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A Change of Orders by Tigger Copyright 1998 Lieutenant Commander Allain Charboneau stood quietly just outside the one of the entry doors to small, enclosed room. He was trying to be unobtrusive, but knew that was impossible. The young watch officer inside the curtained space had known that U.S.S. Scorpion's Engineer Officer had been in the propulsion plant spaces within seconds of Allain sticking his head through the watertight door that separated the forward compartments of the ship from the aft spaces that housed the ship's propulsion and power generation systems. "Engineer's Aft!" had surely been passed over the communications circuit to the Maneuvering Room, or simply "Maneuvering", by at least one of the enlisted watchstanders - probably more. Of course, everyone knew he'd be back there. The Captain had just given permission for them to start up the ship's reactor plant. The ship might belong to the Captain, but the reactor was all Allain's, and it was his job to make sure that everything was done correctly. With nuclear reactors, *correctly* meant *safely*, and the alternative to "safely" simply did not bear considering. Not that there was even the most remote likelihood of anything going wrong. The young officer supervising the procedure in Maneuvering was top notch, as were the enlisted sailors on watch with him. Merde, but he was happy to be going back to sea. They'd been here at the shipyard for almost a year, and everyone was bloody tired of having to deal with the bureaucracy of the repair department and the nuclear regulatory types. Allain mused that even if they spent two months out of every three at sea, he'd probably see more of his family than he had in the months here at the shipyard. He turned his attention back to his crew, watching them go about their duties. They were as excited to be getting the hell out of Dodge as he was, but they still took the time to check procedures and to do the job right. God, but he was a lucky man! The startup went well, and soon the reactor was generating the power that would change Scorpion from several thousand tons of barely floating metal into one of the most powerful warships ever devised. "ENGINEER, REPORT TO MANEUVERING!" The young officer's voice had a touch of panic as it blared over the engineering announcing circuit. Allain was inside the room in moments and immediately saw the problem. The measured power from the reactor was wrong - it was way too high for the electrical demand on the turbo- alternators. "Shutdown, Lieutenant!" Allain ordered, but power continued to be wrong even as the normal reactor shutdown procedures were commenced. "Scram the reactor." he ordered with a calmness he did not feel. The ship vibrated with the force of heavy, neutron absorbing rods of metal being dropped into the reactor pile. Finally, the indications were back to normal. Normal for a non- operational plant, that is. An abnormal quiet fell upon the Maneuvering Room watchstanders, as each tried to find something to explain what had just happened. The surreal stillness was only broken when the senior enlisted watchstander appeared, highly agitated, at the door. "Engineer, you better come to the reactor viewport. I don't know what the hell that is, but it does not belong there!" Allain tore out of the room and followed the older man to the heavily leaded glass viewport. "It" definitely did not belong there. "There" was amid the various control connections on top of the pressure vessel that enclosed the reactor pile. Something, painted to look like it did belong there, was now hanging from the wires and cables that connected it to whatever provided it power. Had it been there when Allain had checked the heavily shielded chamber before locking it closed? "I never saw it, Engineer, not in all the times I looked inside." the grizzled chief petty officer told him. "It must've been shocked loose when the plant was scrammed." "Call the skipper. Someone went to a lot of trouble to hide that inside. We need to get inside there and get whatever that is out. And we need an explosive ordnance disposal team standing by, too." There had been briefings about the increased terrorist threat against the nuclear powered ships. No one had much believed that they could get past the security, but it looked like they had. The Captain, a tall New Englander, strode up to them. Allain told him what had happened, and what he feared. "Too soon, Eng. The plant has not been shut down long enough. We can't go in until the radiation levels go down." "Skipper, if that is what we both think it might be, I don't see that we have a choice. Look, by the time we can get the door open, the levels will be down far enough that a few seconds inside, just to look at it, won't be fatal. If it isn't a bomb, I come out and we wait for the levels to go down. If it is a bomb . . ." Allain let that one slide. The skipper knew what that meant. Someone, perhaps more than just one someone, would have to get the bomb out of there, no matter what the cost. What had Mr. Spock said in that old Star Trek movie about the good of the many? Allain could not remember, but he understood the bottom line. The Captain handed over the key he wore around his neck. "Who goes in?" Allain shrugged. "My plant, skipper. That makes it my job. Besides, I am as close as we have to a bomb expert." The preparations were made and the door opened. The Captain looked at the Geiger counter's reading and shook his head. "Less than a minute of safe stay time, Allain. Don't fuck around in there." "Aye aye, sir", Allain muttered. Swallowing hard to put his heart back down in its normal place, he slipped in the opened door and slid down the ladder. He moved quickly over to where the hanging tube swayed in the overhead near the pressure vessel. Allain's heart sank when he looked inside the tube. It was a bomb. He listened to it for a few precious seconds, but could hear nothing over the beating of his heart pounding wildly in his ears. Grimly, he accepted what had to be done, and then yelled up to the Captain. He took a few more seconds to check out the wires. He found the power wire and clipped that, then pulled the rest of the wires free. Fortunately, the device was pretty simple and straightforward - evidently the saboteur had not counted on it being found. On the other hand, the package was a lot heavier than it looked, and he staggered under its weight, but recovered and moved unsteadily to the ladder. A rope had been tossed down and he quickly tied it to the device and guided it up the ladder. His head was starting to spin. Stress, he thought, and gamely worked to keep the device moving steadily upward without hitting anything. He came out into the safe part of the ship in time to see the device leaving, being carried by two men in the camouflaged utilities of a Navy Explosive Ordnance Disposal Team. Only then did he let himself look down at his watch. He'd been in there for almost ten minutes. Too long, he thought with cold detachment as the world began to spin sickeningly about him. *Much* too long. And Allain Charboneau's world went black. ~----------~ Pain - dark, biting, unrelenting pain drove him back to wakefulness. He was in a hospital room, IV's in each arm. "You are awake, are you? Wasn't sure if you would come back. Do you know what happened to you?" a man in a white lab coat asked. Allain nodded weakly and instantly regretted the movement. "Yes." he said. The sound was not meant to be a whisper, but he did not have the strength for anything louder. "I got a heavy dose pulling that bomb out of the reactor containment room. How bad, doc?" "Bad. You aren't going to make it. You are already showing signs of advanced radiation poisoning. Your blood work results are. . . " he hesitated. "Well, lets just say it is a minor miracle that you are lucid at all." "The bomb?" "Neutralized. You beat the bastards that did this, my friend." "Well, if you have to go, that is a pretty good reason, I guess." "Commander, I will be up front with you. As it stands right now, you will be dead within twenty four hours. I am being harsh about this because we don't have much time. There is an experimental procedure, that might, just might, mind you, save your life. We have never tested it on humans, but it has worked on some lab animals. Basically, we reprogram and regenerate your genetic code. If it works, everything that has been damaged or is already dead from exposure will regenerate." Allain tried to speak and couldn't. He fought back a coughing fit. "And if it doesn't work?" he finally managed to rasp out. "You will die." was the frank answer. "But we think that your chances of surviving a genetic transition are at least one out of five. If we don't try it, your chances are exactly zero." Allain thought about his family, his wife Jeanne and his little girl, Nicole. "Do it, doc!" he ordered, just in time - just before the world started to spin away once more. In a swirling miasma of dark and light, the sputtering spark of life that was still Allain Charboneau floated. In that undefined nowhere, he thought he heard bits and pieces of words and conversations. ". . .inject him quickly . . ." ". . .works fast, doesn't it. . ." ". . .Doctor? I need you. . .STAT!" ". . .Oh . . . my . . .god. . ." ". . . in a hurry. . .wrong serum. . ." ". . . .HOW!?!?!?" ~--------------~ The room was dark when Allain awoke once more. He still felt weak, and more than a little strange, but no longer ill. A trickle of perspiration tickled its way down his nose. That is when he discovered that he was restrained. Soft bands around his ankles, wrists and his waist kept him from moving at all in his bed. He was about to call out, when a figure moved into his field of vision from the shadows beyond his bed. It was the doctor who had offered him life. "Hello." he said softly, "and welcome back to the world of the living. Sorry about the restraints, but you have been on IV's for a while now, and we could not take the chance of you pulling them out. Mouth dry?" Allain nodded. The older man took a glass and fished out an ice chip that he dropped into Allain's mouth. The moisture was heavenly. "Did it. . ." he sucked harder to moisten his throat so he could ask. He HAD to ask. "Did it work? Will I live?" "Yes, my young friend. You are completely cured of the radiation sickness. Now, you are going to need complete bed rest while we adjust your body's electrolytes and get some nutrition into you that is suitable for being awake. Tomorrow we will talk." The doctor slipped a needle into one of the IV's and Allain felt himself starting to drift almost immediately. Strange drug, he thought. Must be why my arms feel so short. . . . ~---------~ Medical Log Entry: I am very relieved to have Dr. Whitaker assigned to this case now that Commander Charboneau has beaten the odds and come out of the coma. We have come much too far to lose this patient now. End Medical Log Entry ~------------~ He "heard" the voices before he was really sufficiently awake to comprehend what they were saying. For some reason, he wanted to understand and that is what brought him slowly up out of the drug induced fog. The first thing he was sure of was that there were two voices, one male and familiar, the other lighter and unfamiliar. Slowly, the words began to form meaning in Allain's head. ". . . going to need a lot of help dealing with this. . ." "You're telling *me* that? Dammit, Nathaniel, *I'm* the shrink here - you keep telling me how you slept through that cycle of your internship. Christ, there's no precedent for handling something like this." "So, take your best shot, Janelle. You are here because you are the best." So, Allain thought, the other voice is female. "My best shot is to keep her drugged for the next ten years, but we can't do that. Every other option could lead to her losing it big time." "You know my thoughts on this." "Direct as always. Probably why you are a surgeon." the female voice answered with a soft laugh. "Certainly the simplest method. And if she isn't able to handle what has happened?" "As you told me, the alternative isn't any better. The truth certainly does have the advantage of simplicity." "You're probably right." was the resigned answer. "So lovely, isn't she?" A cool, fine fingered hand stroked across Allain's forehead, and he moaned softly in pleasure at the contact. With an effort, he forced his eyes open. "Well, hello there." said the unfamiliar voice. Allain lifted his eyes in the direction of the voice and slowly, the figure of a tall, strongly built woman of mature years came into focus. Her hand came back to check his forehead again. "My name is Janelle Whitaker, Allain." "And although we have met twice before," came the familiar male voice, "we have not been properly introduced. My name is Evans, Commander - Nathaniel Evans. How are you feeling?" Evans put his hand underneath the blankets and Allain felt a strong, gentle grip on his wrist pulse point. "Okay, I guess. I am here, alive, when I did not expect to be." What was wrong with his voice? "Doctor! My voice. What has happened to me?" The woman moved to the head of the bed and let Evans move up into Allain's field of vision. "Commander, do you remember what I told you we were going to do to you?" He said forcefully. "We gave you a treatment that rewrote your entire genetic code. Your voice is different because *you* are different. The only parts of you that is still Allain are your name and your mind." Allain's eyes went wide as he struggled to cope with that. The cool hand returned with it, a surprising degree of calm. He swallowed once or twice before giving a brief nod of acceptance. "How much?" He rasped out. "How much what, Commander?" Evans returned. "How much have I changed?" was the quavering response. "Quite a bit, Allain." came the soft voice above and behind him. "And not very much. Physically, just about everything about you is different. But your memories, your thoughts, the things that made you what you were and are - those are still there, aren't they?" Allain relaxed, just a bit, and let his mind float back, reliving times in the life of the Louisiana farm boy who went off to Annapolis to get the education his parents could not afford to give him. Tears of relief prickled behind his eyelids. "Thank you." he whispered up before turning his eyes back on the older doctor. "Is that why I feel so funny? Like my arms and legs don't seem to reach anymore? I feel so . . . so short." Surprise showed in the Doctor's eyes before he smiled gently. "You are about five feet even now, Commander. That is more than a foot shorter than you remember being, so it is reasonable to expect that you will feel strange in these bones. We would have tried to make you a little closer to your old self, but you were almost gone when we made the decision to administer the treatment. We rushed and we used a different gene mix than we planned on. Its going to some time for you to . . . well, to learn how to move that smaller self around." "Is that why I am still restrained, Doctor?" he asked as he tugged futilely against the snug bands on his arms and legs. Evans seemed to hesitate before answering. "For the most part, Commander. Now, Janelle is here to help you make the adjustments to your new situation. She is a psychologist and we have brought her in on this to be here for you when you need her. Okay?" "Okay. When can I have my hands back? I will need to practice with them if I am going to learn how to move them again." "Soon. Let's take this slow, all right? We don't know have a lot of experience with the results of this process yet, either. You have some very odd plumbing installed down below there" he said pointing in the general vicinity of Allain's groin, "To handle waste elimination and that sort of thing. We don't want you rolling over and hurting yourself before we have had the chance to take that stuff out." "All right." then another thought came to him. "Could I have a mirror, Doctor? I'd kind of like to see my new face?" This time the Whitaker did hesitate, and Allain saw the man look up at the woman before answering. "We'll. . . we'll see about that." He coughed nervously and then plunged on. "Now, you just relax there. Your body has been through a hell of a strain, and needs all the rest we can give it. There will be a nurse with you, so if you want something, just ask. I will check in with you later." "So will I, Allain." the lady psychologist said. ~--------~ The United States Navy does not make a habit of giving the responsibility for their reactor powered ships to stupid people. Allain had seen and heard his visitors' hesitancy when he'd asked any direct questions concerning his physical condition. They were obviously working very hard to hide something from him. The only question they had really answered was that he would live. Surely that was enough for now, wasn't it? Oh, and they had told him he was only five feet tall. *That* was going to take some getting used to - he had not been that short since sixth grade. So much had changed - his size, his voice. Well, at least he did not have the problems of that person the doctors were discussing when he woke up since he had distinctly heard them refer to that patient as a "she" and a "her". Or did he? Allain's eyes went wide in the darkened room as his highly trained, analytical mind suddenly latched onto that question. Just the facts, Al, he thought as he fought to calm himself, just the facts. You are a guy, his mind screamed, they can't change that! Yeah, an ominously dark voice answered, but you've heard that soft little voice of yours, and have sensed how small this new little body of yours really is, even if they have not let you *see* it. But they can't do that, not for real. This is not some Rod Serling episode or a movie about a guy who is reincarnated as a woman because he was a creep. Sure they can't, Allie-cher, just like they can't take a six foot two inch, two hundred pound guy and shrink him to five feet nothing. Oh, and didn't the doctor say that they had brought her in specifically to help you? What patient do you *really* think they were discussing, Allain? Or perhaps you should start answering to Elaine. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo!" and the sound turned into a scream of denial - a scream that what was left of Allain Charboneau's mind had to admit, was as feminine as any of the B-movie sirens whose videos populated the movie locker aboard his ship. Lights flashed on and two white garbed men ran into the room. Even as each moved to one side of the bed to check Allain's restraints, Doctor Evans strode into the room. He took one look at the terror on Allain's face, and ordered one of the orderlies to sedate the patient. Allain's last rational thought as the foggy darkness took him was that there could be no other explanation. Somehow it *had* to be true. He was now a she. ~------------~ Medical Log Entry: The patient suffered a attack of some type, and was nearly hysterical when I arrived on the scene. She was too irrational to calm and therefore, I had to sedate her. A review of the security tapes gave no indication of what may have caused the event. Dr. Whitaker believes that the patient may have discerned her gender change, but I cannot understand how she could have done that. Dr. Whitaker has decided to disclose (as much as our security watchdogs will permit, anyway) what has happened to her and why. We will administer a mild tranquilizing agent before this takes place so that the patient will not have another anxiety attack. Unfortunately, the treatment continues to run at only about a twenty percent survival rate on test animals, and the gender changing attempts are lower than that. Therefore, since she is alive and, by every indication healthy, another treatment to restore her masculinity is out of the question. I don't envy Janelle this duty. End Medical Log entry. ~------------~ "How are you feeling?" Janelle asked softly as Allain's eyes fluttered open. Allain thought for a moment and was surprised how hard it was to think. "I feel dopey." he said finally, "like the time the ship's doc gave me something for pain and it turned out to be stronger than he thought." Janelle chuckled softly. "That is because you are dopey. We have given you something that will help you relax, but stay awake." Allain nodded in understanding, but it was so hard to move his head. "Do you remember what happened after Dr. Evans and I left you, Allain?" Again, Allain had to struggle to get his brain to work, but soon enough, seemingly unrelated mosaic bits of memory coalesced into a more complete picture. Oddly, this time, the realization did not seem to bother him . . or was that more correctly, did not seem to bother *her*. It was like watching a movie in his . . no, in *her* head. "Yes." Allain finally answered. "I remember." The female psychologist smiled down at Allain gently. "And do you remember why you became so agitated?" Allain giggled drunkenly at the word "agitated". "Doc, I don't know what I was, but agitated doesn't even begin to come close. Whatever I was, it was because I had concluded that I was no longer a guy." Allain's concentration seemed to peel back the veil of fog in his head just a bit, at least enough for him to realize that he was taking this awfully calmly all of a sudden. "That's the drug we gave you." she replied when he voiced that observation aloud. "You need to deal with what has happened to you, and the relaxant we gave you will keep you from hurting yourself. You are lucid." She gave him a half smile, "well, mostly lucid, but you can't have an anxiety attack until that stuff wears off." "What happened to me?" Allain managed to ask plaintively. "And *how*?" ~----------~ Well, Elaine thought to him. . . no, to *her*self after Dr. Whitaker had left, he, or rather *she* *was* still alive. He still found it hard to think of herself in the feminine, but that was to be expected. Allain Charboneau had been a male for almost thirty years, but now, *Elaine* Charboneau was a female, and from what she'd just been told, was going to be one for the rest of her life. Which was likely going to be quite a long time since whatever they had done to her had not only made him female, it had regressed his genetic and physiological age to late adolescence. This body was, at most, eighteen years old. They would not know for sure until the blood work came back. And it would likely kill him..DAMMIT.. would likely kill *her* if they tried to change anything using another dose of that treatment stuff. Elaine hoped she was at least eighteen years old. *She'd* been voting for years and it was going to be bad enough not being old enough to have beer or glass of wine for three more years. Unfortunately, there was another, equally likely, far less pleasing possibility that she might have to face. She might be, from a physical development and maturation perspective, substantially younger than that minimum voting age. Merde, but she fervently hoped she would not have to deal with the hormonal tortures of puberty on top of suddenly finding him. . .dammit AGAIN.. *her*self on the wrong side of the yin and yang equation. Actually, the *planned* treatment would have made him over into another, healthy male. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to any one else in the super secret research project that had developed the treatment, one member of the team had decided to play with the process. As a lark, and never expecting that particular vial would ever be used, this damned genius had "programmed" his dream girl into that serum. Then, this absent minded professor, instead of destroying the stuff, had put the vial away, in the same damn locker as the approved treatments. In the hell-for-leather rush to save Allain's life, the team had pulled out the first vial of treatment they'd seen in the storage cabinet, thinking it would make him into a fairly average, fairly normal male. One small problem, however. There was absolutely NOTHING remotely normal OR male about the person Elaine was in the process of becoming. Perhaps the biggest shock of the day came when Janelle had shown her patient the computer simulation of what Elaine would look like when she "finished cooking". Just what she needed, Elaine thought sourly for what had to be the hundredth time. On top of everything else, she was going to some oversexed, overaged adolescent nerd's wet dream come true. On the bright side, however, the young man had paid attention to important details other than just those that tickled his libido. Except for the very petite frame, Elaine was going to be a superb physical specimen, with excellent cardiovascular endurance, a super high metabolism rate, outstanding strength potential and very good physical coordination. Her brain seemed to work pretty good, too, Elaine mused. After the tranquilizing drugs had finally worn off, she'd tested herself by recalling and solving some of the classical problems of nuclear physics in her head. She was greatly relieved that she could still work out the equations and that she seemed to be able to remember everything of her life as Allain. That had been a relief. Since there was almost nothing remaining of Allain Charboneau's genetic pattern, Elaine had been worried about what was "in" her head. Neither doctor had any clue about whether her new brain was left or right handed, or whether all those little memory connections would still work after being genetically rebuilt. Evidently, they still did. How that happened since her "new" brain had not had all the experiences of her old brain with which to build those pathways, no one could explain. She was just thankful that she still had at least *that* much of her old life. And that realization, more than anything else including the drugs, had started Allain down the path toward acceptance of her new fate. As Janelle had said, she was still who she had always been because she had not lost those memories. Allain had always been noted for being levelheaded in times of crisis, and Elaine was determined to maintain that reputation. Besides that, she *was* alive. With that commitment made, she sighed and shimmied herself into a somewhat more comfortable position. They'd left the restraints in place, promising her a little more freedom later if she was "a good little girl." Elaine had snarled at that because it was the expected response, but she'd recognized Janelle's pointed jibe as an attempt to lighten the mood. Strangely enough, it had even worked. ~----------~ Medical Log Entry: Based on Dr. Whitaker's recommendations, Commander Charboneau will begin limited physical therapy tomorrow. For the time being, this will be very limited as her muscles are very weak from long disuse. End Medical Log ~-------------~ The next morning, Evans and a new, *female* nurse arrived just before breakfast. With quiet efficiency, they removed that "special plumbing" he had warned Elaine about. Elaine had not wanted to watch, so they had made a tent of the bed sheets and worked behind it, out of her field of vision. The sensations were quite enough to deal with without having to see her "unmaled" crotch for the first time as well. Odd that she had not "felt" that lack before. "We used a spinal blocking agent." Evans told her when she'd asked him about that afterwards. "Same kind of thing that we used to use on most child births." He grinned as he snapped off the latex gloves and tossed them onto the tray held by the nurse. "We did not want you feeling or rather, *not* feeling what used to be there until you were strong enough to handle being told. You surprised us there, by the way, by figuring it out so quickly and by how well you are dealing with this so far." "Well, I woke up sooner than you expected and besides, neither of you should give up your day jobs to become actors. As to how well you think I am taking it, well, don't be too sure. Half the time I am resigned and just happy to be alive, but the other half? Terrified comes close." The nurse returned with a breakfast tray of cold cereal and a cup with a straw. While she set up the bed tray, Evans began unbuckling the straps restraining her arms and wrists. "Not very appetizing, I am afraid, but you need nourishment that your body won't reject. You also need to learn how to use your new body, so until we figure out how dexterous you are, we will keep the knives and forks in the kitchen." Even with that subtle warning to help prepare her for the worst, Elaine was mortified at how clumsy she was using the simple spoon. She was glad there wasn't a mirror in the room yet, because she had more food on her than in her. Even getting the straw properly into her mouth was a challenge. She probably looked like Nikki did when Jeanne had run out of their daughter's preferred pears and had tried to substitute bananas. Reminded of her family, she looked up at the Doctor. "Will my family be able to visit me here, Doctor Evans?" The doctor's sad expression answered her question before he could begin to form the words. "Is it because this is a secret facility of some type, Doctor?" Elaine asked quietly, disappointment stealing her appetite. Evans sighed, rose, and walked over to a sideboard cabinet. Still without making a sound, he fiddled with some instruments and files before picking something up and turning back to face his patient. "Commander, what you just said is true, but that is not the real reason you will not be seeing your family." The door swung open to admit Janelle, who strode into the room looking flushed and breathing heavily. Glancing at Evans, she then moved over to sit down on the bed where she could look Elaine in the eye. "You might as well give me the worst of it, folks, because not knowing what the problem is will only make me crazy." she said with a lightness of tone she did not feel. "Elaine, please look at this file." Janelle said kindly, as she passed a manilla file folder into Elaine's trembling fingers. The folder fumbled in her uncoordinated hands, but she managed to get the file open. What she saw made her eyes go wide in amazement and disbelief. Each page of the dossier was a cutout from a major newspaper, and most of the cutouts were banner headline articles. "Terrorists Sabotage Nuke Sub - Officer Dies Stopping Atomic Disaster" "Navy Orders All Nuclear Ships to Sea Pending Investigation" "President Awards Posthumous Medal Of Honor to Sub Hero" "Nuke Sub Plot Investigation Continues - No New Leads" One of the articles was of his funeral and showed pictures of his wife and daughter at a cemetery, being escorted by a four star admiral. The article said that his casket had been lead lined and sealed for the protection of the mourners. "Merde." she said in shocked confusion. "She . . my wife. . she doesn't know? that. . .that I'm . . .that is, what really happened to me?" "That you are alive, well and a woman now? No, Elaine. She doesn't, because for a while there, only the 'woman' part of that was of any certainty. And we did not think it was fair to give her hope when we did not know if you would survive." Janelle answered. "We almost lost you four times during the transition, Commander." Evans added apologetically. "When you finally showed signs of coming out of the coma, well, . . . there were other . . . . difficulties." "Like my sanity?" Elaine asked bitterly, looking accusingly at the psychologist. "That was part of our problem, dear." rejoined Janelle gently. "The other major issue was the time factor." "Time factor? What do you mean - time factor?" Evans moved around the bed, so that Janelle was no longer between him and his patient. He nodded to his colleague and then she continued. "Elaine, you were in a coma for a very long time while your body rebuilt itself all the way down to the cellular level." She said very quietly. "Define 'a very long time', please." Elaine ordered in icy tones that were pure career naval officer for all her voice's youthfully feminine timbre. Elaine felt Dr. Evans grasp her arm, but she did not take her eyes off Dr. Whitaker. "Fourteen months, Elaine. You have been unconscious for more than a year." "Oh . . . . my . . . . . God." Elaine said before the world began to spin again. She'd been so shocked, she had not even felt the prick from the needle that Evans had palmed behind his back until it was too late. ~------------~ Medical Log Entry, Dr. Evans. We had hoped to delay this revelation until later in the subject's recovery, but once again, she has surprised us. This leads to several very touchy questions which Naval Intelligence really does not want broached. Unfortunately for them, this is a medical issue, and the President has ordered that this patient's medical needs supercede security issues. Good thing the President decided to award the Medal when those terrorists leaked the story of the attempted sabotage to the press. Now, I have all the leverage I need to ensure that this patient makes a complete recovery. And if that means contact with her family in contravention of the desires of the Special Security detail leaders guarding both Elaine and her wife and child, then so be it. A lot depends on how she deals with this when the sedative wears off. Medical Log Entry, Dr. Whitaker. One issue became clearer as a result of today's crisis: Elaine is still resisting acceptance of her physical sex change at very deep levels. This became obvious when she was unable to even say that she was a woman while asking if her spouse knew about the transition. "Gender" as opposed to physical primary sex characteristics (i.e., what kind of gonads are installed or what type of chromosome pair a body has) is a very difficult topic to deal with. Throw sexuality into that mix and it really becomes uncertain. Right now, we can only say that Elaine is physically fully female from a *sex* perspective. It is obvious, however, that the mind, the id is still all male. Moreover, that male self image is, subconsciously at least, strenuously fighting confrontation and acceptance of the being a member of the female sex. While I fully support the theory that Elaine should be free to live as her own self perception dictates and to live her life as she sees fit, that does pose a multitude of problems for her. Failure to accept, at least at some basic level, her intrinsic and extrinsic femininity could isolate her. She needs to confront those new and frightening aspects of her being, so that if she does choose to reject the all the feminine trappings of our society and to live such a lonely life, she will do so with as much profound knowledge as I can help her find. I accept that there are a huge number of women who have decided that they cannot be true to themselves and conform to societies expectations. Whether that is due to their inherent sexuality, the self perception or whatever the cause, they have elected to stand apart from the mass. My problem with Elaine making such a decision, right now in any case, is that she does not have the lifetime of experience that led these other women to make that choice for themselves. The question is: how do I get her to realize that and open herself up to the types of experiences that would give her the knowledge she needs to make an informed decision? End Log Entry ~-----------~ When she awoke, the two physicians had been there for her, had helped her begin to deal with the situation of her family, and had shown her the records that the Naval Investigative Service had developed while providing discreet surveillance and protection for Jeanne and Nikki. There had been a very real danger that whichever terrorist group that had threatened the ship might attempt to wreak vengeance on the family members of the fallen hero. The NIS was determined to prevent that. They had moved back to Louisiana to be near Allain's and Jeanne's families. Jeanne was working part time as a librarian, and Nikki was too young to realize that she used to have a daddy. She was enrolled in a pre-school program and by all accounts, having a wonderful time. "They are all right? I mean, *really* all right? They are okay financially, and they're safe?" she'd finally been able to ask through a throat choked anew with fresh tears. Evans was the one who answered, attired for the first time in Elaine's memory in the uniform of a Navy Captain, Medical Corps. "They are fine, Allain. Some very important people in the National Security business have made it top priority to keep them safe. As for their financial status, this country takes care of the families of heros, my friend. Your wife is working because she wants to work, not because she needs the money." A harsh bark of laughter, tinged with a sob, tore from Elaine's throat. "God, that almost sounds funny. My *wife*. She can't be my wife anymore, doc. We're both Catholic, and the Catholic church does not recognize same sex marriages. They'd annul the union." "Do you want us to find a way to tell her you are alive, Commander?" The part of Elaine that was still Allain wanted to scream "Hell *yes*!", but she stifled that knee jerk reaction. She loved Jeanne, but she also knew her very well. "Jeanne couldn't handle this, Doc. - no way, and besides, she has already grieved for me" Elaine seemed to shake herself for a moment as she reconsidered her words, "that is, she has grieved for Allain. If she'd found out I was alive and Elaine, . . . Allain would still be dead to her, only she'd have to grieve all over again." Tears were cascading down her cheeks now, as she, too, grieved for a dead relationship, a lost-forever love. Janelle spoke for the first time. "Don't you think you are being a little harsh on her, Elaine? She might surprise you." Elaine gave a sad little smile. "No, I am not. Jeanne was planning to take the veil and enter a missionary convent order when I first met her." A watery chuckle hiccuped through the spate of words. "She wanted to be the Cajun Mother Theresa. Took me more than a year of hard courting to convince her that giving up that vocation to marry me was the right decision. She's still very devout. No, it is better for Allain to stay dead." "Perhaps when you are more acclimated you could go visit. Maybe the spooks could set up an identity for you - you know - a distant unknown cousin or something." Nathaniel offered. "Don't know much about Cajuns, do you, Doc?" Elaine responded. "No such thing as an unknown family member to a Cajun. Family is very tight in my part of Louisiana. The few members of the clan who don't live there are known to everyone else who still does. If I tried to pass myself off as a cousin, I'd get run out of town on a rail." "There are other ways, Elaine." Janelle offered. "Maybe you could move there. Get a job with some local company or a government office. Get to know your family as a friend. It is not the same as being a parent, but at least you would get to watch your little girl grow up. Don't give up yet, all right? It may take time, but let's give the spooks a chance to work on it, Okay?" ~-------------~ Medical Log Entry - Dr. Whitaker The patient's beliefs and revelations about her family are disturbing, and although she seems to be confronting them, I remain concerned. I have ordered round the clock observation of the patient for the foreseeable future to ensure she does not do herself harm. I am having a great deal of difficulty "reading" this patient. Part of that is that when I am with her, I "see" a young woman. For all of my training about treating *individuals*, my first instinctual reaction is to treat her as a young woman. Other times, I remember that "she" was once a mature "he" and try to treat her like I would a mature male. Unfortunately, she is a highly unpredictable combination of both the young puberty-ridden woman and the mature male mind. I feel like I am juggling eggs and hand grenades at the same time. One moment she is very fragile, almost ready to crack under the strain of being what she has become, and the next, she is almost explosively volatile, ready to fight. This is not a good situation, but all I can do is be there for her and try to earn her trust. End Medical Log ~------------~ The shock of that revelation required time to heal, and Elaine's still developing hormones made her moody and emotional. Janelle worked tirelessly, trying to help her "young" charge deal with the worst of it. Elaine was impressed that Janelle always seemed to come visiting just when the dark thoughts started creeping into her head. What also helped was having to work so hard at being mobile again, or as Elaine angrily described it after yet another fall, at *trying* to be mobile again. It was not an easy process, although as Elaine remarked in one of her more rational moments, it was an experience she might be able to look back upon and laugh about some time in the future . . . . certainly not more than about fifty years! The root cause of her difficulties was that Elaine did not "know" how to walk on *her* two feet or how to use *her* hands. Elaine "knew" how to move *Allain*, but there was a *huge* coordination mismatch between Allain's brain/muscle memory that was trying to direct her movements, and Elaine's new body. Instinctive movements were usually ineffectual, often slap-stick funny and sometimes painful. Getting out of bed the first time was the initial painful movement. Elaine just "hopped" out of bed as Allain had for the last thirty or so years of his life. Unfortunately, *Elaine's* feet were almost a foot further above the floor because of her greatly reduced height compared to Allain. Only Dr. Evans' quick action had saved her from injury. Her first "walk" had not been much better. Her muscles were weak from the long coma. There had been therapy while she'd been in fugue, even electro- stimulation to prevent too much atrophy, but the honest truth was that Elaine was a not even a 98 pound weakling - she was more like an 89 lb one. Coupling that weakness with a center of gravity that was in the "wrong" place, and she'd barely managed two faltering steps before pitching over into the arms of the attending nurse. "I guess this means karate is out." Elaine quipped after the nurse had finished with her and had left the room. Inside, she was disgusted that she'd only managed one pitifully inept circumnavigation of her ten by fifteen foot room before the nurse had gently helped her back into the now-lowered hospital bed. "You did karate?" Nate Evans asked curiously. "This isn't one of those old jokes where the patient asks the doctor if he'll ever be able to play the piano again when he couldn't before the surgery?" Elaine chuckled at the jest as she settled into the bed. "Yes, I 'did' karate. Earned my first degree black belt when I was fifteen, and got all the way up to fourth degree while I was at the Academy. Used to take a lesson when ever I could while we were in port, and would do katas between the main engines while we were at sea." "Katas?" Janelle asked. "What's a katas?" "Kata - singular, Jan. Ritual shadow boxing. You imagine attackers and respond to them physically as if they were real. Some folks elevate that to a thing of real beauty, almost like ballet." "Well, Elaine," Evans said after digesting that, "There's no reason you can't continue that once you get yourself built up a bit. It would probably do you a lot of good in the areas of coordination, strength and conditioning. Want me to arrange something?" For the first time since learning of Allain's "death", genuine enthusiasm sparkled in Elaine's otherwise weary eyes. "God, yes." she breathed with a sigh. "I really need the focus and the discipline very badly right now." then she hesitated, "only. . ." "Only what, Commander?" Evans asked, a twinkle in his eye. "Make sure it is a real sensei and not one of those fly-by- night kung fu chop- shoppers. I need the mental and spiritual discipline at least as much as I need the physical training." ~-------------~ Elaine lay in her bed hurting in places she did not know she had muscles to hurt. Of course, she mused with an incipient giggle, that just might be because she *did* have muscles in places that Allain never had. That being the case, she sure as hell knew all about them now. One thing had not changed - who ever called them "physical therapists" had been in the forefront of the political correctness movement. Physical terrorist was close; physical torturer might be even better. Even her eyelids seemed to ache with each involuntary blink. The new day-nurse assigned to her case was also a physical therapist, and part of her duties included supervising Elaine as she learned how to use her new body. Unfortunately, Donna Ellison, Lieutenant Junior Grade, United States Navy Nurse Corps was not cleared for the true story about Elaine's incapacity. She was given the cover story that Elaine had been in a long term coma during which her youthful body had changed significantly. The coma explained the muscle weakness while the body change was supposed to explain her patient's clumsiness. The fact that the woman was simply gorgeous did not help either of those problems one little bit. Almost a foot taller than Elaine's diminutive height, the redheaded LTJG looked more like a runway model than a naval officer purveyor of medically approved pain and agony. She even made her navy uniform look sexy, which seriously distracted the part of Elaine that was still Allain - *big time*. At least four of the spills she'd taken today during 'walkies' were the direct result of *Allain* paying too much attention to Donna's legs and way too little attention to where *Elaine's* feet were going. Of course, the Iron Assed Bitch, had merely snarled at her, then hauled her to her feet again with surprising strength, all the while berating her into continuing the exercise. Elaine would have some very interesting bruises on her shins, knees and hips tomorrow. ~-----------~ "Good morning!" Lt(jg) Ellison chirped as she strode into the room as Elaine was finishing her breakfast. Uncertain as to why her tormentress of the past week was suddenly so happy unnerved Elaine. What new and diabolical torture was fiendish enough, *painful* enough to put a smile on *that* woman's face. She fought back a shudder and tried to return that frightening smile. "Ummm. . . good morning, Nurse Ellison." "Oh, you can call me Donna, Elaine." That *really* made Elaine worry because almost the first thing the nurse had told Elaine once Doctor Evans had left them alone was not to get too familiar. "You may call me Nurse or Lieutenant Ellison, young lady." and her tone had been definitely "adult to troublesome teenager". "You're sure of that, Nurse? I mean. . ." Elaine let her words slip off meaningfully. Donna pulled up another of the chairs that had been moved into Elaine's room now that she could sit up and eat her meals at a table. "I'm sure." she said softly as she took the seat opposite her charge. "I just pulled that rank stuff on you at first because I did not know how hard you would work. Sometimes in this line of work, you have to be pretty tough and mean to folks to get them to do the things that are necessary to help them get well. You work hard enough without that." Then a smirk crossed the high cheek- boned face. "Of course, if you start slacking off, the "Iron Assed Bitch" can return right quick." Hot fire flashed across Elaine's face and she wanted to slide underneath the table and crawl away. Instead, she squared her shoulders and forced herself to look into the gently laughing blue eyes. "I . . . .I'm sorry I said that and that you heard me say it. I was . . . well, it was hurting pretty bad just then and it . . . well, it slipped out." Hot moisture trickled at the corner of her eye and she brushed at it with her napkin. "Don't worry about it. I have been called worse and have called others worse. Try motivating a thirty year-lifer chief petty officer with two badly broken legs into putting weight on them for the first time. Singe your ears off, missy, and I *always* give back at least as good as I get." she grinned mischievously. "Now, are you ready for a dirty dozen?" The dirty dozen meant twelve laps up and down the long corridor outside the room, and was more than they had done the day before when Elaine had been in such pain. "I don't know, Donna. I am still pretty sore from yesterday." The woman stood and straightened her black gaberdine over- blouse. "In case no one told you this, honey, in cases yours, a little pain during and after therapy is good. It means we are waking up those sleepy muscles of yours and reminding them what they are there for. They're just grumbling about it a bit." She laughed merrily at the sour look on Elaine's face before reaching over to pat her hand. "Tell ya what, kid, just give it your best effort and I will come back tonight before I go home and give you another rubdown." Then she grinned down slyly at her diminutive charge. "Finish the whole dozen and I'll give you a special surprise." she whispered teasingly. If she'd still had Allain's external plumbing, the look on Donna's face would have given Elaine the beginnings of a hard on. Get your mind out the gutter, girl, we aren't ever going to be able to do that again, and she's regular navy. 'Don't ask, don't tell' aside, it was damned unlikely that the lovely nurse swung to other women, and even less probable that she would be interested in someone she'd been told was barely seventeen. Besides, what could she do now, anyway? "A surprise, Donna? What kind of surprise?" she answered in a suspicious tone. Standing up, she reached down and helped Elaine to her feet. "Finish the dirty dozen and find out." she answered enigmatically. It wasn't much of a prod, but it worked. Especially on that last hellish lap when her legs felt like limp noodles, the carrot of something different was enough to keep her moving one foot in front of the other. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it? We'll have you jogging three miles before breakfast in no time at all." Donna soothed as she massaged Elaine's cramping leg muscles. Elaine wasn't sure she did not prefer the Iron Assed Bitch to Little Miss Mary Sunshine but did not say so. The Bitch might have decided to stop the massage and it felt *heavenly*. "You take a short nap, hun, and I will be back after lunch with your treat. You have earned it!" Elaine's last thought before exhaustion took her was that if she was coming *after lunch*, the surprise obviously wasn't the Whopper with cheese she'd been hoping for. ~------------~ Elaine stood in front of the mirror, trying to deal with swirling mix of emotions. At least she had been able to contain her shock and had even managed what she prayed was a creditable display of pleasure when Donna had brought in her surprise. Elaine was slowly turning around to get a full view when the door opened. Janelle poked her head inside and said "Oh my goodness, I am sorry. I must have missed the room. . . ." as she started to back out again. Then, she stopped cold in her tracks. The look of stunned disbelief on the older woman's face was very satisfying to Elaine. Especially since it mirrored the feelings she had been unable to express without hurting Donna's feelings. She shrugged and managed a self deprecating smile. "C'mon in, Jan. You are in the right place." "Elaine???" she asked, her voice cracking as she tried to accommodate what she saw in front of her. The girl nodded, and Janelle moved slowly into the room, carefully closing the door behind her. With measured steps, she moved over to her patient and then slowly circled around her before coming to stand in front of her once more. She just shook her head in amazement. Elaine was dressed - like a *girl*! Her shoulder length, raven-black hair had been put up into a perky ponytail that swept the hair around the back of her head and let it fall gently off to once side of her face. Subtle, age-appropriate cosmetics added color and definition to her already classically lovely face. She wore a western cut, embroidered blouse, a knee length denim skirt and a pair of simple flat heeled women's shoes. "But, . . . but how?" was all Jan could get out. "Hurricane Donna." Elaine answered as she made her way slowly and carefully back to her chair. "She promised me a surprise if I worked particularly hard today on my therapy." She turned to take another look into the mirror. "Boy, was *I* surprised!" Jan made an effort to regain her perspective on this. This is may be exactly the opening we need to help her begin to confront this. "Well, you look lovely. You'd definitely break many a teenage male heart if you were in school right now." Anger flashed in the girl's dark green eyes, making them go almost black. "Christ, Jan, you think I don't *know* that? I used to be one of those horny teenage males. Hell, I turn myself on, okay? God, I wish I had not done this." A tear trickled a dark rivulet down Elaine's cheek. "Well, if it is making you that upset, lets get you out of those things, then." It made no sense to make the girl more anti-female if she was that uncomfortable. "Can't" she said softly. "Donna's coming back in an hour or so to give me a massage. She'll be hurt if I have taken off the outfit or washed off the war paint, just like she'd have been hurt if I had followed my first inclination and refused to put this stuff on." "It was a very sweet gesture, Elaine. Any girl stuck in hospital gowns for as long as you've been would have been over the world with such a nice outfit." Then she had a thought. "It was very clever of you to maintain your cover that way." "Hah! That had nothing to do with it, and you *know* it, Jan. I did not even think of security. I did it for the same reason that men have been making fools of themselves over women for millions of years. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen and I wanted to make her happy." Jan's raised a single brow in overt challenge. "All right, she turns me on, okay?" "I'm not surprised at that, Elaine. She is, as you say, very attractive. So, if you are doing a man thing by getting rigged out as a pretty girl, what are you going to do next?" Jan did not know whether to be happy or glad about this admission. On one hand, Elaine was coming out of her self imposed isolation, but on the other, she was doing so by reacting like a male. What would they do if she made a move on the nurse? "Nothing." The response was emphatic, definite and final. "She is a naval officer, for god's sake, and as far as she is concerned, I am a snot nosed kid. A *girl* snot nosed kid." she became quiet for a long moment before continuing. "I like her, Jan . . . I like her a lot and I don't want to hurt her. So if that means I play Skipper to her Barbie, and ignore the sexual pull I feel towards her, so be it. It is not like I could do anything about how I feel anyway." That elicited a sardonic chuckle from the psychologist. No way was she going to let the girl wallow in self pity, and most *certainly* not for that reason. "You must have been a pretty shitty lover with your wife, then." she said with a smirk. "Good old missionary position with the lights turned off? Wham bam snore stuff without even getting to the 'thank you, ma'am'? Pull your three G's - Get in, Get off and Get out - just as quick as you could and then roll over, huh? It is a wonder she did not cut it off for you." "Now wait just a minute! Jeanne delighted in our lovemaking, dammit! I worked very hard to please her in bed and I . . ." Elaine stopped when she realized that Jan was fighting to keep from laughing. "And what," she intoned in her coldest voice, "is so damned funny?" "You are, you idiot. There is more to making love than shoving a male part into a female part, and you bloody well know it. There are many ways to give a partner pleasure and I am sure you know many of them. Even if you cannot overcome your male inhibitions to try having a relationship with a man, that is not the only type of relationship out there." Jan made a visible effort to control her mirth - it had not been all affectation. If her tones were light, her face became solemn as she locked eyes with Elaine. "Let's be frank, *Allain*, all psycho- babble aside. You *are* a man trapped in a woman's body and that is not going to change - not completely, anyway. We won't risk your new life on a less than one in five survival chance just to give you your balls back. So, if you still desire women, that is only to be expected. I can guarantee you this, Elaine-who-used-to-be-Allain, there will be plenty of women who will desire you right back. You won't be a lonely, unloved, sexless creature unless *you* choose to be one." Elaine just here, quietly thinking about her mentor's words. Finally, she spoke. "And this stuff," she fingered the skirt and waved her hand across her made up face, "Is part of that?" "They should be, at least at first. They are things you need to learn and to know about before you make any final decisions. Part of living in your new skin is being female in our society. Rightly or wrongly, there are expected roles and perceptions. If, after living within those confines for a while, you decide that those public roles are wrong for you, well, then you'll know what you will be missing. However, you will need to know the things that birth- women know, so that you can at least try those things before making your decision." "This is all very hard, Jan." "I know just how you fee. . . ." the woman stopped herself. "No, that is not true. I don't know how you feel, but I think I know some of it, and I can empathize with other parts of it. But remember this, you have a whole new life ahead of you, with all the experience that only living that knew can provide you. Don't throw anything away in ignorance." Before Elaine could answer, Donna bustled in and stopped short. "Hey, why have you been crying?" she demanded as she stared at the mascara tracks down Elaine's cheeks. Pulled from the emotional maelstrom of a moment before, Elaine improvised. "A cramp. . .yes, that is it, I had some cramps in my calves and almost fell." "DAMMIT, Elaine!" the nurse bellowed. "Didn't I specifically tell you to call for me if you felt any pain?" More tears followed the earlier ones. "I didn't want to disturb you for something silly like that, Donna." The nurse helped her patient stand and all but frog-walked her to the bed where she deftly helped Elaine out of her new finery. Even pantihose, thought Jan with secret delight. A sharp smack to Elaine's bottom hurried her into bed and onto her tummy. "*I* will decide what is silly, *after* you call me, missy. Is *that*," and another smack emphasized that word, "perfectly clear?" "Yes, Nurse Ellison." was the pillow muffled reply. "Very well then. Where does it hurt? And I *told* you, to call me Donna." Jan slipped out to leave the pair to their work. ~-------------~ Medical Log Entry: Dr. Whitaker. Nurse Ellison's gift of clothing suitable to a girl of Elaine's physical age may be a breakthrough. For whatever reason, the patient did not refuse Donna's gift and has, for probably the first time, begun to confront the physical ramifications of her gender transition. Plan: I intend to discuss this further with Dr. Evans. Since the patient accepted this treatment from Nurse Ellison, while refusing to even discuss wearing female dress with either of us, it may be profitable to enlist her aid. The security spooks are not going to like that very much, because it will mean Ltjg Ellison must be more fully briefed about the true facts surrounding Elaine's "disability". If she is going to become Elaine's school mistress in the feminine arts and womanly sciences, then she will have to be cognizant of how the girl might react if pressed too hard. She has to know she is dealing with an adult male mind in that cute teenaged body. On another issue, Elaine's confession that she is sexually attracted to her therapist comes as no surprise. What to do about it is another question, but one thing we will not do is try and convince her that her desire for Ltjg Ellison is in some way morally or ethically wrong. That will only serve to isolate the girl who is, as noted above, still thinking with a male mind. End Medical Log Entry. ~----------~ Jan set down her pen with a silly grin on her face. One thing that she could *not* write in the journal was the disproof of a long held theory about the mental processes of the male animal. Obviously, they did not do all of their thinking with their smaller heads. After all, Elaine was still thinking like a horny male and she did not even have a dick head anymore. ~------------~ "You are kidding me, right?" Donna Ellison had that 'you absolutely *have* to be bullshitting me' look on her lovely face. "There is *no* way in hell that the little girl in that room was ever a male, most especially not *that*" and she pointed an accusatory finger at the photo on Nate's desk, "man. He is six feet tall if he's an inch, and that girl needs thick wool socks and heels on her size five feet to make it to five feet tall." "Never the less, Lieutenant, it is all true." Ellison slid slowly down, her hand searching madly behind her for the seat cushion, but her eyes never leaving Nate's. "You really did it? Changed him. . .the guy who saved the city when that bomb was in that submarine, . . you changed *him* into Elaine?" Nate carefully polished the lens of his glasses before replying. "Well, it was not our intention to change his gender, but the serums got switched and, yes, that is what happened. He is female right down to his, or rather her XX chromosome pair." Donna looked over to the psychologist who was sitting next to her by Nate's desk. "Why are you telling me this? Obviously this is classified, so you must have decided I have a need to know." Jan smiled. "Elaine accepted something from you that she has refused to even discuss with us. Yesterday, after you dressed her up in your gifts, was the first time she has even looked at herself in the mirror. She is a woman, now, and she has to face that somehow. She is going to need the help of a friend and a teacher. For whatever reason, she trusts you, Donna." "Wow. But, what do I know about what is going on in her head? I am a physical therapist, not a psychological therapist." "I am, and what she needs most right now, is help with the physical aspects of her femininity. We have to be subtle about it, or she'll rebel again, but that should not be too hard." and here she cast a s