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Personnel Transfer by Roger Ball Chapter 1 "I report my return aboard, sir," I recited automatically to the Officer of the Deck (OOD) after having rendered a crisp salute to the colours astern. The OOD, QMC Stephen Frichett, returned my salute with a morose "Very well" and returned to his podium off to the side of the quarterdeck. I asked the Chief if the Skipper was aboard and he shook his head in the negative. I found his lack of bearing to be a bit unprofessional...hell, a lot unprofessional, given that Frichett is a seasoned Chief and I am the ship's Executive Officer (XO), but morale is difficult to maintain when you're taking your ship to her decommissioning. It wouldn't be long before our ship, the USS Plunkett (FFG-44), a ship we all have come to consider our home away from home, would be stricken from the rolls and cut up into razorblades. What a dreary end to a proud life of service to the nation, I thought, as I looked around at the grey and dingy surroundings of the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard. Even the Plunkett's last port of call is itself dying a slow and tortuous death, another victim of the base closures in the military's drawdown. Not that I've ever held any great love for the shipyard; to me, Philadelphia and its environs have always been cold, run-down and depressing. But, maybe that's because I've only managed to visit the City of Brotherly Love during the winter months. Well, it won't be long before I'm back in Norfolk with Trish. I have to thank the Powers-That-Be that we both received orders keeping us in our current homeport after the decommissioning crew is broken up, ensuring that we'd be together for at least another 2-3 years. Not that the Bureau of Naval Personnel was looking out for our interests; in fact, if they knew that LCDR Jack Bateman and LT Trish O'Neal were sleeping together, they would have sent us to opposite ends of the earth. Fraternization is not only a court-martial offense under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, but an unforgivable sin when the offenders are within the same chain of command. No, given the current attitudes in the post-Tailhook Navy, Trish and I are forced to keep our affections hidden from even our closest friends until long after one or both of us has left the service. What an irony that the regulations that were imposed to maintain decency among coed crews keeps us from making our relationship honourable. As I made my way up the grey passageway to my stateroom, I felt the usual pangs of guilt and frustration caused by the double standard that I was allowing myself to live by. Here I was, irritated by the lack of professionalism on Chief Frichett's part, while I, the disciplinarian in the crew, slept covertly with one of my department heads. I hated the situation, but I couldn't help myself. One look at the woman waiting for me in my cabin and I could rationalize anything. Although she was fully dressed in her bland khaki working uniform, there was no camouflaging Trish's sexual allure. If nothing else, her body pushed her uniform out in ways that excited me to no end. It has always been a source of amazement for me that she can look so completely different from me, wearing basically the same articles of clothing I do. As she rose from the chair next to my desk to greet me, I could not keep my eyes from her massive chest, which constantly strained to burst the buttons loose that held her blouse closed. Normal men are satisfied with much less, but for me, the bigger the boobs the better. Even after all the times we have spent together and the fact that my love for her transcended the physical, I still drooled over the sight of her enormous breasts. I have never seen anyone as naturally well-endowed as her, at least that weren't obese everywhere else. Judging by where her eyes were focused, she was having similar thoughts about my rapidly-growing cock, which, I am proud to say, is larger than the industry standard. At that moment, we were no longer supervisor and subordinate, but instead a pair of lust-filled sexual beings. The luckiest beings on the planet. "Jack, I came by to go over those E-5 evals..." she began, masking her visits to my stateroom as always behind the guise of work. I cut her off by pulling her tight against me and kissing her deeply. As her breasts pushed against me with their abundant softness, my cock fought back with a growing erection. With the door locked firmly behind us, we kissed long and deep while letting our hands explore the other's body. The moment broke, however, when she scraped her cheek painfully across the warfare specialty insignia on my left chest. "Let me fix that," I said as I started to take off my shirt. Smiling coquettishly, she began to unbutton her own blouse slowly, drawing out my excitement at the unveiling of her endless cleavage. I didn't even notice her blouse slipping away as she hefted her bra-covered tits in her small hands, pushing them together and lifting them towards me, an mesmerizing invitation. "Do you want me to leave the bra on?" she asked. I have found that the sight of her formidable bra (the tag reads Goddess 34H Beige) holding that massive titflesh in can be just as exciting as that of her melons swinging free. So, sometimes, as I did now, I ask her to keep the garment on, at least while I bury my face in the depths of her cleavage. Somehow, most of our clothes quickly ended up on the floor. I paused long enough in my nibbling and caressing to find myself lying on my rack (which was pulled down sometime during our groping) with Trish perched atop me, the cups of her swollen bra hanging over my head. I reached up around the small of her back and unfastened the myriad of bra clasps, one by one. With the last giving way, she grabbed the underwires and pulled the garment up and away, freeing her gigantic boobs to sway in my face. I responded by alternatively sucking on each engorged nipple until she built to her first orgasm. I have always been a 'tit man' and this to me was heaven. We were soon locked into our favourite position - she, because of her small frame and huge breasts, preferred to ride my hard cock while I fondled and suckled her breasts from below. I didn't see it as a 'domination' thing - her being on top, that is - it's just that with our endowments, we enjoyed each other better that way. As usual, when I came, she lowered herself to smother me with her tits. I always felt I might die some day in this manner and the thought didn't bother me in the least. After the orgasms died away, we embraced each other tightly. She was laying on top of me, her breasts lying along either side of my neck, with my cock still semi-hard inside of her. Her beautiful green eyes, her soft auburn hair, the impish smile on her face and the way her body molded against mine - these were some of the details I registered during those heady moments of afterglow. As rational thought returned, I was about to say something about how lucky we were that nobody needed the XO for those few minutes when all of a sudden, the world began to vibrate. I don't remember much thereafter. I do remember seeing the look of surprise on Trish's face and hearing her teeth chatter uncontrollably. The dust that suddenly sprang from everywhere, causing the air to turn opaque. The shear fright from the vibration that seemed ready to tear apart my very innards. The pain of our embrace as we clutched each other, just before the darkness and oblivion. Chapter 2 I awoke to what seemed to be a blinding light. Through the pain of a searing headache, I was able to focus on the light and determine that the sun outside was shining almost directly through the single porthole into my stateroom. This in itself was odd, since the day had been heavily overcast just a moment before. Or had it been only a moment? What had happened to us? I pushed up from my prone position and received the shock of my life. I was looking down at my own naked body lying beside me on my rack. Several thoughts occurred simultaneously (i'm dead and my soul has left my body and my head hurts so much and where is trish?!?). It was at that moment that I became aware of the loose weights pulling at the skin on the front of my chest. What I saw next will always stay with me - the sight of my chest extending downward into two enormous breasts. A jolt shot through my being, causing my fleshy appendages to swung back and forth, giving me the alien sensation of one breast rubbing loosely against another. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that somehow, some way, I was looking out through Trish's eyes at her feminine body. Kneeling on the bed, I reached between my legs, my forearm brushing against the side of my (!) right boob, and found confirmation of my sex. I could not see past all that hanging flesh, but I could distinctly feel the crevice between my legs, where I was accustomed to feeling my penis and testicles. What the hell was going on?!? The body on the rack next to me groaned and shifted position slightly, bringing me out of my self-exploration. Could Trish be in my body? I leaned over what used to be my body, my hanging breasts dragging along the masculine chest. I shook the shoulders of the other body, causing my boobs to quiver heavily. My old face slowly came to life as another intelligence animated its features. The eyes (mine!) opened and stared at me uncomprehendingly for what seemed to an eternity before I saw recognition sink in. "What....?!?" was the only word to come out of my old face, just before the strangest thing happened. I was looking at my own face, like I have countless times in the mirror, when it assumed a very Trish-like expression. I knew at that moment that we had somehow switched bodies, just like in that old Thorne Smith movie. "Trish, something has happened..." was the best I could manage. The look of fear on her face gave way to an almost-familiar look of bewilderment and confusion as she looked directly into my eyes. "Trish, I'm Jack and I think we've...switched bodies somehow," I hastily added. My new voice sounded strange to my ears, and I unconsciously cleared my throat before continuing. "I'm in your body and you seem to be in my body," I babbled, "can you say anything?" She closed her mouth and I could tell she was starting to get a hold on her senses. After a moment, she gave a brief nod and answered simply in the affirmative. I rose off her, my breasts sticking lightly to her chest as I moved away, and she rose to a sitting position. Her hands went first to her chest, obviously searching for the pendulous breasts that were no longer there, then down to gingerly grasp her new genitalia. As she held the flaccid member, it started to enlarge. She turned to me with wide eyes and said, "Jack....?" "I know, I feel it, too," I answered, as my hands began to caress the fullness of my breasts, almost on their own. The pain of my headache had receded, to be replaced with a growing excitement fed by the feel of my new anatomy. I was amazed at the tingling I could feel in my crotch, just by squeezing and kneading my titflesh. I was lost for a moment or two in my own feelings when I realized that we had to find out what happened to us. Did it happen to others, too? Without a word, I jumped up from the rack, misjudging the distance to the floor in the process. Not only were my swaying boobs a distraction, but I was now much shorter than before. I started to flail when my feet didn't hit the floor when I expected, but I was able to catch the side of the rack and steady myself. After I stood upright, I could not believe how much bigger my stateroom seemed. Whereas I had to duck my head before to avoid the air conditioning vent routing off the overhead piping, it appeared that I could now only touch it on tiptoe. If we have truly changed bodies, then I have shrunk from 6'3" to Trish's 5'2". My stance seemed wider and my behind felt extraordinarily huge. Trish had never suffered back problems from the weight of her boobs because her short waist and large hips balanced them out. To me, though, it seemed that I extended crazily in both directions. I couldn't see my feet from front or back without falling over. I made my way to the mirror over the sink and was surprised to see Trish's face in the reflection, even though I had expected it. Her short but full hair framed her face as usual, the features intimately familiar, but something was different. It took me a moment to realize that I was animating her face in way she never had. The look in those green eyes was not Trish's, but mine. The expressions - mine. I had not become Trish, but someone who looked almost, but not quite, like her. I stood transfixed, trying desperately to assimilate the image in the mirror with the memory of what I used to be. I was startled when my old face intruded upon the reflection. Trish had come over to stand behind me and glimpse her new self in the process. We looked like a parody of ourselves - familiar, yet alien. She laid what seemed to be a large hand on my shoulder and exclaimed, "It's true, then - we have changed bodies." I looked up at the reflection of her face and answered, "Something happened to us during that vibration. We've got to deal with this and find out what's going on. What if we're not the only ones affected?" "But...we can't go out there like this...can we?" she implored. "People will know what's happened to us." "We can't stay in here, either," I answered. "We've got to find out what happened. We've got to find out how to change back. Besides, we can't stay here forever...sooner or later, someone is bound to come looking for us." I turned around and, on impulse, awkwardly hugged her. My head came only up to her chest, my breasts squashing against her hips. She was so much bigger than I, but then again, so was everything else now. She returned my embrace tightly, as though hanging on for dear life. We stood that way for a moment before I felt an erection growing against my stomach. Embarrassed, I pushed away and turned from her. I felt a stirring in my crotch, too, much to my surprise. We've got a situation here and already I'm thinking with my dick...er, pussy. It would have been easy to stay right where we were and explore our new bodies, but there was certainly no time for that. "We should get dressed," I mumbled, without realizing the full import of what I was saying. I was stooping down to retrieve my boxers from the floor when my hanging boobs slapped against my knees, reminding me that I was going to have to wear a completely different outfit than before. I straightened up and looked at Trish, with what must have been a priceless expression on my face. "You're going to have to wear my bra and panties," she began, before succumbing to a fit of giggling. The whole ludicrous situation and her infectious laughter was too much for me - I soon had tears rolling uncontrollably down my cheeks. It felt as if all the tension was bubbling up out of my gut as Trish and I stood in the middle of my stateroom, in each other's bodies, laughing so hard that we couldn't stop. After a while, our giggling finally subsided. I was cradling my massive tits in my arms to keep them from swinging all over the place, and Trish was rubbing her side where she had gotten a pain in her side from laughing so hard. "Well, that sure lightened things up," she said, as she fell on to my rack. "Go ahead," she continued as she lay propped up on her stomach, "you get dressed first. This, I've got to see." I found her panties and slid them up my legs and over my wide hips. I couldn't help running my hand up the smooth mound of my crotch, marveling at the smoothness where before there would have been a misshapen lump. I picked up her bra and looked at it for a moment, trying to decide how I wanted to attack it. Trish watched me from the rack with a bemused, betcha-can't-do-it expression. I resolved to meet her challenge. As I've seen Trish do on many an occasion, I clasped her industrial-strength bra backwards around my waist, then rotated the contraption around. Lifting one breast at a time, I scooped my heavy tits into the cups as I pulled the straps up over my shoulders. Bending forward at the waist, I grabbed the bra straps and by shaking my shoulders, caused my breasts to settle fully and comfortably into the cups. A couple more adjustments, and I even got my nipples to line up horizontally. I stood in front of the mirror in bra and panties and was unexpectedly aroused by my own reflection. Standing sideways, I was amazed how far my breasts, now supported by the bra, protruded from my torso. Trish watched me examine my new shape in the mirror and remarked, "Looks like you've been paying attention, lover. You handled those babies like you've had them all your life." She was obviously enjoying this a little too much. I responded by raising my arms over my head and shaking my bosom for her, teasing her like she's teased me so many times in the past. I can't deny that I enjoyed it, however. I liked the view I had of my deep cleavage, one I could have now just by looking down. I have always loved the roundness and heft of Trish's breasts and they were now always there for my touch. I could even suck on my own nipples if I wanted and that thought made my nipples start to tingle and enlarge. To hide my 'erection', I hurriedly pulled on Trish's uniform blouse, but neither the thick material of the bra nor the blouse could hide the two small lumps pushed outwards by my erect nipples. As I fumbled with my buttons (which were now on the other side of the blouse), I couldn't take my eyes off the smooth new three-dimensionality of my chest. With great reluctance, I fastened the top button, cutting off the stimulating view of my seemingly bottomless cleavage. I started to put on my pants, but Trish stopped me. "Jack, if you're going to wear my uniform, you're going to need these," she said, as she handed me a pair of long elastic bands. "A Marine friend of mine once showed me that by attaching one end of these straps to the tail of my blouse and the other to my socks, my blouse will always look tucked in, even with boobs as big as mine." I took the straps and sat cross-legged on the floor to put on my socks. My breasts naturally got in the way of everything - I just couldn't seem to get around my swollen chest. I fastened the elastic straps and then stood up. It felt strange to have the elastic run down the side of my leg, but the straps did do a good job of keeping my shirt pulled down (which also served to emphasize the shape of my tits) and my socks pulled up. Pulling my trousers on then proved to be a breeze, because I didn't have to worry about keeping a 'tuck' in my shirt. My only problem was that I couldn't see my waist under my boobs while fastening my pants and belt and was forced to shuffle over to the mirror to check my 'gig line'. Now that I was mostly dressed, it was Trish's turn. When I turned to look at her, her face was flushed. Before I could say anything, she said, "I have to go to the bathroom, but how do I deal with this?" She gestured down towards her fully erect penis. "What'd you do, get a hard-on while watching me dress?" I asked sarcastically. "I don't know, Jack, it just happened all by itself," she replied morosely. "I want it to get soft again, but it doesn't seem to want to go down." I felt sorry for her embarrassment and led her over to the toilet. I told her to lean forward while holding herself off the toilet tank with her left hand, while bending her erect cock downwards with her right. She complained that it hurt too much, so we tried having her sit on the seat, after guiding her penis down into the bowl. She ended up not quite sitting on the seat, but managed to let loose and get it all in the bowl. Afterwards, she pulled some toilet paper off and gingerly wiped the remaining drops off the tip of her cock. "Guys shake it off, you know," I reproached her. "Yes, I know, but it's too stiff and I didn't want to get it all over the place," she said. "Which reminds me, you can't shake yours off, you know, and if you don't wipe, you can get an infection." Great. So far, the size of my breasts seemed to be my biggest physical problem, mostly because they were so huge and right there in front of me, getting in the way of everything. I hadn't even thought of less obvious things like yeast infections, periods and PMS. It was too easy to get overwhelmed. First things first - we had to find out what happened and if our condition was permanent. Luckily for Trish, her erection went down after she peed, and she had no problem putting on my uniform. It was strange watching her put on a uniform shirt adorned with my insignia, ribbons and nametag - I was watching her assume my identity. "How's it feel to be promoted?" I asked, eyeing the gold oak leaf insignia of a Lieutenant Commander that glittered on the collars of the shirt she was putting on. "It's good to be the XO," she replied, paraphrasing the punch line and mimicking the haughty look made famous by Mel Brooks in History of the World, Part 1. She took a step forward, still with that mock superior look....and banged her head right into the air conditioning vent. "Shit! I totally forgot I'm your height now," she cursed, rubbing her forehead. "Don't forget that when we head out into the passageway," I cautioned. "If you don't duck your head the same time you step over the kneeknockers, you'll knock yourself out cold." The oblong openings in each transverse bulkhead, nicknamed 'kneeknockers' by sailors for their tendency to catch the unwary on the shin, had caught my head too many times in the past - and I was accustomed to being tall! "I'll keep that in mind," Trish replied as she sat down to put on her shoes. "I can't get over the freedom of not having my boobs in the way of everything I do. It almost... ooohhhhhh!!" "What's wrong?" "I don't know..." she whined. "I just had a sharp pain...down there...and now I have this horrendous ache. I think I squashed my balls, or something." "Oh, you have to be careful of that," I explained as Trish rocked in agony on the rack. "You probably caught a ball under your leg and than can hurt for a couple of minutes. Being well-endowed has its dangers, you know." "Wait until you roll over on a tit," Trish groaned. "Then you'll see what being well-endowed is all about." A shout and the sound of running feet outside in the passageway cut short our conversation. Chapter 3 "Remember, you're me and I'm you," I cautioned before I opened the door. "People are going to expect you to act as the XO." "Got it," Trish replied. "Just stay close in case I need you. Damn - I can't get over how small everything seems now." I nodded and taking a deep breath, opened the door to the outside world. I experienced a brief moment of panic, similar to the kind you have in dreams when you find yourself naked in public. I felt like I was dressed in drag and that everyone would see the XO dressed up in girl's clothes. However, the movement of the breasts under my shirt, the bra straps cutting into my shoulder and the tightness of my trousers against my smooth crotch drove home the point that I wasn't wearing some disguise - I was, for all intents and purposes, all woman. When my shipmates looked at me, they would be seeing LT O'Neal, not LCDR Bateman. The passageway was dark, lit only at intervals by the emergency battle lanterns that are designed to cut in during a main power failure. I started to lead the way to the quarterdeck, when it occurred to me that we weren't playing our roles. Turning to Trish, I said, "You lead the way, sir." Trish looked aback for an instant, then brushed past me to take the lead. Watching her pass, I whispered, "Watch your walk...you don't look very...manly." Trish was never overly-feminine, but she wasn't mannish, either. She wasn't moving effeminately now, but neither did she look entirely convincing as me, either. This thought led me to wonder how I was doing. I looked behind at my butt to see if I was swaying my hips like a girl, and I was...sort of. My hip joints did seem to work differently and I concentrated on trying to move naturally, which of course, probably made me look ludicrous. I was just glad that I was wearing Trish's flat-heeled uniform shoes, instead of high heels. I don't think I could have handled a new butt and heels at the same time. Of course, the one thing I was most aware of were my breasts. With every step, they jostled around within the confines of my bra and pulled heavily on the straps over my shoulders. After a few steps, I was able to settle into rhythm that minimized their bounce and accommodated my hips. I had a little bit of sway going, but it felt comfortable - I guess this is what it meant to walk like a woman. Trish took great care to duck as we went through each kneeknocker, which I was now able to step through without caution. I could see sunlight up ahead and we stepped through one last hatch opening to the weather deck outside. Trish stopped abruptly and I ran right into her. I was about to ask her what caused her to stop in the hatchway when I saw what she was looking at - instead of the grey, overcast surroundings of the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard, we were looking at the familiar, sunlit approaches to Hampton Roads! What the hell...we were back home in Norfolk! I pushed past Trish and headed for the quarterdeck, not caring who was leading the way. I looked up and saw members of the crew standing at the railings, some excitedly pointing out familiar landmarks, some simply standing quietly, staring at nothing. I pushed past a couple of sailors, who stared right at my tits before giving way. There was a small crowd of people around the quarterdeck and I had to physically shove (no mean feat, given my reduced leverage) a couple to the side so that I could get through. I was not prepared for what I saw next. Chief Fritchett was standing with his back to me, facing the bulkhead behind the quarterdeck, a corpsman kneeling by his side. There appeared to be someone standing against the bulkhead itself, facing it, but something was horribly wrong. The body against the bulkhead had no head, left leg or right arm and the body itself looked like it was pressed flatter than humanely possible against the steel. I worked my way up to the scene so that I could make sense of what I was seeing. As I approached, Chief Fritchett turned around, his gaze unfocused, his face white as a sheet. "Chief, what's happened here?" I asked. My voice broke, partly because I was not accustomed to my higher pitch, but mostly because of the knot of fear that was growing in my gut. His eyes seemed to focus on my chest, then finally on my face. "I don't know, ma'am...Hinsen got...stuck in the wall during that earthquake." "What did you say, Chief?" Trish boomed out, having caught up with me. "Hinsen's stuck in the wall, sir," Fritchett replied vacantly. "Look for yourself." I did, but I could not believe what I was seeing. It looked as though Seaman Hinsen, whose name was clearly stenciled above the back pocket of his denim trousers, had somehow melted into the hard steel of the bulkhead. It looked as though he was frozen in a running position, with his head, left leg, right arm and the entire front half of his body having already pushed through to the other side. The other side... "Has anybody checked on what's on the other side of this bulkhead?!?" I choked, trying hard to contain my growing fear and revulsion. Chief Fritchett returned his vacant stare down to me and I could see him begin to slowly come alive. "Murphy," he yelled. "You and Henderson high-tail it inside and get to other side of this bulkhead... should be somewhere aft of the wardroom in the main passageway... NOW!!!" Two sailors took off and headed for the nearest hatch into the superstructure. HM2 Collins, was had been tending to what we could see of Hinsen's body, suddenly blurted out, "Chief, he's alive!!! I've got a pulse!!!" Turning to Trish, I told her I'd be right back. I ran after Murphy and Henderson, the shifting weight of my breasts yanking my bra straps uncomfortably. I was aware that guys stared at my bouncing boobs as I ran past, but I figured to hell with them. Our whole world was turned upside down, and all they could focus on were my tits!?! I heard a high-pitched, "What the fuck?!?" ahead of me in the passageway and headed for the sound. Petty Officer Murphy was down on the deck, retching, and Seaman Henderson was staring slack-jawed at something in the gloom. I grabbed a battle lantern off its bracket and shined it in the direction that Henderson was staring. The image that immediately came to mind was that of Han Solo frozen into a block of carbonite in the Star Wars movie series, his face and hands emerging incongruously from out of the solid material. Except this was no movie, and the figure embedded in the bulkhead was a shipmate. Seaman Hinsen's face extended from the grey steel, his expression horrific in its supreme agony. Lower down the wall, an arm, torso and leg protruded. As I watched, one of Hinsen's eyes moved and I dropped the lantern in shock. All of a sudden, the dark passageway closed in on me and I had to get out of there. I ran towards the open hatchway and threw myself back out into the sunlight. What the hell has become of us?!? I had to gather my wits and think, damn it! The vibration. Trish and I swapping bodies. Norfolk Naval instead of Philadelphia. Hinsen embedded into the skin of the ship. What could have caused this? Something...something flicked at my memory. For a fleeting instant, the pattern of events seemed strangely familiar...as though I had run across a similar situation before somewhere...but then that feeling evaporated. I tried in vain to recapture the thought, but the harder I concentrated on it, the farther it fled. I turned my face into the wind to help control the impulse to retch and happened to look astern. There, just aft of our fantail, I could see the bow of the mothballed frigate that had been berthed behind us in Philadelphia, only now it was sticking crazily out of the water, as if the ship itself had broken in two and sunk. As I watched, the scene aft moved slightly. Startled, I looked down at the mooring lines, only to see them dangling in the water. The gangplank off the quarterdeck was sliced in half, the broken end simply resting on the adjacent pier. I had been so preoccupied with Hinsen that I never even noticed that until now. By the look of things, no one else had noticed, either! Too much was happening, too fast - I had to do something! I ran back to the quarterdeck and yelled for Chief Frichett to sound General Quarters. Looking up at him, I could see the doubt in his face and saw him glance over to Trish, who to him was the XO. To her credit, Trish ordered in an authoritative voice, "You heard her, Chief, get moving!" The Chief walked over to the alarm panel and threw the GQ switch over. After the first few gongs sounded, he grabbed the microphone for the 1MC and shouted, "General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands man your battle stations! This is NOT a drill! All stations report to the OOD on the quarterdeck!" He repeated that verbiage again and then let the alarm gongs continue. I pulled Trish close and told her about the ship being adrift. Trish turned to the Chief and took the microphone from his hand. "This is the XO speaking. Sea and Anchor Detail, man your stations - I say again, Sea and Anchor Detail, do not go to your GQ stations, proceed instead to your line-handling stations. The ship is adrift from the pier." She repeated this once more and then shut off the GQ alarm. As controlled panic ensued behind me, I leaned against a lifeline to steady my thoughts, looking out across the Naval Station's piers. Already, I could see activity on and around the ships berthed closest to us, as our alarm gongs and announcements could easily be heard by those ships. It wouldn't be long before people came in force to investigate. Trish came up behind me and leaned into my ear. "What happened in there?" she asked softly, so that no one around could hear. "I don't know..." I replied. "Somehow, Hinsen is suspended in the steel bulkhead and he's still alive!" I paused to mentally push that frightening image aside and then continued, "I don't know what to do about this...I haven't got the first clue how to help either Hinsen or us! This is like some X-Files episode that we're living here, and I don't even know where to start to deal with this!" "Well, if it makes you feel any better, everyone thinks I'm the XO, and with the Skipper off the ship, they're looking to me for leadership. And it's damn hard to come up with rational thought when I have a dick dangling down my pants!" "You think I don't know that?" I countered. "I'm surrounded by giants, and even with the world gone crazy, everyone's more interested in staring at my tits!" "Get used to it, Jack," Trish counseled. "Guys have always talked to my boobs, you included." She banged her hand on the stanchion in frustration. "Shit, we shouldn't be talking about this now - what happened to us is nothing compared to what I'm hearing from the reports! Chief Frichett was telling me that in addition to Hinsen there, one of his watchstanders spontaneously combusted during the vibration! And according to others, there may have been similar incidents throughout the ship!" Chief Frichett broke in at this point and reported to Trish. "Sir, Sea and Anchor reports that our mooring lines are in place, but that they were cut. They are in the process now of running new lines to the pier next to us. Luckily, the tide is holding us in, so we shouldn't have any trouble tying up again. In addition, the aft detail reports we have the bow of a sunken ship directly behind us and they believe it was the same one mothballed behind us in Philly." Trish acknowledged the report, thinking that was all. Chief Frichett, in a less-assured manner continued softly, "And sir...Hinsen has died. Collins doesn't hold a pulse any more." I was about to respond to this when I was interrupted by the sight of three white government vans with yellow roof-mounted flashers turning onto and racing down our pier. The vans screeched to a halt just opposite the wreckage of our gangplank and several civilians, mingled with a couple of military types, piled out of them. A Navy captain, wearing khakis and a black windbreaker, called out to us, "What ship is this?" I was about to answer out of reflex, but Trish beat me to it, "This is the Plunkett from Philadelphia! We've suffered a mishap and have several casualties aboard! Can you call for an ambulance?" The Captain motioned to one of the civilians, who jumped back into the lead van and spoke into a microphone. The Captain turned back to us and asked if they could come aboard. Trish replied that the gangplank was severed, but if they could climb it they could come aboard. I watched as the occupants of the vans hauled themselves up the steep gradient of the damaged gangplank. Trish, Chief Frichett and I walked over to greet the newcomers. Trish introduced herself as LCDR Bateman, XO of the Plunkett. "Is your Commanding Officer aboard?" the Captain asked. "No, sir, Commander Applegate was ashore in Philly when we suffered our..." Trish glanced at me. "...mishap." "You say you have personnel casualties?" the Captain pressed. "Yes, sir, we have at least one fatality and reports of maybe more..." Trish paused, choosing her words carefully, "...all under strange circumstances." She glanced uneasily at me. The Captain surprised me by not pressing Trish for details. Instead, he leaned close to her and asked if he could talk with her in private in her, rather, my cabin. Trish agreed, with the provision that I be included. The Captain looked down at me and with obvious reluctance, nodded his assent. Trish caught the attention of Chief Fritchett, who was busy with the civilians that had accompanied our nameless Captain, just long enough to tell him where we'd be. The Chief nodded his understanding before turning his attention back to the visitors, who were swarming over the now-lifeless hulk that used to be Hinsen and a peculiar burn mark behind the watchstander's podium. Chapter 4 Trish led us to my cabin as easily as if she lived there, which should have come as no surprise, given how often she visited me there. I turned one corner too sharply and snagged the front of my puffed-out shirt on a hatch dogging mechanism, much to Trish's amusement. Fate evened the score a minute later when she banged her head into the doorway of my cabin after she had ushered us in. The Captain paid no attention to our follies; instead, he flopped down in my desk chair and wasted no time getting straight to the subject. "My name is CAPT Mike Harris and you'll probably recognize the Naval Systems Command emblem on my nametag. However, at the moment, I am temporarily assigned to a branch of DARPA that deals with deep black projects. Are you following me so far?" Trish and I both sat down on the couch that doubled as my rack and nodded, being familiar enough with the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency and the term "deep black project" to know that was as much detail as we needed to know. "Commander", CAPT Harris continued, staring purposefully at Trish, "have you ever read any popular fiction about the so-called 'Philadelphia Project'?" My breath caught (oh my god he can't be serious) because I knew immediately what he was talking about. The almost-thought I had up on deck was now crystal clear - the vibration, Hinsen fused to the steel bulkhead, our physical relocation from Philadelphia to Norfolk - it was all so similar to what I had read in sensational accounts of the (what I assumed was fictional) 'Philadelphia Project' of World War II! I could tell by the confused look on Trish's (my old) face that she hadn't heard of it. I covered by asking, "Isn't that the story of the World War II project that was supposed to apply Einstein's Unified Field theory to a naval vessel, in order to make it invisible?" CAPT Harris turned to me in surprise. "Yes, the Philadelphia Project, or Project Rainbow, as it was officially known, attempted to render ships invisible to radar....I'm sorry, I didn't get your name, Lieutenant..." "O...O'Neal, sir," I responded, tripping over my new name. "I'm the Ops Officer. I've read stories about the Philadelphia Project and even caught the Philadelphia Experiment on video a few years back, but I never thought any of that actually happened." "Yes, well, a lot of hoohah has attached itself to what was a genuine event, and despite what you may have read or seen in the movie, there were no UFOs, aliens or time-travel involved." "What did happen, sir?" Trish asked, leaning forward intently. "I don't have time now to give you all the details, but it's important that you at least have a sense of what's happened to your ship, Commander." CAPT Harris leaned back in his chair, looking weary all of a sudden. "The Project originally started back in the 1930s at the University of Chicago, where Nickola Tesla and a team of scientists and engineers began to investigate methods for making objects and people invisible. The effort eventually transferred to Princeton, where a Dr. Von Neumann joined the team." "Excuse me, sir," Trish interrupted. "But the name Tesla sounds familiar..." CAPT Harris snorted. "Most people today think Tesla is some rock band. But Nickola Tesla was an electrical engineer who invented the coil which became the basis for the AC induction motor. His research into AC generation and distribution, wireless communications and electrical power transmission laid the groundwork not only for radio and television, but also for today's modern power industry." Turning to me, he continued, "As you mentioned, Lieutenant, Professor Einstein started working on what he called the "United Field Theory for Gravitation and Electricity", but ended up retracting it before he finished it. Tesla's team derived a concept from Einstein's incomplete theory, that the generation of an incredibly intense magnetic field around an object would cause the refraction or bending of radar waves around that object, to develop a system that would render an object virtually invisible to radar. What they found during initial experiments was that they could not only render an object partially invisible to active sensors, but also to optical. In other words, a strong enough magnetic field could render an object invisible to observers by refracting light waves around the object." "The Navy came on board with the Project and the effort concentrated on developing a physical system for rendering a ship invisible. Tesla's team conducted a test in 1940 using an small unmanned boat and the system actually worked - power from a support vessel was supplied to generators aboard the test ship, which vibrated, then gradually became transparent to the naked eye!" "With that success, the Project became highly classified and shifted into high gear. Tesla disagreed with the Navy about continuing the experiments with human test subjects and resigned as a result. Dr. Von Neumann took over the project and oversaw the installation of the system aboard the USS Eldridge, a destroyer escort that was just coming out of the yards." "In July of 1943, a test was conducted in the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard with a volunteer crew aboard. The ship became invisible to radar and optical sensors for a short time, but a problem with generator synchronization caused disorientation among the crew. Von Neumann asked for more time to address the problem and was given less than a month." "The Navy felt that the crew's disorientation was due to the magnitude of power used to generate the magnetic field and that by lowering the power until it was just strong enough to deflect radar waves, the crew should not suffer any adverse affects. Optical invisibility was expected to be lost, since it was felt that defraction of light waves required a stronger field. Given the imposed deadline, this trade-off seemed to be prudent, but Von Neumann felt that the Navy was over-simplifying the problem. With great reluctance, Von Neumann conducted a full test on 28 October 1943. The Eldridge got underway from Philly and headed out to sea, accompanied by an observation ship." CAPT Harris paused here, and the tension in the stateroom was palpable. With a glance that measured how well we were digesting this information, he continued, "The order to start the generators was given, and at first, everything operated better than planned. A fog enveloped the ship, caused by the stirring of dust and microorganisms by the intense vibration, and then fog and ship disappeared, leaving only a trace of the waterline in the water. Even at the lower power output, the ship was still rendered invisible to the naked eye. Suddenly, however, there was a blue flash and the ship disappeared entirely. All attempts to raise the ship failed. After several minutes, the ship reappeared, but it was obvious something had gone wrong. The forward mast was broken. There were no crewmembers standing on deck. A boarding party found almost all the crew present were violently ill, but those were the lucky ones. Others had disappeared entirely - no trace was ever found of them. The most gruesome discovery was that about five sailors were found fused into the deck or bulkhead, embedded in the steel of the ship." Hinsen. His face coming out of the steel bulkhead, face frozen in agony. The eye that moved - my God, WHAT HAD THESE PEOPLE DONE TO US!?! I didn't realize that I had screamed out the last of my thoughts until I noticed the startled expression on the face of CAPT Harris. Trish looked like she was in shock. I leaned forward in my chair until I could feel my breasts pressing into my thighs. Pointing at the Captain, I continued a little more calmly, "Have you seen the casualties we've taken? What you've described as an experiment gone wrong has happened to us here. I've seen one shipmate 'embedded in the steel of the ship' as you say and heard reports of others. People have died here, and for what?!? Another damn experiment?!?" "Lieutenant, I understand you're upset," CAPT Harris responded, with that look of weariness again, "but what happened here was an accident. Please, let me continue - you need to know this information before we go back out there." I forced myself to lean back. Trish remained immobile. CAPT Harris continued, "After the disastrous experiment in 1943, the Project was shut down. However, people continued to review the results and the problem with the crew was eventually solved. It never was a question of power output - it turned out that living beings are locked to a different time reference than are inanimate things. Over the years, we have been able to synchronize the time references of people to objects for the purposes of this type of experiment." "What I didn't mention is that during the time the Eldridge disappeared, she reappeared at Norfolk Naval for a short time before returning to Philadelphia. At the time, this was more accident than purpose, but I mention it because there is some relation to why you find yourself in Norfolk now. But, I'll get back to that in a minute." "Like I said, the time-reference problem was worked out. Several tests have been successfully conducted where ships, with crew aboard, have been rendered invisible to radar. I'm not talking Stealth here - this is by-God-invisibility with a radar cross-section of zero. We were confident enough to develop a floating platform that could generate and transmit a magnetic field around another ship, which saves us from having to retrofit generators and special equipment aboard each ship in the fleet. It was this that we were testing in Philadelphia and what appears to have involved your ship." "Wait a minute," I interrupted. "Something's missing here. You mentioned earlier that the transferal of the Eldridge to Norfolk was accidental. Yet you and your people were already here when we appeared. Are you saying you are only interested in the refraction of radar and light rays, or are you also experimenting with teleportation?" CAPT Harris appraised me silently for a moment before answering. "You're pretty sharp, young lady," he said, causing me a flash of irritation and breaking Trish out of her vacant stare, "we were successful in transporting a test ship from Philadelphia to Norfolk using a remote transmitter; in fact, that ship is resting four piers down from here, right where we intended. What hasn't been determined is how you and half of the ship that was docked behind you were drawn here with the test ship. You see, you were not part of the test." "That's some comfort! Why didn't we know a test was going on?" Trish demanded. "There were no notices or warnings of any kind of special tests in our area! We were in the harbour, for Chrissakes, not in some EW range!" The Captain looked uncomfortable with his answer. "You're right - you weren't in the test area. We did have a range reserved and hazards weren't posted because of the safe distances allotted and the classification of the project. We don't yet know what happened, but one of the scientists up in Philly has already speculated that the field propagated through the water somehow and came up in a convergence zone right where you were docked...but that's just a guess. Whatever happened, you appear to have been pulled along with our test ship to Norfolk." "The important thing right now is to make you aware of what happened to your ship and crew and provide proper medical attention to those that need it. After that, we will assess the damage and try to figure out what went wrong. I have to be frank with you," he said, turning to Trish, "the casualties you have reported may be due to a distortion of the time reference synch, in which case we can expect to find similarities between your crew and the Eldridge's. I want you to be ready for this, because you're going to be in command of this ship and the rescue effort for the next few hours, and you have to keep your wits about you until my boss gets here to relieve you." "What do you mean, 'relieve me'?" Trish asked. "Captain Applegate is the Commanding Officer of this ship - I'm acting CO until he reports aboard." CAPT Harris smiled and replied gently, "Not to offend you, Commander, but this ship has been involved in a Special Projects activity, however inadvertently. As such, we will assume command, and responsibility, for this ship until she's released by the Project authority. Your crew will be treated, debriefed and reassigned in accordance with regulations. Your CO and the rest of the ship's crew that were off the ship, and still in Philly, will be similarly debriefed. I'm sorry that this happened to you, but that's the way it is." "What happened to the surviving crew of the Eldridge?" I broke in. "In the fictional accounts, they were silenced, one way or another. At any rate, there don't seem to be any eyewitness accounts from surviving Eldridge crewmembers, so I guess the silence was total. Is that what's going to happen to us, too?" The Captain stopped me with an icy glare. "Don't recite tabloids to me, Lieutenant. I am a professional naval officer, not some evil government lackey from TV. I took the same oath to defend the Constitution that you did, and I'm not in the habit of killing shipmates. However, this is a black project, one of which you and your crew are now a part of. The same regulations and procedures that apply to anyone involved in a sensitive project apply to you now. The reason why you haven't seen any eyewitness accounts from the Eldridge is because those documents have yet to be declassified. After the situation here is stabilized, you will all be briefed on the classification level and the penalties of compromising the project." "I realize that this is all happening too fast for you. But, please try to maintain your professionalism and we'll get along fine." "We understand, Captain," Trish interposed. "We'd like to discuss this for a couple of minutes, if you don't mind. We can join you on the quarterdeck." To his credit, CAPT Harris didn't argue with us. He nodded, stood and left the stateroom. After he left, Trish turned to me and asked, " Do you believe him? I mean, this is all fantastic, but I guess it does explain what happened to us, but...I don't know." She slumped back in her chair, confused and afraid. I stood up, aware once again of my reduced stature, both physically and authoritatively. "Trish, you're right," I explained, "but everything we've heard makes more sense than anything else I can come up with. We've got to assume that CAPT Harris is playing straight with us and proceed from there. The only question now is what do you and I do? If we bring up the fact that we've swapped bodies, who's going to command? I don't know if any of the other officers are on board or if so, if they survived." I paused for a moment while I considered the possibilities. "The more I think about it," I continued, "the more I'm convinced that we need to keep up our charade until the situation settles down. You've been doing great so far - I don't think anybody has suspected anything unusual with us. Besides, even if they did, it can be chalked up to the stress of the situation. After the crew is taken care of and you've 'been relieved', we can approach the project scientists with our situation and see if anything can be done." Trish thought for a moment and then agreed. She looked at me and asked, "In the stuff you read about the Philadelphia Experiment, did any of the crew swap bodies?" "No," I answered. "This is a new one on me, and I'm afraid, it will be on them, too." We looked at each other for a long moment, both understanding the implication of that last statement. Trish rose and I turned to hug her. We clung to each other for what seemed like hours before I finally suggested that we'd better go. Trish released me, smoothed the flat front of her shirt and nodded. "I hate this command stuff," she murmured. "Everyone is looking to me to be calm and cool and make all the right decisions, but Goddammit, I'm scared silly." "Welcome to command, my dear," I countered lightly. "That's what you get paid the big bucks for." "I'll believe that when I see my first Commander's paycheck," she laughed. Taking one last deep breath to calm herself, she opened the door. Chapter 5 Chief Frichett was on the quarterdeck phone when we returned, with CAPT Harris nearby, obviously listening to the Chief's side of the conversation. Seeing us, or rather, Trish in her role as XO, approach, he cut short the exchange and hung up the phone. "Sir," he started, addressing Trish, "all stations have reported in. No major material damage to report, but we have suffered numerous outages on some of the more sensitive electronic gear. We're working to draw up a list of affected equipment." He paused for a minute and then lowered his voice to almost a whisper, "We found two others that were fused to the deck, like..." the Chief glanced towards the body of Hinsen, unable to say his name. "Two others were found dead, no cause yet determined. Six others are unaccounted for, four of which may have been topside when this thing happened. The other two...one was on my watch team and he just...flashed...or something...and was gone. That scorched area over there was were he was when he disappeared." We waited for more, but Chief Frichett had obviously given us all that he had. Behind the Chief, we could see two blankets laid out on the deck, covering what obviously were dead bodies. Some of CAPT Harris' team members were tending to stunned sailors who were either sitting or lying on the deck, shocked or vacant expressions on their faces. CAPT Harris broke the silence with his own report. "We staged the bodies on deck for transfer as soon as possible. We can't do anything about the bodies fused into the bulkheads for now, so we're concentrating on the living. I would guess that about half the crew on board suffers from spatial disorientation, some of which are severe enough to require hospitalization. We've called for ambulances and will be transferring them to the Naval Regional Medical Center as soon as they arrive." He appraised us both with a probing look before asking, "Have either of you felt any dizziness or other disorientation?" CAPT Harris noticed our hesitation before we both shook our heads, so he pressed, "Are you sure...any headaches, nausea or memory lapses?" This time, Trish and I answered in the negative without hesitation. "OK, then," the Captain concluded. "You two and your OOD here are the only effective leadership aboard. Two other officers and three Chiefs that we found are suffering from disorientation and will have to go to the hospital." As we talked, a mobile crane made its way down the pier, a gangplank swaying under its hook. A detail of sailors guided the gangplank along and helped secure it to our ship once the crane had positioned it. The new brow was no sooner secured when the first of the ambulances came screaming up the pier. For the next hour or so, Trish and I oversaw the transfer of our dead and afflicted into the ambulances for transfer to the NRMC. I worked mechanically, able for the first time to concentrate on something other than my new body. Unfortunately, I got a little too complacent and took a ladder down too fast, misjudging the increased (for my new size) spacing between the steps in the process. My foot didn't find a step when I expected to, and I fell about six feet. Luckily, I was able to grab the handrail and keep from toppling forward, but I landed hard on the deck below and twisted my ankle. CAPT Harris helped me up and I had to assure him that my blunder was due to haste, not disorientation. He gave me that skeptical look again before letting it go. At one point, I asked CAPT Harris about submitting an OPREP-3, a required voice and message report that Navy ships submit immediately after an incident, especially if casualties are involved. He told me that he had called in the initial report on his cellular phone and that his still-unnamed boss would issue the follow-on messages after he arrived. I asked him if he had cleared the initial report with Trish beforehand and he said he hadn't. I didn't press the issue, because I knew his answer would be that he was acting in accordance with the classification of the project, but this usurpation of the acting CO's authority set off alarm bells in my head. Come to think of it, I had no proof that an OPREP was actually sent, just the Captain's word. I resolved to watch his actions more closely in the future. Trish and I had to keep our wits about us - I was especially thankful that we had decided not to reveal our particular situation to CAPT Harris at this time. The sun was setting when an unmarked government sedan pulled up to the brow and a two-star Admiral stepped out. CAPT Harris nodded toward the new arrival and informed Trish that his boss, Rear Admiral Parker, had arrived. Chief Frichett was about to order the watch to 'bong' the Admiral aboard - that is, to render honours appropriate to the Admiral's rank - but CAPT Harris stopped him short. "You'll find that the Admiral doesn't stand on ceremony," CAPT Harris explained. "He prefers to keep a low profile, especially in a situation like this." I was tempted to ask how many 'situations like this' the Admiral has been in, but bit my tongue. I was fast developing a cynical outlook on this whole mess. Trish came forward and, with CAPT Harris at her side, greeted the Admiral as he stepped off the brow. "LCDR Bateman, acting CO of the Plunkett, reporting, sir," she snapped off, a little melodramatically. She appeared to be taking cues on how to act like a commander from every war movie she's ever seen, I thought amusedly. The Admiral returned her salute and suggested they go to her (my) cabin. Trish introduced me to the Admiral and asked if I could accompany them, but to both our chagrin, he refused. Trish insisted that as the Ops Officer, I needed to be included in the conversation, but the Admiral stood firm. With great reluctance, Trish led the Admiral and Captain into the skin of the ship, leaving me behind. CAPT Harris turned and gave me that curious look again, before disappearing into the hatch. I continued to supervise the transfer of our afflicted ashore. There were not enough able hands left aboard to fill the inport duty section, but that appeared to no longer be necessary. The power plant had been secured, and the civilians from CAPT Harris' team were busy throughout the ship doing whatever it was they were doing. More and more, the crew of the Plunkett was becoming superfluous. It was not long before I found myself pacing the deck with nothing constructive to do. A full forty minutes after they left for my cabin, RADM Parker, CAPT Harris and Trish emerged from the ship's superstructure. She came over to me and announced, "We've been relieved, Ja...uh, Ms. O'Neal. The remaining crew aboard is to assemble on the mess decks for a short brief and then they will be escorted to some barracks that have been reserved for us until the formal debrief tomorrow." Her expression betrayed a bit of frustration, but it was clear that now was not the time to discuss it. Trish ordered the entire crew to assemble on the mess decks over the 1MC and then headed down that way. The pitifully small number of those remaining aboard gathered around the Admiral, who explained what he postulated happened during the test, giving every detail CAPT Harris had given us earlier, but for some reason omitting any reference to the Eldridge and Project Rainbow's history. To his credit, RADM Parker answered every question put to him fully and patiently. One of the civilians stood up after the Admiral had finished and briefed us on the classification of the project, admonishing us that any information concerning what had happened to us was not to be divulged outside of the room. When he mentioned that the crew would be spending the night in barracks on base, a collective groan went up from the crew, the loudest being those with family in the area. He assured us that the arrangement was a temporary one, until a quick background check, formal debrief and interim Top Secret clearance be completed on each of the surviving members of the crew. It was estimated that the crew could go home in a couple of days, at most. A question was asked about our shipmates in the hospital, and the answer was that everything would be dependent on each individual's condition. Trish nudged me and whispered that since we already had current Top Secret clearances, we could go home after we were dismissed. I hadn't considered it until that point, but I was immediately relieved that I wasn't going to be placed in some temporary women's quarters for the night, left on my own to deal with my new feminine body. After all the questions were exhausted, the Admiral dismissed us. The crew was shepherded off the ship into buses waiting to take them to the barracks. As we watched the buses drive off into the twilight, CAPT Harris asked where we were going to be spending the night. At first, I thought he was hinting at something, but it turned out that he just needed our recall numbers, in case he had to call us during the night. In order not to point out the fact that Trish and I basically lived together in my apartment, I gave him Trish's mostly-unused home number, even though I would not actually be spending the night there. The Captain asked if he could drive us to where we had left our cars before sailing up to Philly and since it was a good mile or so from where we were now, we agreed. After collecting a few personal belongings from our staterooms, we checked out with the Admiral and then joined CAPT Harris in one of the white vans. On the way to the lot where our cars were parked, he remarked that we were to call if we experienced any strange sensations throughout the night. Neither Trish nor I knew quite how to respond to that, so we stayed silent. Luckily, CAPT Harris took our silence for fatigue, because he warned us to be careful not to fall asleep on the drive home. He dropped us off at the lot and asked if he needed to stay until we had started our cars. Trish assured him that we hadn't been gone that long and thanked him for the ride. CAPT Harris reluctantly drove off, leaving us with a new dilemma. As I stood looking up at my suddenly-oversized 1961 Plymouth Valiant sedan, I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to see over the dash at my new height. Similarly, Trish was going to be cramped in her Mazda Miata. The obvious solution would be to switch, but I wasn't comfortable leaving Trish to drive the Valiant. The push-button transmission was a little touchy and if you didn't do it just right, you could end up being stuck in the wrong gear. We decided that we would just take the Miata together and not worry about what people would think when we showed up in one car tomorrow. Even so, I hated leaving my beloved Valiant behind. At first, Trish tried to wedge herself into the driver's seat of the Miata, but eventually decided that she was too cramped behind the wheel. After moving her seat forward as far as it would go, I drove us to my apartment. The Captain was right to be concerned for our safety - I almost nodded off twice during the 20-minute drive to Virginia Beach. Chapter 6 I pulled Trish's Miata into my parking space at the apartment complex and together we dragged our meager belongings up to my apartment. I checked my answering machine and discovered I already had a message from CAPT Harris, informing me that CDR Applegate was being flown down from Philly and would meet us at the debrief. That was a bit of relief - once our CO took back the reins of