid calibre rifle fire, and, although he currently had very poor directional control, could fly. He had no idea of his real weight limit, but had bench pressed 5 tonnes, and, during the H1 chase, had thrown a family sized car with ease. While hiding in the forest with Jules, he had gone toe-to-toe with a grizzly bear and decked it with a single punch, hence the name K'áplac.

++ Jules had been told he was a high level manifestor and mid level exemplar, with a suspected regen of 5. When he first realised he had the ability to manifest things, he had used it to create extremely intricate fractal jewellery which could survive for about a day. He knew he had extremely fine control of what he manifested, and suspected it extended to at least the molecular level. During their time in the forest, he had used his talent to manifest gill and mist nets for fish, birds and other animals. Which was why he chose the name Teqè’s.

++ Cassie, told us she was a powerful healer with her own regen, but was very reluctant to talk about her power and how she realised she was a mutant. At first all she would say was: “When the minister found out I was a healer, he wanted to use me in faith healing services. It didn't matter how close to death they were or what was wrong with them. I didn't even need to touch them, I could stand beside the alter and heal them at the back of the church.”

When she broke down into tears, I put my arm around her as she told us: “The minister used to go into a rage all the time because of my 'boyfriends'. He was always shouting at me. Telling me that healing was a gift from God, and I should be pure and virginal like the Angel in Hells Kitchen....”

Finally, she sobbed again and admitted: “I can heal animals, plants and soil too.”

“????”

Recovering first, Justice asked for all of us: “How do you heal soil?”

Sighing, she reluctantly explained: “If you look at healthy soil, it is full of life. There are tiny organisms, worms, beetles, tiny insects....Lots and lots of things. In soil that is unhealthy all these little critters are dead or dying. Sometimes they are dying because of a parasite or disease, sometimes because the soil is poisoned. If I fix the bit that is killing the good stuff, I can heal the critters...”

Looking up she broke into one of her mischievous grins and told us: “With the tiny little micro-beasties, if I heal them enough, they become all frisky and start to make baby beasties real quick. This makes the soil all better.”

With our power set taken care of, I reminded them what we knew of the Good O'l Boy'z. Which was:

++ Fantastico: An exemplar 6 and energiser 3 with heat vision.

++ Vengeance Dingbat: An energiser who could fire high frequency X-rays from his hands.

++ Roadrunner: A speedster who was not rated as being either fast or intelligent.

++ Nantuko: A mid level mage

We didn't have an energy blaster on our side which meant they would have the advantage in any ranged conflict that didn't involve penalties for civilian casualties, and, based on information supplied by Jadis, Gunny Bardue was a maliciously evil son-of-a-bitch who did not believe in throwing anybody any favours.

When Sam had demanded to know what was going on, I had pointed out to the gang: “If he lives up to his reputation, then, since we're the upstart challengers, he will choose the scenario that favour's the blasters.”

Brainstorming the blaster problem, Jules laughed and suggested: “What about a cloud of tiny mirrors?”

Thinking about it, Justice replied: “You would need to get the correct reflectivity for infra-red. I've got a few journal articles on it, but the big problem is going to be the X-rays. It is possible to make mirrors for them, but the grazing angle is pretty small. There are way's to get around this that use laminated micro-film composites to increase the grazing angle, but you would still need a cloud of billions to make it work?”

Jules retorted: “Yeah, but they don't need to be big. They just need to be the size of specks of dust.”

Laughing, Justice conceded: “That would work! In fact, if they were that small, the heat from the energy blasts would keep them in the air and electro-static repulsion would prevent them from clumping.”

With Justice agreeing to work with Jules on the structure of clouds of microscopic mirrors, stage two of our battle plan was under-way. This meant the gang could spend the rest of the time in my dream playing on the beach, swimming in the moonlit cove and generally relaxing.

Breakfast

I had my daily report to write, and, after getting the Praetorians back to their own natural dreams, I got up and activated my Hush charm before heading for my morning shower. Sitting at my desk wrapped in the terri-cloth bathrobe with a towel around my hair, (I had quickly found this was the best way to dry it,) I logged onto my security laptop. Reading the daily security update, I found that a student called 'Razorback' had been brought in late last night by military drop-ship.

Okay, I strongly believe in privacy, but this sounded just too interesting to let go. Apart from that, if his return was important enough to make the security bulletin, then I had a duty to make sure I was fully informed. Using the search bar on the laptop's browser, it didn't take long to find out I had access to redacted security files on students. Although personal information, along with detailed power testing reports were unavailable, I was able to access basic biographic data along with their MID.

Razorback's file was an eye-opener. Apart from being a 'Class-3 Rager', as his photo made clear, he also had a severe case of GSD. He honestly appeared to be a real live velociraptor from Jurassic park. Mum took one look ans exclaimed: <Oh mon Dieu!...>

Don't ask me why she chose to speak in French, I was much more interested in what she said next, which was: <It's a Pack Stalker.>

Curious, I asked: <What's a Pack Stalker?>

Pulling herself together, she told me: <The most powerful of the Five Fold Courts was the Court of the Centre,which was ruled by the Being humans call Gaea. Her warrior were the truth behind the human expression: 'Nature red in tooth and claw.' Unless I am very much mistaken, Razorback is one of them.>

Hoping for another story about Atlantis, I asked: <Are they dangerous?>

She took a moment to think about her answer, before replying: <Yes, very much so, but not as bad as some of the other Courts claimed. At the time of the Sundering, I had been stationed near one of their outposts and we worked together quite frequently. Providing you didn't go out of your way to provoke them, they were a lot of fun.>

Then, with tones of great sadness, she added: <When the world was broken by the Sundering, the forces of Gaea were among the hardest hit. Many of the survivors from the other courts were driven insane, including my sisters. The Court of the Centre however, went berserk, falling on each other in an unstoppable rage that continued until virtually none were left.>

Not wanting to question my mum further on a subject that was obviously still very painful, I finished off my summary and emailed it to Sam.

Although I had never been a great coffee drinker and caffeine no longer had any affect on me, I still think getting the coffee machine was one of my better ideas. After getting ready, it was very relaxing to sit back and savour the taste of a good cup of coffee in preparation for the day to come.

It wasn't long after this that Cassie's alarm clock went off and I was able to supply her with a surprise coffee in bed. Then, when she went to get her shower, I went to knock on the doors of the boys.

Once everyone was up and ready, we met in my room in preparation to leave for breakfast. Partly because of the psychological campaign against the Good O'l Boy'z, and partly because we didn't yet have concealed carry permits, we agreed we should keep our weapons out in open. The nice thing about this was, since Sam had specifically ordered us to bring them to the first JROTC class, we had to take them to breakfast

We were sitting in crystal hall eating breakfast at 'our' table beside the checkout. The presence of the weapons we had purchased, our military/security uniforms and the ongoing results of our PSY-OP, made the continuing stares and background noise about our being the Luna-tics unavoidable. Fantastico and his team saw us from the queue, and, while they tried to put on a show of bravado, their blanched white faces, along with the way they hurried upstairs, showed quite clearly the pre-match tactical campaign was hitting the bull's-eye.

We were gossiping and wondering what the course work for rushing JROTC would be like. The campus radio was playing canned 'soothing' morning wake up music over the speaker system. When, without warning, the broadcast was interrupted by a new announcer: “Goooood morning freshers!!! and of course all of you returning beautiful, scantily clad young ladies. Since Dr. Goodvibes and Bert the Robot haven't yet returned to bring you their 'help you back to sleep lullaby’s'....”

He was interrupted by a synthetic voice complaining: “I am still here, I never get to go....”

Unperturbed, the announcer continued: “Shutup Tin-Man go plug yourself into an electric socket. As I was saying, since the good old Dr Good-feel isn't here, Greasy and me, say hello Greasy... that's enough no need to hog the limelight, now as I was saying we have volunteered to bring you an unscheduled broadcast of 'The Peeper and Greasy Show'...”

Cue 6 or 7 seconds of heraldic fanfare music

“Before we get into our usual program of morning jollification, we have an urgent announcement to make. It has come to our attention that the latest addition to Poe cottage's line up of Nightingale Nighties has an even more daring choice of battle-dress lingerie than last years favourites the delectable Kimbettes. We are making an urgent appeal to anyone who managed to record the arrival of Luna on their cell-phones to share this treasure with the rest of the male student body. We are also offering a $100 dollar reward and a free copy of our best selling Fey poster as a further inducement to cough up the treasure.”

Pausing for dramatic effect, Peeper went on: “Well what do you think Greasy?... Yes. I know a $100 dollars is a lot of money, but you can afford it. You were just telling me about the $100 birthday check from your grandmother. Anyway, as I was saying: Get this fellow hormonally challenged teenagers, our impeccable sources tell us that this girl is not just a girl with great taste in bedroom wear, but a 'succubus' who likes to fly around Emerson and Twain naked while hunting 'lunch'. This could be your big chance to work out all those little issue.... What the..... ARGH!....”

To the accompanying hiss of radio static, I buried my head in the table. I didn't even need to look up to see every head in Crystal hall turn to stare at me. The upper terraces were even crowding the railing looking down toward where we sat near the checkout.

The hiss and crackle of radio static was broken by what could only be Starstrike saying: “Go on! Tell it 'exactly' the way we told you to say it”

A very frightened sounding Peeper came back on air, and, after further prompting from Starstrike, announced in a shaken voice: “A six man team from security, accompanied by Chief Delarose, has just teleported upstairs to WARS to tell us that sub-Leftenant McCloud is a commissioned officer in Whateley security who heads her own security team. Any further attack on her character will be viewed as an attack upon the character of Whateley security as a whole. Chief Delarose also told me to remind you: Members of Whateley security are deputised Federal agents, physically attacking, planting listening devices, or otherwise interfering with a member of security may carry Federal charges.”

Looking up to God and raising my hands in supplication, I asked: “Why me?”

Meanwhile Peeper announced: “I'm sorry folks, I'm not feeling well, here is some canned music while I go back to bed. … Why do you do that Greasy, you're always getting me into trouble...”

“OW!. Peeper that hurt, I warned you about....”

Whatever Greasy was going to say was lost when there was a: “CLICK” followed by a return to canned, soothing, morning wakeup music.

The freshers, except for the Praetorians, all looked dumbfounded. For the rest, the male student's wore speculative looks, while the female students, who had obviously had previous experience of Peeper, broke out in a spontaneous round of applause.

To be continued, comments are always welcome.

Teaser
The next chapter, called 'Truth', will be the final one in this 'first' part of the Luna story arc. The chapter will resolve all the little clues, (clues I have been scattering since chapter one,) about Luna's true nature. While a discerning reader will have picked up a hint of what this nature may be, I can absolutely guarantee the full truth will come as a shock!

Irvine

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

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

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

JROTC

Thanks to the 'Peeper and Greasy Show' and my new found celebrity status, I was really glad to get out of the cafeteria and over to Kane hall to file paper copies of my daily report. Rejoining the gang in the foyer, we headed off to Arena 99 and briefing room 2 where most of the book-work classes would take place. In passing, I should mention there was a standing order to use only code names during JROTC meetings and classes.

There were four other JROTC recruits, making ten of us in total. The others were a mixture of nationalities. There were two Americans and a Brit who were seriously thinking of a military careers: Beam-Beam, or BB, a quiet girl with a deadly serious demeanour, who was a mid level energiser blaster; the extremely annoying A-Man, a TK-Superman, and Strongbow, a bubbly, air-headed English girl with a snotty upper-crust public school accent. She was so excited to be in the states she nearly forgot to tell us she was a high level exemplar with the full PDP package.

Americans should note: In the UK, public school means a very expensive and elitist education. Generally, the beneficiaries of a UK public school education, while sailing into the top jobs, come out so emotionally scarred, they are a major source of tabloid gossip on kinky sex, drugs, orgies and the other titillating scandals that entertain the masses. Think of 'Tom Brown's School Day’s' and you will understand what public school is all about.

The final JROTC recruit was the son of a Russian oligarch who, on manifesting as a mutant, had been told: Go to Whateley, tell everyone back home it is a US military Academy, stay out of sight, and don't embarrass the family. If he played along, he had continued access to a family trust-fund with an index linked annual payout large enough to support a caviare and champagne lifestyle on the French/Italian Riviera. If he didn't play along, well... enough said.

Oh yeah, his codename was Highball and he was a mid level sidhe type mage/empath. If you think being sidhe made him a potential ally, you would be dead wrong. He had reacted to his families rejection, by vowing to dedicate his potentially immortal life to hedonistic pursuits

Now that the introductions were over, Gunny Bardue, Staff Sergeant Wilson and Sam proceeded to register our firearms. Gunny and sergeant Wilson's eyes got progressively wider at the collection we Praetorians produced. When we explained that Spear was going to be making each of us a caestus, along with a special baseball bats for our stronger members, there was even the vaguest hint of professional admiration.

Once all the weapons had been registered, I put my hand up and asked: “Can we change into our costumes to put the weapons away please?”

Sam,who was very curious about magic, asked pleasantly: “Did last nights quick change enchantments work then?”

When I replied to the affirmative, she looked at Gunny, who gave a go ahead gesture, with a murmured: “Knock yourself out?”

As the shimmer around the gang cleared, Gunny nodded in approval at the Roman legionnaire theme until he notices me and Chira. Have you heard the expression: 'He turned blue with anger.'? Did you know that it is an actual physiological phenomena? He was seriously that furious, I really thought he was going to have a stroke.

Luckily, he was so angry he couldn't speak.

When Sam quietly helped him outside to calm down, this left me to face sergeant Wilson, who, by the way, was almost as angry as Gunny Bardue. After he had vented a little steam, I held up my hand again for permission to speak, to which he angrily replied: “This had better be good, or you will be spending tonight on a twenty five mile route march with full kit!”

Okay, I was a bit disappointed, I would have thought that Sam would at least have had the decency to warn them. I didn't say this outright of course, but I hinted at it obliquely. Telling him: “It's not high fashion beachwear, but real armour. When the 'Admiral' and I tested it, we found it was proof against military grade low to medium calibre rounds and good against temperatures upto 1,200 degrees C. The 'Admiral' and I had it specially designed to let me take full advantage of my succubus aspect’s powers.”

“Sam knew about this?”

With my brightest, widest puppy eyes: “Oh yes, she was there at every step of the design and production process. She also designed and carried out the live fire test.”

His eyes shot open as he queried: “Live fire test?”

I replied with some pride: “She shot me at point blank range with a spitzer FMJ round from an AK47.”

Then, basking in the glow of everyone's completely bug eyed stares, I continued: “She thinks that it will stop an armour piercing round from an AK47, but depending on the range, heavy calibre sniper and machine gun rounds might be a problem.”

Regaining a bit of professional detachment, sergeant Wilson, with a speculative look in is eyes, suggested: “You had better pack your weapons and change back into your normal uniforms before the Gunny gets back. I need to go and have a 'little chat' with Admiral Everhart.”

Now that we appeared to be in the clear, the Praetorians and I took a great deal of pleasure in the stunned looks of our fellow JROTC recruits at our use of magic. Slipping the baseball bats and rifles into the pockets attached to the baldric, the gang attached the belt holsters for the fighting knife, pistol, and CS-gas to the costumes belt, before changing back into their BDU's. Noticing the quick change spell had treated the weapons as part of the armour, and realising I had nearly made an embarrassing mistake. I asked mum about it, who replied: <It was probably the law of Intent, which states a spell is defined by what a mage really intends, and not by what they say they intend. Deep down you intended the weapons to be treated as part of the armour, so they are. I suspect Starfury's COMs system will be treated the same way. >

After a moment, she added: <There is something funny going on though. Something which I don't really understand?>

<Hugh?>

<Magic is, by definition, chaotic in nature, yet chance seems to consistently fall in your favour.... Also, you are picking up ideas and techniques a lot faster than I expected.>

Slightly miffed, I asked: <Couldn't I just be a very good student with natural ability?>

Laughing mum replied: <That's probably what it is, I chose you because of your potential after all.>

Even though she was laughing, I was sure there was a note of disquiet in her voice. I didn't get a chance to question her further though, since Gunny, sergeant Wilson and Sam returned at that point. Nothing more was said about our armour, but, for the rest of the day, Gunny shuddered every time he looked at me and Chira.

The JROTC foundation course was boring and consisted of quite a bit of book work along with practical range safety and live fire exercises. It was partly modelled after the NRA course for a Federal Concealed Carry Permit, but had a Whateley specific take on the subject. With day and night classes to allow us the time to complete the rest of Whateley's registration requirements, it took up most of our attention during the rest of the week. The course work consisted of elements from the following official courses:

#1 Paranormal Law
#2 Rights and Responsibilities of Good Samaritan Law Enforcement
#3 Basic Pistol 100
#4 Combat Pistol 200
#5 The range rules and gun safety elements of 'Intro to Whateley Ranges'

The bulk of the JROTC version of 'Intro to Whateley Ranges' would take up our Sunday mornings for the rest of the fall term.

Like I say, this one week foundation course was pretty boring, so I won't really be mentioning it again.

Dinner and a shock

After the end of our first full day as JROTC recruits, we were well and truly ready for dinner. Taking a shortcut between Emerson and Twain, we saw Razorback weaving through the trees towards us at, for him, a slow jog. I had already warned my friends about his return, and they had unanimously accused me of pulling their legs. Seeing what appeared to be a real, live velociraptor heading towards them quickly change their opinion of my honesty.

In a way, I blame myself for what happened next. If I had spent more time scanning the area and less time basking in the glow of stunned amazement at seeing a dinosaur, I might have been able to prevent what almost turned into a tragedy. Passing us, Razorback let out a chirping, warbling whistle which translated as: “Whoa!... Cute new girl... Definitely a very cute new girl...In fact two very cute new girls...”

Yes, I was shocked, but I was even more shocked when I was able to reply in the same warbling, chirping language: “Whoa! Cute dinosaur, Definitely a very Cute dinosaur.”

Turning to face me with an incredulous look, he tripped over his own feet. To which I let out a very girlish giggle. Putting aside for later the interrogation of my mum, and reminding my friends he was harmless if they didn't provoke him, I started to rush over to help him up. It was then I became aware of a figure off to one side stripping off the last of his clothes to reveal a cheap toy superhero costume. Realising what was about to happen I reached a hand palm upright and manage to scream: “No!”

Unfortunately, the clown didn't listen, and Razorback, turning in the direction of my gaze, got the fist of the clown, who was flying in the classic superman pose with one hand outstretched and the other on his hips, full on the jaw.

Razorback, of course, was knocked into the trees. The clown settled to the ground facing me with his fist on his hips and announced: “The names Superdude Mam. Glad I could be of assistance.”

My chance to rip him up one side and down the other, never got off the ground. Super-idiot was suddenly bowled over by a berserk Razorback fully intent on tearing the poor sap limb from limb. Screaming into my radio: [Break-Break Luna to C&C. Rager alert between Emerson and Twain. Repeat. Rager alert between Emerson and Twain. Razorback attacked by wannabe super-hero. Over.]

Turning to my friends, I ordered them to take cover and do nothing threatening, while, at the same time, I heard the reply: [C&C to Luna. Do nothing, stay out of it. Team is on its way. Do you copy? Over.]

In my defence, my mind was getting a bit clouded as information flooded into me from my mum. Starting a kind of cross between an erotic belly dance and a bird's courtship ritual, I began to sing in the same chirping language: “Calm noble warrior, your enemy is defeated. Gaea's favour shine on you my hero. You are the noblest and strongest of Gaea's warriors, none can stand against you...”

Repeating and improvising on the refrain, I slowly danced my way to a recovering Razorback's side. Once there, with his attention fully on me, I reached up and kissed him on his nose between the nostrils. Seeing a velociraptor blush would normally have had me giggling, but he was a pure carnivore and his foetid breath was indescribably bad.

Now that he was calmed down, I was able to ask him if he was okay and get the gang to come out and help the badly injured Super-prick. Angrily telling Cassie: “If you can do it, just heal him enough to stop him from dying. A few hours, or days, in real pain is exactly what the Doctor ordered for that clown.”

The security team arrived about thirty seconds later, and I was suddenly very busy explaining how the wannabe super-hero had launched a completely unprovoked attack on Razorback. Needless to say, Razorback was in the clear, the clown who caused all this was being carted off to the infirmary, and the only person left for the security team to vent their adrenalin on was me.

Man, the on-the-spot lecture I got from them about putting myself in danger was nothing compared to the lecture I received from Chief Delarose when we got back to Kane hall. It was only the Chief curiously asking how I managed to calm Razorback down that saved me from an extended tongue lashing. My explanation that mum had been stationed hear an encampment of Pack Stalkers, who evidently spoke a similar language to Razorback, caused more than few speculative looks from both the Praetorians and the members of security who overheard us.

Apparently, Razorback normally used a hybrid version of US/Australian sign language to communicate and no one had realised the chirps and whistles he made were a language. In retrospect, after I had pointed it out, it was fairly obvious. To explain this, consider: With people who did not know sign language, he used a gadgeteer designed translator, (which he hated,) and this could only have worked if the chirps and whistles constituted a formal language with a coherent structure and syntax.

Anyway, Pack Stalker language aside, finally getting out of Kane hall, a very curious Razorback invited us to join him at the Outcast Corner table. Explaining in the process, the only other Outcast currently present was Gunny Bardue's god-daughter Caitlin Bardue. Everyone had a lot of questions, I wanted a serious tête-à-tête with my mum; my friends were politely curious about GSD, and Razorback wanted to know about the language we were speaking.

Telling me the advantages of using trays as platters, which I relayed to the gang, we loaded up with a couple of trays each. Well, Achmed, Jules, Tim and me did. Razorback literally heaped a couple of trays with haunches of meat, while Cassie and Justice settled for ordinary sized portions of everything.

Getting up to the top terrace and the Outcast's table, mum was awed into silence when she realised the heavily tattooed Caitlin was not only an Artificer, but unbound. Since I was being bombarded by question from Razorback and the Praetorians, much though I was curious as to what she meant, I didn't really have a chance to interrogate her. Caitlin herself, had a quiet speculative look on her face and largely remained silent.

Another shock

Between all the quick fire questions directed at me, and, at the same time, acting as translator between the gang and Razorback, I was struggling to get a chance to eat. Because of this, I barely noticed two good looking senior students approaching us. At my mum's shouted warning to quickly give her control, I automatically started to stand and change into my costume before finding myself once again in the back seat with mum driving the bus.

As mum finished standing, the tail of my succubus aspect sent my seat flying with a clatter which caused every eye within earshot to focus on me. At the same time the two students, one male one female let out a simultaneous, ashen faced: “You!”

In reply, mum let out an uproarious peel of laughter before greeting the male student with: “Who would have believed it? The mighty Zeus masquerading as a school boy. Well husband, do you want to continue where we left off? I believe I was about to educate you on your 'short-comings'.”

It is probably a testament to the true nature of Whateley, (and how quickly the Praetorians were learning,) that everyone within range, Praetorians included, were diving for cover. Small lighting bolts were arcing from the boy Zeus's(?) hands as his face contorted in rage. Mum, on the other hand, totally unconcerned by the incipient explosion, turned her attention to the girl, who was staring at mum in genuine terror, telling her: “Oh relax Hera. A trollop like you can't help her nature, and calling you to task for it would be like beating a dog for barking. The truth is, you did me a big favour when you bedded my husband. He was the worst lover I have ever had the misfortune to take to my bed.”

Turning back to the boy, she continued: “That's why you hated Endymion, wasn't it my lord husband? A mortal who could outperform the mighty Zeus in the bed chamber. It was just too much for your over bearing ego.”

Okay, I had to admire her style, every little barb was hitting its mark and my newly feminine mind was taking notes for future reference; but damn it, it was my body in the firing line!

I shouldn't have really worried though.

Just as it seemed the teenager was finally about to explode, she stopped him dead in his tracks with: “I find the irony of 'The Mighty all Father' struggling to dominate the mind of an infant highly amusing. The child is still there you know, I can sense him. He has spent his life being a passenger in his own body and hates you with a passion that is truly 'holy' in its intensity.”

Thinking about what mum was saying, I focused on my telepathic awareness and could sense an echo coming from both the girl Hera and the boy Zeus. It was barely detectable, but full of hate and towering rage. My further explorations were cut off when mum sweetly told the teenager: “I could free him if you like, I think he would probably kill you.”

Not quite screaming: “This isn't finished bitch.”, with an imperious gesture to the girl, who was now visibly shaking, the boy turned and stormed off.

After mum handed control back to me, while picking up my chair, I reverted back to my human aspect and changed out of my armour. Everyone at the table, except Caitlin who was looking at me with an ever more speculative expression, was clamouring for me to explain what happened and what I meant by what mum had said. Judging by the way our usual eavesdroppers were leaning in, it was a question which was being asked by everyone else who had witnessed the confrontation.

A question, I may add, to which I wanted my own answers.

Warning my friends I was going to be distracted while I got some honest answers to a number of questions out my mum. With remarkable patience, I told her: <Okay, take your time. Start at the beginning and don't miss anything out. I'm all ears.>

In a resigned sounding voice she replied: <When you chose your codename I thought you knew.>

<Knew what? What's my codename got to do with it?>

<I told you, my sisters were insane and I spent aeons searching for a way to cure them. At the dawn of the current age, I formed an alliance, sealed by marriage, to a petty Godling called Zeus to overthrow the ruling Titans. It was potentially a good alliance, the Titans were corrupt despots anyway, and I was sure that with Zeus's aid, once he was ruler of Olympus, I would finally be able to help my sisters.>

Noticing she seemed to have skipped something important, I demanded: <What's that got to do with my codename?>

In a subdued tone, she answered: <The Greeks worshipped me as Selene, Goddess of the Moon, first wife and lover of Zeus. The original founders of Rome were a group of cut throats, thieves and rapists hiding out in the seven hills. Initially, they ran a protection racket on several major caravan routes which crossed the Tiber on barges to a semi-permanent market encampment on the 'Insulam Transitus'. When they tried to legalise the arrangement by calling themselves a kingdom and their extortion taxation, since they had no formal priesthood, the neighbouring Etruscan kingdoms refused to have anything to do with them . In order to get around this, they imported the Greek pantheon and worshipped me as Luna.>

Feeling a cold shiver run through me, I accused <And the warrior Goddesses, Inanna and Ọya-Iyansan, they weren't your sisters, they were you. Weren’t they?>

Sighing, mum explained: <My sisters were insane, Zeus had proved to be a damp squib in more than just the bedroom, and, once he was Lord of Olympus, it became obvious to me his reputation was badly overblown. My sisters were preparing to unleash a second cataclysm, a fact to which the Mighty all Father appeared completely indifferent. With no other choice, I had to build the armies to prevent that from happening.>

Asking about her third sister, she told me: <When my third sister took refuge in the forests and mountains of Caledonia and Hibernia, the armies I formed amongst the Scotii worshipped me as the warrior goddess Mórrígan.>

After a pause to let that sink in, she went on: <After finally killing the last of my sisters, I was deeply upset and tired of unceasing immortality. When I visited Pythia, the original Gaean oracle at Delphi, and was foretold of your coming arrival, I voluntarily gave up my physical existence to be better able to pass on to you my powers.>

With some trepidation, I asked the obvious question: <Does this mean I'm a Goddess too?>

Pausing to gather her thoughts, she replied: <Not yet, maybe never. You've always had the potential for divinity, even without my joining with you. However that's all it is, a potential. To fully become a Goddess, you would start by making a reliquary to collect the essence radiated by your worshippers. The process would be finished when you first started to collect and use a purified form of essence called manna. Whether you take that final step, is a matter of free will. It may, or may not, be necessary to defeat the GOO, but the final choice will be yours alone.>

As far as I was concerned, the last thing that either I, or the world, needed was me becoming another warrior Goddess. These unpleasant thoughts were interrupted when mum gave me something else to worry about, telling me: <The power is yours, and even as we speak it is using the bond to scan and incorporate knowledge and skills from Blackstar squad. To a lesser extent it is also using the tenuous link between you and your friends to scan them for useful knowledge. With me, the process is more extreme, we are now inseparable, and, as you saw today with Razorback, my knowledge and skills are gradually becoming yours. As this happens, I will slowly recede into the deepest recesses of your mind.>

When I nearly burst into tears at the thought of losing her, she reassured me with: <Don't worry, the process will take a long time, and a spark will always be there that can be awoken at need. Anyway, no girl wants to have their mother continually looking over her shoulder. Do they?>

At the image she sent of me in a bedroom kissing an over-muscled adonis, I had to laugh in agreement.

After relaying to my friends a highly edited account of what mum had told me, I made the unsurprising, but unpleasant discovery that my dinner was stone cold. Pointing this out to the table, and suggesting that we might still have a chance to play some more mind games with the Good O'l Boy'z, a suggestion which both Caitlin and Razorback thoroughly understood, we retired downstairs to our table by the checkout. Respecting my need to eat, my friends left me in silence as they entertained the dinner queue.

Whateley's grapevine was operating at its usual hyper-efficient speeds, and, when the Good O'l Boy'z finally arrived with a small coterie of bodyguards, it was obvious they had heard about: My bondsmen dealing with Peeper and Greasy; my single handedly dealing with a berserk Razorback, and finally, my face off with Imperious and Majestic, (Zeus and Hera's code names at Whateley.)

As I would later find out, Imperious and Majestic were, along with Razorback, rated as major campus powers. So, not only standing up to the core of the New Olympians, but causing them to turn tail and run, immediately elevated me and, by association, the Praetorians, to the top of the premier league.

The upshot of the day's unscripted unpleasantness was: The Good O'l Boy'z were definitely having another very bad day.

Clothes

On the way back to Poe, as usual, we stopped off at Blackstar barracks to say goodnight. Thanking them for not hurting Peeper, I reminded them I wound be bringing them into my dream-scape to train the Praetorians, (and me.)

Although it wasn't really noticeable yet, winter was definitely approaching, and thinking about their long term accommodation, I remembered reading that there was a Winter term course called 'Secret Hideout Design'. This gave me the idea of sponsoring a special class project for Devisors, Gadgeteers and other interested parties. If the idea panned out, I might be able to utilise their abilities to speed up the construction of permanent barracks, and, possibly, even get the permanent barracks finished before the end of Fall term.

Asking what the squad thought, they all replied positively, so, since Starfury and Startech were busy with the power-suit project, Starlance was my designated driver, Starport was my transportation and Starstrike had the brains of a brick, I appointed Starfire to consult with Sam and the Chief as to feasibility, and get the project underway.

Justice wanted to get into Startech's lab for a couple of hour's, and Startech, who was getting on quite well with his fellow devisor, agreed to supervise him. This would become a fairly common occurrence for the rest of the week. In fact, outside JROTC classes, we hardly ever saw Justice except for hurried appearances during meal times. Devisors being Devisors, the same was true for Startech, and we, along with Blackstar squad, hardly ever saw him either. He even missed a few of our dream-scape training nights. Fortunately, for his health's sake, Justice had to be back in Poe before curfew.

Achmed was, at times, quite concerned for his room-mate. They weren't a couple, but they did take care of each other, or rather, Achmed took care of Justice and made sure he ate and slept properly.

Speaking of couples, on the way back to Poe, it became increasingly obvious that Cassie and Tim had a mutual thing going for each other. What the rest of us found to be really amusing was, Mrs Horton was waiting to tell me my new wardrobe had arrived. This put Cassie in the difficult position of choosing between spending an evening trying to get to know Tim better or spending a girls night with me fashion modelling.

Getting the boy's to carry the two heavy steamer trunks upstairs, I noticed the four girls I had met in the shower two nights previously. Given the hostile looks we were receiving from many of the others in the common room, I thought this might be a chance to make some more friends and put to bed all this nonsense about me being a Goddess.

Nudging Cassie to follow, I walked over to them and introducing her as my roomie, asked if they wanted to join us as we checked out my new wardrobe. When I couched it in terms of a pyjama party, Cassie couldn't resist and Tim was given the chance to allow his love to bloom.

The evening was a blast!

Even taking into account my gender switch and the unfamiliar clothing, it was the first bit of normality I had had in months. After everyone had showered and changed into their PJs, we started pulling out and examining the selection of clothes on offer. Cecilia had outdone herself and had even kitted me out with a dozen pairs of heels, a couple of pairs of snow-boots, a pair of high fashion hiking boots and several shoulder bags from her suppliers in Boston.

After I had modelled several outfits and a wide selection of lingerie, because of all the laughing and giggling, we were in serious pain, and, before getting down to other fun, girlish pursuits like make-up and hairstyles, the girls helped me fill my closet and re-pack the overflow into the trunks. I must admit, I learned a lot about girl things that night and found the whole experience cathartic.

The only sombre part to the evening was when, a few times, I caught a wistful expression on Cassie's face. Because of her parent's strict religious views, her own clothing was serviceable and even suitably fashionable, but, in Cassie's opinion, it was also far too respectable. She had a reasonable allowance for clothing, but it would obviously take time to change an entire wardrobe.

Oh yeah, maybe I should introduce the other girls:

Deborah, was a gadgeteer with thick glasses who usually wore her hair in a tight bun. She was a really nice girl who, partly because of her gadgeteer trait and partly because she failed to see herself as anything other than a klutz, just didn't care about her appearance. Apparently, she'd had some bad experiences with the kids in her old school playing very nasty, emotional jokes. In some ways, listening to her talk reminded me of the horror story 'Carrie'.

Her main gadgeteer interest was robotics, which she was only too glad to demonstrate. The robots she had brought with her from home were small enough to be packed away in her trunks, (plural,) and she brought in a few to show us. There were several life-sized buzzing, flying, wriggling and crawling robotic beasties. The one that really caught my imagination however, was a small doll sized human-form robot which she ordered around with voice commands to pick up and put away some of my jewellery and loose crystals and gem stones I had scattered on the floor. The really impressive part was, when she re-scattered the stuff, the robot, remembering where it all went, was able to repeat the operation with a single command.

Krystal, (real name,) shared a room with Deborah and was a stretcher, a type of shape-shifter that could stretch out her body-parts to reach around the corners the room. So far, she had never found any use it for it other than playing practical jokes. Something I discovered, when Krystal, reclining casually on Cassie's bed, surreptitiously stretched an arm around the room to give me a surprise tickle in a very intimate body part. This caused me to scream in outrage at a totally mystified Jennifer who had the misfortune to be sitting beside me. When Deborah, who already had experience of Krystal's pranks, broke out in gales of laughter, I started to accuse her of tricking me with one of her creepy-crawly robots. What finally gave Krystal away, was her expression of smug innocence.

The previously mentioned Jennifer, was a Technopath Gadgeteer/Devisor who, while not in the same league as Sam, had an almost magical control of electronic circuitry. Like Sam, she could interface directly with computer networks and crash firewalls to retrieve information. Both her and Deborah had hit it off immediately and their roomies waged a constant battle to prevent them taking the conversation off into geek land.

The last girl, Pamela, was a size warper who could alter her size and mass, along with that of her clothing. As yet, she didn't really know what her limits were, nor how to make the best use of her powers, but she did demonstrate shrinking down to spider size and climbing the wall of my room. Once reaching the cornice, she was able to restore a short thread to its natural size and launch herself into spider glide to the bed on the other side of the room.

Like I said, we had a blast. Though it did remind me I needed to get some large cushions and beanbags for general lounging.

Dream-scape training

By the time the girls were ready for bed, Cassie was pretty tired, and, after I had pulled Blackstar squad into my dream-scape and given them the quick introductory tour, while gathering the boys, I noticed Cassie's dream twinkling and pulled her in along with the others.

In what was to become the format for the rest of the weeks training sessions. Under the guidance of our tutors, we did some basic sparring and practiced the types of moves taught in a beginners self-defence class. The aim wasn't to become black belts in the MCMP school of dirty fighting, but just give the Praetorians a bit of confidence. The reasons for not concentrating on martial arts were, (for anybody that has ever done any real fighting,) obvious: Unless you spend years practising to hone the techniques, it's hard to make any martial art your natural fighting style. Most people only learn enough in a martial arts class to get themselves in serious trouble and would have been far better off spending their time learning how to run and shoot.

Having said that, given Whateley's excellent martial arts program, in the long term we all intended to take any and all available combat classes.

After the sparring, we would get individual instruction from the specialists. Tim and Achmed generally teamed up with Starstrike to learn about brick fighting techniques. Tim would also receive some basic guidance in flying from Starstrike and Starfire. Justice, Jules and Cassie received a lot of extra tuition from Starlance and the rest of the squad in general dirty fighting techniques, focusing on how to escape and get the distance necessary to use stand-off weapons. Having said that, they did get some extra instruction in the use of knives and baseball bats.

Later, I would get specialised lessons from Starlance on knife throwing and fighting, but as far as the Good O'l Boy'z match was concerned, I just didn't have the time. For the moment, I concentrated on the specialised training I was receiving from Starfury on the use of my bow and catapult.

The final part of our nightly training regime was to brainstorm tactical scenarios and develop effective formations to counter these potential threats. Blackstar squad were a big help with the brainstorming, and, in addition, made an effective training tool. In fact, with the aid of my bondsmen, my dream-scape became a very effective high-tech simulator.

It was during Starfury's first archery and catapult lessons in the dream-scape, I had the idea to get Starfury to order magical supply's, heavy beads and arrows in bulk. This reminded me of the need to set up a petty cash account for my bondsmen’s equipment needs. However, thoughts of budgets, petty cash and bulk buying were driven from my mind when Starfury informed me: “I'm sorry Mam, but to make the bulk buying idea work, you will need a new bow.”

At both my and Justices startled looks, Starfury explained: “Modern arrows are a load matched to the particular type of bow they are designed to work with. If you try to use an arrow in a bow for which it is not designed, then, the chances are, the arrow shaft will shatter from the acceleration load. With baselines, this usually results in the broken shaft being driven into the archer's arm.”

Justice, nodding thoughtfully, replied: “That makes a lot of sense. I think I might want to look into archery and catapults, there are some interesting things I might be able to do with composites that could really take advantage of Luna's strength.”

I wasn't quite sure what was more scary, the thought of driving an arrow shaft through my arm or the thought of what type of long range weapon Justice could turn a bow and arrow into. Putting these sobering thought to one side, I asked Justice: “If I undo the warding on my current bow and catapult could you attach crystals to the base of the hand-grips?”

Seeing his puzzled look I told him: “I can weave ammunition pockets into the crystals that would be perfectly placed for rapid salvo fire during our combat with the Good O'l Boy'z.”

Grinning evilly, and with simple honesty, Justice announced: “If you have the bow and catapult ready before breakfast I will do it then. My talent is very much like Cecilia's talent with fabrics.”

Starfury thought this was a brilliant idea and, telling us he planned to do something similar for his own and Blackstar's weapons, he added with a grin that was even more evil than the Justice's: “I have enough beads on hand for your catapult and know a couple of spells that will work well with your general battle plan. If you buy up the remaining arrows for your bow tomorrow, I can show you how to enchant both the arrows and the beads.”

More preparation

Returning everyone to their natural dream's, I quickly got up and activated my hush charm. Mum then gave me my first lesson's on how to negate or undo a spell or enchantment. It was a lot harder than you might think.

Because of the system of visualisation I used, I saw it as unpicking a weave, and it was just as finicky and frustrating as unpicking a seam in normal clothing. What really made me pause for thought was how I had woven these weaves myself and was very familiar with how they were put together. Okay, I had inverted them in order to make unpicking them more difficult, a technique most mages never mastered, but still... It was fairly evident I was going to need to practice this with Starfury's, (and many other mages,) weaves before I really got the hang of it.

While I was doing this, I removed the two dozen arrows I had already purchased from their pocket and unpicked the weave to liberate the sapphire on my belt for other uses. This meant I now had three spare sapphires. Partly for the practice, and partly for practicality, I also unpicked the pouches for the chalk and sand and rewove a single 38 litre pocket for magical supplies.

The reason why I was concentrating on 38 litre pouches was because they were a practical size to allow me to reach in and retrieve something without contorting my self.

To recap, currently, the sapphires on my belt now held pockets for:

#01 Large aerosol of French anti-gang CS gas
#02 Catapult (with, by time of combat, six built in ammunition pockets)
#03 Pistol, (with 3 rounds each of taser, pepper and tangleweb)
#04 Baseball bat, (by time of combat will be a devisor forged Damascus steel and lead cored head.)
#05 Caestus, (will be fabricated by Justice by time of combat.)
#06 Recurve Bow (with, by time of combat, six built in ammunition pockets)
#07 Quick change pocket 1, (modelled on the interior of a 38 litre ruck sack.)
#08 Quick change pocket 2, (modelled on the interior of a 38 litre ruck sack.)
#09 Original clothing pocket 1, (modelled on the interior of a 38 litre ruck sack.)
#10 Original clothing pocket 2, (modelled on the interior of a 38 litre ruck sack.)
#11 Blackboard, (rolled up into a tube.)
#12 Pocket for magical supplies, (modelled on the interior of a 38 litre ruck sack.)
#13 free
#14 free
#15 free
#16 free

After I had finished unpicking and consolidating my belt pockets, I went through my collection of loose crystals and gemstones and picked out six different coloured small crystals for Justice to attach to my bow, and half a dozen even smaller crystal for my catapult.

With that done, I was finally able to turn my attention to my daily security report. This was when I realised I was now three for three. Three security reports and three times my name figures prominently. Believe me, it was very difficult not to turn my daily summary into a series of excuses. So, after emailing Sam said summary, I headed off for a shower and tried to think of more pleasant things. Like, for example, how we could psyche out the Good O'l Boy'z at breakfast.

Terror weapons!

Waking Cassie with another coffee in bed, I quickly got dressed and ready before enjoying my own coffee. Justice was good to his word, and about five minutes after Cassie returned from her shower, there was a timorous knock on the door accompanied by an even more timorous: “Are you decent?”

Entering, he had a collection of epoxy glues; glass, carbon and metallic fibre fabrics, along with various other laminates, and it didn't take him long to attach the required crystals. Watching him work really was a lot like watching Cecilia, and closely examining the results, I could have easily believed the crystals were original integral parts of the catapult and bow's construction.

Breakfast and lunch were rushed and so we never saw the Good O'l Boy'z. Then, before dinner, we made a detour to buy up the remaining arrows for my bow which amounted to12 packets each containing a dozen arrows. We also loaded up with more snacks and I bought a couple of dozen throw cushion and half a dozen bean bags.

During dinner, The bean bags and cushions were stuffed under our table, but still difficult to miss. With the extra the arrows displayed prominently, a major topic of conversation in the dinner queue was: 'What are the Luna-tics going to do with the bean bags?'

Finally, our targets arrived, and, when they drew into earshot, Justice launched into lurid, gloating techno-babble about how the bean bags and cushions were perfect for the improvised weapons system he was designing. It was techno-babble that obviously drew heavily on his experiences fighting in Nigeria and included lot of blood, gore and details of how the screaming of the survivors could be heard for miles.

You have to give credit where credit is due, the Good O'l Boy'z may not have been very bright, but it was not for lack of imagination. They all looked extremely worried about the cushions. Vengeance, in particular, looked as f he was going to throw up, and I still wonder what he thought we were going to do with them?

Stopping off at the Blackstar barrack, I collected two packets, each of 144 heavy yellow beads from Starfury and he outlined the enchantments he had in mind. They were actually very similar to what I had learned at the castle and I didn't foresee any problems. Startech had two more ECM wands ready, one for me and Cassie, and one for Jules and Tim. He also reported making good progress with the COMs system. This reminded me of the enchantment I had thought of when he detailed his ideas at the Roger's Fabric Boutique. You know, the one mum had suggested would make a good exercise for me to learn to design my own enchantments. I had a few ideas about this and was ready to cast the spell that night.

With Justice heading off to Startech's workshop, the rest of us headed back to Poe.

Passing through the common room, I saw Krystal and the girl just hanging around looking bored, and, since, contrary to popular opinion, we really were friendly, I asked them if they wanted to join us for the evening. After the previous evenings high jinx, they readily agreed, and, even with the boy's present, it was another blast. The only real downside was Justice's absence, I was sure he, Deborah and Jennifer would get on well together when they finally met.

I still had my enchantments to cast, and, when it started to get late, I tied all my arrows into a bundle; shoved Starfury's beads into a spare belt pocket; made my apologies and headed off downstairs. After my previous experience with showing the girls my costume, I waited till I was outside before changing into my succubus form.

Checking into the security net, I went invisible and flew off to the Grove

The Eye of War

Settling down in what I was fast beginning to think of as my glade, I got out my blackboard and chalks and undid my hair to remove the bindi. Explaining to mum what I had worked out, she offered: <You should also try to work into the spell attributes to shield your mind from attack, and cloak your thoughts from perception. Many Beings have the power to detect the thoughts of people scrying on them, and they can use the linkage to launch a retaliatory attack.>

After a bit of pontification, I came up with a possible solution. Hearing my idea, mum laughed, telling me: <If your intentions are true, and I believe they are, audacity like that should almost certainly work. At least you will find out if the universe has a sense of humour.>

Still snickering, the only other advice she offered were the phrases 'oculus apertus' and 'claudere oculos'.

Basically, what I wanted was a system of surveillance that would allow me to see every aspect of a battlefield. Noting that, there was a school of thought that claimed devisors were essentially a type of mage. There was a powerful three fold application of the rule of precedence. The progression of the precedence was: #1 The many myths and legends of all seeing eyes. #2 The devisor solutions to the problem. #3 The pure gadgeteer solutions.

Viewing the progression in this fashion, I could invoke the law of Cycles, which stated that it should return to the original state in which an all seeing eye existed.

The law of threes was invoked twice more because I currently had two eyes along with the two esper traits, prescience and telepathy. The enchantment would give me three eyes and the third esper talent of farseeing. This made it a very powerful enchantment: In effect, what I was crafting was a three fold application of the law of precedence followed by two more applications of the rule of three for my eyes and esper trait, making a three fold application of the rule of three itself.

As a bonus, because of the dangling sapphire's similarity to a third eye, I could thread the preceding symbolism around the symbolism for similarity.

To work in the attributes for protection against a retaliatory attack, I decided I could use the laws of precedence along with the similarity to armour of the headpiece's chainmail necklace. For the cloaking aspect to hide my thoughts from those on whom I was scrying, since I had cast cloaking spells that were similar in nature many times before, I would invoke the law of precedence. This could be coupled with the law of three since the enchantment would now have three aspects.

Finally, the bit that mum found so amusing: Since ultimately, it was my intention for the spell being cast to be used in opposition to the gathering forces of the GOO, I could bind the whole structure together with the law of nemesis.

Having fixed all this in my mind, all I needed to do was inscribe the pentagram with the symbols to represent the way I was using the laws and shape the weave to give the spell definition. Opening myself fully to my sidhe heritage, the magic flowed around me like a river as I inscribed the pentagram and placed my bindi between the invocation phrases. Pulling deeply on the essence from the night sky, I wove the threads into the desired patterns. Invoking the law of definition to say this is the way the universe is, I let them settle into their respective places on the bindi and inverted the weaves to hide their nature from my enemies. Since weaving three weaves together is even more exhausting than weaving two, it might have been my imagination, but there seemed to be an almost audible click as I finally sat back

I was sure something very profound had just happened, though I wasn't sure what. Asking mum, she told me: <Magic like that has not been woven since the Sundering. Even the God's at the birth of your human civilisation had not the skill to do what you just did. They usually searched for the surviving relics of Atlantean enchantments or made do with inferior copies.>

The Grove, in a very respectful voice, added: <I never expected to see such magics again. Maybe we do stand a chance against the return of the ancient enemy.>

Stunned, I didn't want to consider what they were suggesting, but at the same time, I knew deep down what they said was true. In my excitement however, putting these thought to one side was easy. After all, I still had to try it out and see if it worked.

As was becoming a bad habit, I cursed when I realised I didn't have a mirror or hairbrush to fix my hair. Nevertheless, I quickly wove the bindi back into its proper place as best I could. Directing the thought <oculus apertus> at the bindi, a ghostly, 3D relief map of the campus was superimposed on my surroundings.

As military buffs will know, in war-games, red represents the aggressor forces; blue represents the defending forces, (in this case me,) and neutrals are often represented by white.

The image was dotted with blue, red and white-ish points of light, congregated in the various cottages. Thinking of Fantastico, I saw him standing naked in his room getting ready for bed. Pulling back in surprise, it was as if I was standing outside his cottage.

Experimenting, I pulled out to see a topographical relief map of the US then a hemisphere of the earth. What stopped me experimenting further,was the twinkling blue, red and white dots scattered here and there around the world. Even though I already knew the answer, I asked mum to explain. She replied: <They are your enemies and allies. The red or blue tinge to the neutral whites indicate their current sympathies and, to a degree how much they can be trusted. Be careful of spying on any of them irrespective of whether they are friend, foe or neutral. The attributes of cloaking and armour you wove into the enchantment should offer protection, but there is no need to take chances.>

The thought that I had enemies of whom I had never heard was sobering, though in a way, unsurprising. After all, I was in the process of setting myself up to go against some of the most powerful 'Beings' ever to have existed, and whatever talents I possessed they had in spades. Not only that, they had had aeons to prepare. Thinking 'claudere oculos', I shut down what Cassie would call the 'Eye of War'

With the main enchantment done, I withdrew the catapult and bow from my belt and quickly rewove the wards of Keeping and Guarding before attaching the ammunition pockets to the crystals. Each catapult pocket was big enough to hold four packets of 144 beads, each bow pocket was big enough to hod a 144 arrows.

Taking, the bundle of arrows, it was simple to weave into them Starfury's enchantment, as it was with for the heavy beads for the catapult. After my little cursing tantrum at not having the means of fixing my hair, the last enchantment I wove was to attach a small shoulder bag sized pocket to one of the belt sapphires to hold some basic cosmetics, hand mirror and hairbrush. Then, since it was still a bit early, I said goodbye to the Grove, activated my invisibility charm and took off for a refreshing flight around Emerson and Twain before meeting the rest of the gang in my Dream.

Other activities and conflicts

The next couple of day's we were kept very busy. Even though the JROTC recruits had been put to the back of the queue for power testing so that it wouldn’t interfere with the induction course, we still had Headmistress Carson's address and class registration to take care of. This meant, joy of joys, night classes to keep up with the course work.

The Headmistress's address to freshers was, predictably, a homily on the dangers facing mutants in a world run by baselines, and working hard and making the best of the opportunities the school presented. Yes, she did mention team Kimba, though not by name, and made clear that anyone with intentions of following in their footsteps would have their energies redirected. It was not my imagination when her steely gaze seemed to linger on me and the Praetorians as she swept the crowd with eyes that seemed to be shooting daggers. Nor was it my imagination that a surprisingly large number of students turned their heads in our direction as they followed those daggers to their target.

Class registration was surprisingly quick. Mrs Hawkins, my official academic counsellor, was quite abrupt and seemed to have her nose badly out of joint. I had the distinct impression that Sam had basically told my counsellor: 'This how it is and these are the classes Luna will be taking.'

In a nutshell, when I went to be counselled on suitable classes, Mrs Horton told me she was very busy, brusquely handed me a timetable without any comment and that was that.

Image: Luna's timetable

I later heard on the grapevine that she was quite a bureaucrat and a stickler for procedure. In her world view, the special educational needs of precociously intelligent mutant children were unimportant compared with laying the proper foundations of a traditional education. Her attitude had, on more than one occasion, lead her to force on some unfortunate students class schedules they were more than qualified to teach.

The rest of the Praetorians had an equally easy time of class registration. In addition to the JROTC range course, we shared classes in: English Composition; Basic Martial Arts and Intro to Tactics Manoeuvres and Strategy. We also shared Wednesday afternoons as our Free/Work study period.

This last piece of luck(?) was not a coincidence. We often found ourselves doing SIM training during this time.

Since he was also studying Magic Theory and Magic lab, Justice was the person I shared most classes with. We also shared 'Intro to Fabrication Techniques for Devisors'. I would miss the first 45 minutes of this class since I had to be in Basic Mystic Concepts for the pre-fresher home room. However, this didn't really matter, since it was actually an open workshop and many devisors, Justice included, spent all their free time there. There was a supervisor/ instructor and the only real rule was we had to have specific safety instruction related any particular piece of equipment or tool we wished to use. The course itself was graded on a fabrication project we had to undertake.

We also picked up the school supplied laptops which were of a rugged Whateley design that was hoped would stand up to super powered school-yard disputes. Telling us to reformat the hard disk, Carson had warned us about the pranks that departing seniors liked to play. Asking Startech for his advice, he had gone further, saying: “Any good tech-head worth his salt will plant the booby trap in the BIOS ROM, even replacing the entire disk storage system won't clean that type of booby-trap.”

With that pleasant thought, we dumped the lot on Startech and asked him to make sure they were clean.

Throughout the week the rest of the student body were slowly returning and the queue at dinner was becoming quite large. The reputation of the Luna-tics was now such that we could tell the new arrivals by the way they would stop to stare at us, either as we walked around campus, or sat at what was recognised as being our table.

In Poe, a front of low intensity hostility opened up with the arrival of a few of the sophomore changelings. It didn't really have anything to do with team Kimba, or our challenge of the Good O'l Boy'z, but involved 'issues' certain people had with me, Blackstar squad and Jules and Tim.

The main bone of contention was a girl called Elaine Turner, or Wallflower. Her parents were in a super-hero team called STAR League, and their children at Whateley, Wallflower included, were in STAR League junior. She felt that a team of known super-villains using the name Blackstar, was offensive to both her and her parents. When she peremptorily ordered me to change the name of Blackstar squad, I, pointing out that I not only owned all legal rights to the name Blackstar, but all combinations of Blackstar involving words like squad, corps, corporation, company, platoon, league, legion, army, century.... etc that my lawyers could think of, laughed in her face.

Hank, her boyfriend, and incidentally a member of team Kimba, didn't really want anything to do with our dispute, and was diplomatically trying to avoid becoming embroiled. However loyalty to his girlfriend meant he also tried to avoid appearing overly friendly.

Another personality conflict, though at a much lower level of hostility, was with a Native American girl called Kayda. In her case, she was friendly with Stormwolf, and, on hearing about my dressing him down in front of the Bad Seeds, she naturally gravitated towards Wallflower's camp. Apart from Stormwolf, (who was also Native American,) I believe Kayda also had a problem with Jules and Tim using the Niimiipuutímt language code names, Cúpiní-k'áplac' and 'Cúpiní-teqè’s. Although, in fairness, I should point out she didn't actually make an open issue of it.

Sonar

On the Friday evening, we qualified for our concealed carry permits and, in celebration, we stopped off at the campus store where I bought a cheap TV and DVD player. The reason why I bought cheap gear was more to do with not rubbing my wealth in the noses of my friends than any reasons of economy. It was also the reason I let them, along with Deborah and co, rent the videos and buy the snacks for our celebratory movie fest.

What did we watch? I hear you ask. You guessed it, back to back episodes of, ta-da: 'Tales of the MCO.'

Enjoyable as the evening was, I had other things to do before our dream-scape training session. Apart from the ward of Keeping and Guarding, I still hadn't enchanted the choker or earrings of my sapphire jewellery. After giving much thought as to what would be suitable enchantments, I had settled on the type of sonar used by, bats, dolphins and whales. Partly this was because the location of the pieces of jewellery suggested it, but also because, if done properly, it would give the jewellery an offensive capability. (A little known fact is that bats, dolphins and whales not only use sonar to hunt and navigate, but also to stun their prey.)

Arriving at the Grove, 'It' still greeted me like a favourite grand child, but there was a definite tinge of respect in 'Its' welcome. However, with the fast approaching match between us and the Good O'l Boy'z and the pressure I was feeling not to let the Praetorians down, I didn't really have time to focus on this.

I should add here, the pressure I was feeling was purely self imposed, and was not pushed on me by the Praetorians themselves. Basically, it was just me feeling that, because I got them into it, it was up to me to make sure we won.

That was all beside the point though. The enchantment I had worked out was based on the fact that Gaea, a Goddess, but still a creature of magic, had previously given the gift of sonar to the aforementioned bats, dolphins and whales. This meant there was a well established three fold precedence.

I followed this with using the similarity of location of the earrings and choker to my ears and larynx to invoke the law of similarity. The rule of three was invoked again because there were three pieces of jewellery and three modes of use, active sonar, passive sonar and attack mode. This meant that, once again, I was using a powerful three fold application of the rule of three itself.

Finally, call me stupid if you like, since it had worked so well with the 'Eye of War', I once again wove the symbolism around the law of nemesis to reinforce and hold the multiple weaves together.

Removing each earring and very quickly replacing it with a stud I had brought to prevent the piercings from closing, I muttered to myself about finding some way to make the piercings permanent. However that was for later. After inscribing the symbolism on my blackboard, I placed the jewellery between the invocation phrases 'Auribus' and 'Aures claudere'. Drawing in the power of the night sky, I wove linked weaves for each piece, plus the controlling weave to actually bind the enchantment into the form I desired. Both the Grove and my mum had maintained a respectful silence as I worked, and, when I inverted the weaves and allowed them to settle, they let out a sigh of released tension.

Quickly replacing the earrings, I fastened the choker around my throat, and, closing my eyes, with some nervousness I forcefully directed the thought: < Auribus> at the choker and earrings.

Immeditaetly, even in this passive mode, I could see all the little insect and creepy crawlies, along with the leaves, branches and tree trunks moving and flexing around me. More importantly, the echoes from these slight noises vaguely illuminated even the lifeless and immobile stones and pebbles dotted around the glade. The real power of the enchantment though, was the way in which the echoes reverberated around the trees, leaves and a large boulder off to one side of the glade. In effect, I was seeing around corners.

Letting out a high pitched chirp that later tested out in excess of 80 to 120 KHz and would be inaudible to humans or even dogs, it was like shining a spotlight or setting off a flare on a dark night. Even the most indistinct objects were brightly illuminated. Opening my eyes, the image was at first a bit disconcerting, but quickly settled into a mosaic of sound and light that the enchantment interpreted for my senses.

In a similar vein to the high pitched chirp, I instinctively knew how to shape my lips mouth and tongue to emit a focused burst of ultra high frequency blast of sound that would, at the least badly disorientate, and more than likely totally incapacitate an opponent.

Once the echoes of my chirp died away, I activated my hush charm. Since the sounds were external to me, the hush charm had no effect on the sonar’s passive mode. Trying another high pitched flash-light chirp, it, as I expected, was cancelled by the hush charm.

With my sonar enchantment working as I had planned, I directed the thought: <Aures claudere> at the charm and was immediately plunged into darkness. After a short few seconds, my normal senses recovered and I was able to see again, even so, it was still disconcerting. Thinking about this, and a few other things, it made me realise I would need to be very careful about how I used my new enchantments.

For the moment though, I headed off to make sure that everything was okay around Emerson and Twain before heading back to Poe to bring my friends into my dream-scape for more training.

Sara

Dream-scape training was by now a routine and that night was no exception. At the end of our training session, after returning my friends to their own natural dreams, I withdrew from my dream, to feel something calling to me. It was almost like someone was tugging a string. Putting on my silk robe, I took the opportunity of taking 10 minutes to enjoy a cup of coffee before heading downstairs in my robe. I had a fair idea who it was, and, although the meeting was long overdue, I had no intention of letting her think I was at her beck and call.

Following the invisible thread to the basement of Poe, I encountered a door emblazoned with a glowing sign cheerily announcing: “Your Aunt is in!”

Deciding that, since she was my aunt, at least a little politeness might be in order. Rather than just barge in, I angrily prepared to bang on the door only to find it swing invitingly open. Taking the invitation at face value, I stalked into a room decorated like a set from a gothic horror movie...

My anger at peremptorily being summoned died on my lips, when, rather than a tentacled horror, I saw an extremely beautiful 16 year old girl lounging seductively in lingerie on a large bed that matched the rooms gothic appearance.

Well, I say she was human, after a quick second appraisal, I noticed her eyes were blood red, and slitted like a cat's. For the rest, her long black hair was highlighted by an unnatural blood red lock and alabaster white skin; her black lips were not painted with lipstick, and the small claws on the ends of her fingers never belonged on a human. She had prominent yet slender cheekbones, pointed, elegant chin and elf like ears. While her upturned nose was kind of cute, her little fangs were nothing like as attractive as the ones I had in my succubus form.

It was the mischievous smile playing around her lips that really got me though, it was infectious and friendly.

Moving to sit cross legged on a Persian style rug, she invited me to join her, and introduced herself with: “I thought we should talk. I am sure that there are a lot of things going on you don't really understand, and I might be able to help you get a grip on what is happening.”

Not sure if I should trust her, I asked mum. Who replied: <Yes, she can tell you about things I don't even begin to understand. Though be careful, and 'don't' promise anything.>

Cautiously sitting opposite her, when I silently nodded for her to continue, she casually mentioned: “You know it's strange, I couldn't enter your dream before and now I find I can't read your mind. What is even more surprising is: You didn't even notice my lust aura. It's almost like being human again....”

Sighing with what almost seemed regret, and taking my continued angry silence at face value, she continued: “You are the Nemesis. It is a consequence of what mages call the 'Law of Nemesis'. In this context it states: When someone or something begins to advance a course of action, the Universe will bring up something or someone to oppose it....”

At my incredulous gasp, along with a shiver of fear at the echo of the way I had been so cavalierly using the law of nemesis, Sara held up her hand to pre-empt my denial: “I know something of what you have foreseen, but, for the moment, I can't openly help you. If I do, everyone, humans, sidhe, my father and me, we will all lose everything. The most I can do is to offer you moral support and a little guidance.”

She paused, giving me a questioning look to which I replied sharply: “What do you mean by: I am 'The Nemesis'?”

Nodding sagely in understanding, she explained: “At it's simplest, the law of nemesis means that nothing can come into existence unopposed and that there is always an equal force to balance it. In our case, here and now on this planet, a confluence of nexi is forming where new gods will arise and old gods will be overthrown. Powerful forces are moving to exploit this and position themselves in the hope of becoming the new gods, and, equally importantly, the old gods are positioning themselves to defend their turf. As a consequence, in accordance with the law of nemesis, the universe is not only creating the 'Being' that is best suited to the task of opposing them, it is giving 'It' the power that will offer 'It' the best chance of succeeding. This is the Nemesis.”

Staring at her in a shock that was so profound I couldn't even splutter an indignant denial, I could only listen as she continued: “I am sorry, but you have my bound oath that what I am telling you while you are currently in this room is true. You are the Nemesis, and only you have the power to stop what will happen ”

Although she had said she couldn't read my mind, (and by her oath this was true,) she must have known something of the turmoil that was running through my head. Giving me a sympathetic smile, she went on: “The pretty jewellery you are wearing didn't directly cause you to become the Nemesis. The forces of Nemesis were already settling around you, and the universe herself was guiding you to the point where they could finally coalesce. It would not have mattered what course of action you took, eventually you would have invoked the laws of magic in a way that allowed the law of balance to cause this to happen. If you like, it is your destiny.”

Then, standing she said: “You should leave now, it is too dangerous for us to be together for long, but know this: You must get a grip on your prescience. You have to find an anchor in the real world of the here and now that will allow you to enter and leave what you call the 'web of fate' at will.”

Then laughing, she advised me: “Using precognition as a weapon is a game of misdirection. Powerful pre-cogs can make it appear they are aiming in a particular direction as a finessing gambit. Do not take everything you see in your web as being what it purports to be.”

Helping me to my feet and ushering me to the door, she finished with: “I am more sorry than you can ever know about what is happening to you. I and my father will try to help you as we can, but we too are bound by our own version of the law of nemesis. Anything too overt we do to help can, in the long term, make the situation much worse.”

As the door to Sara's room closed behind me and I dazedly walked to the stairs, mum told me: <After the oath she gave, she could not have misspoke herself daughter. She might not have told you everything, but everything she told you was true.>

The fact that I barely spoke half a dozen words during the entire meeting is sufficient testament to how shocked I was at what my Aunt had told me.

Getting upstairs to the fresher floor, to pull me out of my funk, mum suggested I try out the Hydroflux equipment. I admit I was a bit scared of it, but after the shock Sara had just given me, I was kind of numb and zombified. Mechanically following mums instructions, by the time I had finished a very long shower, I felt much, much better. Having said that, I was still aghast at what my aunt was suggesting about my true nature.

Mrs Potter and Circe

After my shower, in an effort to maintain a bit of equilibrium, I was went through my daily routine of writing a summary of the daily security briefing. Checking my email, there was a note from Sam telling me I had an appointment with Circe and Mrs Potter that morning a t 9:30. Knowing what this meant, my fear at returning to the web of fate drove any thoughts of what Sara had said from my head.

I am told that most people find getting into the Mystic Arts department offices quite challenging, however I had no problems. At the appointed hour, I found myself knocking on Circe's door, and entered to find it not quite crowded with: Circe, Mrs Potter, my Uncle Dave, Sam and a vaguely military looking gentleman in a cheap, but serviceable, suit who nodded politely.

Mrs potter took charge and after, asking me to sit, introduced the gentleman with: “Strange times make strange bedfellows. The MCO have their own pre-cognitive resources and are aware of the problems we 'all' face. This is Special Project Director Jefferson who heads MCO task force Zulu.”

Noticing my start of fear, Sam reassured me, telling me: “Director Jefferson has the full weight of the MCO behind him and will make a powerful ally. Apart from that, I've checked him out thoroughly, and, for an MCO agent, he is one of the good guys. He is not a mutant hater and does his job with integrity and honour. The truth is, the fact he was promoted to his current position is a good indication as to how seriously the MCO takes the situation. In more normal times, Director Jefferson would be lucky to get above the rank of Field Supervisor, and would likely find himself shunted off to some backwater field office.”

With Director Jefferson nodding an acknowledgement to what Sam had said, Mrs Potter continued: “It is only through today’s participation of Director Jefferson, that you arrived here at Whateley.”

At my baffled: “Hugh?”, Circe asked: “Haven't you noticed: You never see yourself or other pre-cogs in your visions? You only know about people with the gift through the indirect references of people close to them.”

Mrs Potter took up the explanation with: “During your first visit to what you call the web, the conversation we had about you coming to Whateley was actually an echo of this conversation, but relayed through Director Jefferson.”

With an amused look at the mystified expression of both Sam and my uncle, she added: “Everyone else present, for one reason or another, has a degree of immunity to someone with precognitive talents.”

Putting this to one side and pointing out I had only visited the web once, and anyway, for the most part, my pre-cog talent seemed to be an enhanced situational awareness, I asked the million dollar question: “What exactly do you want me to do today? If it is just tell Director Jefferson about what I saw, then I don't know how relevant it will be. The further I get from when I entered the web the less accurate the visions become.”

Director Jefferson leaned forward as if to speak, but Mrs Potter placed a restraining hand to his shoulder before replying: “We know about the attenuation you speak of and can't force you to re-enter the web, but, if you agree, Circe and I believe we can safely guide you through the process of how to enter and leave the web at will.”

Okay, this was really scary. I could remember quite clearly the horror of what I had previously seen, but even worse was the way I had been lost and unable to return to real world of the here and now. What finally tipped the balance, was my uncle standing to place his hands on my shoulders and whispering: “You can do it princess, I will be right here beside you.”

Then, remembering what Sara had said about how important it was I find an anchor to allow me do as Mrs Potter was suggesting, I blurted out: “Okay, I'll do it.”

Both Circe and Mrs Potter came forward and, kneeling in front of me, took a hand each while Sam took a position beside my uncle with a reassuring hand on my shoulder. In a way, it was the intent, hopeful expression on Director Jefferson's face, who, not knowing what to do, was just leaning forward in the manner of a concerned parent, that really allowed me to gain my focus.

Talking softly, Mrs Potter suggested: “Close your eyes and relax. Think about your friends, your uncle and everything in this room. Use this as an anchor to tie yourself to the here and now. When you feel comfortable, stretch out your situational awareness and try to feel what the Good O'l Boy'z plan for tomorrow’s match.”

Doing as she instructed, I tentatively extended my situational awareness. Pushing it to the limit for clues about what form our duel with the Good O'l Boy'z would take, I discovered, what for me, was the secret to using my gift while at the same time maintaining my sanity.

The visions were mine alone, but the presence of my mum, my uncle Dave and the fact my friends were relying on me, gave me the anchor point which I needed. From now on I would be able to enter and leave the web at will. The exact form of our duel had not yet been decided, but the scenario had about an 80% chance of being capture the flag in a forest setting, or 20% chance of being a toe-to-toe in an urban setting where we would each be required to regard the other team as the villains. Meaning, both teams would have to consider collateral damage and civilian casualties.

Battles, as I would later realise, are a form of nexus and are too fluid to see any real detail. They appear like a fog or haze with many different paths exiting the fog. In the case of the Praetorians duel with the Good O'l Boy'z, there were several paths exiting where we had lost, and many more where we had won.

One of the more interesting aspects of what I saw were the results of the 5pm meeting that evening where Gunny and the range crew decided on the match scenario. What was interesting was, much to Gunny's disgust, Sam had apparently repeatedly recused herself from the discussion, and had point blank refused to tell Gunny what we were planning. As Circe had pointed out, I didn't actually see Sam recuse herself. What I saw, consistently in all timelines, was Gunny's bad tempered tirade to the rest of the range crew about Sam's refusal to share valuable intelligence.

Feeling more and more secure in my control and having a better idea how to determine nexi, I extended my awareness further to the greater problem of the GOO. Here, I encountered many difficulties. Partly, the problem was there were a great many players apart from the GOO, not all human, but all with their own game plan. Even worse, as Sara had suggested, the players were using pre-cogs to try to hide some events, while massing forces solely to create a type of prescient misdirection. Some players were essentially working for what they saw as the common good. A common good that did not always have the best interests of the human race at its heart. Unsurprisingly, others, some of human, some of demonic, magical or even alien origin, were working solely for their own interest.

Starting around christmas, the future became increasingly cloudy and emerging from that cloud several years later, were hundreds of thousands or even millions of paths where the GOO had returned victorious.

Yet, as terrible as this was, the few, very rare, paths that offered possible alternatives were little better. In many of the paths that meant salvation from the capriciousness of GOO, the human race had been reduced to savages living in the ruins of civilisation. In others, the few surviving humans were a slave race to alien, demonic or magical overlords. Several possible paths offered opportunities for individual players to raise themselves as new tyrant gods with dominion over all. While, as previously noted, some players were actively working towards this end, others were unaware of their potential Godhood.

Phase being a case in point: In some futures he emerged as a human hero rallying the few survivors to rebuild civilisation. A few potential futures had him emerge as a completely masculine tyrant God, while in others he/she emerged as a God/Goddess with a duel masculine feminine aspect who was completely indifferent to humanities fate. Apart from the most likely outcome of him dying in a near futile fight against the GOO, the only even remotely favourable outcome of the futures involving a Divine Phase I saw were her emerging as a completely female benevolent, but autocratic, Goddess.

From what I could see in this second visit to the web, the potential for a return to the status quo was so vanishingly small, it was invisible. However, at the same time, I had premonitory hunch that what Sara had told me was true, it was possible to at least return to something close to a benign normality. I just didn't know how.

Returning to the here and now, I couldn't resist the taking opportunity to thank Sam for her integrity. At her questioning look, I joked: “Tonight at 5pm, when the range crew meet to decide on the scenario for tomorrow's match, you will recuse yourself from the discussion. Gunny won't take that recusal very well.”

With a startled: “Oh!”, followed by a malicious grin, she asked: “I take it worked then? What will they decide on for the scenario?”

This cut straight to the nub of the problem. When I explained that, since no firm decision had yet been made, I could only talk in rough estimates of probability, both Sam and Director Jefferson seemed a bit disappointed.

After asking my permission, Director Jefferson then pulled out a small recording device and interviewed me on what I had seen of the coming confrontation. He was very gentle, and, apart from being an MCO agent, I had the impression he was a really decent human being. I would have answered his questions as honestly as I could anyway, but his generally sympathetic attitude made me more inclined to be helpful. Although, needless to say, I did leave out the bit about a Divine Phase.

When he had finished and was satisfied he had all the information I could give him, he handed me his business card and told me: “If you ever need any help, contact me. Okay?”

After I told him I would do as he asked and would try to keep him informed of any further developments, he left to take care of, as he put it: “Official business.”

This gave me the opportunity to have a reunion with my uncle Dave. The reunion was personal and family related, and a bit crimped because of the presence of Circe, Mrs Potter and Sam, but reassuring nonetheless. Unfortunately, the real world interfered when Sam reminded me I had an appointment with Gunny Bardue and the rest of the JROTC recruits to see about our MIDs

This proved to be fairly straight forward formality. Gunny had already seen to us getting our photo's taken and as members of JROTC we were entitled to MMIDs. One by one we were escorted by Gunny Bardue into an office where we were introduced to Director Jefferson, who, we were told, was someone from the MCO visiting Whateley on other business. We were also told that, as a favour to Sam, an old friend, he had agreed to do our paperwork while here.

All our details were classified, and while the Praetorians were affiliated with Whateley JROTC, my affiliation was listed as Whateley security. The other interesting thing about my MMID was, it was emblazoned in bold lettering with : 'Offer all assistance. Do not interfere. Authorisation Zulu.', followed by in smaller lettering: 'Contact Project Director Jefferson MCO NY for confirmation.'

Handing it to me, Director Jefferson winked and said with a smile: “They probably won’t be as helpful as I would like, but it will be more than their job is worth to interfere. Don't abuse it”

Then, just as I was turning to leave, he added: “Remember, if you need it, you do have a friend in the MCO and we are not all mutant hating, card carrying members of Humanity First.”

Final preparations

After getting our MIDs, we headed off for the first leisurely lunch we had had all week. Well, at least most of us did, Justice bolted his meal and rushed off back to Startech's workshop. We were all in an exceptionally good mood at getting MMIDs, even me, and entertained the dinner queue with talk of the reasons for Justices absence, and the devilish weapons he was cooking up for tomorrow's combat.

When we finally got bored, we headed off to the campus store. Mainly it was just to pass the time doing a bit of window shopping, but I also wanted 70 metres of parachute cord which was light enough fit inside one of my free belt pockets. While we were there, we saw the Good O'l Boy'z anxiously buying baseball bats, knives, knuckle dusters, Cobra 400 pistols and various other items of weaponry. Being polite, we gave them a cheery wave and reminded them that they need to register the firearms with security, and pass Basic Firearms safety if they wanted to use the pistols during our challenge match.

Seeing the stunned looks on their faces, and the hastily convened, huddled conference. We gave them a few minutes head start before buying a few spare rounds for our Cobras and casually making our way over to range 1 for a test fire. The screaming, shouting and crying didn't seem to be having any effect on either Gunny Bardue or sergeant Wilson. In fact, it's only result was to attract the ire of RSM Burlington-Smythe, who unsympathetically pointed out that we, the Praetorians, a bunch of freshers, had just spent our entire fresher's week becoming fully qualified on all aspects of Whateley's code of firearms safety. Something the Good O'l Boy'z had had four years to do.

Furthermore, he angrily told them: “If you had thought about this at the beginning of the week the required Basic Firearms Certificate is only a two hour course, which my range crew would have been glad to deliver. As it is, at the moment, they have far more important things to do than pamper a bunch of idle, teenage slackers who were too lazy to get out of bed in the morning.”

What can I say, it was a beautiful day. We found a nice bit of grass near the quad with good dappled shade from the trees and had ourselves a celebratory picnic.

Dinner was equally amusing, word of the Good O'l Boy'z failure to sway the range crew had spread, and there were mutters about undue favouritism to members of JROTC. This was silenced when Justice arrived along with Starstrike to help carry his creations. The special baseball bats drew some serious speculation. Damascus steel, with a dull grey colour and intricately curved black fold lines, has a very distinctive appearance and looks lethal. When we tried them on, the caesti for Jules, Tim, Achmed and me, also got a few appreciative looks. Outwardly, they were of the same Damascus steel as the baseball bats and shaped to form comfortable protection for our knuckles and first finger joints while providing that extra mass for a punch.

The thing that really got everybody's attention though, were the caesti for Justice and Cassie. They were an actual proper finger glove made from Damascus steel, with articulated joints and contained built in devisor-tech leverage. For demonstration purposes, Starstrike had also brought along several head sized pieces of reinforced concrete in a large bucket. After Starstrike had left, Justice pulled on his caestus and proceed to crush one of the pieces of concrete in his fist. Then, to the stunned amazement of the onlookers in the dinner queue, he took a thick piece of re-bar and snipped it in two between his forefinger and thumb.

Cassie loved her glove. After trying it out on another piece of concrete, she waited until the Good O'l Boy'z arrived, and, as they drew level with our table, she proceeded to repeat the demonstration Justice had given. She accompanied her demonstration with an improvised burst fire commentary on the glove's likely effects on human tissue and bone, while openly wondering how an exemplar 6 would stand up to this kind of punishment.

From the sick looks on the faces of the God O'l Boy'z, there was no doubt that we Praetorians had one the opening gambit with our tactical PSY-OP campaign.

Now that we had completely demoralised our opponents, we picked up all our gear and headed off to the Blackstar barrack, there I got a pleasant surprise. After conferring with Starfury about Blackstar corporation's magical power armour project, Startech had learned of the effect pure iron powder had on spells, In fit of devisor inspired creativity, he had come up with a repulsor field devise to repel powder and dust.

Looking like a gold belt, it was very low power, and ran off the bodies natural bio-electrictricity and body movements. As a bonus, he claimed it was good against things like pepper, nano-scale technology, bacteriological weapons and aerosols of chemical weapons. On the other hand, it wouldn't stop a pure iron sword or an anti-mage round.

On hearing this mum pointed out how I could wear artificial fibres for several hours at the castle, and speculated that, because of my human aspect, I will be much more resistant to pure iron weapons than other sidhe. She also reminded me that because of my Ex 6 rating swords were nothing to worry about.

The downside to this surprise gift was, it reminded me about what Sara had said about me being the Nemesis, and how the universe would make sure I would have everything I needed to give me equal power to all those competing to become the new Gods.

Snapping me out of my mild funk, Startech commented that, what with making the COMs system for us, he had only had time to make this first belt, but promised he would see that the Praetorians were suitably equipped at the earliest opportunity. This lead on to our other gifts which were exactly as specified.

The basic unit consisted of an automatically polarising pair of sunglasses that incorporated networked day/night cameras whose images were projected onto the sunglasses as a HUD with tactical IFF display. (The polarizing effect was intended to provided protection against flare and stroboscopic flashlight weapons,) In addition, there was an ear-bud and a throat mike that used bio-static adhesion to hold it in place.

Security on the COMs network was assured by rotating both the carrier frequency and the 1024 byte encryption with two separate pseudo random algorithms. While I didn't completely understand the techno-babble, I had picked up enough math at the Baron's school to know that, utilising a system like this, it would be nearly impossible for an enemy to even detect the signal, never mind decrypt the message.

Remembering what mum had said about me having access to both human magic and how the stars were always present to one extent or another, I took every one outside, and, with Starfury's help wove wards of Keeping and Guarding into all our goodies.

The final enchantment I needed to weave for our combat was intended to be a permanent fixture in the Praetorians armoury. Weaving the ward of Keeping and Guarding to include me, the Praetorians and Blackstar squad, ensured that only we could touch the para-cord I had bought. Then, gathering my thoughts, I carefully inscribed the modified symbolism for two of the spells I had learned at the castle, this symbolism was designed to define the spells as the final enchantment I had in mind for the cord. After making the weaves and imposing my will to say this is how it is, I inverted them and allowed the weaves to settle into place.

With all the last minute preparations taken care of we could relax. The gang and I had another rendezvous with the girls, (who were providing tonight’s snacks,) for more adventures of 'Tales of the MCO'. So, thanking Startech for his hard work, we all head back to Poe.

As expected, Justice got on really well with Deborah and Jennifer

It's Combat day!

The final meeting in dream-scape was basically a chance for us to finalise our plans. Before entering, I had checked the future timeline to discover what scenario had been decided upon. As I had more or less guessed from the intelligence Jadis had provided, it was to be capture the flag in a forest setting. There were some slight changes to possible outcomes that were in our favour, and I interpreted them to be the result of the Good O'l Boy'z not taking steps and making the correct preparations that would allow them to win.

After we had agreed the plan was good and we all knew what to do, we took the chance for a relaxing bit of R&R in an exotic location with a beach barbecue.

At breakfast we were all really confident, and, after doing a quick ECM sweep of our table, I quickly sampled the immediate timeline to see what the Good O'l Boy'z had been upto. Needless to say, they had done absolutely nothing that could increase their chances of winning. If anything they had even less chance of winning than the previous night. Quietly relaying this to the gang, we all broke out into smiles and high-fived each other. The mystified looks on the faces of the students in the breakfast queue caused us to burst out laughing. From the muttered comments, they didn't think the Luna-tics were taking the whole combat thing seriously enough.

When the Good O'l Boy'z showed up, by their expressions, you would have thought they had already lost.

Possibly because it was not yet the official start of classes, or possibly because the range crew were busy preparing arena 99, there was no JROTC class. This allowed us to spend the morning relaxing in the quad with another picnic. Sampling the timeline, I followed the Good O'l Boy'z as they frittered away their remaining chances of winning by trying unsuccessfully to convince RSM Burlington-Smythe to allow them to complete the Basic Firearms certificate.

The early lunch queue was mobbed as students rushed to eat in order to get to arena 99 and grab a good seat. Guided by prescience, we calmly waited at our picnic spot until the queue had died down and we were thus able to enter like royalty with the minimum of fuss. An entrance, by the way, whose effect was not lost on either the crowd of gawking students, nor the Good O'l Boy's who had scrambled and sweated to get through an unruly queue and were now staring at us with undisguised loathing from the first floor terrace.

Eating in a decorous fashion as befitting royalty, we ignored the occasional snide muttered comment about how badly we were going to lose. Having said that, a few people actually came and wished us luck, notably the Bad Seeds along with Razorback, but there were also a few others who we didn't know.

Deborah, Krystal Pamela and Jennifer all joined us. They had made cheer-leading pom-poms and little red flags with 'The Praetorians' written in bold black calligraphy. None of them were real cheerleaders, nor wished to be for that matter, but they did manage to give our table quite a festive air.

The Good O'l Boy'z, glowering from the terrace above us, seemed to be remarkably alone. From what we could see from the ground floor, it was like they were sitting in an island of solitude. When I checked the timelines again, they had evidently wasted all their chances to adequately prepare and their chances of winning now solely depended on battle luck. When I explained this to the gang, our impromptu cheer-leaders bounded to their feet, and, waving their pompoms and flags like crazy, chanted: “Go, go, go.....PRAE-TOR-IANS!”

Unfortunately, shortly after this, the girls had to leave to make sure they got front line seats. Still, the fact that we apparently had our own cheerleaders was not lost on the student body

By the time we were ready to enter the arena, we were all relaxed and confident and knew exactly what to do. Sam was their to wish us good luck, and Krystal had managed to rig some kind of amplifier and speaker system to make their final chant of: “Go, go, go.....PRAE-TOR-IANS!” audible to the entire audience.

By arena rules, the combatants enter in civvies and have to change into their costumes. The speed and style with which they do this is one of the factors used to help decide the victor in a case of there being no clear knock-out winner. (As we would later learn, it is also used during assessments to arrive at an overall grade for students combat final, a passing grade being necessary to graduate.) Because of the quick change spell, we immediately gained a valuable few minutes over GOB'z.

This lead in preparation time was increased by my prescient knowledge letting us move directly into our prepared tactical manoeuvres.

Immediately hanging the small red defensive bead around our necks, when everyone acknowledged they were ready, we activated the invisibility and hush charms. We each had our pre-assigned roles. For me, I hung the leather cord of the jade statue Starfury had given me around my neck. The statue was of a Chinese fear demon and the enchantment I had cast into was used as an area denial weapon with a range of over two miles. Preying that the arena shields held, I muttered: “Metus” and took off like a bat out of hell to take tactical C&C position in the centre of the arena. Just in case you have forgotten, the defensive charm for the statue was made a permanent part of my bracelet and the Praetorians bangles.

Once there, I activated the 'Eye of War' and used it to aim a rapid salvo of my enchanted arrows at the GOB'z flag position. The arrows had been enchanted to ionise in flight and landed around their flag as a series of lightning bolts. I wasn't trying to hurt them, I just wanted to separate them into isolated individuals and drive them away from their flag.

I could see through the Eye of War they were losing already. They had been hit so badly by the fear spell, they had been unable to finish changing into their costumes. When my salvo of lightning bolts landed, they lost all unit cohesion and ran off into the forest in four different directions seeking cover.

With that taken care of, forcefully thinking: <daemoniacus> at the small packet of red beads I had brought with me, I laid a magical minefield through the centre of the arena that would create illusionary demons when anyone without the defensive charm came within 10 metres.

Meanwhile K'áplac had taken off in a shallow spiralling flight below the tree tops circling around the arena scattering the black beads which had been charmed to produce a thick dark smoke. Deluge was laying a deep magical minefield of the demonic red beads around our flag position. Chira was coiling our flag in a two metre radius circle with the rope charm which, when tied in a double slipped reef knot, became invisible and erected a shield around the object it enclosed. To cover Chira while she erected the shield, Teqè's and Spear had taken up defensive positions.

Flitting around the centre below tree-tops, still guide by the Eye of War, I would briefly surface and terrorize the GOB'z with barrages of lighting arrows or, using the enchanted heavy yellow beads Starfury had given me, fire fireballs from my catapult. Then, quickly ducking back down and guided by my situational awareness, I would move to new position and repeat.

With the arena very quickly filling with smoke, anyone not equipped with a day/night camera could not see more than a few metres in the gloom. Well, I say anyone, I did have and used Startech's system, but the Eye of War and if necessary the sonar enchantment made the system slightly superfluous in my case.

When K'áplac returned to our flag position, we were ready to move into the offensive phase of our operation. Spear with K'áplac hovering in treetops in defensive over-watch remained in his defensive position, while Chira, Teqè's and Deluge formed up into a reverse phalanx in preparation to move out.

The choice of the attack team was dictated by Chira being needed as backup in case Nantuko managed to erect a shield around the flag. She could use her mutation to encourage fungi and bacteria to break up any defensive pentagram. Teqè's was there to deal with the blasters and, possibly, Roadrunner, while Deluge was chosen to provide extra muscle and, in the case of opposition, the speed to mount a flanking attack. This last consideration dictated the order of march: Chira and Teqè's to the front, Deluge to the rear

Checking the tactical situation, we now had control of centre and arena which was filled with smoke. Roadrunner was dazed after hitting a tree, Nantuko, Fantastico and Vengeance were more or less paralysed with fear. So, continuing with the occasional barrages of lightning and fireballs I gave the order for them to move out.

Battle luck is always unpredictable, the first thing to go wrong was when I tried to guide the Praetorians away from Fantastico and Roadrunner, I got them too close to Vengeance. Up until that point, he had been cowering at the base of a tree in the foetal position. As luck would have it, he chose that moment to make a run for it and set off one of the demonic mines.

Given that the Praetorian were invisible and hushed, (the only reason they even knew were each other were was because of the IFF in their HUD displays,) Vengeance was just, hysterically firing high energy X-ray blast in random directions. Still, this was dangerous and had to be dealt with. Teqè's took him out by manifesting the cloud of grazing mirrors he had worked out with Justice. This left Vengeance badly burned from his own X-ray blasts.

The next thing to go wrong, was a still dazed Roadrunner stumbling across the path of the Praetorians, bearing in mind they were invisible and hushed, I shouted an order into the COMs unit telling them to ignore him. Chira chose to ignore me and screamed an inaudible: “You bastard.”

At the time we didn't know what she had done, but the results were spectacular. Roadrunner started what very quickly became a furious scratching of his groin and armpits while frantically stamping on his toes. His face started to turn green which culminated in projectile vomiting and, as a grand finale, his bowls turned to water and he soiled himself.

The smell was unbelievable. This was probably what encouraged the attack team to listen to my order to forget about hunting down Fantastico and complete the mission.

About a minute or so later they captured the GOB'z flag and the gong sounded.

As arranged, K'áplac collected the rope charm, picked up Spear and flew to the GOB'z flag. Where he arrived shortly after me. Remembering to deactivate the fear enchantment, and switch to my human aspect, we then turned off our invisibility and hush charms. Stepping out of the arena carrying our trophy, we were greeted by stunned silence.

When the silence broke, it was pandemonium. Because of the heavy smoke, only the range crew had even an inkling of what had happened and even their day/night cameras had been unable to penetrate the cloaking and hush charms. The only thing they really knew was what had happened to the GOB'z, and what Sam had picked up from the nanites she had managed to plant on us.

The interrogation was interrupted when Gunny Bardue, listening to his radio, angrily demanded: “I hope for your sake you can deactivate all the magical traps you scattered around the arena. The rescue crews can't get in to extract the GOB'z.”

I had already planned this out, and taking the red bead defence charms from the Praetorians, with a muttered apology for not doing it immediately, and shuddering at the thought of what would have happened if I had forgotten to deactivate the fear enchantment, I quickly stepped back into the arena and used the law of similarity to send all the magical mines up in a puff of smoke.

Once the range crew were satisfied that all the enchantments were disarmed, we were rushed into a briefing room to be interrogated on what exactly we had done to the GOB'z.

Long story short, the looks of shock mingled with professional respect when I described how our campaign of terror had started almost as soon as the match had been arranged were moderately gratifying. Especially when an incredulous RSM Burlington-Smythe demanded of Sam: “You knew about this and didn't warn us?”

Sam defended her position staunchly by replying: “It was a good campaign, Luna collected intelligence on not just the Good O'l Boy'z and their capabilities, but also on the examiners and the scenarios they were likely to choose. She then used that intelligence to correctly predict the most likely scenario and develop a strategy to overcome the inherent advantages of the GOB'z blasters. It's not her fault that the range crew have become very predictable.”

She said this last with a smile at Gunny, who had a very thoughtful look on his face that did not bode well for our chances in future training scenarios. Then, turning to me she told me: “Okay Luna, tell the Praetorians the rest of it.”

My big puppy eyes failed me as Sam responded: “They deserve to know, and I am sure they will understand.”

Sighing, I turned to the Praetorians and explained: “What the Admiral is hinting at is why I didn't take part in combat. I could easily have taken out the GOB'z on my own, yet I took a position of tactical command and left you to do the dirty work. The reason is simple. In any real combat I will be commanding not just you and Blackstar squad, but any enemy forces I take as bondsmen plus our allied forces. You needed to learn that, if you stick to the plan, you can operate as an independent unit without me.”

I was nearly in tears when I had finished, but the gang quickly gathered around me in reassurance, telling me that they had already reasoned this out for themselves.

Sergeant Wilson then interrupted our little hug-fest by asking curiously: “What exactly did you do to Roadrunner? The medics were reporting that at first it looked like one of Jobe's creations, but now they're not so sure.”

It was Chira's turn in the spotlight, as she told us: “It's my mutation, I told you, I can heal anything including the bacteria that cause illnesses. When I first found out I was a mutant, it was because I was able to heal the various bugs and diseases of the guy's that were abusing me. When Roadrunner charged across our path I could sense he was being treated for a fungal infection and a mild bowel disorder, so I just helped the fungi and bacteria get better and encouraged them to make babies.”

She said the bit about making babies with a coquettish shrug that in any other circumstance would have been very attractive. As it was, the range crew looked at her in disbelief before giving a mutual shrug of horror.

Finally, with an admonition that they expected a full after combat report first thing tomorrow morning, and an order to report for team debriefing at 7pm tomorrow evening, we were allowed to dash off to be first in queue for dinner so that we could claim our table.

Our cheer leaders were waiting for us outside the arena and greeted us with another enthusiastic chant of: “Go, go, go.....PRAE-TOR-IANS!”

After filling up our platters, the ten of us were sitting at our new table on the first floor terrace basking in the glow of our victory. The cheer team were still filling the air with chants and enthusiastically waving their pom-poms and pennants. The student body was looking at us with new found respect and life was good.

Sampling timelines and current events with my situational awareness, I realised mystics around the world were announcing the arrival of: 'Nemesis the Destroyer, Goddess of War' and liberationists, fruitcakes and apocalyptic survivalists were already forming cults to exploit the opportunities it presented.

Vowing that it was not going to happen, and especially not in the way these nuts envisaged, I quietly resolved that my private revolution had now taken on a much wider aspect. My revolution was no longer directed against the school authorities for drafting me into security, but directed against the universe for putting me in a position I had no wish to be.

Vive la Révolution!

Authors note:
This brings a end to this first part of Luna's story. I have the main parts of the plot worked out for 'Luna 2: Classes' and will commence work on it once I have caught up with a few real life concerns. Provisional publication date of the first chapter of book 2 will be in about a month.

Irvine