It's What I Want by Tanya Allan

Don is a bit of a geek. But his intelligence was matched by his kind heart, and his flat mate and friend Steve appreciates his help in his university course work.

Don is a little confused as to why Steve and two other friends want him to join them of a motor cycle tour of France in the summer holidays, but he is pleased to be asked, and goes along. On their first stop, a cool group is playing at a night club, but it is a couples only evening, and Don is persuaded to become Donna for one evening, just so the four friends can see the show.

But no one expected to find Donna still there on the following morning.

In fact, Don never returned...

“Dr. Wagner, speaking for myself, I’m sorry you had to interrupt your honeymoon to help the committee.”

“Agent Tanaka, I want to help you as well. You and Captain Slater deserve to be as happy as Henry and I are now.”

Synopsis- Operation Swan Song begins to wind down but the danger for Tom Slater continues to increase.

Air Force Sweetheart TacPzlSolGp Epilog   by T. D. Aldoennetti

Previously:

Karen stays behind to explain that the different groups have grown so large that they’re now divided, so consultations are more difficult and the pace is slowed, but the good work continues. There are still lives to save.

Magician has finally found her way home, and she’s pulled another rabbit out of that silk hat of hers, Houdini, who has a few tricks of his own.

Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chap. 32/34

Air Force Sweetheart TacPzlSolGp Chapter 32/34   by T. D. Aldoennetti

previously:

Time creeps along like the weather has frozen it to the consistency of salt water taffy, but finally 6:30 comes along, looks around, and decides to go back to sleep.

I figure I’ll give Mom until seven, then call. I check to see that I have enough change and then go for another cup of vending machine coffee. It looks like instant and tastes like ditch water, but it’s better than nothing.

At 7:08, time speeds up a little and the sun is just making its appearance, throwing a dusky grey light through the cloud cover. A light snow is falling and people are moving around the terminal again. I opt for the phone call and a cab. As I walk out the door into the chill morning air, the sun is just beginning to brush aside the clouds, so it can warm the cold Earth beneath.

Air Force Sweetheart TacPzlSolGp Chapter 30/34   by T. D. Aldoennetti

previously:

I asked in English, knowing that they’d been talking in a different language. In halting English they explain he has indeed been here and they point off in another direction suggesting I might try over with the group of Israelis. I play dumb and ask which group is the Israelis. The one man comes over to me, placing a hand on my bare shoulder as he stands behind me and points out a uniform in the distance.

I give a slight curtsey and thank them. They smile and I’m off again, targeting the Israelis. The men return to their conversation, the momentary assistance to a young woman now dismissed as unimportant.

Air Force Sweetheart TacPzlSolGp Chapter 28/34   by T. D. Aldoennetti

previously:

Nora looks like she’s nervous and continues to look around at the lithographs on the walls and the tables covered with tablecloths with silverware instead of flatware, and china cups, saucers and plates.

I ask, “Just a little ostentatious, isn’t it, General?”

He looks a little apologetic, but explains, “We frequently have congressmen here, or out of country leaders of one kind or another. It wouldn’t do to take them down to the cafeteria. Then too, this room is shielded and swept for bugs and it has jamming equipment built in to prevent electronic eavesdropping, so we can discuss classified material here.”

He gestures to what looks like small air-conditioning ducts or hi-fi speakers above each table. “Each table has it’s own sonic generator above the table throwing a curtain of white noise around the table and its occupants. It isn’t 100% effective, probably closer to 20% or 30% for each table, but by the time the conversation makes its way out through one and in through another it tends to muddy up the conversations enough that nearby diners inside their generator’s influence can’t understand conversations next to them which occur at normal levels. Of course if one were to yell then that would overpower the measures taken. We just learn to talk quietly in here, so the odds are much more in the favor of secrecy.”

“Impressive, Sir.” Now that I’m concentrating, I can hear a slight whooshing sound, like the sound made by the air nozzles above the passenger seats on a commercial airliner, or maybe a radio tuned between stations, pure static. Hmmm.

“I’m sorry Cici … but in the real world you can’t be the little girl you want to be. Yes … you can put your hair up in pig tails and carry Kiwi around and colour till your heart’s content, but we both know that you’ll never wake up and truly be the little girl in body that you are in soul. Just as in the real world … I can never be your Mom … David can never be your Dad and the girls can’t be your sisters. It’s impossible.”