"UP! Private Wyeth! GET UP!"
I shot straight up. I had worked myself completely under the sheets, so they were still over my head when I bolted. I yanked the sheet down, then as quickly pulled it up again. My top was pretty skimpy and protected my modesty enough from other women, but would turn the guys into drool machines. And this was a man's voice. A man's voice! I woke up completely. Someone was in our room!
I looked around quickly, but it was still pitch dark. I was about to ask for lights when he shouted again, this time right into my ear.
"What're you waiting for, Private? Breakfast in bed? On yer feet! You've got duty in forty-five minutes!
Move it, Wyeth!"
I nearly had a heart attack. I felt a fear that tasted slightly of the invasion of the interrog… the IH… from a couple days ago. He was apparently standing on my left, bent over me. I started to roll out on my right, to put the bed between us, when he growled at me again, this time right beside me.
"You're pretty lazy, ain't you? MOVE it! There's a ton of laundry that needs cleaning, and YOU'RE
doing it all!"
I jumped back against my bed. The frame hit the backs of my legs and I lost my balance and fell off the other side, landing with a thud and in a heap as I pulled the blankets and pillow on top of me. My legs were all over the place as I tried to get to my feet. He barked at me again.
"This is the last time, PRIVATE! Either you get going or I'm gonna personally…"
"Abigail?? Susie's sleepy voice slipped through the shout and it ended abruptly.
"Susie! Someone's in here!? My voice had a hint of hysteria in it, I was so unnerved at how quickly he moved.
She chuckled sleepily.? Silly. That's just the alarm. It's directional so only you can hear it. Sorry, I meant to tell you about it and show you how to set it, but I drifted off while we were still talking. Lights to dim, please.? The lights came on just enough to make the room glow with the pink darkness of approaching dawn. Susie rubbed the sleep from her eyes.? Time?? she asked softly.
"It's 0317, Corporal Lendler,? responded an equally soft male voice.
"Thank you. There you go, Abigail. Laundry detail is from 0400 to 1000. Better hustle if you want to clean up and eat before reporting. At least laundry is in the mess area. That'll save a couple minutes.
Don't be late, though. Jackson will put your pretty little butt in a sling if even a finger is late through that door."
I knew about soldiers like Jackson, though I'd never met her, or him. (That was interesting. Would I always think of an unknown person as a she first, then a he? I made a mental note to try to keep track of that.) I untangled myself from my sheets and started for my dresser. I pulled short and turned back to my messy bed, throwing it into shape. They probably had inspections.
"Don't worry about that, Abigail. I'll make it for you. Here.? She opened up my dresser and pulled out some stuff.? This is your standard uniform. And this,? She held up a sheer, black tube of stretchable cloth.? Is a body sheath. Put this on before you put on your underthings. In other words, first."
Although it appeared shapeless at first, I could make out that it was a covering for the torso and upper legs. It was one piece, stepped into from the neck. I frowned, a little uncomfortable.? Uhh… won't that make it a little hard to, um…"
"Use the bathroom? Yeah, it would, if you got a break to use it, which you won't. So don't drink a lot of juice. The sheath will keep you at least ten degrees cooler, but only when it's right up against your skin.
Secret of the dog. Now get going.? She started hustling me to the door.
"Shouldn't I put on a bath robe or something?"
"No time. Walk fast. There's no skirmishes planned for thirty-six hours, so no one should be up. The lights are pretty low, anyway. See you at ten hundred. Bye!"
She slapped me on the potential resident of Jackson 's sling and shoved me out the door, which allowed passage while remaining opaque; a very strange sensation. The corridor was thankfully deserted and dark. I half ran to the ladies room and made it without being seen. Once inside, I had the place to myself.
If you're a woman, or married to one, then you know that we just can't hurry getting ready. It seemed the faster I went, the worse it got. What's so different? As a guy, I'd use the bathroom, jump in the shower, soap up, rinse off, and get out. A quick towel off, dress, brush the hair roughly in place, brush the teeth roughly, hoping to leave them in place, and viola!, finished. Fifteen minutes if I didn't have to shave, twenty if I did. If I used thirty minutes, I was killing time. Well, a girl has the same number of arms, legs, teeth, and assorted body parts. Clothing is pretty much the same amount and put on pretty much the same way. Plus, I didn't have to shave yet, if women, or anyone, still shaved. So it should work the same way for a girl, right? It has to, right?
Forty minutes after stepping into the ladies room, I stepped out. My hair was much closer to seaweed than hair, the leftover soap making a credible substitute for sea foam. I skipped brushing my teeth. My clothes were on in more or less the right places, and facing in more or less the right directions, but they were wetter than my towel. Desert sand was wetter than my towel. I put my shoes on while hopping down the corridor on one foot, then switching. As I raced by my door, I shouted at it to open. I tossed my nightclothes, towel and things through it, and they disappeared from sight as they passed through the door's opaque plane. I didn't hear them hit, possibly because the sound shield was still on, but more probably because I was already too far down the corridor by the time they hit the floor. At least they went through the opening. Last night, before turning in, Susie had coded the door for my voice.
"Time, please!? I said.
"It's 0356, Private Wyeth!? the computer exclaimed back.
I ran into the mess and hit the mess line in a flurry. I was by myself except for Cookie, who was moving in and out of the kitchen, stocking up the bins. I grabbed a roll and stuffed it into my mouth, then washed it down with a small glass of juice, taking to mind Susie's warning. Licking my fingers of the sweet stuff from the roll, I walked to the laundry room, which was located on the wall behind the juice cart.
And couldn't get in. It remained solid.
"Time, please."
"0359 hours.? So I was on time, if only just. I'd make a point of getting up an extra fifteen minutes earlier until I'd beaten this new bath routine. I cleared my throat.
"Open, please.? It ignored me.? Hello? Jackson? This is Private Wyeth, reporting for detail. Hello??
Nothing. I knocked on the door, but the hollow thooms! went unanswered. I pictured my butt with a big boot print and knocked again. This was getting frustrating. Was I in the wrong place?
"Computer, please locate laundry relevant to my position."
"The laundry is located one meter directly in front of you."
"Computer, please allow me access."
"You are not allowed access.? Okay. Time to try another tact.
"Computer, please state duty for Private Abigail Wyeth."
"Private Abigail Wyeth has laundry detail from 0400 to 1000 each day."
"And who do I report to?"
"During laundry detail, Private Abigail Wyeth reports to Private William Jackson. All remaining hours, Private Abigail Wyeth reports to Corporal Susan Lendler."
"Computer, please locate Private William Jackson relevant to my position."
"Private William Jackson is located four meters directly in front of your current position."
"Computer, what is the privacy status for the laundry door?"
"The sight privacy for the laundry door is active. The sound privacy is not active.? That made Private Jackson, deaf, dead, or a jerk. I'd give it one more try.
"Private Jackson!? I yelled at the door.? This is Abigail! Could you let me in? Please?? Nothing. Well, enough of this.
I looked for the override and located it, as on other doors, about a meter above the floor. I hadn't had a chance to really study it before, but I did so now. I pressed the override switch, but it ignored me. I wondered why. Maybe he liked to play games. Or maybe he was hurt, I thought suddenly. I immediately felt terribly guilty for the things I had thought about him. Poor William! I hurriedly detached the faceplate and studied the guts of the thing. Six lengths of fiber optic cabling and a type of gravity switching that would probably allow for manual override at power loss. I took a quick look at the logic board and calculated the probabilities of function. Getting desperate to get in and help him, I took a chance. I grabbed the two outside cables, twisted them together and shoved them against the gravity switch.
Nothing for two seconds. Then I smelled a quick whiff of ozone, and there was a soft pop. I felt a tingle going up my arm, and I jerked it away quickly and stood up.
The door was now an opening, and there stood poor William Jackson, glaring at me. I'd have to keep my imagination in check from now on. He looked awful, but I guessed he had grown into that. Maybe regulations on shaving had relaxed over the years. He glared at me through piggy eyes. I felt like mud had been slopped on me.
"Time!? he snapped.
"0401!? the computer barked.
"You're late! You were supposed to have reported here at 0400!"
"I was outside the door on time, but it wouldn't open!? I protested.
"Uh-huh. So what did you do to the door?"
"Well, when you didn't open the door after I knocked and shouted, I thought that you were hurt.? I was getting a little ticked off myself.? Why didn't you open the door? In fact, why couldn't I have just walked in? I'm supposed to be here."
"That's right, you're supposed to be here!? he sneered nastily, ignoring my question.? But you weren't.
You're late. Give me fifty, Wyeth!"
"What!?? I couldn't have been more surprised if he'd suddenly turned into an ogre. Which he was starting to.
"You heard me! Give me fifty!? He pointed to the floor.
I didn't know what to say. That I was flustered was an understatement. I was completely dumbfounded. I didn't know what to do, so I did as he said. Maybe this was one of those initiation things. If so, I preferred the food trick.
I dropped to my hands and gave him fifty pushups. Or tried to. After fifteen, my arms and chest muscles were burning. By twenty, I couldn't go any further. My upper body strength was gone. Rather, it had never been there.
"Can't count, huh? I said fifty. That's twenty. And most of them were little girl pushups.? I didn't point out the obvious. Instead, I managed about five more before he shoved a foot under my stomach and flopped me over.
"Okay, you can do the rest later. Don't be late tomorrow. Now get to work."
By this time I was more than ready to unload on him. I'd been treated like a princess until now, when they weren't poking around in my head or beating me up, and although I didn't really expect that kind of treatment to continue, I was hoping to at least be treated with some respect. I opened my mouth to get really nasty, then closed it, and fought down my anger. Keep calm, Abby. You stick around long enough and you'll make corporal or better and then you can read him from the book. I'd give him the worst detail available.
Two hours later, I saw the flaw in my plan. He already had the worst detail available. Except mine. I was already aching from the pushups, but now I was really hurting. There were nearly two hundred people in this complex, and they got a lot of clothes dirty. Bundle after bundle of clothing was loaded, washed, dried, sorted, folded and rebagged. It was hot, smelly, steamy back-breaking work. If it hadn't been for the body sheath against my skin, I would have passed out. As it was, I was sweat soaked within twenty minutes and stayed that way.
Jackson didn't help much. It became pretty clear that those pushups and the locked door were no initiation. I'd had it pegged from the beginning; he was a jerk. I'd come across them my first time through the military. I'd had the ability to deal with the Jacksons of the past, but this one was my superior. So I shut up and tried to live through it.
It wasn't easy. He was sloppy, lazy and rude. He did a fraction of the work and gave no consideration for my far smaller size and strength. Claiming there was too much? paper work? to do-somehow that phrase had survived the ages-he fiddled on the computer terminal for several hours, keeping the field tight, so I couldn't see what he was viewing. When he did help, it was grudgingly and only on the heaviest loads, which I couldn't lift high enough to get into the huge front-loading washers. Dr. Barrett was right; washing clothes hadn't changed a great deal over the centuries. It had gotten much faster, which is how two people could do the work. Okay, one person and an animated bag of lard.
I'd pulled far worse details before, but only ones that involved killing people, which this one might yet still.
This was really, really bad. I wondered for a while if Dr. Barrett had put me in here as some sort of weird test. After thinking it through, though, I decided that nobody really knew how bad it was in here. More than likely Jackson was alone most the time; the job really could be done by one person, if he were big enough, which Jackson was and I wasn't.
I don't know how I kept sane during that first shift. He blocked off my computer access so I could not even ask for time. On top of that, he repaired and reactivated the door, blocking out both sight and sound. The laundry was Private Jackson's little kingdom, and I was his peasantry. I understood now the appeal of mixing royal heads and guillotines.
Finally, finally, finally, Jackson walked over and told me my duty was over. He wasn't too happy about it, either.
"Geez, you've still got a couple loads left! I'll have to stay and cover for you.? He paused to let me thank him, which I didn't. Instead I walked by him. He grabbed me by the shoulder. In a split second, I selected five ways to get that hand off my shoulder. One of them even left the hand unbroken and attached. I denied myself the pleasure and stood still and stiff.
"Hey, don't give me an attitude, Wyeth! You might be some special toy outside, but in here, you do as I say, got it?"
"Yes, I've got it, Jackson,? I said tiredly.? Can I go now?"
He looked like he wanted to say something mean, but instead just nodded.
I stepped out of the laundry and blinked at the bright pseudo sunlight pouring down from the high ceiling.
It felt warm and wonderful. The mess had about thirty people in it, most of whom waved when they saw me. I waved back tiredly and trudged off to my quarters. I'd gone only a few steps down the corridor when I heard Susie calling my name and running up behind me. I turned and waited for her to catch up.
She looked wonderful. She had on a more feminine cut of uniform, with skirt, and had her hair done nicely. Maybe even a little make up, though I couldn't really tell. She was smiling as she approached, but stopped when she got up to me. I started walking again.
"Hey, you okay, girl?? she said, a note of concern taking some of the cheerfulness out of her voice.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Let my next of kin know the reading of the will is Tuesday, okay? Open, please.? I walked through the door and to my dresser.
"You don't have to ask to enter, anymore. The door's keyed to your presence as well as voice now."
"Great. Thanks.? I started to pull out a change. I heard my bed calling to me, but I wasn't going to even think about sleeping until I'd washed the laundry and Jackson down the shower drain.
"Sorry about the duty, Abigail. Jackson 's a jerk."
"I'd noticed that, too. I can handle him."
"Are you sure? I could rough him up a bit. You know, pick him out for 'training' exercises."
I laughed at the thought. She smiled at my perk up.? Thanks, Susie, but no. I've got to deal with him myself. He thinks I'm everyone's favorite toy, and if I hide behind you all the time, he might be right."
"You can't take on Jackson by yourself, he's three times your size. And you're not our toy, but you…"
"I said let me handle it, okay?? I snapped angrily and immediately regretted it.? I'm sorry, Susie. I'm just real, real tired. But I mean it. Let me handle him. He's not the enemy, or anything like that. He's just a bully. And you've got to stand up to bullies."
"All right. If you change your mind…"
"Thanks. Listen, I'm going to clean up. What's on my duty for today?"
"Nothing official. We're going to ease you into the routine. Later this afternoon, I'd like to take you to the armory, and have you pick out a sidearm. Then maybe some target practice and tactics orientation.
Tonight we'll hit the gym."
"Fine, as long as we're not hitting each other."
"Not likely. If I have my way, I'll never face you again except in very controlled conditions. I'd also like to get you in a workout with Company A. Company B is on skirmish tomorrow afternoon, so they'll be in briefing."
"How about the Research room? I still haven't seen that yet.? She seemed a little uneasy, and I could guess why.? Never mind. But when the time comes that you can trust me completely, I'd like a look."
"It's not that, Abigail. We do trust you. It's just that we're in the final stages of research on another Cue, and the place is pretty busy and very restricted. I don't even go in there too much now. Probably in a week or two.? That made me feel better.
Later, though, standing in the shower, letting the hot water pour over my head and aching shoulders, my feelings were a little more mixed. A new Cue? I wondered what she would be like. Or he. Would I get to meet her? Did I want to? I suppose I was feeling a little jealous. I did have a privileged position as a Cue, even though it did come with a price. Would that be diminished or lost with the new Cue? That was pretty petty, I had to admit to myself. Of course I'd help her or him out. I'd be in the best position to sympathize certainly. I just wish I could have had a little more time as-and here I conceded Jackson a point-everyone's new toy.
I finished cleaning up, brushing my teeth this time, and went to bed. I'd now been in the showers so many times I could have gotten another hour of sleep by just moving my bed into the bathroom. Tired? I could have slept on the tiles. I dropped my clothes into a heap in the laundry chute, then dropped myself into a heap in bed. I squirmed around for a while, finding the very best position to relax my body. My shoulders and back hurt so much that I reached over to Susie's bed and swiped her pillow to lay on. It helped.
Turning down the lights to late evening, I fell off into a deep sleep.
When I woke up, I felt much, much better. The computer told me it was almost three p.m. and that Susie was not in the compound. I dressed into another work uniform, which was pants, blouse and jacket. I didn't bother with the sheath this time. It had helped immensely keeping me cool in the laundry, but it felt like I had a layer of oil on, it was so slippery. I stomped into my heavier boots-I had been issued two pairs of shoes and one pair of boots-and headed for the armory. Susie had mentioned I would be issued a sidearm today, and I was very keen on selecting my own.
The armory was in the hanger, cut into the far wall away from the gym area. There was an older man working at a table when I walked up. He was working on a heavy rifle of some sort and didn't hear my approach. When I cleared my throat politely, he looked up. Recognizing me, he cracked a wide smile.
"Why, hello there. Abigail, isn't it?? He set down the rifle and picked up a rag.
I nodded.? Hello. Yes. Abigail Wyeth. Sus-uh, Corporal Lendler said I would be issued a sidearm today, and I was hoping to have a chance to pick one."
"Well now, that sounds reasonable.? He tapped a couple times on his terminal. He looked up at me and winked.? I don't need the thing, but I've gotta keep them thinking I know what I'm doing.? I smiled.?
Here we go. Yep. Got you on the issue list right here. But I can't release any weapon without the Corporal's thumbprint
IS VERIFIED. THE DOCKING CONTROLS ARE NOW YOURS, PILOT. PLEASE NOTE THAT NAVIGATIONAL BUOYS GAMMA 23 AND EPSILON 24 ARE CURRENTLY DAMAGED AND INOPERATIVE. THERE HAS ALSO BEEN A SOLAR FLARE WARNING ISSUED FROM 0500 UNTIL 2030 TOMORROW NIGHT. I HAVE DETECTED A SMALL FLUCTUATION IN PORT THRUSTER SIX. COMPENSATION BURST FROM PORT THRUSTER FIVE HAS CORRECTED THE PROBLEM. DOCKING WILL COMMENCE IN TWO POINT ONE MINUTES. STATION GAMMA HAS CLEARED PLATFORM 189 AND WISHES TO INFORM YOU
"Hey, kid!"
"Yes?? I started as he broke off his conversation abruptly.? You were saying about Corporal Lendler's thumbprint?"
He shook his head.? Teenagers. You gotta be hundreds of years old, but,? and he shook his head again.? Gotta be the hormones. Teenagers."
While I stood there trying to figure out this odd comment, he went over to a weapons locker and pulled out a sampling of side arms. He motioned me to step inside, so I joined him. He held them out like a proud father showing off his beloved triplets.
"Just 'cause I can't issue you one doesn't mean you can't try 'em out. One of these should do the trick.
Let's start with this one.? He set two of them down and offered me the remaining one.
I hefted it in my hand. It was heavy, but considerably lighter than the one I'd swiped during my aborted escape. It was small caliber, projectile based and seemed to have a limited magazine. The balance was decent, but sluggish.
"Is there someplace I can try this?"
"Sure. Right here. Hey, Agnes!"
"Whadaya want, bean pole?? The computer's voice took on a shrill woman's tone.? Gonna shoot off some guns again?"
"Yep. Shut 'er off and open 'er up."
"Yeah, yeah,? the computer grumbled. I could almost picture her shuffling off slowly to get whatever it was he'd asked for. But it was only imagination. Very quickly the sound from the hanger was cut off, and a long, fairly wide opening appeared in the rear wall of the armory. It looked to be a tunnel, but was clearly a target range.
I walked over to the range and hefted the gun. He followed me.
"Here's the safety, load indicator and sonic sighting. When the indicator lights, you've acquired target lock."
"No laser sighting?"
"Nope. Sound sights are lighter and they don't give off that telltale beam which can also be locked onto for return fire. Also, the range of a weapon this small is short, so the sonics are accurate enough. Aim it like this…"
He stepped up close to me and put his right hand on my shoulder, extending his left arm out along mine.
His face was alongside mine, a little higher. It made me vaguely uneasy. I shrugged him off a little bit, and he backed up, his ears burning.
"Sorry! Didn't mean anything. I just wanted…"
"Please. It's all right. I should apologize. I'm still uncomfortable with…? I let my voice trail off.
He laughed.? Me, too! I've heard all about it. Everyone has. I suppose we're all kinda walking on eggshells first time we see you. It's gotta be pretty hard… you know…? He gave me a fatherly smile, and it felt very good inside me.? Let's try again, okay?"
"Okay. I've got the training, by the way, but thanks for the assist. Have you any targets?"
"Wouldn't be much of a range if I didn't, would it? Agnes! Give our young guest something to shoot."
Dutifully, a standard bulls eye appeared about one third of the way down the range, perhaps twenty meters. I lifted the gun and shot, not bothering to aim. The gun kicked hard in my hand and a tone went off. The target, a floating hologram, indicated with a gold ring where the bullet had gone. On a target one meter in diameter, I was about half way in. I cursed quietly. But not quietly enough, because my new friend's eyes got wide. Blushing from my lack of control with both mouth and gun, I lifted the gun again and fired. Closer but not good. The third shot drifted out further, and by the time I fired the ninth and last round, I was missing the target completely and the gun was getting too heavy to lift.
"I can't believe how heavy this thing is already!"
"Sorry. I picked out the lightest slug gun we have. I don't think it'll work for you. Your hands and arms don't have the strength. You'll be stronger in a couple years, but it's not going to change much."
"I'm beginning to get that idea that more and more. I'm big on flexibility but short on everything else. I don't think this is the one. Anything lighter?? I handed the gun back.? I just realized, I haven't asked your name."
"No problem.? He reloaded the gun with a flick of his wrist and handed me a second gun.? I'm Darrin Woodside. Just call me Dusty. Don't have a rank. At least, I don't use it. When you're the only one that can fix everything, rank doesn't mean a whole bunch."
"All right, Dusty. Let's try number two. Energy based, isn't it?"
"Yep. This one's pretty slick. It fires plasma, so its gotta kick, and she pulls a might high and right. But she's also got a two second recharge cycle, a slightly oversized power pack, and does more damage than you'd think. Give it a try."
This gun was far lighter, though nearly as bulky. I activated the sonic sight and snapped on the charge cycle. A small tone gave me cycle complete and a second tone told me I had target acquisition. Aiming a little low and left, I squeezed the trigger.
The gun bucked hard and the hologram disappeared. In its place was a gold ring nearly a meter and a half in diameter. Not too big on subtlety, I concluded. This was what we called a percentage gun. Pull the trigger enough times and the percentages were always on your side. Aiming in anything other than a vague direction was a waste of time. I shut off the charging cycle and handed it back to him.
"Uh… no, thanks. I prefer to have the option of identifying who I've shot. Maybe even ask the dead body questions. It's kinda nice to select targets with a little more, um, discrimination."
"Ah! We have an artist! A lady after my own heart! Then this is the one for you!? He handed over the third and final gun. Just its feel told me he'd saved the best for last. Like the blunderbuss, this was energy based, with similar control. As with the other two, it had a sonic sight. Best of all, its weight was perfect, and the balance very centered. A quick gun. I smiled and nodded. He grinned in agreement.
"I knew you'd like it. It has nowhere near the power of the other two, but if you prefer accuracy, she's the one. It's pure energy, so no kick. The range is pretty good, and the sonic sight is an improved model, with greater range and faster target acquisition. To top it all off, the recharge is only about four seconds.
Give it a try."
"Target.? I snapped on the sonic sighter and started the charge cycle. The standard hologram bulls eye appeared and I fired. The gun made no sound, nor had any kick as a hazy, thin beam shot from the gun.
It was a single burst, but it went true, missing the center by less than ten centimeters. Four seconds later, there was a hole two centimeters closer in. After a minute, a dozen gold rings overlapped each other and the bulls eye. I shut the gun off and passed it back.
"This is the one, Dusty. Can you hold it for me until Corporal Lendler can put her John Hancock down?
? At his stare, I giggled.? Okay, an ancient phrase. Hold it until Susan releases it."
His face cleared up.? I can do you one better. Come over here.? He led me to a small recess in the wall. Less than a half-meter cubed, it was coated on the inside with what looked to be featureless white plastic. It looked like a microwave, sans door, carved into the rock. Even the controls looked like it should have said bake, broil, and warm. He placed my gun into it and turned on the machine. It illuminated, but didn't seem to do anything else. After a few moments, the light went out and he retrieved the gun.
"Now, stick your hand in there.? Being left-handed, I put that one in. He activated the machine and the light came on. My hand tingled a bit. After a few moments, a large rod lifted from the floor of the recess.
"Grab onto the rod. Use all your strength and try to squeeze it into two in the middle.? I did so. It was soft and pliable, but stiffened as I squeezed. I put all my strength into it, and finally had to give up, having made it less than halfway through. When I released the rod, it snapped back to its cylindrical form and sank back into the bottom.
"Good, now move your hand around for a few seconds. No particular way, but try to do all three axes.
Turn it over a couple times, too.? I did so and, after a few seconds, the light went out and the tingle faded.
"And now we do both.? He handed me the gun and, taking my hand, put it back in. He activated the machine and had me move my hand and gun around for about thirty seconds. The light shut off a final time.
"Great! Stop by and pick her up tomorrow and I'll have it customized for your grip and strength."
"Thanks a lot, Dusty!"
He waved a hand.? No thanks needed. I enjoy using my skills for a change. Mostly, I get gorillas who only want power, power, power. There's only about five or six who prefer quality to quantity. So it's my pleasure, Abigail. By the way, if you want to have Lendler stop by later, she can 'put her John Hancock'
down then and not need to be here tomorrow."
Thanking him once more, I left in a very good mood, though I was a little ashamed of the way I had shrugged him off when he touched me. He was sweet.
Agnes opened the door for me, and I stepped into the hanger. It had been pretty active about twenty minutes ago, but I hadn't paid much mind. After finding out that Susie was still not in the compound, I wandered around, spending the time to figure out this little piece of my new world.
The front end of the cavern on my side back to where the ramp led up to Dr. Barrett's office was filled with a dozen armored vehicles. I climbed into one to take a look at the controls, but it yelled at me, so I just did an outside visual inspection. They were all hover vehicles, and looked built for quick strikes, with speed acting as armor.
I studied them as well as I could, learning as much as possible without touching them. Satisfied I understood their general workings and limitations, I cast my curiosity around somewhere else.
A group of soldiers were playing what looked like basketball over near the rec/gym area. I wandered over and was glad to see it was a coed game. I wasn't sure I could handle an all male crowd yet. I sat down on the floor and watched them.
It was basketball. Or it was what basketball had turned into. The basket hovered about three meters above the floor, but would on occasion shift on its axis and remain in that position for several minutes.
And the ball seemed to take exaggerated bounces on occasion. They kept on playing, enjoying the time and camaraderie. Several waved at me, and I waved back. Finally, after about ten minutes, they took a breather, and three of the women came over to me. I recognized one as the tenor in the Birthday Suit trio. I didn't know the others.
"Hiya, Abby!? said the singer. She shoved out a sweaty hand.? We haven't met formally, yet. I'm Kate Garvey. This is Lena Hacker and Rachel Breslin.? She jabbed a thumb at the men, who were keeping a respectful distance, and raised her voice.? I'd introduce these dogs to you, but you seem like a lady.?
They all laughed. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.? Though you didn't seem too much a lady yesterday morning."
"You didn't, either, Kate.? I said, also in a low voice.? But you're a great tenor.? We chuckled.
"We missed you this morning. I was hoping for a couple new tunes."
"Sorry, but I've got laundry."
"Laundry!? Lena spoke for the first time. She shuddered.? Jackson 's a jerk."
"That does seem to be the general opinion,? I agreed.? Maybe I can get over on an off duty day. I miss the shower crowd. Even though I joined in only once, I felt, I don't know, comfortable.? They nodded, understanding.
"I was there, too,? said Rachel,? but you probably didn't see me. It wasn't till later that morning that we realized you were the first, um…? she tried to find the right way.
"No, I wasn't, Rachel. Doctor Barrett said the same thing. Let's just forget it, all right? As far as I see it, the Birthday Suit Trio still has a very exclusive audience."
Kate breathed a sigh.? Fine by me. I never thought it would be this hard. Hey, we're about to start up again. Why don't you join us? Do you know the game?"
I shrugged.? Sure. It's called basketball. It was all the rage in my day. I even played forward in my college days.? They laughed, and I looked at them, confused. Lena saw my look.
"Abby, don't you realize how silly that sounds? I'm sure you did, but coming from the mouth of a, forgive me, runt like you, college sports is something to imagine."
"I know. I'm getting a lot of that. Still, don't underestimate me.? I paused.? Though I'm probably not so hot at basketball anymore."
"Believe me, we're trying not to underestimate you,? said Kate.? Especially after the way you worked over Lendler yesterday. C'mon, give it a try. We'll put you at guard. Only it's called targetball. Out of curiosity, why did they call it basketball?"
So I gave them history of the game as I remembered it. They seemed fascinated, partially from the history, partially because it was a teenager giving it. The guys took the court, playing as a team now.
They were three to our four. I finished stretching and Lena threw me the ball.
It hit the floor once, then changed direction on the bounce. I adjusted quickly and caught it, but pretty awkwardly. It looked to be the same size, but was immense in my hands. It was also weighted to one side. The ball had a faint marking on it that traced out an oblong weight attached to the inside of the ball.
Having the ball, one of the men advanced on me. I deeked him to the right, then dribbled to my left. The ball hit the floor once and veered off. I had to lunge to keep hold of it, which meant I had to pass it off.
This was going to take time.
More time than I had, as it turned out. After half an hour, I was exhausted and had a stitch in my side. I had managed to score all of one basket on at least a dozen shots. I had learned a new game and had made several new friends, again all from Company A. I very much enjoyed myself, even though they were obviously holding back. Still, I was glad to see Susie standing on the sideline, cheering. I turned and waved just as Lena tossed me the ball. It hit me in the stomach and bounced to Forrest, the one with dark, curly hair and cute brown eyes. I shook my head, startled at the thought. I walked over to the sideline toward Susie. The game continued without me.
"You don't have to stop on my account, Abigail."
"You're right, Susie,? I gasped out.? I have to stop on my account.? We watched them play, the intensity picking up considerably. A good crowd. I wondered how someone like Jackson could survive in an outfit like this. As we walked back to our quarters, I voiced the thought aloud. Susie became quiet.
"I'm afraid our ranks are always a little thin. Sometimes we get as good as we give. We keep the best up front, and tolerate soldiers like Jackson because by freeing up a first rate dog, he becomes as valuable as one.
"You'll see some in the front ranks now, too. But they're different. There was a time when we were all idealists. Everyone fought for the Cues. Now most of us do. The others fight because they have a hatred for NATech, a personal vendetta, or just like to fight."
How many things should I tell you? I could go on and on about even the smallest details, it was all so exciting to me. Looking back over my account, I see that I have been going over the smallest details. I have to beg your forgiveness, but if you've gotten this far, I suppose there had to be some value in it.
There was so much for me to do, learn and experience. So much history, so much technology, so many relationships to build, and yes, a life to rebuild.
And all of it was intensified from my new point of view. As the days, then weeks, passed by, I became more and more aware of how much my sexuality affected my whole viewpoint of the world. My physique had started out and would forever stay female. I had in me all the normal chemicals, emotions, and needs that made me a young woman.? Sugar and spice, and everything nice, that's what little girls are made of.
? I'd never paid much attention to the little poem, and when I did, it was with little curiosity and maybe even mild contempt. The differences between the genders was not so great as sugar and spice and snips, snails and puppy dog tails, I thought.
But it is. Everything that happened seemed to affect me more inside than anything that had happened when I had been male. I could get all weepy over a hug now, glow at a pleasant smile, sulk at the smallest insult or slight, or flare in anger over any injustice. And I took successes and failures much more personally. I wasn't an emotionless robot as a man. Of course I had feelings and emotions as a male. But they were more facets of me, portions that could be accessed. As a girl, these emotions and feelings were spread throughout me, affecting everything I thought, said and did.
Some of it could no doubt be attributed to my young age and maturing body. But even that only underscored the differences. The process of turning into a woman was so much more personal, yet so much more… public than going through puberty as a boy. I could see now why this age could be more difficult… no, more intense, for girls than boys. A lowering of the voice and thickening of the muscles was nowhere near as personal as the enlarging of the breasts and hips. A boy becoming a man showed overall changes that accented his becoming a complete adult, better able to compete and survive in the world. But a girl's outward changes accented the most intimate portions of her body, and showed her becoming a complete woman. I don't suppose I can explain to half of you, and don't need to for the other half. But I wanted to share as best I could what I was going through. Why? Because it was important to me, now that I was a young woman. I was still me, but me had a new definition. And perhaps for the better, though I would never have given up being John Wyeth.
My training continued. Raul Sanchez helped me with my military advancement. I remained stuck at private second class, because of my age, but didn't really mind. He treated me as a person, and one whom he very much liked. Had I been about eight years older-but, no, there was no point and possible harm in that kind of speculation. He was my commanding officer and friend.
He took great pleasure in discussing tactics with me, though I found it to be only mildly interesting. I had been very active during my first military service, and had pride in what I had done for my country, but it was also a part of my life I was glad to emerge from. Sanchez seemed to understand, and after a while kept the conversations limited in length. But I learned a great deal from him.
I continued to make friends with most everyone, but especially with the ladies of Company A. After having said I was glad to emerge from my military service, I also realized that I had missed the camaraderie that came with soldiers who depended on each other for their lives. Although I had not seen any action, I knew they had gone through much to rescue my from my riping, and genuinely appreciated what reciprocation I could offer. I very much looked forward to the times when Company A came back from battle and I could listen to their tales and trade bawdy songs with them in the showers.
Sergeant Thawell provided most of my field training. He scoffed at the idea at first, calling it a waste of time. He kept referring to me as an it, and clearly thought of me as some sort of freak. I think he took me as an affront to his manhood, and thought me weak because I was now female, though there were over a dozen women in Company A whom he treated as equals. We were getting nowhere fast. So one afternoon in the mountains, during combat drill, I took him aside and explained things to him. Wanting to emphasis my points, I broke his arm and three ribs before he started taking me seriously. When he did, I had no chance. He put up a good argument, bloodying my nose and breaking my wrist, but he eventually came around to my point of view, and we got along fine after that.
Physically, Susie drove me to the limits of my small, pliable body. I think she was trying to have me grow into my body, until it was as much me as my mind was me. In that she was very successful. In time, I looked back at how I started out and laughed at how positive I was that I could never be a complete woman. I still had mixed emotions when looking at men, but it was possible now, as I looked at them, to think that I could one day get married. But that was still years of living and growing away.
Mentally, Susie again drove me to my limits. It was here that I think I surprised even myself. I still retained all my memories and reasoning skills. It was in these that I was most centered. They were most probably why I was able to make the adjustment physically, and also most probably why the IHAD
affected me so deeply.
I continued to train in using the computer interface, but it was almost a waste of time. It was so much Chris Young's work that it was like traveling back in time, and using the puterverse became one of my favorite activities. I had six centuries of catching up to do, and it is impossible to know a society without knowing its history. Within a week, I was handling the interface like I had grown up with it. I think it was here that I began to be accepted as something other than a misplaced identity. They still didn't allow me into the Research center. Susie kept telling me it was because of the intensive work that was going on as they continued research on a prospective Cue. That may have been true for the most part, but I was beginning to think that they didn't trust me fully yet. Other than a vague irritation at being put under this restriction, I understood their feelings; I would have done the same thing myself.
Even Jackson helped me out, though with him I'm sure it was completely unintentional. He made my duty hours a living hell. The man had a genius for demeaning and insulting and abusing without stepping over that razor thin line that would result in either his court-martial at Sanchez's hands or death by mine. He didn't want to lose me, because I made his life very enjoyable. Instead of having to do all the work now, he split the time between his? paper work? and his abuse of me. He helped on occasion, when it looked like I couldn't keep up, but he tried to keep it minimal. I will say one thing in Jackson 's weak defense: I don't think it mattered one whit to him whether I was girl or boy. He never harassed me sexually, and while I hated his guts, I did not have the fear of him that I could have had.
Susie guessed at some of what was happening, but kept her anger to herself at my request. I tolerated it because it kept me grounded. As John Wyeth, I'd had a very secure life. I was treated with respect and perhaps a little fear because of my status. In the military, I was called sir and my every order was obeyed because of who and what I was. Then at NATech I had risen quickly to Twenty Year Project Leader and was one of only six people who reported directly to the boss. At my word, two hundred people would drop everything they were doing and shift to a new project.
All that was gone. I commanded no respect beyond the respect given every person. My artificial status as a privileged Cue was fading, as it should, and I became less and less a Cue and more and more a young girl. Jackson kept me in my place. As I said, I tolerated and even appreciated it. Until the day he stepped way over the line.
As I had done for several weeks, I reported to the laundry at 0350. Jackson was there, as always. He started at 0200, but did little while waiting for me to show up. The laundry was dropped off by personnel, then picked up by them. (Noncoms and officers had their laundry picked up and dropped off.
That's how I had mine picked up, because I was Susie's roomy.) They had perfected a process of identification that allowed clothing to be cleaned in a bunch, then sorted automatically by machine. All I had to do was pour the bundles into one of the four massive washing machines, shift the damp, clean clothing to the dryers, then the sorter, then back into the bags. Folding was done by the individual.
Because of this and the invention of such efficient identification and sorting, the laundry detail could be performed by one person, as I'd mentioned earlier.
I stepped in ten minutes early and went straight to work, ignoring Jackson who was busy with his terminal. As always, he shut off all outside access by cutting in the door sight and sound shields.
I'd worked for about an hour when he came over for his first round of daily abuse. Once it became obvious that I wasn't going to report him, he had begun testing how far he could take me. I'd figured out how to keep him on a leash; if he went too far, I simply worked slower, leaving him just that much more to do. He had a double-edged sword: if I didn't report him, he couldn't report me. I wasn't fond of doing less than I was capable of, but it was all I could come up with, short of physical confrontation, which I wanted to avoid. And I didn't have to use the tactic much. In fact, it had been a couple weeks since I'd last purposely left him work. Susie's conditioning had worked wonders with my strength, and while my frame was too small to ever be too strong, my endurance had increased to the point that I could handle my detail.
He leaned against one of the counters and watched me for several minutes. I was, as always, soaked in sweat. I undid another of the endless bundles and poured the clothing into the machine. As I shifted the contents-this bundle was from the women's quarters I remember-I wondered what he was going to do today. Sometimes it was verbal abuse, other times it was physical. He never hit me, but he'd find some imagined breach of my duties and he'd have me do sit-ups or pushups. I preferred the physical, because it left me in a more even temper and gave me a challenge to match his 'discipline'. Again, he couldn't give too much because it cut into my working time. He shifted his weight and crossed his arms.
"Pathetic. That's what you are, Wyeth. Pathetic. I don't know why they keep me in this stinking detail, but you were born for it."
"Knock it off, Jackson."
"Why? Does the truth hurt, private second class Wyeth?"
I'd had a rough day yesterday and really wasn't in the mood. I'd pulled a back muscle working on the bars, and it still hurt whenever I lifted my arms above my shoulders, which was all the time when on laundry duty. Maybe that's why I did what I did. Picking up a particularly rancid sock, I offered it to him.? Here, stuff this. You're not even original today. Go back and catch up on your paper work."
His eyes narrowed, and he looked like he wanted to belt me. I turned back to my work and tried to ignore him. But he wouldn't let it go.
"Smart mouth! Okay, I'll be original.? He lowered his voice, which should have made it easier to ignore him but in fact made me involuntarily listen.? So tell me, Wyeth, are you over your IHAD yet?"
Although it was several weeks gone, the effects still lingered, which was causing Dr. Barrett some concern. I stiffened at the term, and Jackson spotted it. He laughed.
"Kind of a wimp, aren't you? Scared of a little interrogation?? His voice went slower, and took on a menacing tone.? You have to answer, Wyeth! This is an IHAD."
"Stop it! Stop it now!? I felt a knot in my stomach. I dropped the clothes I was loading and clutched my gut. He laughed.? This isn't fu-funny, Jackson! Stop it!"
He suddenly stepped forward and grabbed my arms. I turned sick eyes up to his. His eyes were sick, too, but in a different way.
"Whatsa matter, princess? Life not going well? You're worthless! You let yourself be interrogated!
Careful! They're out to get you, Wyeth! Answer the questions!"
THE ANSWER TO YOUR INQUIRY, CITIZEN, IS 10,394.
"Ques-questions?? I was getting woozy. Fear burned through me at his warning, and I felt the nameless dread hunt me again. NO! I didn't do this! I was not responsible!? It's not my fault!? I cried.
"Of course it's your fault! It's all your fault! Look out! Here they come!? I cried out, and he laughed again.? Say it's your fault."
GEOSATTELITE 87F IS REPORTING ANOTHER SHIFTING OF THE SAN ANDREAS FAULT. EPICENTER LOCATION BEING CALCULATED… HOLD… EPICENTER IS LOCAT…
With all my strength, I weakly shook my head.? No. No, it's not!"
"Yes it is! Say it is. It's always the Cue's fault. And you're a Cue. That makes it your fault! Oh, no! It's inside you now, Wyeth! Your mind belongs to them now! You should be ashamed of yourself! Answer the questions."
THE ANSWER TO YOUR QUESTION, CITIZEN, IS THE ROSE, TULIP AND DANDELION… THE ANSWER TO YOUR QUESTION,CITIZEN,IS YES… IS YES… NO… NONOYESNOYESNOSEYEONSEOYESNOEYYOSNESOYENOSEYONSEOSNEOSYES…
"Please stop,? I whimpered.? I'm sorry. It's my fault. Please stop."
PLEASE STOP AT THE INDICATED PAD AND PROVIDE IDENTIFI…
He released me, and I fell into the pile of clothing at my feet. My back hurt. At his shouted warning, I twitched out the way. They had come to take me away! My mind wasn't mine anymore! The humiliation sprang to life and began feeding my fear. I curled up and started sobbing. A man's disgusted voice cut through my terror.
…TEAR OR POSSIBLY A RAGGED CUT AT THE AFT SHIELD PLATE WILL ALLOW FOR QUICKEST…
"I've always hated your kind. These stupid people waste time and energy bringing back trash better left as the machines they were found in. Look at you! How can somebody like you even be considered an equal? Yet they treat you like you were worth something. Worth more than me.? His voice changed, and he nudged me with his foot.? Tell me it's your fault!? he ordered.
"It's my fault!? I despaired. My insides hurt, like they were bleeding.
I DON'T MIND THE BLEEDING, AS LONG AS YOU'RE HAPPY.. OHHH…
"Now apologize! Hurry, here they come again! Quick! Apologize!"
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!
…BUT ACCESS CAN ONLY BE ALLOWED TO TENANTS BETWEEN 2 AM AND 6…
Make them go away! Please!"
NARROW THE PARAMETER OF YOUR SEARCH. THERE ARE CURRENTLY EIGHT HUN…
I begged, using the last of my strength. This huge figure standing over me chuckled. Cold poured PRESS… COOL… RESET… POUR… PRESS… COOL… RESET… POUR… PRESS… COOL
… RESET… POUR
over me as the terror sank its talons into my soul. With the cold came darkness and weakness and loneliness and despair and fear and oblivion.
"No. I'm going to let them stay. Answer the questions!"
"yes… I'll… answer… the… ques"
TIONS WILL BE ANSWERED ONCE YOUR VOICE CLEARANCE HAS BEEN VERIFIED… CHECKING… YES, MR. PREMIER, THE CHANNEL IS OPEN TO THE? TRAVELER? AND HAS BEEN SECURED. ONE 01101MOMENT, PLEASE… CAPTAIN PARKS IS AWAITING THE FINAL O1101001RDER TO COMMENCE SATURATION
"She's sharding! Quick! Induce deep Healer's… Watch that EK…"
BOMBING ON MARS COLO110001NY HERMES… CO010100111DING RECEIVED… T110R1A10N0S10M1ITTING..
"We can't stabilize! Open primary cerebral probe to multiple burst, inten.."
.TR11000A10N11010S101M01I101TT1I1NG10.1… TRA0001N10S1 00M110I1100T10011T00110101001101I001010N11010101G1101.1.101
"Abigail! Come on, sweetie! You've got to fight… damn! She's going…"
101010110110101101011011111011010101001010101010101010100 100101010101011011001001010101101010101010101101101010101 010101001010010101011001010101001001101011010101010010100 101010010101011001101011010100110101100101110101001010010
"NOW! Recharge and reset… increase oxygenation to forty…"
101010010101010010101010101010100100101101010101010001101 110101010010110110101101010010101110111011010110101010011 101010100101010101010000101010101011010111010101010101011
"…up to you Abigail. Abigail? It's Susie. Hang on, kid. Doctor Barr…"
10100101010100011001101010101010110110101101010101… 1011010001.. 2… 0012… 00..1102..011001.0.1001012..0101001
11001101010010100102010010010102.02.10012.02..0101.0101011001101.2..22.. 02..200101110012.0100202010010120102.1020100..010101
"en, but I see ye won first prize! Hey, Abby! It's Kate! We need a coupla more tunes! You mentioned one about a submarine sailor and her…"
10201001102.0112101010112.0101010.01010122.102100120102.0010
"she mentioned that after they found out your favorite color they would find the prettiest dress they could, then throw you the…"
200201200120120102002200201201… STABLE UNBOUND TRINARY CODING HAS BEEN ACHIEVED. THIS UNIT IS NOW CAPABLE OF PERFORMING FULLY JUDGMENTAL PROGRAMMING. BEGINNING PRIMARY ACCESS CODING FOR UNIT INTERNAL DIAGNOSTICS. ESTIMATED TIME FOR SELF-DIAGNOSTIC WILL BE NINETY-ONE HOURS, FIFTEEN MINUTES, THREE SECONDS. BEGIN TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING…
[gentle crying]
TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TESTING… TE… THIS UNIT HAS COMPLETED SELF DIAGNOSTICS. ELAPSED TIME: NINETY-ONE HOURS, FIFTEEN MINUTES, TWO POINT NINE THREE SECONDS…
WHEN IT'S TWILIGHT ON THE TRAIL, AND I REST ONCE MORE, MY CEILING
"is the sky, and the grass on which I lie, is my home.? The haunting melody soothingly traced its sweet path along my mind.
"Abigail? Was that you?? I heard a scrape of a stool on the floor and felt my hand being taken. It was pitch dark, the darkness of Healer's Sleep. There was no disorientation this time, but instead the comfortable peace of knowing I was safe.
"Oh, Abigail!? Susie's voice was so lost and sad that my heart thudded at her grief. She laid her head down on my chest and wept. I wanted so much to tell her that I knew she was here. Trying to disconnect myself, I drifted off onto tangent after tangent after tangent of thought. Then, without thinking, I squeezed her hand briefly.
She gasped and lifted her head. I felt a tear splash on my cheek, and I cried quietly myself, unable to control myself, nor wanting to. She pressed her warm hand against my cheek and wiped away the tear.
She kissed me on the cheek and held me tight. I felt her body shudder as she cried. I was home where I belonged.