To Be The Best: Part 1 free porn video

To Be The Best By The Scotsman PART 1 Chapter 1, Strength Chapter 2, Fortitude Chapter 3, Adaptability Chapter 1, Strength Dwell not upon thy weariness, thy strength shall be according to the measure of thy desire Alex surveyed the barren winter landscape spread out bellow the ridge line. His years of training kept him flat on his stomach as he peered over the rise in the shadow of some tall vegetation. Although he could see no sign of movement in the farm buildings in the near distance, he was still cautious. This was after all the third day of the Escape and Evasion exercise. It was a good bet that the majority of the other candidates had already been apprehended, meaning there were more hunters available to search for each prey. And at the moment that's how Alex was feeling. He felt like a hunted animal running from the predators. He had last eaten yesterday morning. Raw rabbit wasn't his idea of a gourmet feast but then when you're hungry enough you can eat anything. If there was one thing he had learned during the selection process that was it. Unfortunately he now needed food badly. The farm was laid out like any other in this part of Britain. A Large stone farmhouse with several outbuildings dotted around it. Pieces of farm machinery covered in tarps strewn about like the bones of long dead dinosaurs. This, he figured, was his best bet to extend his run by another day. As it was, exhaustion was taking its toll on his muscles. He knew if he could not keep up his bruising pace it would not be long till the tracking dogs brought him to heel. That's why Alex was planning to sneak down onto the farm to liberate some eggs and perhaps a chicken as well. The rules specifically forbade this sort of thing but then this was the SAS. Anyone concerned about rules need not apply. Getting the job done 'First, Last, and Always' was the philosophy that ran through the service like a live wire. Rules were for the politicians who decided on the missions. They were they guys who actually went into the shit to make it happen. At least Alex hoped to make that "They". His performance so far was excellent and he knew if he could get a good result on this exercise it would impress the selectors. Still seeing no sign of life on the farm in the early dawn's light, Alex slithered over the ridge line and began the slow advance towards the fence bordering the farm. There was not much chance of any hunters being this far out from the start point as Alex had worked his arse off keeping a solid pace. His plan had always been to outpace the hunt and to always be ahead of their searches. By the time they moved into an area he planned to have long passed through, leaving no sign of his presence. Still caution was ingrained into him, further boosting his own natural paranoia. Until proven otherwise he would assume the farm housed a full battalion of infantry all peering out just waiting for him to betray his presence. Slithering closer Alex's senses were at full stretch, boosted by liberal quantities of adrenaline. He peered into every shadow and listened intently for any sound. Sniffing the air for tell tale signs of stale sweat or cigarette smoke that could often betray a well camouflaged lurker. Nothing untoward came to his attention so he continued his slow advance on the fence. Reaching it he slid himself into the undergrowth along its base, then froze again listening for any signs of life Mark sipped his Coffee appreciating the warmth it brought on this cold winter's morning. It had been a long night of keeping watch in the barn. But he had to admit to himself in his more honest moments that he enjoyed this. It brought back memories of his time in the army when he was younger. He'd never minded keeping a night watch like the other national service lads had. It gave him a time of solitary contemplation. It was a time to wonder about life and their mysteries. This was his second night of watching, and again like the night before it didn't look like he was going to have a bite this year. A pity, as he'd been daydreaming of how he would spend the ?500 reward for catching one of the candidates from the SAS training program. It had been two years ago since he'd caught any and that was when two of them together had been working as a team. That money had been a big help in the farm as it covering the deposit on a new thresher machine. Last year had been a bust as heavy rain and marshy conditions had meant none of the runners had reached as far as his farm, but he had high hopes this year of waylaying some poor sod trying to pinch some food. His was one of a few farms that almost always got a midnight visitor during these exercises. It was just the right distance from the start that the boys were hungry enough to risk it. Never realising that they were repeating a pattern played out for years in the past. Everyone around knew about the exercise and to be on the lookout for the candidates. They were all good lads and the job they did was a hard and dangerous one keeping people like Mark safe in their beds, so no one really minded if a bit of food vanished. Indeed the army always made good any loses with a bit extra on top for goodwill and the local population took it as a bit of a game. Getting into the spirit of it and acting the part of hostile natives, giving the lads a bit more of a challenge. Anyone seeing one of them or finding sign that they had been through would call the base right quick reporting it in. Bringing searchers and dogs out to take up the chase. ?100 they paid if your information helped catch one of the lads. ?500 if you got one yourself. But with the coming of dawn and still no activity it looked like tonight was not going to bring any his way. 'Oh well so it goes,' thought mark forgetting his plans to take his wife of over 34 years into London for a dirty weekend. 'A much better use of the money than a new thresher,' thought Mark to himself with a grin on his face. Swilling down the last of the Coffee from the thermos cap, he screwed it back on tight, collected his shotgun and shifted himself stretching the tightness from his ageing frame. 'Getting too old for this lark me lad,' the pop of his left knee as he stretched sounding loud to his ears. Alex had managed to cross the fence with no outcry of alarm. He was now hugging the side of a stone shed peering round to locate his target at the far side of a large barn - a chicken coup that could be seen fenced in with wire. Drifting silently on the balls of his feet across the yard towards the coup, Alex's senses were overloading him with information. Smell, sight and sound always came with an extra immediacy when doing this kind of thing. The spice of danger and risk added an extra potency to life. Exhaustion forgotten for the moment as silently as an apparition, he ghosted closer to his intended meal. He knew that speed would be essential and the chance of keeping all the chickens silent was about non-existent once he reached in to grab the unlucky victim. So he planned a mad dash into the undergrowth before anyone responded. There was not much chance of avoiding notice with this move but the need for food was overwhelming at this point. Once his energy was replenished with a couple of eggs he would be able to make good time heading further East. Very few candidates ever managed to stay out for the full 7 days of the exercise but for those few who did it almost a guaranteed place in the regiment. Anyone sneaky and devious enough to stay out of the sights of these expert hunters for that long was of obvious value. And Alex fully intended to achieve that feat. Mark emerged from the barn, shotgun balanced in the crook of his right arm. Taking in the dawn bringing new light to his very own farm. Seeing the chaotic looking order of the various outbuildings and pieces of machinery always gave him a moment of pride. This was his. The products of his own labours had paid to build half these outbuildings. The machinery was what he had himself bought to better work his acres. As his gaze swept round Mark was stunned to see an incredibly dirty looking young man standing not more than twenty yards away with one foot frozen in mid stride. The shotgun came up reflexively pointed towards this strange sight. "Well, well! Lad. I had almost given up hope to see one of your lot the night," said Mark with a slow smile of ironic humour came unbidden to his face. "Now then lad don't be doing anything daft now. Yer caught fair and square." Alex Looked into the barrels of the shotgun trained on him and knew a moment's despair. After 3 days of evading the best to be caught so easily by an old farmer out for his morning constitutional was just not fair. 'How did I anger you oh Lord,' thought Alex. Alex found himself cuffed to a steel post in the corner of the barn. The farmer had ushered him in there and had him place the cuff on his own wrist. Now sitting dejectedly on the ground the reaction hit him. A wave of exhaustion almost carried him into sleep where he sat. The Old Geezer was back with a smile on his face feeling very pleased with himself for his morning's work. "Don't look so glum lad, it ain't the end of the world you know. If you managed to last this long you did right well." Mark set the cloth-covered tray he'd carried from the kitchen down in reach of the young soldier prisoner. "Here lad I guess you be might be hungry after 3 days on the run. Get this down you then get some kip before the pick-up wagon comes. You've got about an hour to wait and you're gonna need yer strength for what comes next" At this Alex felt further despair wash over him. The old guy obviously knew about the interrogation that was coming. All the candidates once caught were subjected to some fairly inhumane treatment in order to try to make them break under pressure. Just another part of the selection process but defiantly the most hated and feared part for the candidates. Alex lifted the cloth cover from the tray releasing a waft of heavenly smelling scent from the full breakfast sat there before him. Two eggs with the yolks still soft, two sausages, four slices of bacon, some fried tomatoes, and even some fried bread. There was also a big mug of what smelled like hot coffee. It was heaven indeed after the days of hunger. "What? Thanks," Alex stuttered hardly believing his luck. He got stuck into the food before the old farmer could change his mind and take this feast away. The first taste of sausage dipped in egg yolk was heavenly and before he knew it the plate was empty. The last of the hot coffee slipped down his gullet to further add to the feeling of warm contentment radiating from his sated stomach. 'I guess this old geezer ain't so bad after all' Mark chuckled to himself seeing the young soldier so obviously appreciating the food. It was always a pleasure to see someone enjoying the food he laid down before them, and this lad was showing his pleasure with each mouthful. He was a young looking lad this one, didn't look more than 17. Thin face with high cheekbones and fair hair under all the dirt and muck plastered over him. He looked almost girlish in the face if you didn't take into account the broad shoulders. He reminded Mark a lot of his own son Simon, now lost to him these 5 years. This lad though was obviously a lot fitter physically if he could get into the SAS candidacy and last 3 days out on the moors. Finishing the meal, Alex laid his head back against the post allowing a sigh of complete contentment to escape him. "Thanks pal. That was bloody marvellous." "Glad you enjoyed it son. I be Mark Hutchinson and this is my farm you're on. I don't believe in letting folk go hungry around here and I guess I owed it you as you're the one paying for me and the wife's trip to London a week on Friday." "Alexander Gordon," Alex replied reaching out with his right hand to the old farmer. A solid grip of work hardened hands. "But call me Alex. How do you mean? I'm paying?" "Well son I get ?500 from the army for catching you. That's gonna get me and the wife to London and back for the weekend and a couple of nice dinners and some shopping for her." "?500! I never knew they paid that much for us. I never knew they valued us that much, they seem keen enough to do away with us all." "Don't you believe it lad. And another thing don't be so disappointed in getting taken here. I've caught four others in my time here and all of them made it through selection." "Oh how do you know they made it?" asked Alex who was interested. If the old man was telling the truth then perhaps all hope was not gone yet. "Well lad I always pay me debts. And seeing as how you earned me some money I feel obliged to repay you somehow. So once you're through with your training get yourself down here for a weekend, and me and the wife will show our appreciation with some good food and company. I like to know the lads I get do well. You might also get to meet 3 of the others as they still come down occasionally when they're in the area. I take some pride how well they all are and they always welcome here at my table for dinner." Alex looked at the old man. Reconsidering his earlier opinion that he was one of the greater fiends from hell. "Thanks. I think I might just do that." "Do! Now get your head down till the wagon comes for you lad. I be sorry about those cuffs but you know how it is," said Mark who smiled apologetically, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. "Don't worry about it Mr Hutchinson. I understand. And thanks again for the breakfast." "Call me Mark lad and yer welcome." Then the old farmer turned and left the barn, leaving Alex to get what sleep he could before the beginning of the interrogation. He had a suspicion that this would be his last chance to sleep for some days. There is no experience in all the world to be compared to being woken by a DI. That's a Drill Instructor for those of you who have managed to avoid this dubious pleasure. All DI's are cloned I am certain. They all come complete with the same steel wool voice that can rasp the smile off your face at 50 yards. They all have a face that even a mother couldn't love. And they are all complete bastards! This particular DI was none too pleased to find Alex enjoying some peaceful slumber when he arrived to collect him for the interrogation phase of the E&E exercise. Seeing someone else enjoying some kip is never pleasing for this breed, but the thought of someone sleeping while they should be an exhausted wreck ready for the tender ministrations awaiting them sent this one ballistic. Alex swore that he must have had a megaphone surgically grafted into his throat. And when the overwhelming wave of vicious noise hits from less than an inch there is a tendency to do one of three things. One, kill whatever is making that racket. Two, go into catatonia. Or Three, jump up into a perfect attention pose in less time than it takes you to blink. Seeing as how Alex already had a few years experience in the army he was well trained to option three. Before the second syllable was out of his lips he was stood before him rigidly. "What the fucking hell do you think you are doing?" he screamed. "You fucking worm. Who the fuck said you could sleep?" Alex stood speechless. "Answer the fucking question worm," he ranted "Who the FUCK said you could sleep?" "No one Sergeant!" Alex said lamely. "So why the fuck did you have your shitty head down sleeping? You dog turd!" "I must have fallen asleep from exhaustion sergeant!" This was all a familiar game to Alex by now. This DI was going to spend five minutes yelling at the top of his voice dressing him down for anything and everything. SOP. Standard Operating Procedure. "Excuse me sergeant," said Mark as he wandered into the barn. "What the...!" The scream from the DI was cut off in mid screech as he turned to see that it was indeed a civilian he was addressing and not one of his pet victims. "Oh sorry sir how can I help you?" he asked his tone changing. "Well I don't want to interrupt or nowt, but do you think you could maybe keep the volume down a bit. Me wife is still trying to sleep in the house and she be right upset with the pair if us if you wake her up," said the old man. Trying to keep a straight face on while this DI worked his head round this idea was amongst the hardest things Alex had ever done. "Ahh, yes sorry about that sir. Um ah could I have the keys for these cuffs now and I will take the prisoner," he said his voice back to normal. Already finding it almost beyond his ability to keep from reacting, Alex was not helped when Mark the farmer gave him a sly wink as the DI was distracted opening the cuffs. Now as anyone who has ever been in any military anywhere in the world can tell sniggering at your DI's misfortune was a sure fire way to some serious suffering. Alex truly amazed himself at the depth of self-control he was able to bring to bear on this problem. Not a single snigger or smile escaped his lips. Perhaps Alex should say a prayer of thanks for divine strength when this was going to end. Hustled out to the waiting truck he was loaded into the back just like a sack of potatoes. Three other prisoners were already there waiting for him. Each one bound gagged and blindfolded with a cloth bag covering their heads. Seeing this Alex was able to stop from panicking as he was given the same treatment and thrown into the bed of the truck with little decorum. As the truck was closed up, Mark signed the paper the sergeant presented him with then accepted his copy. This was an agreement to keep silent about all that happened. Although the army didn't make it any great secret about the nature of the training for the SAS, they liked to keep the decisions on what information was given and when tight. So all dealings with the local population were covered by non- disclosure agreements. Now that this was signed, Mark would receive his ?500 bounty by cheque within the next week. Some people felt this was all rather degrading, but then Mark had been in the army himself and he knew full well the value of training. That was because he and the other national service lads had so little training when they went to fight. He had seen many friends die for lack of knowing what to do. Anyway he could help lads like Alex stay alive he was happy to oblige. The money from the army was simply a nice bonus. Waving as the truck rumbled down the farm track, Mark turned back to his farm to tell the wife that they would be going to London for the weekend after all. The 4-ton military truck wove its way through the landscape, stopping to make two more collections on its way. Eventually it turned onto a main A road and headed back to the barracks for the next phase to begin for the unfortunate prisoners in the back. As the truck picked up speed, the DI could be heard joking with the two guards who were with him. He kept referring to the unpleasant things that would be happening to his prisoners. One guard asked the DI if the interrogator really used to work for Saddam Hussain. This too was of course part of the script. Building in the minds of the prisoners the horrors that awaited them. Years had been spent perfecting this set up. Making certain that maximum pressure and fear could be brought to bear on the candidates. This was the purpose of this exercise. To gauge the mental strength of each. Testing for any problems that could spell disaster if exposed while on active duty. Many critics have slammed the treatment of the candidates for the SAS over the years but always the reply was the same. 'We are the best! We can accept no less than that. All candidates are volunteers and can stop at any point they chose.' They claimed and this is of course true. The very toughness of the selection process is what drew candidates from all over the world. If you asked these candidates of the selection should be made easier they would unanimously shout loud, "No sir! Fuck off Sir! Turning onto a dual carriageway the truck accelerated to seventy and it wouldn't be long until the treatment began. All the men huddled in the back of the truck had already undergone physical tests that would have broken a normal man. Physically they were about as perfect a group of human specimens as the human race produces. They were fit in ways athletes would envy, but without the susceptibility to injury so common amongst them. Each one was resilient and strong, able to deal with almost any challenge the world threw against them. Next came the testing for mental strength, which must be equally resilient. But sometimes fate intervenes. When it does the tests faced are often far greater than those used even by the SAS. Fate accepts no restriction on tests, testing to destruction is the rule not the exception. And there is no chance to back out once chosen. Chapter 2, Fortitude May God give me the Strength to change what is changeable, the Patience to endure what is not, and the Wisdom to know the difference between the two. James Oliver Park was feeling tired. It had been a 13-hour drive down from Caithness in the north of Scotland. Normally it shouldn't have taken more than 8 hours but this had been a bad day as road works had kept delaying him. He had a full load of chemical by-products that needed delivered in the next hour or his company would lose the contract. Seeing as there were only him and his three partners in the company, this would spell immediate financial meltdown for him. His house was mortgaged to the hilt to start the trucking company in the first place. When this contract had been signed, it spelt financial security, but one of the footnotes on the contract specifically stated, 'that all shipments MUST be delivered no later than 14 hours after collection. No layovers were to be accepted and any delays beyond this would result in the immediate termination of the contract.' This had not been a big problem until now as the longest trip to date had only taken eleven hours. He'd been nervous when that one was delayed so close to the deadline but it had all worked out eventually. This delivery also would be made on schedule. It might be tight but he would make it. What the chemical plant had neglected to tell James and his three partners was that the deadline was exactly that. The chemicals he was transporting were known to be particularly unstable. Any longer than 14 hours without some very heavy cryogenic equipment to keep the load chilled could lead to explosions. Transporting such chemicals with the correct equipment along to keep it frozen was of course hideously expensive. That's why some corporate hotshot had thought of this money saving idea. Just don't tell the transporters what they were carrying and as long as everything made it on time all would be well and the company would save a fortune. Unfortunately for James, the company hotshots made an error in calculating the safe time. Their minimum safe figure of 18 hours was based on the chemical being in a tank that stayed still. When you added in the sloshing around caused by transport in the tanker, that safe figure dropped to just 12 hours. James was of course driving to his death. The only question was how many others would die as his tanker exploded like a 5,000 pound bomb. Alex was stretched in the floor in the back of the truck. He was blindfolded and gagged. The black hood covered his head. His hands and feet were bound together behind him. He could hear other men breathing close to him and assumed these were the other prisoners. The DI and his two guards were still trying to wind them all up with their comments about blow torches and surgical implements. Alex had a fair idea of what was coming and although it would be very bad he knew that no permanent damage would be done. So he disregarded such nonsense as propaganda designed to get him scared. Lying there on his side, Alex had never felt so helpless in his life. Always his strength and speed could get him out of any situation but this time he had no choice but to just wait. And that waiting was worse by far than anything the DI was talking about. Without warning the truck was hurled through the air like a dandelion seed on the wind, to land on its side some 200 yards from where it had been. The blast had ripped through the flimsy tarpaulins covering the truck. Like an angry angel, the wall of flames that accompanied the blast engulfed the truck and its remaining passengers, incinerating them to charred meat in moments. Two passengers had been less lucky than those who died so quickly. As the truck was thrown through the air, they had been flung free. Carried on the firestorm's edge they were not given the mercy of extinction. Rather they were given the slower embrace of flame. Slowly burning through first their clothing then their skin. Of the two, the guard was perhaps the luckier, his first breath sucked flames into his lungs bringing instant death. The second victim was not so fortunate. The cloth hood covering his head and the gag forced into his mouth meant the flames could not penetrate. Instead they would have to burn their way through his body in order to extinguish his life. Here again the man was unlucky because his body being strong and young fought the destruction so death didn't come quickly. Rather an eternity in hell compressed into mere moments. Finally this torment was ended as the flame ravaged remains of what was once Alexander Gordon came crashing down into a pond extinguishing the flames and cooling the charred tissue. Here at last oblivion claimed him. Darkness descended upon his conscious mind like a blessed friend. Yet still, what had but moments before been a body in the peak of physical fitness, fought for life. His heart refused to give up the beat, his lungs continued the ancient rhythm. Life persevered. The sounds of screaming sirens and screaming people blended violently into an incarnation of hell. Fires burned in wrecked vehicles on or around the roadway. A huge crater had been gouged into the West bound lane extending all the way across the now missing central reservation divider and half way across the eastbound lanes. Trees, bushes and other things smoked and spat as flames continued to lick the area. A few dazed people wandered about with no seeming aim. Others sat with blank stares. The first few police to arrive at the scene were overwhelmed by what they saw. Nothing in all their careers had prepared them for this. "Control this is Alpha Bravo 160 here over." "Go ahead 160," said control. "This is PC Larson. Send help. This is a major emergency, please send help. There are many dead and wounded here and lots of fires." He screamed into his radio. This was of course not how a report should be made but then no one could ever blame him. Not after driving to this carnage. "Got a live one here. Bring a backboard..." "Over here. Over here..." "Its too late to worry about that one doc..." "Get that fire out before it spreads any further..." The voices were distant and only infrequently heard. Even when they were heard something was wrong. They did not sound right. Slowly as awareness returned to the thing floating in the pond's shallow waters, questions began to surface. 'Where am I?' 'Who am I?' "What am I?' No memory spoke up to answer these strange questions. As there did not seem to be any reason to do anything, the mind simply waited. "We need more body bags..." This was from closer than the last things heard. Still there did not seem to be any reason to do anything so again the mind waited. Time passed slowly. The mind passed in and out of consciousness without really being aware of the difference. Eventually a voice spoke even closer than before. "Jeezzus. Will you look at the state of that one," this was spoken in a disgusted baritone. "It's your turn Dave. On you go I'll wait here with the bag, just drag it out," said a different voice Something different was happening now. The sounds of something splashing through water were getting closer and the waves of this passage could be felt. A tickle became apparent on the mind's leg. The sensation quickly became pain. The pain escalated quickly to torture. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," At the wordless scream of pain rising from the horribly burned body David Smith dropped the burnt limb and fell backwards into the water. Inconceivable as it was that this THING could possible be alive it was now screaming unlike anything Dave had ever heard before in his life. "Fuck. Fucking hell it's alive. Get a doctor damn it." Dave inched closer to the body floating in the water as his partner rushed off towards the road to find help. The body before him was still screaming in inarticulate agony. "Don't worry mate. Help's on the way. Just hold on another couple minutes and well get you out of here and to hospital." His words of reassurance seemingly had no effect as the weak screaming continued. Dave edged closer again peering at the living corpse before him. No sign of what this person had looked like before was left. Not even enough to tell if it had been male or female. Only the shape confirmed that it was even human. As John rushed back dragging a doctor in tow, Dave lifted his hand into the air waving them on. "Doc over here. This one's alive. I don't know how he could be alive with this much damage, but he is." The doctor gazed at the wreck of a man floating in the pool of water before her, undecided on how she could help. Finally jerked out of her thoughts by the continued screams she leapt forward into the water to administer an injection of morphine. Not normally used in a situation like this as it could allow a victim to slip into death but in this case she could not in conscience allow such suffering to continue while she had the means to alleviate it. The mind subsided back into unconsciousness and the screaming subsided. But again the body was not yet ready to give up the fight and the heart beat on. As the clean up continued at the scene of tragedy, it was discovered that some 37 persons had lost their lives. More than 130 had suffered injury of some kind or another. Of those two more were to lose their fight with death. However the single most seriously injured survivor from the incident did not die as every doctor presumed he would. This poor wreck of a man was called Alexander Gordon. This they had gleaned from the single remaining dog tag they had found imbedded in his chest. Many questions were raised by the condition of this survivor. When he was found his hands and feet were still tightly bound. This mystery attracted the attention of the police before finally being put to rest as the military came forward to claim him and then explain the nature of the exercise he'd been involved in. Questions were asked on how he could be found over five hundred yards from the blast site, while being self evidently in no condition to walk. The most important question asked was what to do for him. With almost 100% third degree burns and probable massive infections setting in because of the pool of stagnant water he was found in, his prospects didn't look good. Many were of the opinion that he simply be allowed to die. Further prolonging his suffering would be to no purpose. Enquires were sent out for any family he may have so that the medical staff could request that the life support machines he was now attached could be switched off. However his last known relative was his father who'd died some two years previously. When Captain William Campbell of the SAS, heard of this survivor of the training exercise gone so horribly wrong, he felt an immediate responsibility. Alex Gordon might not have been formally accepted into the regiment but he had been there under their jurisdiction. His records and test scores showed that he was moving along nicely. His instructors confirmed that he was one of the ones they had marked as likely to succeed. After conferring with some of the other officers on the base, Captain Campbell decided to agree to Alex's requests to join the SAS. If nothing else could be done for him then he could at least die as a member of the regiment he had worked so hard to join. He at the time did not realise then what responsibility this was soon to place him under. A phone rang in a small office on the West Side of the regimental administration block. "Hello Captain Campbell," he said simply. "Captain this is Doctor Wright at the St Elmer's hospital here. I am given to understand that you are the commanding officer of a Lance Corporal Alexander Gordon, is that correct?" "Yes Doctor, Corporal Gordon came under my authority as of eighteen hundred hours yesterday." "Well Captain I'm sorry to have to place this responsibility onto your shoulders but I'm afraid that the young man has no family to make this decision." "What decision is that sir?" asked the Captain. "Corporal Gordon has massive burns to 98% of his body as you know. He has multiple secondary infections and has, in my opinion, no chance of pulling through. At the moment we are keeping him under total anaesthetic. Even morphine is insufficient to block the severity of pain he would be suffering if awake. Unfortunately we cannot continue to sedate him past tomorrow morning. He has a strong will to live however and I believe he would continue in unspeakable agony for up to a week before succumbing. I am calling to request permission to suspend life support at this time in order to spare him that pain." "WHAT! You can't be seriously asking that of me?" asked the Captain. "I am sorry sir, but as he has no family you are the person who has that authority. I know it is not something you would expect to have to decide normally, but as his commanding officer the responsibility is yours." "Can I think this through and confer with my superiors then get back to you doctor?" "Of course Captain. But please remember that by 10am tomorrow morning your man will be living in hell." With this the Doctor hung up. Did a commanding officer have the right to decide such a thing for one of his men? Sure in the twisted hell of combat, it might be necessary to give a merciful bullet to a comrade but what about here in peacetime? Could he give that order now? It all seemed rather cold-blooded to him. Simply make a phone call and a man dies. Perhaps a better question would be, "Should I give that order now?" If the situation is truly as hopeless as the doctor suggested, then yes he should. But should he simply take the first opinion given? He knew if it was him on the receiving end, he would want someone to make damn sure of all the options before pulling the plug. Fine then he would get a second opinion and do some looking around for any possible remedy. If by tomorrow morning nothing had turned up he could give the order in good conscience. Satisfied with his course of actions, Captain Campbell began the series of calls to army medics and doctors that would lead him eventually to speaking to a Professor Thomas Barker. Barker was a leading expert in the field of Biotechnology and cellular reconstruction. The professor's current project, being funded by the MOD, was to use advanced technology to aid in battlefield care of wounded. His laboratory was situated in a secure location along with those of other top scientists working on government projects. Tom as he liked to be called when working around a lab, carefully peeled back the covering from the arm growing onto the shoulder of the rhesus monkey lying unconscious on the table before him. All seemed to have worked excellently this time. There were no signs of abnormalities and no tumours had yet arisen as they had in previous experiments. This specimen had had the left arm severed at the shoulder joint and the replacement arm was now growing quickly into place. He nodded at the excellent progress. Only recently had the necessary breakthrough been made to reproduce the all- important embryonic stem cells in sufficient quantity for such a large application. No longer was it necessary to extract these cells from embryos, now it was simply a matter of extracting a few stem cells from the subject and processing them. The resulting cells could then be cultured to produce as much as was required for almost any task. The most difficult challenge to date had been separating out those cells which were damaged in the process as even a few could be catastrophic in the applications for which they were intended. Massive cancerous growths had accompanied the earlier tests. This problem now appeared to be solved thanks in no small part to the genius of the professor. Forcing the initial batch of cells to differentiate into an analogue of the normal immune system resulted in subsequent cells being self-screened. Anything not exactly matching the genetic template was destroyed with little or no effort for the scientists working on the project. Rewrapping the still growing arm the professor signalled for one of his assistants to return the subject to its cage. "Call for Professor Barker. Line eight." The professor glanced up at the speaker mounted on the wall as the call was repeated. Striding over to the phone mounted bellow it and punching the button marked 8. "Professor Barker speaking." "Good afternoon Professor. I'm Captain Campbell with the SAS. I am given to understand you are working on some new methods of treating extreme battlefield injuries." "That's correct Captain. How can I be of assistance?" "Well sir I was hoping that your methods could be of help to one of my men. He has received third degree burns on over 90% of his body and I've been assured that no conventional therapy has any chance of helping him. A mutual friend mentioned that this was exactly the type of injury your research was intended to treat." "Well we do have hopes of eventually dealing with such, but at the moment we are very much still in the early stages. We are only now beginning to receive positive results from animal trials." "You have had positive results though?" The professor glanced over at the only positive result so far. The rhesus monkey now safely locked back into her cage "Well some results Captain." "Would you be interesting in testing your methods on a real patient Professor? I am prepared to authorise any treatment that could give even the slimmest chance of survival for this man, with a few provisions." The professor thought about this carefully. It was of course something that would accelerate his work greatly. Results between animal trials and humans were always different. To have a human patient to work on at this stage would give excellent data on how his methods would need to be adapted to take this into account. "Well there are some issues involved in this Captain. I don't know if I could get authorisation form the General Medical Council for such a trial." "No problem Professor. The patient is a serving member of the armed forces. I am both his commanding officer and acting as next of kin. Under these circumstances, and as your project is under military funding, no application to the GMC would be needed." "Next of kin? Is the man a relative of yours Captain? A brother or nephew perhaps" "No professor. He has no surviving relatives to make this type of decision for him. As I am his commanding officer, that burden was passed to me." "Well I am interested Captain, but before we go any further there are a few things we would need to discuss. Would it be possible for you to make your way over here for a face to face meeting?" One hour later in the cafeteria room in the research institute. Professor Barker and Captain Campbell sat discussing the Alex's fate. "The overriding provisions from my perspective professor are that he should suffer no pain. If no way can be found to alleviate his suffering, I would rather give the order to pull the plug on him, and allow him to die. And some chance of a meaningful recovery must exist. What point is there for living if you can't speak move or feel anything. As long as your project can satisfy these two points you can have my blessing to take Corporal Gordon." "The second point I can personally assure you on Captain. If everything goes successfully, a full and complete recovery in every way is possible. The first point however I myself can't provide. Not to fear though because you are in luck Captain. One of the other projects running in this complex involves inducing electrical currents in specific parts of the human brain. This research is aimed at developing a drug free anaesthetises. My colleague, Doctor Emily Brown, is in the process of seeking approval to move onto human trials for her devices. If you can extend your authority to cover that as well as my own trial, pain should not be a problem." "This all sounds agreeable to me Professor." "Perhaps before we go any further I should explain the risks involved for the patient Captain." The professor considered carefully just how much detail to give, "Firstly I must confess that the odds on success are far from good. To be honest I can't even tell you what sort of odds they are, this would be a complete shot in the dark as far as saving his life is concerned." "That's ok Professor, at this point a shot in the dark looks like all this kid is going to get. If you want to take that shot then that's fine with me. And know that even if it goes to shit I won't blame you." "Fair enough Captain. Also you should be aware that even if successful, the level of success is also unknown. In theory our work could repair almost any damage. Spinal injuries or brain damage are not in theory a problem. Unfortunately we don't yet know enough about the techniques to control the process. "We are like a man riding a space rocket who knows nothing about it. He pushes the start button and hopes for the best. Your Corporal could be returned to full fitness, ready to rejoin his regiment. Alternatively he could be left barely alive. We just won't be able to tell which until the treatment is finished." "All I ask is that you give him a chance Professor. This lad has already survived what should have killed him five times over. And he is a soldier. If he was the type to only take the safe bets he would never have joined the SAS in the first place. You give him his chance Professor and I and the rest of the regiment will stick by you regardless what happens." The Captain reached over the table proffering his right hand to shake on the agreement. "Done then Captain" the Professor griped firmly and shook. As dawn broke over the hospital the discordant sounds of a helicopter approaching could be heard. A large Chinook dual rotor transport helicopter hove into view. Setting down in the empty car park like a brooding insect the cargo ramp at the back slowly lowered. Eight men in army uniform descended caring large and heavy black metallic cases. Following them came three burley male nurses wheeling a gurney fitted out with odd-looking equipment. Finally down the ramp came Professor Barker, Doctor Brown and Captain Campbell. Marching into the hospital like an invasion they brushed past patients and staff heading for the burns unit on the third floor. Questions were brushed aside and a reaction wave of exclamations and surprise washed around them. Reaching Corporal Gordon took only 3 minutes and five documents from the attach? case in the Captain's hands. Once there the process of replacing the hospital's life support tubes and wires with those strapped to the gurney took only minutes. While the orderlies dealt with this task, Doctor Brown was assisted by the uniformed soldiers in setting up various arcane appearing pieces of equipment. Soon the small room was looking more like an advanced computer lab than a hospital room. Wires trailed from unit to unit, lights blinked and buzzers buzzed. All this equipment was attached in one form or another to the plastic cap carefully placed over the patient's head. Once Doctor Brown was satisfied with the placement she began rapid fire typing commands into the keyboard attached to one of the units. "OK this is going to take about 5 minutes to configure itself. Just don't disturb him while it works." "What's it all doing anyway Doctor?" asked the Captain. "Oh, well you see Captain no two brains are identical. In order to enforce a state of deep sleep we first need to find out how the patient's brain is mapped out. That's what I need all this equipment for. The actual suppresser that will keep him asleep is fairly small. Here have a look." The doctor proffered a silver metal case about 1 foot long. A single clasp on the front was holding it closed. On opening the box, the captain found a soft velvet lining not unlike that found within the case for a musical instrument. Nestled within this lining was a device that looked right out of Star Trek. It was white plastic with lights and readouts on the central section and about the size of a pack of playing cards. Two small wings curved round at the sides to cup the patient's head. "That's it?" "Yup. Pretty cool isn't it." Taking the case back, the doctor inserted a cable from the terminal she had been working on into the side of the central box. A light began to flash on its surface to be replaced by a single glowing green LED. "That's it. It's programmed. Now let's see how well it works." Removing the device, the doctor squeezed some gel onto the metal contacts on the undersides of the two wings. Then she placed the device firmly onto the patient's forehead and pressed down for a solid contact. "This gel is both a conductor and glue. It should hold the unit in place for up to 7 days without needing any attention. The power drain is so low that the batteries will also not need recharging for that time. But PLEASE be careful with it. This is the only prototype we have available." The doctor removed the wire-laden hat from over the patient's head and nodded to the orderlies that he was ready for transport. Gently they lifted him from his bed into the trolley they had brought. Once all were again safely aboard, the ramp on the back of the chopper retracted. Quickly lifting into the air and away, the whole operation having taken no more than fifteen minutes. Chapter 3, Adaptability A strong branch will snap in the wind, while a subtle reed will bend. True strength lies in bending with that which attacks you robbing it of its force. The trolley was wheeled into a new larger lab. The centre of the space was taken by a tall tank containing a pink tinged liquid, around it were strewn various pieces of equipment with tables along the walls holding microscopes computers and other esoteric pieces of scientific paraphernalia. Controlled chaos ruled as scientists and technicians swarmed performing their unknown functions accompanied by mysterious calls full of acronyms the meaning of which was unknown to the Captain. "BSNFT up!" "Haemoglobin analogue at 12%." "Temp 32." "Inducer ready." "What's the SPT?" "18 on one 26 on two and 23 on three." "Do the crossover." Again the life support apparatus attached to the Corporal was replaced, this time with some very unusual pieces of equipment. Every orifice in the body seemed to have at least one tube or wire attached. The mummy like protective wrappings were quickly but gently cut away. The inner dressings were peeled back exposing the raw tissues. A sling was placed under Alex's arms attached to a cable reaching overhead. "Ok ready for transfer?" asked the Professor overseeing all the activity around him. "Yes." "Ready." "Good to go here." "Fine." "OK." "Right then," said the professor again marshalling his forces, "Lift him gently." The sling passed under Alex's arms pulled tight gently lifting him into first a sitting position, then slowly upright and clear of the trolley. Then the remaining dressings were quickly removed. Slowly and carefully positioning the inert form over the tank, the hoist began lowering him in feet first. Once his neck had reached the top of the liquid the operation paused. Doctor Brown ascended a flight of stairs affixed to the side and back of the tank carrying a cap similar to the one used to map out the brain pattern in the hospital. Placing this over his head, she then squirted a small amount of solvent onto the pads of the inducer attached to his forehead. This solvent quickly allowed her to remove the prototype. Once this was clear, lowering continued and Alex was soon fully immersed in the pink liquid within the tank. His body could clearly be seen via the transparent front of the tank. "Ok well done all and thanks for your help," said the professor who briskly began ushering the extra personnel out from the lab. It was now time to get down to work. "What now Professor?" asked Captain Campbell. "We should be ready with the first stem cell culture to be introduced by tomorrow evening. Once that's done we won't have to worry about those infections. The first culture is almost entirely pre-set for immune system. He will temporarily have the equivalent of 10000% of the normal immune response. After that we will be introducing unspecialised culture every day for as long as it takes." "How long is that likely to be Professor?" asked the Captain. "I can't give you an exact figure but I would say months rather than weeks." "How long though until you know if its working or not?" "Well Captain there should be obvious changes even after only a week. By then, I expect the damaged tissues on the surface of the patient's body to have been removed by the immune system. At the same time stem cells will be binding to what's left of him and differentiating into whatever cell type is needed. All following the genetic blue print the same way as his body was originally grown. That's the great part about our work here. We don't need to program every cell. The blueprints already come packed within everyone in the form of DNA. We just need to provide the right environments for the process to take place." "So what problems could come up then Professor?" "Our biggest problem potentially is cancer. With so much happening in there we can expect around 0.2% of the cells to develop faults. Of these 5% will become cancerous. That's the reason we set up such an immense immune response right at the start. We let the body's own defences, heavily reinforced by us of course, deal with the problem. Cleaning out the damaged tissues and killing off the infections is merely a bonus. We need to keep a close eye on things though in case anything slips past. If we can catch it fast enough we might be able to excise it before it becomes a real problem." "Ok Professor, I'll leave you to your work. But please call me with updates on a weekly basis and let me know if anything goes wrong." "No problem Captain. I promise you will be the second to know right after me" Time passed and things returned to normal for the Captain. Once a week he would receive a written report on the state of the unfortunate Corporal. For six months this routine continued without any problems coming to his attention. Until he received a call one day asking him to attend the lab. No details were given of the problem other than assuring the Captain that it was not life threatening. Arranging to drive out the next morning, the Captain put it out of his mind. On the following morning Captain Campbell arrived at the research institute at 9am to be welcomed by an agitated Professor. Rather than taking him into the lab, the Professor again led him to the cafeteria. "Coffee Captain?" "Please." "Now I don't want to alarm you with this but we seem to have hit a slight snag. It seems there was one factor we did not take into account during our animal trials due to the nature of the subjects" "You mean because they were animals?" "No it's that they were all Female animals. Another team in here was specifically requesting nothing but male rhesus monkeys leaving only females available for my own project." "I don't understand professor. How could that effect the treatment for my Corporal?" "Well you have to understand Captain what defines male and female at a cellular level. Females have a double X chromosome where as males have an XY chromosome. As we had previously only been dealing with female test subjects we failed to take this into account while processing cellular material for the stem cells we require." "I'm sorry Professor, but I still don't understand what you mean." "Uhm. Well let me explain if I can. You see in the womb all embryos are initially female you see. Only after a few hours are some changed to become male. This change is to the best of our knowledge caused by the Y chromosome present in the cells of the embryos. Well this causes a marker in the mother's womb and we didn't take this process into account so we of course did not provide that marker." "Ahh," said the Captain and the Professor could see that this was disturbing him. "Well Captain its not life threatening I assure you. We have checked and rechecked and your Corporal is in no danger of death." "So what exactly is going on then?" "Well Captain as the new cellular material is all female it means that all repairs are conforming to the female form." "So you are telling me that he now looks like a woman?" "Well it goes a little deeper than looks I'm afraid" "Oh? Explain." "Well you see Captain the massive immune boost we originally gave the Corporal also included the female variant of his genetic blueprint. As time has gone on it has been slowly rejecting the male structure of the original body. Luckily for us the new cellular growth is more than keeping up with these rejections. In practise it means that there is a slow process of replacing one with the other. Male for female if you see what I mean." "Just how far has this gone? And how far will it go?" "At the moment only about a third of the original body has been affected." "Has it affected his brain?" "If this was to replace his brain it would in effect be killing him and replacing him with a female clone of himself. There is little chance of that happening because the brain is protected by a membrane, which is slowing down the passage of the new immune cells into it. It would only become an issue if the treatment lasted longer than 12 months. Until then there would be no effects there at least." "Won't the rejection continue after the treatment is done? If some of him is female and some is male wont they end up at war?" "No Captain that won't happen. The difference between the male and female cellular structures is in most cases incredibly subtle. It is only being rejected now as the patient's immune system has been boosted to such an incredible extent. Once the treatment is ended, his own immune system will not be able to differentiate between the two." "How long left until the treatment could be ended?" asked the Captain. "At least another 3 months. At the moment there is further development needed for the musculature and epidermis. At the moment he wouldn't survive outside the nutrient bath we have him suspended in." "How far will this... Feminisation? have gone by then?" "Probably total. In a biological sense Alex is already a she. X-rays and ultrasound scans have confirmed the presence of a full female reproductive system. Research by other scientists elsewhere makes me believe that he, sorry, she will also develop ovaries and be fully fertile." "But how is that possible Professor? A man can manufacture sperm as he goes but I know woman are born with all the eggs they will ever use." "Yes that's correct Captain. But it has been shown conclusively in studies by a team at Rockefeller University and the Sloan-Kettering Institute on mice that the embryonic stem cells we work with here are fully capable of differentiating into any other cell type. That's why I've called you here today. I've no idea how your man will react when he wakes to discover that he is now a woman." "Good point Professor. Personally I have no idea. If it was I, I think there would be a good chance of my trying to rip your damn fool head of and jamming it up your arse. But then that's just me." "Oh," said the Professor who was not a large man by any standard. His normally small size seemed to shrink further as he scrunched up looking very nervous. "Do you think that violence is possible? Really?" The Captain carefully considered yelling, 'Damn right I do! You bloody Frankenstein!' But looking at the Professor seated across from him, he was afraid the man would faint or have a stroke or something. "Yes I think that's a good possibility," he said calmly. "Oh dear. We don't really have the facilities here to deal with a violent patient." The Captain could see the little Professor getting more and more scared as this idea worked into his head. The thought of a highly trained SAS killer with personal motivation to cause him pain was probably a new experience for the scientist. "Look Professor it's not too late yet. Why don't you just stick in some Male cells and reverse the change?" "Oh we can't do that. The female coded immune system would destroy whatever male coded material we introduced." "SO stick some male coded immune shit in there then." Said the Captain. "No the Corporal would die if we did that. Both immune systems would be busy killing each other and the rest of the body. I'm afraid we are stuck with a female and there's no going back at this point. Well at least it will be a woman angry at me and not a man. She should be easier to control anyway." At this the Captain began to laugh. At seeing the uncomprehending look the Professor was giving him, the laughter became uncontrollable and the Captain slid down from his chair onto the floor holding his side as the laughter continued to pour out of him. "Captain are you ok? Should I call for a doctor Captain?" Thirty minutes later, still with a pain in his side and tears in his eyes, the Captain accompanied the Professor into the lab to view the first female member of the SAS in the history of the regiment. The body in the tank looked remarkably different from the burnt wreck he had last seen. Pink skin covered around half the area he could see. In those areas not so covered, muscle could be seen exposed like a medical reference book. No sign of damaged flesh remained. The figure did indeed look female, although no breasts were apparent it had the slim litheness associated with women. Examining the hands closely, the Captain noted the gracefulness of the fingers. On no part of the body before him was there anything that indicated it had formerly been male. "As you can see the epidermis is still forming. Once that is complete, the treatment will be complete. All that's left is that and for some further muscle development." "Has he really been asleep all this time?" "Yes she has. Doctor Brown is overjoyed at the results of this test. If nothing further comes from this whole mess then at least it confirmed her work and put it closer to clinical use. The sleep inducer has performed flawlessly throughout." "Please give her my congratulations and thanks Professor." "There is another research team in the institute who would also like to take part. They are working on a method to help in the rehabilitation of the long term ill and those who are recovering from strokes. You are aware of problems that can arise in losing physical co-ordination after patients have been bed ridden for extended periods?" The Captain nodded. "Well this project aims to stimulate the part of the brain responsible for motor control while also stimulating the muscles. They hope in this way both to improve co- ordination and to keep the physical musculature in prime condition. I think their assistance would be of benefit here as without it Alex will be incapacitated for several months while she builds her strength and relearns to pilot her body." "Sounds like a good idea to me Prof. Though I'm surprised you suggested it." "How so?" "With how he's going to feel about you when he wakes up a woman, I would have thought having him unable to walk for several months would appeal to you." The Captain watched as the little Professor's eyes bulged. He had obviously not thought of this idea. "But now you have mentioned it. I think it's a good idea. When can this other team start." Best to bull ahead before the Professor could consider forgetting about the idea. "Oh umm. Any time once you give your authorisation. They don't have much equipment to set up and can work round the rest of us without getting in the way. "Well then why don't you tell them to go ahead and I will come back next week to meet them. OK Professor?" "OK then I guess." The Professor again was looking like a very nervous little genius. One week later the Captain was back in the lab being introduced to a research assistant on the recuperation team. "Captain Campbell meet Justin McDonald, Justin is monitoring the work out being given to your Corporal here. The Captain engulfed Justin's hand in his own giving it an enthusiastic shake "Nice meeting you Justin. What's the Professor mean by workout?" "Well sir we have a number of aerobic and callisthenic workouts pre-programmed into our device. We simply play the tape 4 times a day and the body gets the physical exercise that that workout would provide. This second device here links the physical stimulus with the motor control centre of the brain allowing it to learn what muscles do what." "Very interesting Justin. But tell me can it only do basic workouts? Could you set it to train for say... Long distance running? Or Martial arts?" "I don't see why not sir. It's all just a set of impulses stored on tape. We would need to wire some volunteers up with about 50 pounds of equipment and have them go through the exercise once. But that's about it." "How many volunteers would you need?" "Oh four or five works best. The individual differences balance out that way" "Ok Justin I think I can get you some volunteers to make as many tapes as you want. Just as long as they all involve the sort of training you get for the army. This person in the tank is after all a soldier and before the soldier had the physical fitness for it. It's only fair that we return her to that fitness if we can." "Oh that's no problem. Once we have the tapes we can set up the exercises to develop whatever level of fitness you want." "Excellent. I'll send over a few men tomorrow afternoon then. And don't let them skive off either. They will be here to work and if they give you any shit refer them to me. I want this soldier